The Lore of the Evermen (Evermen Saga, #4)

She nearly lost her balance and fought the urge to sit back on the pier. Seeing the destruction of the wall around the Sentinel brought home the urgency of her task, and when she considered her fear, combined with her pain, she knew that to back down now would be to fail.

Ella lifted her left leg and took a step forward. She took a second step, and she realized that it was easier to maintain her balance if she kept moving. Ella then made a dozen steps, resisting the urge to look back until she’d walked far enough over the water that she knew she wouldn’t turn back, and then she glanced over her shoulder.

Onlookers stood on the pier, watching her in amazement, completely ignoring the rain. A man raised a hand in front of him, as if in greeting or farewell, and the others followed suit.

Ella turned her attention back to her destination, and then she began to think about her dress.

It was a dark night, and the rain helped, but the green silk would still shine in any light, particularly when Ella drew close to the flickering destruction in the area around the Sentinel.

Ella started to chant, pouring all of her concentration into the constant hum of activation sequences she’d built into her enchantress’s dress. She didn’t concern herself with protection or heat. Ella wanted to become invisible.

She wore black gloves on her hands and had pulled her hood to hang low over her face. Each step took her closer to the flashes of fire, and she now saw the scattering sparks as the lore of the builders fought both the force of black powder and the energetic onslaught of the Lord of the Night’s power.

Ella glanced down at her sleeves as she walked across the water, developing a comfortable rhythm of splashing steps and chanted runes. She was satisfied; she could see through the sleeves to the dark water below.

Real thunder sounded overhead, barely able to be heard over the shattering sounds of energy unleashed, and the rain picked up strength. Ella now felt each tap against her back with force, feeling her shoulders bow down under the weight of rain and the agony of pain in her body. But she was grateful for the storm, for it hid the imprints of her footsteps in the water. A clear night would have meant discovery.

The hulking vessels grew larger with each step, and Ella’s blood pounded in her ears with a steady staccato. The words came from her lips between gasps as her stomach clenched, this time with excruciating force, but she couldn’t stop her chant or she would be seen. Ella thought about the bodies of the sailors washed up to the docks. She remembered Evrin’s battle against Sentar Scythran. She again saw the devastation of Shar.

She filled her mind with these thoughts; they were all that gave her the strength to go on.

Ella skirted around a huge Veldrin warship, fear momentarily cutting through her constant chant, but she gathered renewed strength as her training and experience reasserted itself. Black figures scurried on the decks, and the vessel quivered with each broadside of the rows of cannon. As she rounded the ship, Ella saw the crumbling wall around the Sentinel, with bits of stone fragmented all around the perimeter of the island. She looked for Sentar Scythran but couldn’t see him.

An inner ring of warships clustered around a central vessel. These ships had been left out of the fight, their purpose to instead provide protection to the center of the circle. Ella made each step carefully now, though the slower speed made it harder for her to keep her balance.

Looking down, she saw that the phosphorescent glow of the symbols on her slippers had dimmed. It was impossible for Ella to know whether her lore would last; she could only hope.

The figures on these ships didn’t scurry; they stood and watched, peering out at the night. Ella spotted necromancers in gray robes and revenants standing guard. As she passed under the side of a warship, she glanced up and saw the white face of a peering man as he scanned the sea.

He looked down, and Ella stopped moving, reducing her chant to a whisper.

The muscles in her legs ached with raw pain; first her left leg and then her right began to tremble.

If she fell, she would sink. They would see her splash, and she would fail.

Ella’s left leg gave way as she slipped.





50


At the same time that Ella slipped, a greater explosion than any before split the air, filling the air with thunder, and Ella heard a huge crash. The peering necromancer turned to look at the Sentinel, and Ella scrabbled and splashed at the water, finally righting herself.

Not looking to see whether she’d been spotted, she sped forward, passing under the warship’s prow and beyond before a chill struck her.

She’d forgotten to continue chanting. She was in the open, able to be seen with the most casual of glances.

Her heart hammering, Ella looked at the bright green sleeve of her dress in horror. The constant fire and resulting sparks on the walls shone from the glistening silk.