Chapter 46 – Isolde
ISOLDE
Istared at the map stretched across the circular table, so new the vellum still smelled strongly of the tanning solution.
“The Royal Nava is sailing along the coast.” Bac’s finger trailed along the northern coast of the kingdom. “And you think they’ll hide within these islands?”
“It seems the perfect location to sit and wait.” Qildor examined the map with an eye for combat strategy. “To hatch a trap.”
“The Shivering Sea is not so big in this area.” Lord Riis drew a line from Virtoris Island to the coast.
“King Magnus’s ship is making excellent time,” Aleksander added on the back of a yawn.
At my insistence, the skin-changer had slept through the previous night, but he still looked exhausted.
Even for a fylgjarn it wasn’t natural to be in another creature’s head so persistently.
“It’s been a couple of hours since I slipped behind Arla’s eyes, but they could be north of us as early as tomorrow night. ”
“How?!” Thyra asked. “The journey from the mage court to Avaldenn should take four or five days.”
“Mages travel with him,” Aleksander replied. “Arla can’t get too close, but I’d bet anything that they’re using enchantments to move the boats faster.”
Lord Riis nodded. “Mage merchant sailors are renowned for working such enchantments.”
The Virtoris Armada could face not one fleet, but two. That wasn’t even considering the threat of the mages on board the ships. We might lose most of our sea power. A great house. Those Sayyida and Vidar loved, and possibly even my friends themselves.
Across the table, Saga stood, silent and stoic, though I saw the fear in the taut lines of her body. I suspected she too was thinking of losing Sayyida.
“We can’t let this happen,” I breathed.
“I have a few larger ships at the coastal towns that sail under my banner.” Lord Riis pointed out the areas where the ships would be. “Not many, but we could use the merchant ships to assist House Virtoris.”
“Is it possible to get there in time?” I asked, trying to determine the distance from Bitra to the coast.
“We’ll have to fly.”
Which meant no army. Just fae who could fly, whether by their own steam or on the backs of gryphons and Rynni. We’d brought some of House Balik’s gryphons in addition to our own and the few that Lord Riis still had on hand for his soldiers. That meant we had about fifty. Not enough.
“Can soldiers fly that far on wing?” I asked.
No way I could, but I’d been flying a very short time. Perhaps soldiers trained for this?
“With breaks, many can. But not all, of course. Some fae races do not have wings at all,” Caelo said.
“We’re lucky that the weather is warm enough to fly for extended periods now.
Perhaps to prevent fatigue and save their wings for battle, they should rotate their breaks on the gryphon’s or Rynni’s back? ”
“And how many soldiers have come through the gateway as of now?” Thyra asked.
“Over seven hundred at last count. That was nearly an hour ago,” Lord Balik said. “Luccan is holding strong.”
“And if we don’t go?” Thyra asked. “Will the Virtoris fleet truly be destroyed? Can’t we send a raven to tell them to retreat?”
“We can.” Lord Riis cleared his throat, “however, there’s no guarantee the king won’t send ships to their island to fight. That would keep them away from Avaldenn during the actual battle for the capital.”
When we’d need them again to pummel the king’s forces from the sea. No matter which direction we chose, we gave up a slight advantage or put our allies in great danger.
Thyra pressed her hands onto the table. “Isolde and I need to speak. The rest of you discuss every contingency. Every pitfall we may encounter, as well as every way we can succeed. Saga, join us?”
The princess cocked her head but recovered quickly and nodded.
I, however, continued to stare at my sister. She had experience with actual battles, small though they may be compared to what was to come. I had almost none. Around this table stood a group of lords, knights, and soldiers who knew better. What was she doing?
“I don’t think—”
“Come,” Thyra pulled me by the arm. “We’ll convene in two hours’ time.”
We left the room and found Hátlu waiting, ready to fulfill our needs. Saga joined us, and our Valkyrja, all five, fell into a circle around us.
“Hátlu, is there a potions workshop?” Thyra asked.
“Of course.”
“Take us there.”
“What in the nine kingdoms are we doing?” I asked Thyra as we began walking.
“We’re going to use the Fr?r Crown.”
“The Crown?” I blinked, understanding where she was going but not how she believed we’d get there. “You mean the one that hasn’t worked for me since the day I found it? And only works for you when you’re sleeping?”
“Yes.”
“Stunning idea.”
Thyra arched her eyebrows. “Sarcasm is really more my thing.”
By the dead gods, she was killing me.
“How?” I pressed.
“Saga told us that seers sometimes use a potion to ease themselves into visions. Isn’t that right, Saga?”
“Yes,” the princess answered.
“She hasn’t even used that yet!” I added. “And she said it’s very dangerous.”
“So is losing the most powerful fleet in Winter’s Realm.
Or giving up our only advantage and not marching west.” Thyra cut me a glance.
“We have to choose, and I’m going to use every instrument at our disposal.
” She patted the bag laid across her hip.
As it so often had, the Fr?r Crown rested inside.
“It must have worked for our family in the past, even if we, to my knowledge, have no seers after the one rumored to have created the Hallow.”
She wasn’t wrong there. After Saga had told us of her vision, we’d had the Scholars research our family tree.
According to the records, there had been one renown seer many thousands of turns ago.
He’d been the first to wear the Fr?r Crown, so we assumed that he’d also created it.
Perhaps with the intent for his descendants to use the Hallow.
Why else would a family better known for elemental magic keep such a thing? Revere it even?
I loosed a breath thick with frustration. “Let’s hope they have that potion in stock.”
The workshop was near the healing sanctuary. Healers often needed potions, even those that had little to nothing to do with their profession. As we strode by the sanctuary, I prayed that we wouldn’t find ourselves inside it after what we planned to do.
Thyra approached the potion maker on duty, a very young dryad who looked shocked to see us. She told him what we needed, and he disappeared into the back rooms.
“Are we sure this is the best way?” I looked to Saga instead of my stubborn twin.
“Not at all,” Saga muttered. “It’s completely mad but, given the circumstances, it might also make sense.”
“We’ll be careful,” Thyra assured me. “Take a half dose each.”
I arched my eyebrows at her.
“Why doesn’t Saga take it?” I asked. “She’s a real seer.”
“The powers of the Fr?r Crown are closely tied to the Falk line,” Saga answered. “And yes, while I have some Falk blood, you two have more. I don’t mind trying, but I think it will work better for you.”
“Wonderful,” I muttered.
Thyra blew out a humorless laugh. “If the Crown is going to do anything, we need it to be now. We need to know how to proceed. Our mates’ lives may depend on it—not to mention the outcome of this war. Lives lost.”
Of course I wanted to do what would bring Vale to my side, but in that moment, an image of Sayyida and Vidar emerged most clearly. Their mother, their other siblings, and countless sailors loyal to their house, waited across the sea to slow down the king. To fight for us.
On the other side of the coin, fae gathered in Bitra, prepared to march west and fight to take Avaldenn before the king arrived with more soldiers. For my sister and me to secure the throne.
No matter what we did, fae would die.
Thyra pulled the Fr?r Crown from her bag. The amethysts glittered in the flickering torchlight of the workshop, distracting me.
“I’ve spent so much time cursing that crown,” I said, “that I almost forgot how beautiful it is.”
“A piece of art.” Thyra’s eyes shone with equal reverence and distrust as she studied the Hallow. “And perhaps today it will give us useful information.”
The potion maker emerged from the back, a vial of shimmering white liquid in his hand. He came to stand before us and bowed.
“Have you seen anyone use this before?” Saga asked the dryad.
“Once.”
“And?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Should they sit down to use it? Is it a violent potion? Did it work?”
Her basic questions reinforced just how little Saga knew about the potion. A rock formed in my belly.
“The seer sat before she took it and sank into a vision. The ordeal looked as natural to her as breathing, but she was a well-known seer.”
My spine straightened. “We should find her, to see how it felt.”
“She went to the afterworld three moons ago.”
“Oh,” I trailed off. “Apologies.”
“I didn’t know her well. Only met her once.”
Thyra and I exchanged looks, and she cleared her throat. “Very well then. You’re dismissed.”
He returned to the back of the workshop.
“Well, that was awkward,” I muttered.
“We should stagger drinking it.” Thyra held up the vial. “Do you want me to go first? Or you?”
“Me.”
Thyra’s lips flattened.
“Not because I think it won’t work for you,” I said. “After that one night, I’m sure it will. It was a protective instinct. But if the potion harms me, you shouldn’t drink it. After all, we’re about to march, or fly, into battle, and we all know you’re the better fighter. We need you more.”
Her face softened. “You don’t have to protect me all the time.”
“I haven’t. But in this instance, I want to.”
“Even if this is my idea that you don’t agree with?”
“And Thyra is more apt to be able to have a vision?” Saga added, eyebrows pinched together.
“Yes.” Crazy, but it was true. She was my sister, and I’d do anything for her.
Thyra held out the vial. “Bottoms up.”