The bladesingers moved out, looking deadly as always. The High Enchantress strode forward, her head high. Her green silk dress drew glances from the men. She knew they wondered what she was capable of; the soldiers stayed carefully out of her way.
Suddenly, before crossing the precarious-looking rope bridge, Evora stopped, looking at the soldiers around her — nearly forty fighting men. "From the other side of this bridge we increase our speed," she said. "We march from two hours before dawn to two hours after sunset. Nightlamps will guide our way. Soldiers, you are on the most important mission of your lives. I want speed." She locked eyes with Captain Joram. "Give me speed."
"You heard the High Enchantress; move out! Double time!"
Her mouth set in a grim line, Evora set the pace.
38
And the Lord of the Sky said, ‘Look up, but not to look at me. For I shall be there with you, and we will be looking up together.’
— The Evermen Cycles, 15-38
ELLA waved until the wagon was out of sight. She sighed — she had really enjoyed the old man’s company — but with determination she hoisted her satchel to her shoulder and began to walk.
Evrin had taken her a great deal of the way she needed to go. They’d travelled together for nearly a week, sharing their food and chatting amicably. During their journey, Ella had learned more about the animator’s arts than she ever would have thought possible, Evrin was a patient teacher, and with such a quick pupil — too quick, he observed on numerous occasions — she was soon taking her turn controlling the drudges. He even showed her more of their defence mechanisms — kicks and lunges, ducks and rolls.
Behind it all were the runes themselves. An animator’s real skill was in creating the constructs, and Ella put a great deal of effort into learning the structures and discovering how life was breathed into a collection of carved pieces. She learned much more than she let on, and vowed to try her hand at creating a simple construct when the next opportunity presented itself.
Evrin had also had a wealth of beautifully woven stories that he’d told her. Stories of people with fantastic powers, who could stave off death itself. Tales of evil lords and proud slaves who challenged their masters. His first tale had been about a man whose wife was torn open by his enemy’s sword, and how her husband, in his grief, tried to use runes of strength on her body. Miraculously, the lore had saved the woman’s life. Ella had liked the story, such a change from what she knew essence was capable of.
With the slight increase in journey speed, she felt confident she had gained at least a day on Killian. She was now forced to think about what she would do when she caught him.
He possessed some dangerous abilities — he was able to walk past a score of palace guards without being seen; he could pass whatever nightmare traps the best enchanters and animators could prepare without qualm; he could pretend death with blue lips and freezing skin without a twitch; he could touch essence without the slightest hint of damage or poisoning.
Ella’s greatest advantage lay in the fact that Killian wouldn’t be expecting her. He would be on the lookout for the High Enchantress, or perhaps a bladesinger — anyone but the young girl he had taken advantage of so callously.
She needed to use that advantage somehow. Perhaps she could get a disguise when she arrived in Petrya, appear to be one of the locals. Then when she accosted Killian she could use the shock when he saw who it really was to her advantage. She had her green silk dress with her and she could also enchant more weapons. She was hardly defenceless.
Perhaps she could pretend she was lovesick, a girl who had followed him across this great distance for love. Yes, that was it.
Smiling to herself, Ella decided it would be an enjoyable role to play. Some part of her mind rebelled when she remembered the warmth of his kiss, the strength in his arms. This time she would be pretending.
She kept repeating this to herself as she walked.
~
THE temperature was drier, and a little warmer, here in the south. The road was far less travelled and much of the land was unoccupied, little more than rocky desert. A thin trail left the road, barely a walking track, winding its way around huge boulders towards the Elmas. Evrin had said she wanted to take this road. He’d also reminded her that bandits lived in these parts, and admonished Ella to be careful.
She did feel terribly exposed here. The great peaks loomed over her, blotting out the light of the sun so that she was in perpetual shade. They were black mountains, made of sheer cliffs and narrow canyons. The Elmas had formed the natural border between Alturan lands and Petryan lands for thousands of years. Except for the treacherous Wondhip Pass, there was no way across.