"Right away, maybe the time it takes to take a breath."
The High Enchantress nodded, turning back to Killian. The prone figure lay cold and still on the stretcher in the palace corridor. She began to examine the skin of his hand and his arm, piece by piece. She suddenly ripped his shirt open, removing it to expose the muscles of his chest and the curls of his body hair. Aside from a small pendant on a chain, Killian now wore only his trousers. He looked strangely frail, cold. Ella would have thought he was dead, but for the rise and fall of his chest. The High Enchantress grunted inconclusively.
"High Enchantress?" Ella said. "Will he be all right? Did it wash off his skin? Did the cold do something?"
The High Enchantress looked up at Ella and her expression grew puzzled. "To be honest? I don’t know. I need to spend more time with him, to consult some books." Evora frowned down at Killian. "Do you see these marks?" She lifted his arm, displaying an ugly blue stain on Killian’s skin. "This is where the essence touched him. It always leaves these marks. But I do not know how he comes to still be alive, and what will happen next. It could be that the cold or the water did something to impede the poison’s progress."
"So he might recover?"
"He could return to full health with no further problems, or he could die as we speak."
"Dear Skylord," Ella whispered. The implications of had happened were finally starting to sink in.
"Wash him thoroughly, and take him to my sanctum," the High Enchantress instructed the palace guards. "You may leave now, young lady. I expect we’ll be speaking again soon enough."
"No, please, let me stay with him," Ella pleaded.
"Leave, at once. Guards!"
"No, let me stay with him!" Ella cried. "High Enchantress!"
The High Enchantress merely cast a scornful look over her shoulder as she walked away.
The soldiers forcibly carried Ella out of the palace, embarrassed for her. She kicked and fought with all of her strength, but her spirit finally left her as she stood at the Crystal Palace’s great doors. The guards watched her warily.
"Miss," one of the soldiers spoke.
"It’s all right. I’m leaving," Ella said.
22
Show humility to your neighbours and make friends of your enemies. People fight when they feel threatened. Show you are no threat and they will open their arms.
— The Evermen Cycles, 16-2
IN the end, the Alturan army’s decision was made for them. A Halrana messenger gave them the news, his face streaked with tears that carved a path through the grime on his skin.
Ralanast, the Halrana capital, had been conquered by the Black Army. The great city that had lasted through the Rebellion, where the spirit of Halaran could never be broken, was taken in a day.
The commanders were now faced with no choice but to try to link with the Ring Forts, to create a unified front in Halaran’s south and push forward, and try to retake the territory that had been lost so quickly.
Continuing eastward now, the army began to encounter small groups of Halrana soldiers and even partisan groups, locals who had been forced into hiding by the legion. Refugees brought horrific stories of butchery and pillage. The Alturan army passed them in their thousands, those who had lost everything and now had nothing.
The fleeing soldiers brought useful information on enemy numbers and capabilities. They said the black flag could now be seen across most of northern Halaran. It was now definite — the artificers had joined with the Emperor. The Black Army had now swallowed two houses.
Nothing had been heard from Vezna or Petrya. Perhaps they were still uncommitted. And still nothing had been heard from the Primate. None said it aloud, but all wondered why. The Primate and his templars in Aynar controlled the essence. He was the only one who could bring a swift end to the war.
No word had been received from the Halrana High Lord in some time. Their messages to Mornhaven, where High Lord Legasa waited in supposed strength, received no reply.
It was impossible to hide the fundamentals from the soldiers. The men felt terribly alone.
There had been some brief engagements, but nothing that could be called a battle. Some explosions in the night as their defences were tested. A quick skirmish with some of the legion, quickly decided in the Alturans’ favour.
Fortunately they hadn’t been surprised by the dirigibles again — they’d learned their lesson well. It was about the best thing that could be said, the only positive so far. Morale was low.
It was raining, a steady cold drizzle that seemed it would never stop. Miro, Ronell and Bartolo shared a cold meal under the branches of an alpin. It did little to ward off the rain, and Miro shivered.
"I can’t believe it took them that long to tell us," Ronell grunted.
"At least they did eventually," said Bartolo.
"Four days. Four days I’ve been walking around completely sodden."