CHAPTER 51 Torj
Torj
‘A force divided in purpose is already half-defeated before the first arrow flies’
– The Warsword’s Way
VERNICH AND ONE hundred and fifty brave souls from the Warren led them out of the underground labyrinth.
Kipp had shown the Bloodletter where they were meeting the rest of their forces, and the older Warsword had moved quickly.
Retired or not, he hadn’t lost his touch.
The incline told Torj that they were moving straight for the capital, Dorinth, which sat on a cliff’s edge, or had, once upon a time.
When they emerged from the Warren, they were greeted by crumpled pillars and piles of broken stone. The remnants of the fallen kingdom had been overrun by nature – long vibrant grasses, wildflowers and trees.
‘This is what’s left of the outer city wall and watchtowers,’ Vernich explained, pointing to the stone and rubble amid the undergrowth. ‘The old city gates are a few leagues south, but Silas will have guards posted there. You can see the capital—’
Torj’s breath caught in his throat. His hand shot out, gripping Vernich’s arm with enough force to make the man wince.
‘Furies above,’ Torj whispered, his awestruck voice barely audible over the sudden pounding of his heart.
Between them and Dorinth stretched a field of pearly white – a sea of silvertide roses swaying in the gentle morning breeze, their iridescent petals catching the sunlight like fragments of glass.
The flowers carpeted the entire expanse, as far as the eye could see, creating a luminous barrier between their small force and the capital they meant to take.
‘Wren . . .’ Her name escaped his lips like a prayer.
She guided her horse forwards, stopping alongside him.
‘What is it?’ But as she followed his gaze, the words died on her tongue and she blinked rapidly.
‘Silvertide,’ she breathed, her voice cracking.
She gripped her reins so tightly her knuckles turned white.
‘It’s . . . impossible. There’s so much of it. ’
Behind them, Zavier swore softly and looked to Torj. ‘I thought you said it was all gone?’
‘I thought it was. Every spot marked on the map was burned. For the locations I couldn’t get to, my scouts confirmed it. Silas had them all destroyed. Except for the wild roses we came across before Vernich arrived.’
‘And except for this field at the foot of his stronghold,’ Thea ventured dryly.
‘Except for that,’ Torj agreed, his words quiet with disbelief as he shared a glance with Wren. In her eyes he saw the same wild hope that had seized his own chest. ‘This wasn’t marked on the map . . .’
‘I didn’t want you venturing this close to Silas on your own,’ Wren replied quietly, tears brimming. ‘And after you returned with the news of the ruined fields . . . I didn’t dare to dream that this would have survived Silas’s claiming of the capital.’
‘But this is it, Wren,’ he said, unable to stop the note of relief in his voice. ‘We have enough for a whole army. This is our chance. To stop Silas, to . . . to cure me.’
But Wren’s expression was unreadable, and though he reached for her through the bond, she was keeping her emotions guarded. ‘We can’t harvest it now. Dorinth, along with a good portion of Silas’s armed forces, sits right behind it – we’d be slaughtered before we gathered enough.’
‘And if we attempt take the capital first . . .’ Zavier trailed off.
‘Then this miraculous field might be destroyed in the battle to come,’ Torj finished for him with a nod.
‘We need to rejoin our company. Then we’ll figure out how to do both – take the capital and secure the silvertide.
’ He looked at each of their faces in turn before his gaze settled back on Wren. ‘This changes everything.’
At last, they crested the final ridge to behold Lord Lucian’s encampment sprawled across the valley floor.
Hope flared in Torj’s chest – the banners of Harenth snapped in the wind alongside their own, and he thanked the Furies for their mercy.
The royal force had arrived and set up camp right alongside the shieldbearers of Thezmarr, as well as the Devereux, Briar and Pendelton bannermen.
Now their numbers resembled that of an actual army, with Regent Liora’s company of one thousand bolstering not only their size, but their morale as well – though he could see no sign of the armies from Aveum or Tver, and that realization curdled uncomfortably in the pit of his stomach.
‘What took you so long?’ Lord Lucian demanded, stepping out of his command tent and pinning them with a scrutinizing stare.
Torj was a second away from snapping when Vernich’s voice rumbled behind him.
‘What’s this? Another rich prick trying to tell us how to do our jobs?’ the Bloodletter grunted, swinging down from his saddle. ‘Brought you reinforcements. You’d be wise to welcome us graciously.’
Torj had to stifle a snort of amusement when Lucian actually blanched as the older Warsword towered over him.
‘I was told you had died,’ Lucian managed delicately.
‘Do I look fucking dead to you?’ Vernich all but snarled.
Lucian’s eyes narrowed. ‘Do you know who I am, Bloodletter?’
‘Your name doesn’t matter,’ Vernich scoffed. ‘I’ve known plenty of men like you, and you’re all the fucking same. Damn waste of space if you ask me—’
‘Who are we expecting?’ Wilder interjected suddenly, turning to the south, where a cloud of dust rose in the distance.
Lucian tensed as the horses closed in. ‘We haven’t received word from King Leiko, and Aveum’s army isn’t due to arrive until—’
‘It’s not a whole force,’ Torj observed. ‘Four, maybe five riders?’
Wilder was already unsheathing his swords. ‘Let’s go.’
Gripping his hammer, Torj jogged with Wilder to the outer perimeter of their company, to see five hooded figures on horseback cantering towards them.
‘Archers,’ Cal bellowed from their ranks.
The telltale creak of a dozen bows sounded at his command.
‘Hold!’ Torj ordered as the riders slowed upon approach.
‘Bear Slayer,’ called a familiar voice. Farissa lowered her hood. ‘I bring the Master Alchemists of Drevenor,’ she announced. ‘We’ve come to join the fight.’
One by one, the masters dismounted and lowered their hoods: the Master of Lifelore, Hardim Norlander; the Master of Warfare, Landis Crawford; the Master of Design, Nyella Mercer; and the High Chancellor of Drevenor himself, Remington Belcourt.
Behind them, Torj now noticed a smaller group of riders – a handful of determined-looking students in travel-worn cloaks, their faces set with the same grim resolve as their masters’. Part of Drevenor’s surviving cohort, come to fight alongside their teachers and their peers.
‘We’ve come to assist,’ the High Chancellor said. ‘In any way that we can.’
Torj would never like the man after everything his leadership at Drevenor had put Wren through, but they weren’t exactly in a position to be turning away help – the help of Master Alchemists, no less. ‘How did you find us?’
‘A man in Harenth,’ Farissa answered. ‘He had been a spy for the People’s Vanguard for a time, but apparently Elwren helped him on her previous trip to Delmira . . . His daughter was ill and she gave him the means to cure her.’
Wren came forwards then, brow furrowed. ‘I remember him. Paden was the name he gave us.’
Farissa nodded. ‘That was him. His daughter made a full recovery, and he decided to switch sides. He’s working for Regent Liora now. When he heard us asking after you, he told us where you were.’
Thea clapped Wren on the back and laughed with a note of disbelief. ‘Sister, you knew what you were doing, even then . . .’
‘Hardly,’ Wren murmured before addressing Kipp. ‘Now, shall we talk strategy?’
Torj looked to where Kipp was standing by his horse, his expression deadly serious. ‘Absolutely.’
In Lucian’s war tent, they gathered around a map and Kipp pointed to three locations.
‘Silas has divided his forces – here, here and here. Intelligence reports that the bulk of his army fortifies the capital ruins, giving them both elevation and natural defences. But what was already our most challenging target now presents an additional complication . . .’
Kipp’s gaze swept across them all.
‘The silvertide roses. A field of unprecedented size stands between us and Dorinth. Make no mistake – we need both. The capital secures our military advantage and legitimizes Wren’s claim through proper coronation. The roses provide our only hope of countering the Kingsbane’s dark alchemy.’
‘So what do you suggest?’ Lord Lucian asked, eyeing the strategist with keen interest.
‘We need to lure them away from the capital,’ Kipp replied. ‘If we can draw a significant portion of his forces away from both the city and the fields . . .’
‘We can fight them on our terms,’ Wren finished.
‘Better yet – we might not have to fight them at all.’ Kipp’s eyes gleamed. ‘Wren’s poisoning skills give us an advantage. If we can lure them to a camp we’ve prepared . . .’
‘We eliminate a chunk of their army without risking our own,’ Thea said.
‘And create a gap in their defences,’ Torj added cautiously. ‘But the bait has to be convincing.’
Wren met his eyes. ‘Who better to serve as bait than the very queen they’re hunting?’
‘Absolutely fucking not.’ The words were out before Torj could stop them, sounding more like a growl than a sentence. Wren’s eyes flashed to where the poison had darkened the veins in his arms.
‘Tell us how you really feel, Bear Slayer,’ Kipp muttered.
There was a tinge of red to Torj’s vision as he stared down the strategist, fists clenched at his sides. ‘You’re insane if you think—’
‘This is happening, Elderbrock,’ Wren snapped, her tone all business.
‘I’ll lure them out with storm magic – Silas won’t be able to resist trying to capture that power for himself.
He’ll send a decent force, which we can obliterate.
It’s more than worth the risk, especially as we’re yet to be joined by Tver and Aveum’s forces. ’
Torj’s body was tense, his fists clenching at his sides. It’s not worth risking you, he argued through the bond.
But Wren didn’t spare him another look; her gaze was fixed on Lucian Devereux. ‘I can’t ask others to risk their lives for me if I’m not willing to do the same for them.’
‘For once, Princess Elwren, we are in agreement,’ Lucian replied.
‘What happened to not risking your future daughter-in-law?’ Torj bit back. ‘It wasn’t all that long ago you were against using her “like a worm on a hook” – wasn’t that the phrase?’
Darian shot Torj a warning glance before reproaching his father. ‘Do we really think sending my bride-to-be out on her own like this is a good idea, Father?’
‘Yes,’ Lucian replied. ‘It shows your allies that she is willing to put their lives first, that she is not afraid to rise to a challenge. When I want your opinion, Darian, I’ll damn well ask for it.’
Torj’s heart hammered against his sternum as he scanned the group desperately for someone who was willing to speak up. But no one did. And he could say no more without risking the ruse between Wren and Darian.
Wren continued smoothly. ‘Zavier and Dessa can continue work on the cure in my absence. And I won’t be on my own. Kipp and Cal will accompany me.’
‘Not to state the obvious,’ Cal said slowly, ‘but you’re suggesting that only three of us take on an entire unit of Silas’s army? How?’
‘A brilliant observation, Callahan,’ Kipp said with a winning smile. ‘You leave that to Wren and me.’
‘This seems ambitious, Snowden,’ Wilder interjected. ‘Even for you.’
‘I’ll take that as a compliment,’ Kipp replied.
‘I don’t think it was meant as one,’ Torj told him.
But to his dismay, murmurs of agreement sounded all around him, and before he knew it, he was watching as Wren mounted her horse and looked out over the lands before them.
She took his breath away, fierce and fearless in her armour, the jagged scar at her throat peeking out from beneath.
Her belt of potions and poisons was secured around her waist, while her hands were steady on the reins, her chin held high.
Alchemist. Poisoner. Queen.
‘Bear Slayer,’ she commanded, seeming to sense his attention, ‘my army is yours to command. When you see my signal, you will take Dorinth in my name.’
For a moment Torj stared at her. This woman . . . My woman . . . For the first time in his long, battle-ravaged life, he felt worthy. Of the time he’d been given, and of her.
Gods, he wanted to go to her, to take her face in his hands, to put his mouth to hers and pour everything he felt into a kiss.
Instead, he bowed before her. ‘It would be my honour, Your Majesty.’
Wren nodded, then scanned the rest of their company. ‘On my signal, then.’ With that, she motioned to Cal and Kipp, who rode out behind her.
Torj watched them go, fists still clenched at his sides. You’ll be the death of me, Embers, he called out through the bond. I can’t bear the thought of you out there alone.
Dust rose in their wake as she and the others rode away from him, but her voice came back, clear in his mind. I told you, I won’t be alone.
No? I won’t be there with you.
You’re always with me, Bear Slayer.
In answer to her words, the bond hummed between them, a golden song in the dark. If they’d been together, Torj would have pressed his brow to hers and desperately tried to breathe her in, to let the power of her settle in his bones.
Soon this will be over. Her voice wavered through their connection. And when it is, we need to talk about the future. We need to plan for all the good things . . .
Such as? He didn’t want to let her go, didn’t want to watch as she rode off into danger. But no man commanded Elwren Embervale, and he wouldn’t have her any other way.
Having a home of our own. With a garden. Where we can grow flowers and herbs . . .
When this is over, you’ll be a queen, he reminded her gently.
So a home and a garden should be more than feasible, she told him. And I want a cat.
He suppressed a groan. Not a cat . . . A dog.
We can argue about it later. He heard the smile in her words, along with all the promise in the world.
I will come back to you, she whispered into his mind. Always.
Torj sent an image into her mind then, of him deepening a kiss between them. He traced the line of her jaw and held her in place as his lips moved over hers, as his tongue explored her mouth, committing her taste and the hitch in her breath to memory.
You’d better, he told her as the image faded.
With a final glance towards the horizon, Torj swung himself up into his saddle and joined the others.
I love you, she told him through the bond.
The words eased something in his chest, ever so slightly. I love you too.