Death Wind (Elven Alliance #3) - Tara Grayce Page 0,74

efforts. There’s no other reason he would wait to put it—whatever it is—into action. We might find we have help on the inside of Gror Grar.”

Weylind bent his head, his hair hiding his face. “Farrendel was unable to help last time he was rescued. I do not think we should count on his aid.”

“He is stronger this time.” Essie had to believe that. She wasn’t sure she could bear it if she believed Farrendel had given up.

On the train, he had been determined to fight to the death rather than face torture. But something must have changed. Either he had been captured even while trying to fight to the death or he had surrendered, deciding to survive and live for her. Surely, if he had made that choice once, he would do it again. He would survive. He would push through this. And he would be ready to fight back when the time came.

ESSIE SAT ON A rock outside of the command tent, only half listening to the murmur of voices behind her. All around, the Escarlish-Tarenhieli army set up camp and fortifications.

The fortress of Gror Grar loomed on the mountain before them, the dark granite walls, limned with snow, blending in with the gray of the surrounding mountain.

The fortress cut into the mountain itself with a bridge spanning the gorge and connecting it to the plateau. The peak of the mountain formed the tallest tower of the fortress while the outer walls rose from the steep cliffs. No army could approach except by the bridge, where they would be mercilessly cut down by the defenders.

Farrendel was in that fortress. She could feel it.

But how to get to him? Gror Grar was just as intimidating as the elves had said it would be.

Edmund appeared next to her. “You look pensive.”

“Back from scouting already?” Essie held her breath. She hardly dared hope he’d found something.

“I think I have a way in.” Edmund held out an arm. “I might as well tell it only once.”

Essie hopped to her feet and fell into step with Edmund. As they entered the tent, the generals gathered around the table glanced up. Weylind and Averett stood side by side on the far side of the table, and, next to them, stood...Lance.

Lance Marion, an inventor specializing in using magic to power machines, cradled a magical power cell to his chest in a sling, as if he was carrying around a baby instead of a piece of machinery.

No, not just any power cell. Essie spotted the faint blue light and the crackle to the power as she stepped closer. This was the one Lance and Farrendel had worked on that afternoon in Aldon where they had successfully stored some of Farrendel’s magic.

As his gaze flicked to her, Lance smiled and gave her a nod. She had seen him around the camp, helping fix the steam vehicles and various weapons, but she hadn’t had a chance to talk to him. Everyone had been too busy surviving.

Edmund strode to the table and pointed at the sketch of Gror Grar laid out on the table. A much better sketch than the one last night. “I found the back way in.”

“The back door?” Essie wedged herself next to Edmund. She found Julien on her other side.

“Of course. Every fortress has a back way out. No one wants to be stuck in a dead-end corner, not even if that corner is a supposedly impenetrable fortress.” Edmund pointed toward a spot on the sketch that seemed to indicate the far side of the fortress opposite of the bridge. “As I suspected, they must have been sending out noncombatants to flee deeper into Kostaria in preparation for our arrival. A valid strategy, and they did their best to erase the trail. But they still left enough evidence in the side of the mountain that I could find the entrance.”

Really? Essie studied Edmund. She had known Edmund was good at what he did, but where had he gotten that confident experience in this kind of thing? Did she really want to know? Apparently, those were the stories her brothers didn’t tell her. Possibly out of their instincts to protect their little sister. But it might also be because Edmund’s previous missions were national secrets.

“Excellent.” Averett nodded, crossing his arms.

“Yes and no.” Edmund jabbed a finger over his shoulder in the direction of Gror Grar. “The entrance is hidden about a hundred feet up the side of a sheer cliff. I suspect that, when they wish to