They burst from the cover of the woods, sprinting towards the pit. Venick’s boots kicked up dirt. His lungs heaved. The now-solid wall of smoke loomed closer, closer, and as he approached he half expected to discover that it reallywasa wall, to slam into it head on, feel the crunch of bone.
He passed into the smoke-cloud as easily as a breath. The world was instantly thrown into a strange glowing greyness, the heat of the smoke enough to make Venick’s ears ache. He ducked low, pulling his shirt up over his mouth and nose, rushing to the pit’s edge with Lin Lill at his side.
He spotted the highland woman first. She was pressed flat against the crumbling dirt wall beneath him, eyes screwed closed, her face marbled with soot and sweat. The fire hadn’t yet reached her, but the pit was hot enough to bring the highlanders to their knees. Around them, black powder continued to zip and crack, pushing the townspeople back, leaving those who remained distracted and frenzied. Lin Lill produced a length of rope. “Here,” Venick called to the woman, throwing the rope down to her, holding tight to its other end. “Climb.”
The woman’s eyes came open. She blinked up—a split-second moment of shock—before quickly scanning for her comrades, who were all doing as Venick had commanded: scrambling up lengths of rope held by the elves. The woman set her jaw and nodded. She began to climb.
One of the prisoners screamed.
His rope had caught fire. It seared his hands and split. He tumbled into the flames below.
A second prisoner’s luck was no better. The elves began to haul him up as his rope, too, caught fire. Then Venick stopped watching, because the woman’s rope began smoking under his hands.Hang on, Venick said, or maybe he only thought it, because then he and Lin Lill were both frantically hauling up the rope, pulling it over the pit’s edge, andplease, that the woman had the strength to hold on,please, that her rope didn’t catch and split like the others. Overhead, smoke blotted out the sun. The fire roared like rolling thunder. Venick dug in his heels, dizzy and disoriented, lost in the smoke, unable to get enough air. His chest seized. Tears streaked his cheeks. He dug in harder, pressed back against Lin Lill as the two of them struggled, and finally,finally, felt the release of pressure that either meant the woman had made it over the top or had fallen to her death.
Venick blinked through the smoke. Crawled forward on hands and knees.
The highland woman lay sprawled on the grass, staring back at him. Alive.
???
It was some time later, after they’d secreted the woman into the cover of the woods and the last of the fire had died away that Venick learned the rest of the story.
Irek’s lowlanders were unhurt. They blamed the soldiers for stacking the logs poorly and allowing the fire to escape the pit. No one suspected black powder.
Two of the highlander men had died in the pit. The third managed to escape, but was badly burned. Venick saw him as he was being ushered away. He hardly appeared human. The skin on his face looked like an open sore, his nose a lumpen mess, both eyes missing. He’d died back at camp shortly after.
Only the woman survived. Venick went to visit her in the healer’s tent. She looked to be around his age. One of her eyes was hazel, which was common among highlanders. The other probably was too, though Venick couldn’t know for sure; it was bruised and blackened, swollen shut. It had happened when the soldier had slapped her.
Worse, though, were her hands. The skin was shiny and too tight. Burned. She held them stiffly away from her body.
“I’m sorry,” Venick told her, and felt the uselessness of those words. “I’m sorry that this happened to you. And your friends…we tried. This shouldn’t—this should never have happened.” A hard sigh. “Those burns need to be treated. I’ll see what we have in our supplies. Are you hurt anywhere else?”
The woman turned her face away, refusing to reply.
SEVENTEEN
Ellina arrived to the garden party late and, from the looks of it, last. If anyone asked, she planned to blame the gown’s buttons for the delay, though in truth she had been standing just out of view of the gathering, mustering her resolve. Ellina knew from Farah’s invitation that this lunch was to be hosted in the palace’s stone gardens, but when she had seenwherein the gardens, she had half a mind to turn back the way she had come.
Senators and courtiers gathered around the everpool. Its crystalline surface reflected the party perfectly: the earth-toned robes of the councillors, the more colorful fabric favored by youths, the slate-grey clouds looming low overhead. Guests mingled with food and drink in hand, some standing in the warm glow of braziers, others sitting on stone benches, their furred cloaks pulled up around their chins. There was the tink of china, the low din of conversation, rare and quiet laughter. Farah stood by the largest brazier on the opposite end of the everpool, surrounded by advisors.
Ellina’s eyes darted back to the water. It seemed impossible that Farah had chosen this location by chance, yet when Ellina stepped out of hiding and approached her sister, Farah showed no signs of slyness, nor any indication that she was aware of the everpool at all. She beckoned Ellina with hand. “Sister. We were just discussing the problem of the western wetlands. Perhaps you can help.”
The elves in Farah’s circle were mostly senators, high-ranking officials whose duty it was to advise the queen on specialized matters. They were all white-haired, all golden-eyed, all bearing their weapons openly, like jewelry draped across their shoulders and hips. At Farah’s invitation they shuffled aside to make room.
“The wetlands?” Ellina asked.
“Those lands are riddled with marshes and bogs. They block our path into the mainlands. Soon, the time will come to move our forces west, but it will be difficult to maneuver an army through the wetlands.”
“Detour south around them,” said one of the councillors, a southern elf named Awlin. “The land to the south is dry. A detour will take time, but you will have no trouble moving an army or its artillery that way.”
“Leave our artillery behind,” said another. “We are strong enough without the added bulk.”
Leaving their artillery behind would give the resistance a better chance at victory, but it would also mean a nimbler enemy. Without their cannons and wagons to weigh them down, Farah’s army would sweep quickly through the mainlands. Ellina imagined humans ambushed in the night. Doors being ripped from their hinges, children torn from their mother’s arms. Those who fought back would be cut down. Their blood would soak the earth.
Farah said, “If we detour south, we lose the element of surprise. The mountains will no longer conceal our movements. And we know the humans will havetheirartillery. Leaving ours behind would put us at a disadvantage.” She looked at Ellina. “Well? What do you think?”
Ellina peered up at the clouds. They donned the sky in vast waves. “Sail,” she said. The elves stared.
“Sail?” Awlin repeated incredulously. “Elves do not sail. We do not even have any ships.”
