“Good for you, but don’t break your arm patting yourself on the back. If we don’t get out of here, you won’t get a chance to do anything with good old Annabelle.”
Tindall for once was silent, apparently unwilling to comment more on either his marvelous machine or the possibility of Rocan keeping his promise to rescue them. Shea found himself wondering why Rocan hadn’t told him what was going to happen after he reached Tindall’s cell. What if something went wrong?
But not much later, he heard a decided scraping sound below Tindall’s cell window and jumped up in alarm, leaning out to see what was happening. And there was Seelah, attached to the wall about six feet below, staring up at him with her golden eyes bright and shining. For a moment the boy couldn’t believe what he was seeing. She seemed to be gripping the rugged stone with claws extending from hands and feet, looking as if this was something she did all the time. Maybe she couldn’t come inside Assidian Deep’s iron cells, but apparently there was nothing stopping her from climbing the prison’s outer walls.
“Seelah,” he whispered, his tone one of gratitude more than of disbelief.
The shape-shifter rewarded him with that beautiful smile—the one that radiated affection and intense longing, the one that melted his heart as if it were formed of soft butter. She came up the wall swiftly, stopped just below him, and reached up with one hand, the claws disappearing in favor of fingers and a palm that caressed his cheek like satin.
“I don’t believe you’re here,” he said softly, reveling in her touch. He looked for a harness or a rope on her back, but she carried nothing. “Do you plan to carry us down?”
She nodded and held up one finger. One at a time. “Tindall, get over here,” he ordered.
In the distance, the sky was beginning to lighten. Morning was coming on fast. They didn’t want to be caught on the wall when the sun crested and brightened the city.
Tindall was at his side, looking anxious. “Climb through,” the boy told him. “Slide down onto her back and hook your arms around her neck. She’ll carry you down. I’ll keep hold of you until you’re in place.”
The old man didn’t say a word. He moved to where Shea was offering his coupled hands and stepped into them. Shea boosted him up so he could climb out, holding on tightly as he did so. Tindall weighed more than seemed possible for such a frail old thing, but the boy kept careful hold of him until he was settled in place.
Without turning around, Seelah scooted down the wall much faster than Shea had expected—now and then slowing to allow her passenger to adjust his position or hold on her. It took them no more than five minutes to reach the ground. When Tindall stepped off her back, there was Rocan, emerging from the shadows to embrace him.
A moment later Seelah was coming back up the wall for Shea when the alarm sounded, horns blaring from the Deep’s high tower, a wailing death knell for anyone who transgressed.
And Shea Ohmsford knew who that someone was.
FOUR
IN THE FOOTHILLS LEADING into the Dragon’s Teeth above the north banks of the Mermidon, Ajin d’Amphere stood at the forefront of her soldiers and awaited her father’s coming. There were perhaps two hundred members of her command standing with her, eager and excited—and with totally mistaken expectations. It was their belief that the king had arrived to join forces against the massive Federation army poised just on the other side of the river. It was their belief that his arrival was a cause for celebration.
And for them, perhaps, it would be. But not for her.
Kol’Dre was at her side, resolute and unmoving, standing with her now as he had stood with her for almost ten years against every conceivable threat she had faced—her comrade-in-arms, her most trusted adviser, and her closest friend. Kol was not fooled like the others, but not yet persuaded that matters would take the turn she was convinced they must. He knew her father well, but not as well as she did. In her mind, there was no doubt what was going to happen. Her father’s character, his temperament, his insistence on obedience and compliance from all of his subjects—but particularly from her—did not leave any room for ambiguity.
Facing them were dozens of newly arrived Skaar soldiers, all of them looking fresh and clean and ready to act. Ajin’s command was worn ragged by the struggles of the past few weeks. They had fought several hard battles, and they carried the marks and the memories of each. Their newly arrived fellows had come directly from home and not yet wielded a single weapon or faced a single enemy.
That would change soon enough, she thought darkly.
Unless she could find a way to prevent it from happening in the way she feared it would.
Overhead and behind the newly arrived command, the Skaar fleet hovered above the trees of the surrounding forests, poised to strike or stand down, as per her father’s orders. She had seen the command ship lower earthward, bearing the soldiers who stood before her, and she knew her father would be with them. He had sent them ahead to clear a path, and he was timing his appearance for maximum impact on his daughter and the soldiers she had brought with her. Drama, theatrics, and awe were the tools Cor d’Amphere employed as king of the Skaar, and his methods were familiar to her. He never made an appearance without at least one at his command—and preferably all three.
She had intended that her father’s arrival should come at the pinnacle of her confrontation with the Federation and its Prime Minister, Ketter Vause. But fighting a battle was not part of the plan—unless she was certain the Skaar would win. Instead, she wanted to intimidate the Federation and enter into negotiations that would allow both sides to save face and the Skaar to pursue their continued struggle for survival. With their homeland turning to a frozen waste and their people facing certain starvation, they needed a new country in which to make a life. The Four Lands offered that homeland, and the Northland with its tribes of Gnomes and Trolls would serve. It might not be the end of their occupation of this new continent, but it would certainly be a manageable start.
But her father’s mind had been poisoned toward her, and her advice on everything regarding the Four Lands would likely not be heeded.
Still, she must try to persuade him. She must try to turn aside his anger and mistaken belief regarding her actions, and be made to see that a battle at this time and place could not end well. An odd thing for a Skaar princess to advocate, but she understood the nature of the enemy they were facing and the power that it wielded better than he, and she recognized the dangers it posed to the Skaar. It was one thing to be confident—and quite another to be foolish. Her father was not the soldier she was, and lacked her ability to command in the field. He lacked her experience, as well, and led the Skaar army only by virtue of being the king of its people. She, on the other hand, led because she had proven herself to her soldiers, over and over again—by setting an example, by leading them from the front, by showing them how battles could be won against any force. But she could not tell him this. She could not be so bold and expect to walk away.