Elysia felt her metal digging into her skin, and she was surprised that they used more than just ropes to hold her down.
Then someone removed the hood of her cloak and lifted her head, grabbing her hair, at the same time that a fetid breath reached her nose. Eyes of cold madness met hers, and she swept her gaze over a lined face framed by a graying beard. A gnarled hand gestured in front of her face, and as it passed through the air she left a trail of brilliant sparks. It was obvious that it was a magician.
"She doesn't seem touched by corruption. But I don't think she's human, she has a tail and ears; Besides, her eyes are not normal," declared the wizard in a surprisingly melodious and cultured voice. "But I'll know more when I get her home."
Elysia's head fell back into the snow.
"Regardless, take no chances with her, Voorman. She is a spy for our enemies, and I want her dead."
"I will find out the truth once she has my instruments. If she's a spy, we'll know!"
The nobleman shrugged and turned his back on them; he obviously dismissed the matter as unworthy of his attention. A boot kicked Elysia in the ribs again, knocking the breath out of her.
"Get up and get on the sled," said a burly sergeant. "If you fall off it, I'll kill you."
Elysia drew her legs under her body and staggered to her feet. Then she glared at the sergeant with the intention of memorizing every single feature of her face. If she got out of this one alive, she would get revenge on her. Seeing her expression, one of the soldiers raised his crossbow as if to break his brain, but the mage shook his head politely.
"No violence. I want her unharmed."
Elysia shuddered, for there was something more frightening about the mage's calm detachment than the soldier's thoughtless brutality. Then she got on the sled.
From what Elysia could see, the party consisted of the nobleman, some of his sycophants, the soldiers, and the mage. Nobles rode in horse-drawn sleighs, and soldiers rode in stirrups or led the horses from the front.
Next to her sat the young woman, who had pure silver hair and golden eyes. She possessed a sleek rapacious beauty and a naturally haughty demeanor that was in no way diminished by the chain collar that linked her to the rear bar of the sled, or the strange silver-plated, rune-engraved shackles that bound her hands behind her back. .
"Elysia" she murmured by way of introduction, but the girl didn't say anything; she just smiled coldly, and then seemed to withdraw into herself, never to acknowledge catgirl's presence again.
"Keep quiet," said the wizard, who was sitting in front of them, his calm tone containing a greater menace than the fierce looks of all the guards put together.
Elysia decided that she would accomplish nothing by defying the old man, as she cast another glance at the surrounding forest in hopes of seeing some sign of Frey; but there was no sign of the dark hero anywhere. Elysia fell into a somber silence. She doubted that Frey would be able to get ahead of them, but at least she could follow the tracks of the sleds, as long as he didn't snow too much.
And then what? She didn't know. She had all the respect in the world for Frey's formidable powers to kill and destroy, but she doubted that not even the dark hero could defeat that small army.
Every once in a while, she risked a quick glance at the woman sitting next to her, and noticed that she, too, was casting anxious glances toward the trees. She couldn't decide if she was hoping that some friends of hers would come to rescue her from her, or she was simply measuring the distance of the race that could lead her to freedom.
A wolf howled in the distance, and a strange, inhuman smile twisted the woman's lips, causing Felix to flinch and look away from her.
The catgirl was almost glad when the manor house loomed out of the storm. The low, solid outlines of the mansion were partially blurred by drifting snowflakes, and she saw that it was built of stone and logs.
She felt so exhausted that it was hard for her to believe it. The hunger, the cold and the long walk through the snow had taken him almost to the limit of his strength. Then it occurred to her that this was her destination point and that there she would be the victim of whatever terrible plan the magician might have in mind; but she just couldn't muster the energy to care. All she wanted was to lie down somewhere warm and sleep.
Someone blew a horn, the gates opened, the sledges with their accompanying soldiers entered a courtyard, and the gates closed behind them again.
Elysia had a chance to sweep her eyes around the courtyard. On all four sides he was flanked by the walls of the fortified house, and the catgirl reviewed her first opinion. It was not so much a manor house as a fortress built to withstand a siege if necessary. She cursed, as her chances of escaping now seemed slimmer than ever.
All the members of the party descended from the sledges, the nobles asked for mulled wine to be brought, and someone ordered the drivers to see that the horses were taken to the stables. Boisterous disorder reigned, and the breath of men and beasts came from their mouths like smoke.
The guards shoved Elysia into the building, which was cold and dank, and she smelled of earth, pine, and stale wood smoke. A massive fireplace filled the center of the entrance hall, where warriors and nobles stomped about, arms waving and wrapping around each other to ward off the chill as servants rushed to serve them cups of mulled wine. Elysia's mouth watered at the scent.
One of the warriors hastily placed wood in the fireplace, then struck a flint, sparks flying; but the damp wood refused to ignite.
The mage watched him with growing impatience, until, with a shrug, he gestured and spoke a word in the arcane tongue. A small eruption of flame leaped from the tip of his tapered index finger onto the wood, which hissed in a roar of flame. The smell of ozone filled the air. Blue flames flickered around the logs, and then they all ignited at once, and the shadows danced back.
The nobles and the mage passed through another door into a second room, leaving the warriors and prisoners alone. For a moment there was a tense silence, and then the men began to speak at once. All the words that the soldiers had held back during the long sleigh ride came pouring out of their mouths.
"By the gods, what a fight! I thought those wolves were going to kill us for sure!"
"I have never felt so scared as when I saw those hairy beasts come out of the trees. Those teeth looked very sharp."
"Yeah, but they died pretty quick when you put a crossbow bolt through their eye, or put a foot of good steel through their mangy skin!"
"In any case, what has happened is not natural. I have never heard of wolves attacking such a large group! Nor have I seen them fight so hard, nor for so long."
"I think we can blame the witch for that!"
The girl stared back at them impassively, until neither of them could hold her, and Elysia noticed that she had strange eyes. In the gathering darkness, they reflected the firelight like a hound's.
"Yeah, thank goodness we had the wizard with us. Old Voorman showed them what real magic is, and no jokes!"
"I wonder what the earl would want her for?"
Hearing that, an icy smile crossed the girl's face, and she revealed small, white, and very, very sharp teeth. The voice in which she spoke next was low, haunting, and strangely musical.
"Your Earl Rothgar is a fool if he thinks he can keep me here or kill me without my death being avenged. And you are idiots if you think you can leave this place alive."
The sergeant drew back a gauntlet-clad hand, slapping him with a sharp red mark on his cheek. Anger flared in the girl's eyes, so hot and hellish and fierce that the sergeant backed away from her as if he had been struck. The young woman spoke again and her words were cold and controlled.
"Listen to me! I have the gift of clairvoyance. The veils that hide the future do not blind me; all of you, every one of Earl Rothgar's wretched lackeys, will die. You will not leave this place alive!"
Such was the commanding certainty in her voice that all the men present froze, and her countenances turned white with fear as they stared at each other in horror. Elysia did not doubt her words. The stocky sergeant was the first to pull himself together; he drew his dagger, advanced on the girl, and held her weapon before her eyes.
"In that case, you will be the first to die, witch" he said as he raised the dagger to strike her, but the girl looked at him, undaunted.