Summary: After years of solitude, Elsa now seeks to be the queen Arendelle deserves. But when Arendelle is invaded by a Southern King who is intent on deposing Elsa and claiming Arendelle, Elsa must muster all her courage to protect her country, and herself.
Chapter Six
- Stormlight -
Arendelle's harbour was rather small, although Maurice supposed the fjord afforded enough shelter and space to justify its size. A narrow sea wall – about half the size as the one around the city extended out from the palace and cut off the harbour from the rest of the fjord waters. Towers rose from rocky outcrops on their side of sea entrance, which was wide enough even for Maximilian's flagship to pass through with room to spare.
Maurice leaned on his spear like it was a staff and tried to peer through the storm towards the towers. If he squinted, he could just make out the lantern lights from the watchmen. That was well, as a vanished light could be just as worrying as a light flashed in warning.
Footsteps sounded over the pounding rain, and Maurice straightened as the patrol captain and his retinue approached.
"Is all well?" Ser Amory asked.
"Aye," Maurice replied. "I haven't seen nor heard a peep since I came on duty."
Ser Amory nodded, as if he had expected nothing else. Still, a frown stained his face and deepened the lines on his forehead. "Stay alert, soldier. I fear there is something amiss this night."
"Amiss?" Maurice turned and peered back into the bay. The tower lights were still lit, as were the lanterns on the warships beyond. "Aside from the storm, it has been quiet."
"Call it intuition – the fretful misgivings of an old soldier. But when you get these feelings, rare as they are, you learn to listen to them."
"Ser?"
With an easy smile, the worried lines on Amory's face vanished. "Pay it no mind. It is for me to worry about, not you. Constant vigilance, soldier." Then with a neat salute, Amory continued his rounds, his retinue right on his heels.
Maurice watched him vanish around the corner of the warehouse, then turned his attention back to the fjord and the storm. Even though Ser Amory had told him not to worry, he couldn't help but feel a little anxious. It pooled in his stomach and unsettled him like he had just downed a flagon of old milk.
Are the tower lights still lit? Maurice peered forward once again. He was so occupied looking forward, he failed to notice the shadows of movement around him.
#
Elsa felt the storm rage, even from the depths of her dungeon cell. Summer storms were rare in Arendelle, but when they came, they came with madness. Thunder rolled like an old beast stretching its body across the sky, and the rain smothered every other sound with its continuous drone.
How long had she been in this cell now? More than a week? A month? Her days blended in monotony, only broken by the arrival of her meals. She picked at some and ignored others, often too nauseous to eat more than a few mouthfuls at a time. Her magic floated nearby, tantalisingly close, but whenever she reached for it that invisible wall blocked her, and the effort made her arms flare with heat. When she slept, she often dreamed of demonic hands, some human with long, dirty fingernails, some hooved, and some taloned like a bird, all reaching out from a pit in the ground. They clasped her hands and arms in theirs and refused to let go, no matter how hard she struggled and screamed. When she awoke from those dreams, crying and dry retching, she clutched her arms and felt only smooth skin.
In those moments it was easiest to withdraw in on herself and push out her grief. What was it her father used to say to her? Conceal, don't feel. But Elsa had promised Anna – and herself – that she would never let herself become that person again.
The soft thump of footsteps echoed outside – every sound echoed this deep in the dungeon – and the faint light of a lantern appeared behind the heavy door. Elsa scrambled away until her back pressed against the cold stone wall, and then stumbled to her feet; her back hard against the cold wall of her cell. The memory of that man's skeletal face and lustful grin filled her mind. She reached for her magic once more but pulled away as heat flared in her arms.
A key clicked in the lock and the door opened with a creak. A man wrapped head-to-foot in a long cloak lowered his hood as he pushed into the cell. Elsa gasped.
"Aubert?"
Lord Aubert's face was paler than she remembered. Lines around his eyes and mouth had become deep furrows that pulled his skin. Even his moustache seemed grey and ill-kempt. "I'm sorry you had to wait for so long, my queen," Aubert said.
Elsa swallowed back relieved tears. "How?" she stammered. "I thought you. . ." she trailed off. I thought you were a traitor.
However, Aubert seemed to know what she meant. "An unfortunate act," Aubert said. "Dry your tears, my queen, for we do not dare linger." He pulled a cloak from under the folds of his own and gave it to Elsa. "The storm will shroud our movements, but I fear. . ." He quietened with a shake of his head.
Elsa shrugged into the cloak and warmth enveloped her. It was thick wool – the kind of clothing that was stored away during the winter – and much too large for her slender body. The sleeves hung well-past her fingertips and the bottom of the cloak dragged on the ground.
Three soldiers waited for Elsa and Aubert outside the cell. They were similarly cloaked, although the red wool of a Ovelian soldiers' coats peeked out from within the folds. Swords hung at their sides, and both held crossbows with bolts already set in the mechanisms.
"Gudor, Millard and Reinhart are here to see us safety from this place," Aubert told Elsa. Each of the soldiers offered Elsa a low bow, and murmured assurances that they would do as Aubert said. The one named Gudor even added:
"It's despicable what the Ovelians have done to you," he said emphatically. His voice was high-pitched for a man so bulky.
When they were all clear of the door, Aubert pulled it closed and locked it again with a gentle click. "With luck, no one will know you're gone until morning."
Aubert took her arm and pulled her forward, but Elsa held her ground and shook her head. "We must find Maximilian's sorceress," Elsa told him. "The one with red eyes."
One of the soldiers – Elsa wasn't certain which - made a sign against evil against his chest.
"The witch?" Aubert exclaimed, then with a furtive look down the passage, he lowered his voice. "We cannot. There is no time."
"We must," Elsa told him. "When I was captured, they . . . they sealed my magic away."
Aubert did not seem surprised. "Even so, we dare not wander aimlessly about the palace. The Ovelians may not bother patrol the hallways at night, but they still scurry about the palace like ants."
Elsa's voice almost broke. "It burns," she said. "So badly I can hardly stand it. It feels like a piece of me has been cut away. We must find her and force her to reverse her spell."
"There is no time," Aubert urged, but then his face softened, and he added as gently as he was able, "Perhaps it is for the best that your magic is gone."
"Then you may go on ahead," Elsa told him. "I will meet you when I have restored my magic."
Aubert's face twisted with anger, and he grumbled tightly under his breath. Whatever he whispered, Elsa was glad she didn't hear. "You will be the death of us, Elsa," he told her when he had composed himself once more. "But we will do as you have commanded." He looked at his soldiers, whose faces remained hidden under their hoods. "Millard, you said you heard where the witch took up residence?"
"In the observatory, my lord," Millard replied, voice taut.
"On the other side of the palace," Aubert whispered, although he now sounded more resigned than angry, Louder, he said. "We must make haste."
Once the instruction was given, the three soldiers, Millard, Gudor and Reinhart, swept up the passageway to where lanterns illuminated the jailor's room ahead. A pair of Ovelian soldiers lay within. One had collapsed over the narrow table, face pressed against a bowl of stew and a flattened bread roll. The other had toppled backwards on his bench and was sprawled on the floor, snoring loudly. Aubert and the soldiers didn't give the Ovelians a second glance.
They moved soundlessly up a staircase into the palace proper, only pausing so Reinhart could use a hand mirror to peer around corners before moving on. The palace hallways were silent, as Aubert had assured Elsa they would be. Occasionally they crept by a room which still flickered with candlelight and movement beneath the door but saw no one walking about the palace. When they came to another staircase, Aubert gave Elsa a long look, as though asking her once more to reconsider this path. Elsa only set her jaw and started up the staircase, which circled high above their heads into blackness.
"Our window of opportunity closes with every moment we waste," Aubert told her. "A boat waits for us in the inner harbour. We could be ten miles away from Arendelle before anyone knows you're gone."
"When I recover my magic, we won't need a boat to escape," Elsa told him. We won't need to escape at all.
Occasionally their way was lit by a lightning bolt, but only for a flash, and it only illuminated more and more stairs. Elsa had rarely come this way before – even after the Thaw and her coronation. The observatory had been Kai's passion – he would spend hours here in the dead of night examining the stars and making marks on his charts.
Landings came, often only lit by a single fat candle in a sconce, but the four passed them by, although each time Aubert grumbled and muttered about fools and sorcery. Elsa let him mumble. He came to rescue you, she reminded herself.
Then finally, the stairs came to an end, and they emerged onto a small landing with a window and bench wide enough for two people to sit side-by-side. Soft firelight glowed warmly from beneath the doorway, but without the shadow of movement within.
"Gudor," Aubert whispered. "Go back to the previous landing and keep watch."
The soldier nodded and crept back down the staircase. Aubert shot Elsa a look of long-suffering but did not try to dissuade her again. One of the soldiers - Elsa thought it was Reinhart, who was a little taller and more heavyset than the others - knelt before the door and tested the doorknob. It twisted smoothly, and Reinhart looked back at the others and mouthed, "It's unlocked."
"Carefully," Aubert whispered, as Reinhart pushed the door open.
The circular chamber showed little resemblance to the observatory Elsa remembered. Only orange coals in the fireplace illuminated the room in a soft glow, but it was more than enough for Elsa to see. The great telescope was still in place, dominating the room opposite the fire, as were the walls and benches covered in star-charts and drawings of constellations. However, the similarities ended there. The bed, side tables and cushioned chaise had all been hauled upstairs. A mammoth effort for one woman's vanity.
"There's two of them," Millard whispered.
He was right, Elsa realised with a start. Two, unmoving lumps were pressed together beneath the covers. The sorceress's black ringlets stood stark against the red coverlet. She was pressed against the back of a thin man with lank brown hair.
Aubert shot Elsa one final look of long-suffering. "Take the sorceress first," Aubert hissed at Millard and Reinhart. "Drag her out of bed and have your knife ready. If there is even a whiff of magic from her, slit her throat."
Reinhart nodded, and handed his crossbow to Aubert, who checked the strained mechanism holding the bolt in place. A dagger glinted in the light of the coals. Millard raised his crossbow, the wicked tip of the bolt pointed towards the bed.
Then, everything seemed to happen at once, and it was over before Elsa could release a staggered breath. Reinhart grabbed a fistful of blankets and tore them from the bed. The sorceress' eyes few open, gleaming red like fresh blood, but before she could do more than draw a breath to shout, Reinhart grabbed her by her hair and pulled her from the bed and onto the ground. His knife slipped around her neck. The sorceress' companion yelped, and scrambled backwards, flailing on the nightstand for a dagger which wasn't there. A twang echoed through the chamber, and the bolt from Aubert's crossbow thudded into the bedhead not three inches from the man's face. He froze then, breathing heavily.
"Remain still," Aubert ordered. He bent, and rewound the crossbow mechanism, then fit it with a second bolt handed to him by Millard. "If you do as we say, we shall not harm you. You have my word."
Elsa shifted her eyes between the sorceress and her lover. They were both naked, Elsa was embarrassed to note. The sorceress was on her knees now, arms loose at her sides. Reinhart pulled her hair and tugged her head backwards, even as his knee in her back pushed her body forwards. She did not cry out, even as Reinhart's knife slipped and scratched her throat. Blood welled and trickled down her neck and between her breasts. The man remained still on the bed; his back pressed against the bedhead. He looked like a spring pushed down – every muscle on his body bulged, ready to explode with movement. He was extraordinarily thin, emaciated-even. His cheeks were sunken and gaunt, and his skin stretched across his face and muscles like the slightest movement could tear it. A thick, ropy scar, red-rimmed and tightly stitched stretched over the man's side beneath his armpit. A gasp escaped Elsa before she could contain it. It's the Herald!
"What do you wish of us?" the sorceress asked Lord Aubert.
Before Aubert could reply, Elsa emerged from the shadow of the doorway and lifted the hood on her cloak. She heard Aubert groan but chose to ignore him. The sorceress did not look surprised to see her – instead her unnatural eyes seemed to peer through her. "You will remove the spell you cast on me," Elsa said to the sorceress, voice as firm and hard as she could make it.
"Alas, I cannot."
"Remove it, or you shall not live to see the morning."
"The enchantment will not end with my death," the sorceress told her, voice calm. "It is far beyond that now." A ghost of a smile touched the sorceress' lips. "You can feel it, can't you?"
Elsa shuddered and wrapped her arms around herself.
"Whatever foul enchantment you sired, you will remove it," Aubert said. "Or we will kill you and be done from this place."
"I suspect you intend to kill us regardless," the sorceress said, as if she were simply commenting on the weather. "You cannot have us ruining your escape."
Aubert's teeth ground together, and deep white spots appeared in his cheeks. He turned and pulled Elsa away. "Kill them both," he ordered, even as Elsa cried out, "Wait!"
Millard's finger squeezed on the crossbow trigger, and the bolt streaked out. The sorceress's eyes flashed with power, and the embers in the fireplace roared as if oil had been poured upon them. The herald, Aedan, opened his eyes and scrambled backwards, panting. The bolt hung suspended in the air, mere inches away from his face, then dropped harmlessly onto his lap.
Reinhardt startled, caught staring wide-eyed between the roaring fire and the failed crossbow bolt, and eased his knife from the sorceress's throat. The sorceress moved quickly. In an instant she grabbed the blade in her hand and squeezed until thick, dark blood dripped from her hands onto the floor.
A low moan filled the chamber. At first Elsa thought it was a howl of wind, but the moan grew until it became an otherworldly shriek. Blood swelled behind Reinhart's eyes and trickled out of his ears, nose, and mouth. He collapsed then, limbs a limp mess, twitching, and screeching with pain.
Aubert dropped his crossbow, threw back his cloak and scraped his sword free of it sheathe. He swept Elsa back with one arm while brandishing his blade towards the sorceress. "Millard, kill them!" he shouted, as the sorceress moved once more and threw out her bloodied hand towards the fire.
The flames roared and twisted as the sorceress's blood fell upon it. In the depths of those flames, a hound emerged. It wasn't like any dog Elsa had seen before. It stepped out of the hearth; its paws left taloned imprints in the stonework. It snarled and gnashed its fangs, then Alexia swept her hand back again and the hound leapt towards Millard.
Millard drew his sword and lunged forward, intent on impaling the hound and skewering its body to the floor. The hound passed through Millard's sword and fell upon the soldier. An inhuman scream filled the chamber, as Millard's cloak erupted in flames.
Elsa squeezed her eyes shut and sought her magic. I can save them! She threw herself against the barrier, but as always, the barrier held, and her magic sparkled just beyond her reach. A hand on her arm pulled her away and dragged her out of the chamber and away from Millard's screams.
It was almost a shock to be in the cool darkness of the stairway again. Aubert slammed the door closed behind him and then pushed forward.
The door erupted into flames, and the infernal found snapped at their heels.
Elsa ran.
Together, she and Aubert stumbled down the stairs and emerged out into the fourth-floor hallway, where Gudor waited. His hood was lowered now. He stared at them, and at the flames barrelling down the stairs after them with mouth agape.
"Run, you fool!" Aubert shouted at him as they came past.
With a yelp of horror, Gudor dropped his crossbow and tore after them.
They followed the staircase down. With each twist, they could feel the heat of the hound snapping at their heels. When they emerged onto the ground floor, Elsa nearly ran into a pair of Ovelian guardsmen, who seemed just as startled to see her. Aubert and Gudor were on them in an instant. Their swords flashed before the guardsmen could draw their own swords and within seconds both men were still on the floor. Dark blood seeped onto the carpet.
"It's too much to hope there won't be more," said Aubert. "All that noise will have roused every soldier in this Almighty-forsaken palace!" Even as he spoke, the sound of bells began to echo through the palace. Aubert cursed and looked around. Harsh orange firelight continued to grow in the staircase as the hound continued its pursuit. "We must make for the harbour."
But the way will surely be swarming with soldiers, now, realised Elsa. But I'd rather be caught by the Ovelians than be burned alive by. . . A thought struck her; it was so powerful she nearly sagged. "I know of another way out of the palace," Elsa said urgently. "It's old, and it doesn't take us to the harbour, but. . ." But it's better than dying here!
"Where?" demanded Aubert.
"Inside the small sitting room," Elsa said and pointed up the passage to a white door carved with pale love roses and wildflowers.
"Are you certain?" Aubert asked.
No, but what choice is there? "Yes," Elsa said breathlessly. She took off running, and with another foul curse Aubert followed her.
When they reached the door, Elsa tried the doorhandle and her heart sunk. "It's locked!"
"Gudor," Aubert said quickly, standing to the side.
Gudor stepped forward, raised his foot, and kicked the door as hard as he could. The door splintered around the lock and burst open.
"Through, quickly!" Aubert said.
Elsa looked back the way they had come as she sprinted through the doorway. Her heart nearly leapt into her throat as she saw the fiery hound dash around the corner. At the sight of them it lowered itself and continued its pursuit with renewed vigour. The light illuminating the corner did not shrink as the hound streaked down the hallway, in fact it only seemed to be growing brighter.
Gudor slammed the door closed behind them and began overturning tables and chairs to throw against the door. Through the cracks in the wood and under the doorway, Elsa could see the fire from the hound grow brighter.
It had been ages since Elsa had seen this room. There were vague memories of her mother entertaining visiting ladies in the room during mid-summer, but that was it. Elsa had asked her mother why she liked to use this room when throughout the rest of the year she used the larger one on the second floor. Her mother had replied that there was always a cool draft inside the room which made it perfect for warm summer days. Elsa and Anna had scoured the room for the breeze in their youth, and eventually found it from behind an old statue of one of their ancestors.
The statue of Lidvald the Unfaithful was small, but then the man himself was rumoured to be a small man, but with big tastes. Elsa remembered her father telling the story to her and Anna when they were small, but he had told them the version where Lidvald used the passage to sneak chocolates and tasty treats from the town. Mattias had brought the story to her attention when he was researching the secret ways in and out of the palace. Elsa learned that it wasn't treats Lidvald had been sneaking into the palace, like her father's old stories told, but a beautiful baker's daughter half his age.
"Hurry, Elsa!" Aubert urged.
How did the old rhyme go? Elsa thought desperately as she placed her hands on the statue. The orange light from the hallway had grown larger, and the heat seared through the door. Anna and I used to laugh so much.
Lidvald was a man full grown,
But never would he sit the throne.
He built a passage in the keep,
To bring his maid to come and sleep.
Sweets, she brought, each time she came,
Their love it seemed was none too tame.
Lidvald left early one winter's day,
Called away by news from the bay.
Twist my hand, sweet love of mine,
You must walk the passage alone this time.
When he was gone, she turned his hand,
And walked the tunnel now covered in sand.
A wrong turn she took as she thought to be wed,
Poor girl, she's gone, lost, and found dead.
Elsa took Lidvald's plump, stone hand and twisted. The hand moved easily, and a loud click sounded from deep within the statue.
"I need help," Elsa cried as she pushed the statue as hard as she could.
Then, Aubert was at her side and leant his strength to hers. The statue began to sink into the wall, pushing the white stone and mortar back until a tunnel, pitch-black and yawning was revealed.
A cold wind drifted through the opening.
"Go ahead, Gudor, find our way," Aubert ordered.
"When you get to the fork in the passage, you need to turn right," Elsa added. "If you keep going straight, you'll get lost in the old mines." Just like the girl in the story. Gudor nodded and disappeared into the darkness.
Vicious snarling echoed through the sitting room from the other side of the doors. Bright light suddenly blossomed as the door and the barricades burst into flames.
"Hurry!" Aubert shouted.
They fled into the passage, rushing down a set of uneven steps in darkness. The fire from the sitting room aided their way at first, but soon they were enveloped in oppressing blackness. Elsa wished that they had another lantern to guide them. The breath rasped in her throat, and it was only Aubert's steady grip on her arm that kept her from falling.
Eventually the staircase ended, and Elsa's feet touched rough sand. She couldn't see Gudor ahead of them. Elsa looked over her shoulder as they ran down the sandy passageway. Behind them, the hound had made it to the bottom of the staircase and had its head raised in pursuit. She could just make out his two black eyes around the twisting fire.
The right turn came quickly, and they took it at a sprint. The hound appeared at the corner not long afterwards and spurred their footsteps.
Gudor's voice echoed towards them from further down the passage, fraught with fright and worry. "The way ahead is bricked off!"
"Break through!" Aubert shouted back at him.
Gudor needed no more urging. He stepped back a few paces, raised his shoulder and charged at the wall with all his strength. The bricks, aged and rotted after decades of exposure to the sea air, crumbled and Gudor fell through with a heavy crash.
Elsa scrambled through the opening, spurred on by Aubert who pushed her forward even as he climbed through the hole himself. They ran past Gudor who was rising to his feet in a heavy cloud of white powder. Large sacks of flour were piled across the floor, and Gudor had gone straight into them.
A bakery? Elsa would have laughed in delight if she weren't so scared. Elsa sprinted up a set of rickety stairs and burst into an empty kitchen. She ran by the cold ovens and piles of wood for burning, Aubert and Gudor on her heels. She could feel the heat from the unnatural hound burning the back of her neck. Its fire brightened the kitchen, making it seem almost merry.
Elsa pushed open the next door and emerged into the bakery's store front. Her heart pounded in her chest and adrenaline flowed through her body so rapidly her legs shook with energy with every step. She jumped over the shop's counter and wrestled with the heavy bar locking the door.
The storm hit her face as she through the door open, and she gasped from the sudden chill, even as she threw herself out into the storm. Rain splattered against her head, drenching her hair and threatening to soak through the heavy cloak. Her feet kicked up water as she slid to a stop and turned around.
The hound had skidded to a halt on the inside of the door where it was still dry. Its flaming jaws snapped angrily and occasionally it risked a fiery paw forward, but the deluge of storm water made it quickly withdraw with a hiss of steam.
It won't follow! Elsa could have whooped with joy.
Aubert rose to his feet and stamped out the end of his cloak with his boot. "The hound almost had me," he said angrily. Next to him, Gudor had discarded his cloak, which lay smoldering on the cobblestones. He rubbed his shoulder and stared at the hound in horror. "What happened to Millard and Reinhart?" he asked.
"Dead," Aubert spat. "That cursed witch killed them." He glared at Elsa. "We dare not tarry here," Aubert continued. "This place will be swarming with Ovelians soon, and we cannot afford to be seen. The harbour is past the bridge – we can only pray that we're not too late." His eyes narrowed on Elsa. "I knew should never have listened to you. We could have been long-gone by now!" He pounded the road with his fist and fell silent.
He's right, a voice in the back of Elsa's mind chimed. Those soldiers are dead and it's all your fault. Aubert, Gudor, they'll die too, and it will be your fault. Elsa felt her eyes well with tears but refused to let them fall.
In a moment, Aubert had composed himself. He cast a withering look at the creature in the fire and said, "At least that thing won't follow us out into the storm."
It was as though Aubert's words had cast a spell.
The hound threw back its head and howled with rage. The fire burned freely inside the bakery now, quickly consuming the wooden frames and walls, despite the fury of the storm battling against it. The hound's eyes blazed as it stepped backwards into the fire. Then another being appeared in the doorway. Red eyes glared at them through the flames. They were surrounded by flowing back hair, darker than the hound's coal-like eyes. It stood on the edge of the stormwater and watched him – as though waiting for them to step back into the bakery and into its arms.
"Blessed Almighty, what is that?" Gudor breathed. His voice shook, and he grimaced as he clutched at his arm. Sweat beaded the man's face, which seemed oddly grey.
"'Of all things foul and unnatural, the foulest is that of sorcery,'" quoted Aubert. "'and thou must not suffer a witch to live'."
From the writ of the Almighty, Elsa noted. Her knees shook, but she didn't know whether it was from fear, adrenaline, or through exertion, or all three. Is that what you think of me, Aubert? She cast the thought away before it could take hold. If he wanted her dead, then he wouldn't be risking his life to rescue her.
The fire seethed, and the hound vanished in a gnashing of teeth and howling. The dark-haired creature screeched and then stepped out into the street with a hiss of steam.
Elsa scattered. "This way!" she shouted but heard the same cry from Aubert and Gudor too. A hasty glance over her shoulder showed the others barreling out into the storm.
She tore through the city streets – heedless of direction. Her only desire was to put as much distance between her and that thing as possible. She swept through narrow alleyways and sprinted across wide roads. None of this part of the city looked familiar to her, but then why would it? Her trips into the city had always been brief and followed the same route to the harbour or markets each time.
She ducked into the mouth of an alleyway tucked between two houses, sucking in hoarse breaths. Her whole body shook with exhaustion.
She risked a glance back out into the avenue and scanned the streets for a landmark – anything to indicate where in the Almighty's name she was. She couldn't see the creature, but with the rain falling freely once more, she assumed it was still lurking around the bakery.
I can't stay here, she told herself, as she forced her body to move once again. Nothing looked familiar here. Maybe on the other side of the alleyway?
This time she crept along the length of the alley and pressed herself as flat as possible against one of the houses before peeking out into the street. Row-after-row of market stalls filled this street on both sides. Although they were bereft goods this late at night, the image was unmistakable. If this is the markets, then that means. . . She stepped out into the road and peered past the lines of stalls. In the distance she could see the fjord cliffs, and below them sails of the Ovelian warships floating in the sea.
She ducked back into the alley, frowning, and tried to smother the fear and panic rising in her breast. It would do no one any good if she broke down now. Not again, she thought fiercely. Never again!
She breathed deeply through her nose and closed her eyes. Aubert would be heading towards the harbour – which was a danger in of itself. She was sure that the Ovelian soldiers would be pouring out of the palace by now – and it seemed unlikely that they would leave the harbour unguarded. She could always hide and try leaving through the gates in the morning – but that would most-likely result in her capture.
If only I had my magic. . . that small, insecure voice whispered to her.
What would Anna do?
Anna would never have gotten into his mess.
If she did make it to the harbour, she could always swim. The Ovelians wouldn't expect that. And she didn't have to swim far – Aubert said that there was a boat waiting by the North-West tower, although he hadn't seemed confident it would wait for long – and certainly not with the Ovelians out in force.
"Who's there!" a voice shot towards her like an arrow. Elsa jerked her eyes open and whirled around. An Ovelian soldier stood at the mouth of the alley, lantern raised to see through the stormy darkness. Other lanterns glowed behind him. Other soldiers. "It's a bad night to be out on your own, and so long past curfew. Hey, WAIT!"
Elsa shot out of the alley and into the market. She heard the soldier yelp and call out to his companions. The pounding of boots on pavement echoed after her.
A voice suddenly called to Elsa over the storm. Elsa looked around, and her heart jumped to her throat.
"Get inside!" a plump woman called from her doorway on the market's edge. Warm candlelight shone from inside. "You come inside, right now!"
Elsa looked over her shoulder at the approaching Ovelian patrol and dashed towards the doorway.
When she was through, the woman slammed the door and rounded on her. "Fool girl! I told you. I told you!" the woman hissed as she quickly blew out the candles. Her voice lowered, muttering so furiously Elsa had to strain her ears to hear over her heart's savage pounding.
"If those Ovelians had caught you, you would be hanging from a noose by morning," the woman continued her quiet tirade. Elsa raised her hand and opened her mouth to try and speak, but the woman cut her off. "Is that what you want? Do you want me to be alone? They will take you from me, and then what will I do!"
The woman stopped suddenly as she waved the last remaining candle in front Elsa's face. Her face, rosy with anger, paled so quickly it looked like all the blood had drained from her face. She reached out a shaky hand and pushed back Elsa's hood. "You're not my Ria," she breathed.
#
A flurry of activity had assaulted the palace courtyard by the time Aedan had descended from Alexia's tower and into the storm outside. Red-cloaked soldiers dashed about, hastily lighting oil lanterns, readying horses or moving into their formations. Even more combed the palace – Aedan had walked past several patrols while they searched rooms, closets and lonely corners for Elsa and her rescuers.
King Maximilian stood at the top of the courtyard stairs. The storm seemed to swirl around him. His voice boomed like thunder, and his eyes gleamed with black rage. His clutched the hilt of his sword in a white-knuckled grip, as though trying desperately to resist drawing it and striking down anything that moved. "How did she escape?" he demanded.
One of Maximilian's officers, a serious-looking man named Ornsten, was the only one brave enough to answer. "It seems she was broken out," he said. To his credit, he did not flinch when Maximilian turned his fury towards him. "We found the soldiers on duty asleep at the table – drugged. They cannot be roused. Until they are, I fear that we won't know how many conspirators there were, or who may have been behind this."
Aedan breathed deeply and steeled himself. "There were three who I saw with Elsa," he said. "They were all hooded and cloaked; however, their leader was Aubert the Baron of Stoke."
"How did you come to see them?" Maximilian demanded.
"They came to Alexia's room," said Aedan. "Alexia killed two of the soldiers, then . . . went after Aubert and Elsa. I haven't seen her since."
Maximilian's mouth tightened into a thin, white line as he stared at Aedan.
"Make way!" A frantic voice drifted towards them. "King Maximilian, King Maximlian!"
"What now?" Maximilian roared.
A red-cloaked soldier skidded to a stop at the base of the stairs and put his hands on his knees as he struggled for air. Blood stained one side of his face, mixing wetly from the stormwater.
"Speak, man," Maximilian said.
"Arendellian soldiers have seized the harbour and flood the ships moored within," the soldier rasped. "They've turned the cannons on the garrison, and the ships anchored further out. They overpowered us before he could take up arms."
"How many?"
"I . . . don't know, Sire. Hundreds."
"The missing soldiers," Ornsten breathed. "Tell me, how did you come to escape?"
"Ser Amory cut a path so I could make it through the gates, but they . . . they killed him, and the others." The soldier's voice vanished in a rasp, and he swayed before pitching forward. His face smashed into the steps. The white fletching of a crossbow bolt blossomed out of the soldier's back. Ornsten rushed forward and knelt beside the soldier.
"He's dead," said Ornsten. "I'm surprised he made it this far."
Maximilian was silent for a time. Aedan watched his king's face twist as he wrestled with his temper. It had been a long time since Aedan had seen Maximilian this angry.
"Ornsten," Maximilian finally said, voice tight.
The officer rose and stood at attention before his king. "Yes, Sire?"
"Take the Third and comb the streets for Elsa. I want men posted at every gate and rathole out of this city. Search the houses if you must. I want her found!"
Ornsten saluted, shouldered his spear, and dashed away, shouting for his horse.
"And someone find me a Beoulve!" Maximilian thundered.
"I am here, my king," Lord Edward Beoulve appeared on the steps near Maximilian. He was drenched through his cloak, and his chest rose raggedly with each breath. Matrim shadowed his father, equally as drenched. His eyes flickered towards Aedan, taking in his unbuttoned coat and ragged appearance; his mouth tightened with disapproval.
"Rouse the Fourth and the Fifth," Maximilian ordered. "I want them mobilised and ready to fight within the hour. You will command the Fourth, and I will lead the Fifth."
"As you command," Lord Edward said. "So, it shall be done."
"What about me?" Aedan asked eagerly. Excitement pulsed through him, and for the first time in over a week he felt like his old self.
Maximilian glanced at him. For a second, Aedan thought he was going to start yelling, but Maximilian merely shook his head. "You will return to bed, Aedan."
"What?"
"You heard me. You can barely stand – don't think I haven't noticed. You will be nothing more than a liability out there tonight."
"But I want to fight!"
"Not tonight," said Maximilian.
"But. . ."
Maximilian's temper flared. "Do as I command!" he snapped.
Aedan scowled as he saluted his king.
"Go," ordered Maximilian.
Aedan's scowl persisted as he went back inside the palace. Instead of returning to his chamber on the second floor, he stomped up the stairs towards Alexia's tower.
The remnants of Alexia's sorcery still stained the chamber, although the bodies of its victims had vanished. The rug had long become cinders, and the stonework beneath was scorched black. The stench of burnt flesh hung thickly in the air.
Alexia looked over her shoulder at him as he entered. Her arms were folded behind her back, lacing up a black dress.
"I assume Elsa escaped you too?" Aedan said.
Alexia's remained cool and impassive, but for a second Aedan thought he saw her hands clench cruelly around her laces. "They escaped through a hidden passage which led under the fjord and into town. I . . . could not follow them into the storm."
"Maximilian won't be happy to hear that."
"I realise," said Alexia stiffly.
"Yet it's hardly the worst news of the night. Arendellian soldiers have seized the harbour and have turned the cannons on our ships. Maximilian rouses the legions as we speak."
Alexia finished tying her dress. "Where is he?"
"In the courtyard, unleashing his fury against the storm," Aedan paused, then added. "Take care, he is in a foul mood."
"Then I best not keep him waiting." Alexia cupped Aedan's cheek in her hand, and her face softened. "Are you well?"
Fire licked Alexia's body and kissed its way around her until she was consumed by the orange and yellow flames. Her hair billowed out behind her as though taken by a strong wind. When she spoke, her voice was infinitely deep.
Aedan swallowed. "What you did to those soldiers – that magic." He let the question linger.
"Not all magic is born from the Almighty, sweetling." Alexia leaned in and kissed him hard on the mouth. When she pulled away, Aedan tasted blood. "Come find me when the battle is over and do try to avoid exerting yourself too much before then."
Aedan listened to her footsteps fade down the stairs. His wound ached, and that cavernous pit in his stomach growled with hunger once more.
His king had told him to go to bed – like he was a child! Everyone else was fighting, how could he lie in bed while others risked their lives?
Fuck that.
With renewed vigour, Aedan sprinted back down the stairs and burst into his room. His armour rested on a rack next to the wardrobe. He buckled on his jerkin and breastplate, frowning at how loosely it fit him. He managed the rest of his armour easily enough and had his sword half-buckled to his belt before he hesitated. Ser Lennox's silver sword Whisper rested in it sheathe beside the wardrobe. It was a fine blade – much finer than the straight-sword he had been using before. . . He discarded his old sword and strapped Whisper to his belt instead.
Maximilian was gone by the time Aedan made his way back to the courtyard. He cast his eyes around and soon spotted Ornsten's spear reflecting the flickering torchlight. He made his way over to Ornsten and fell into place beside him. Ornsten was delivering orders to twenty men, one of the patrols set to scour the city.
"What are you doing here?" Ornsten said, surprised. Then, with the ghost of a smile, he added. "Didn't the king send you to bed?"
"I'm coming with you," Aedan said.
"And have my head on the chopping block next to yours? I don't think so."
"Either I go with you, or I head out there alone. Either way, I refuse to wait inside while other people risk their lives."
"You're playing with fire, Aedan."
"I've been hearing that a lot this week."
Ornsten snorted. "For your sake, I hope you're the one who brings Elsa back to him. It's the only thing that will keep you from a flogging - or a noose around your neck."
"For my sake, I hope so too."
"Very well then, let's go," Ornsten said. "I've heard reports of a fire at a bakery on the other side of the bridge."