been before. He paused several times, making sure the impression from Essie remained as before without the slightest discomfort. All he sensed was confusion. If only he could explain exactly what he was doing.
By the time he had poured all the scraps of his magic he had been able to pull thanks to Melantha’s magic, his wrists throbbed, and his head pounded.
Now concern tinged the impression from Essie.
I am fine. Just...He was not sure what he was.
If only this could be over. He could be home with Essie, either at Estyra or Aldon. Either would work. Anywhere but here. What he would not give to be safe. And free of stone and pain and daily torture.
Would he ever truly be free? Even after rescue, he would find himself back here in his nightmares. Parts of his mind were still trapped in the torture of fifteen years ago.
Farrendel forced himself to take a deep breath and unclench his fingers. One battle at a time, otherwise the future would overwhelm him.
First, he needed to face tomorrow. More torture. More pain. Another healing by Melantha.
What was he going to do about Melantha? Did he dare trust her? Was she helping him out of guilt or a reawakened sisterly love? Or was this all yet another betrayal? Her healings allowed King Charvod to torture Farrendel even more each day than he would have been able to otherwise. But if she truly did want to help, what was she supposed to do? Sit by and let him suffer?
Nothing in her actions could prove her true motivations. He did not know what to believe anymore.
What he would not give to have Essie’s opinion, though he was thankful she was safe and far away from this dungeon.
He needed to figure out if he could trust Melantha, and soon. A plan was beginning to take shape, and he might need her help to implement it.
If he guessed wrong, then his plan was already doomed to failure.
ESSIE CROUCHED deep in the line of trees. Between the dense pines, the rows of soldiers and elves crowding the space in front of her, and the shields Averett had insisted on placing around her, she could barely see the edge of the crevasse. She couldn’t see the Gulmorth River, though its roar filled the early morning while a mist hovered in the gorge.
Across the way, the scraggling pine trees and scrub brush of the Kostarian side remained quiet. Too quiet? Were they expecting the attack?
They had to be. From the moment they had captured Farrendel, they would know Tarenhiel, at least, was coming. Did they know yet that Escarland would also participate in the invasion?
Her stomach knotted. How many people were about to die on both sides of that river? Perhaps Essie should have stayed farther behind the lines as Averett had wanted.
Jalissa tucked in closer to her and pressed her hand to the ground, though she did not use her magic yet. None of the elves had, since they would not wish for the trolls to sense the use of magic and alert them to their presence.
“Are you as nervous as I am?” Essie kept her voice low as she glanced at her elvish sister-in-law.
Jalissa’s face was set. Almost blank. But when she glanced at Essie, a glimmer shone in her eyes. “Terrified.”
It was more than Essie had expected her to admit. But they had not had much of a chance to talk since their heart-to-heart on the train after Farrendel was taken. It seemed the bond they had formed then was still holding strong.
Today’s goal was to cross the river. That was all. But that one task could take all day.
If they even succeeded in this first attempt. What if they failed and had to try again? How many times would Weylind and Averett try an invasion of Kostaria before the cost became too high? The cost would already be far too high as it was.
We’re coming, Farrendel.
She resisted the urge to rub at her chest. That crackling feeling to the heart bond was getting strong. At times, it almost felt like she was constantly filled with static, though she had yet to shock herself when she touched things. It wasn’t an uncomfortable or painful feeling. Just strange. Especially since she wasn’t sure exactly what it was.
A signal must have been given. With a creaking of large wheels, squads of Escarlish soldiers pushed the large artillery guns forward. The long cannons would be able to lob explosive charges and grapeshot