Tarhelm – Earlywinter, Year 3081 After Doom
The clash of steel rang out through the enormous atrium of brown stone, bouncing off the walls, echoing in Ella's ears. Her eyes could barely follow as Coren and Farwen danced back and forth across the dusty sparring yard. The sweeps of their swords were little more than shimmering blurs, illuminated by the sunlight that poured through the near-perfect circular hole at the top of the chamber.
Over a hundred people occupied the sparring yard at that particular moment, but most of them had stopped to watch Coren and Farwen, including more than a handful who had ceased their own sparring matches to do so.
Ella didn't blame them. Many of the people Ella had watched spar were at least as capable as any of The Glade's town guard, most even more so, but Coren and Farwen were on another level entirely. The only other person Ella had seen who could move like that was Farda. Perhaps it was something that came with being a mage? Ella wasn't sure, but all she knew was that all three were mages, and all three wielded swords like they were born gripping steel in their fists.
Leaning forward, Ella rested her left elbow on her knee and reached down with her other hand, running her fingers through Faenir's coarse grey fur. Ella sat on a stout wooden bench, one of many that lined the walls of the atrium, with Faenir curled up at her feet, his snout resting on his paws, his gaze following Coren and Farwen as they moved back and forth. "What do you think, boy?"
Faenir let out a low rumble. His ears pricked, and he lifted his head, tilting it sideways as he watched the pair exchange blows. The two are powerful predators. A shiver ran through Ella's body, and she shook her head at her own observation. Ever since Farwen had said that Ella might be a druid, something had felt different. It wasn't a dramatic change, but Ella had begun to notice things. Things that, upon reflection, were likely always there but which she simply didn't question. But now, when she actively leaned into those feelings, those sensations, they seemed stronger somehow.
Ella had always known when Faenir was hungry, but she had simply put that down to understanding him. But now, if she tried, she could feel… more. She could sense his emotions, his intentions, and in this case, his opinions. The feelings that touched her mind were still obscure enough for her to believe they might be nothing more than an over-active imagination on her part, but she couldn't shake the notion that was not the case.
A round of applause pulled Ella from her thoughts, and she looked back out over the sparring yard to see Coren standing over a kneeling Farwen, her blade resting on the elf's shoulder.
Since she had arrived in Tarhelm, Ella had witnessed Coren and Farwen spar six times, with each of them taking three victories apiece. This was Coren's fourth.
"How are you feeling?" Coren asked as she walked over towards Ella, sweat glistening on her dark skin. Her black hair was tied into a ponytail of intricate braids at the back of her head. The woman was slender, but every inch of her body was lean muscle. She moved with the poise of a kat, her eyes always watching, her body always prepared to move. Faenir respected her deeply.
"Well enough," Ella replied. "Yana insisted I get some sleep last night."
"And she was right to insist so," Coren said, pulling a waterskin from her pack that she had left by the bench before sparring. Lifting the skin to her mouth, she took a deep mouthful, tilting her head back and puffing her cheeks out when she was done.
"She needs sleep as well." Ella did what she could to hide the irritation in her voice. She wasn't truly angry with Coren. The woman had done nothing to deserve her anger. She was angry with herself. It was for her that Tanner had risked his life. And because of her, he now lay in the infirmary. In the ten days since Farwen had returned with Tanner, the man had woken only once and even then for no longer than a few minutes. Apparently Coren had been keeping him alive with her magic, which raised more questions than it did answers. But from what Ella had gathered, that wasn't something Coren could keep doing long term. Yana had stayed with him almost every minute of every day, leaving only to relieve herself, and even then, Ella had caught her eyeing a bucket.
Ella had wanted to argue with her, to drag her out and drop her in a bed instead of the cot she had been using in the infirmary. And she had come close to doing so on a number of occasions, even though she was sure she didn't have the physical strength to drag Yana anywhere, and Ella herself would most likely end up in the infirmary if she tried. But every time she had come close, one thing had stopped her: Rhett. If it had been Rhett lying on that cot, it would have taken the gods themselves to drag her from his side. And she would have fought tooth and claw.
"I will go and see to the scouts," Farwen said, approaching Coren and Ella. The three long scars that ran from the elf's jaw down past her collarbone were even more prominent than usual, flushed with blood from the sparring. Her white-streaked brown hair was twisted into a bun, and much like Coren, sweat slicked her skin, causing her loose shirt to cling to her stomach and sides. "They were due back at least an hour ago."
Coren nodded, taking another swig from her waterskin, handing it to Farwen. "Where are they returning from?"
Farwen took the waterskin, her eyes narrowing as she gauged its weight, hearing the dregs sloshing around at the bottom. She tossed the skin back at Coren with enough force that had it been Ella on the receiving end, it probably would have left her with a black eye. But Coren just snatched the skin from the air and laughed.
Farwen shook her head, not a hint of mirth touching her face. "Fort Harken. The fortress has been under constant Urak attack for weeks now. The fighting has caused disruptions to our supply lines to Catagan and our contacts there. We have more scouts due back from Steeple and Arginwatch by day's end. Juro has been busy."
The hair on Ella's arms pricked, and Faenir lifted his head, his ears sticking straight in the air. Fort Harken. That had been where Tanner had said Farda was going with the Fourth Army.
"All right," Coren said, lifting herself to full height, stretching out her back and arms. "You go. Ella and I have a few things to talk about."
Ella raised an eyebrow at that. If they had things to discuss, it was news to Ella. Though, if she took a moment to think about it, it likely had to do with her place here in Tarhelm. How long had she been there now? Two weeks, perhaps. Ella had known this conversation was coming. Coren had given her longer than Ella had expected. And yet, Ella still wasn't sure on how she felt. She supposed it all depended on the questions Coren asked.
"Here." Coren walked over to a weapons rack that stood between two benches, running her fingers along the pommels of a few of the swords before stopping at one: a short sword with a blade about eighteen inches long, a concave crossguard, and a squashed oval pommel. She pivoted, tossing the blade to Ella. A flash of panic jolted Ella as the blade soared through the air. She jerked forward, snatching the handle as she did, almost tumbling over Faenir. She made to snap at Coren for throwing the sword, but the woman had already stridden past her and now stood about ten feet away in the sparring area.
In truth, Ella was more annoyed that nobody had been there to see her catch the blade. She had surprised herself with that one.
She reached down and scratched the top of Faenir's head as she walked past him. The wolfpine rose to his feet, following her, then dropped in a heap a few feet away, his golden eyes fixed on Coren.
Ella sighed, looking from the blade in her hand to Coren. "You want me to spar with you?"
Coren inclined her head.
"Why is everyone here always sparring?"
"An unused mind grows dull, and unused steel rusts."
In the ten days since Ella had met Coren, she had spent an abnormal amount of time trying to work the woman out. Usually, Ella figured herself for a good judge of people. She had known from the start that Farda was hiding something from her, but she also knew that there was more to him than he let on. Either way, he had served his purpose: he had gotten her to Berona quickly and in one piece. She had also known she could trust Tanner within moments of meeting him. But with Coren, it wasn't that easy.
"Yana tells me you can handle a sword," Coren said, stepping closer, her stare hardening.
"And how would she know that?" Ella tightened her grip on the string-bound handle, moving to her left, her eyes fixed on Coren.
The woman darted forward with no more warning than the slightest shifting of dust beneath her feet. Ella stumbled backwards, just about managing to bring her sword up in time to knock Coren's blade off course.
"She tells me when Tanner brought you to her, you were covered in the blood of the men sent to kill you." Coren swept forward once more, her blade a shimmering blur. Each swing pushed Ella backwards. Within a minute, sweat rolled down Ella's brow, stinging her eyes. It took all her effort to stay on her feet and keep Coren's blade from her skin. The worst part was that Coren wasn't trying particularly hard. Ella had seen more effort on the woman's face when she was practising sword forms.
A glint of steel flashed low, and Ella brought her blade down to meet it, but the force of the collision sent her arm swinging backwards, carried by the weight of the sword in her hand. She gasped as Coren's foot crashed into her stomach, wrenching the air from her lungs.
She released her sword involuntarily, collapsing to her knees, the clattering of steel on stone nothing more than a muted drum compared to the thumping of her heart in her ears. "What…" The words fought against her, refusing to obey until she could drag more air into her lungs. "What was that?"
Coren didn't respond. She simply stood there, looking down at Ella curiously.
Out of the corner of her eye, Ella saw Faenir rise to his full height, his lips pulling back in a snarl, his nostrils flaring, the hackles on his back raising. The wolfpine took two careful steps towards Coren, his head low to the ground. Ella could feel the wolfpine's blend of caution and alertness. It filled her as though it were her own, her heartbeat slowing, her breathing returning to normal. He knew the woman would likely kill him if he attacked, but he would not let her harm Ella.
Ella shook her head, her gaze moving between Faenir and Coren. Had she imagined it? Surely. Grunting, she grasped the handle of the sword and dragged herself to her feet. As soon as she did, Faenir's snarling ceased and the wolfpine stopped, his gaze still locked on Coren. Ella clenched her jaw, taking in a deep breath through her nostrils as she stared at Coren. The dark-skinned woman smiled, nodding slightly and gesturing for Ella to continue.
Ella took a tentative step forward, her throat tightening. She could hold a sword well enough. But she could see no point in sparring with Coren. It was like a mouse sparring with a hawk. Was the woman testing her? If so, what was she testing? Drawing in a deep breath, Ella moved forward, striking twice at the woman's right. Coren deflected the first and sidestepped the second, letting Ella stumble past her, hammering her across the back with the flat of her blade. Ella dropped to one knee but quickly pulled herself back up, turning in time to catch Coren's next strike with the edge of her blade.
After a few minutes, Ella was dripping sweat, her knees were scratched and bleeding, and she could already feel the bruises forming along her arms and back. She stumbled backwards, avoiding a lunging strike from Coren. The woman was only toying with her. She could have had Ella on the flat of her back with ease. Ella tried to relax her shoulders, tightening her grip on the handle of the sword. She could feel it slipping, her hands already slick with sweat. Ella stepped sideways, parrying two swipes of the woman's blade, one at the hip, one at the shoulder, only to feel cold steel on her neck. She swallowed involuntarily.
"What will you do when Tanner wakes?" The tone in Coren's voice was sharp, her eyes locked on Ella's, her arm unwavering as her sword rested against Ella's skin.
"I… I don't know," Ella stuttered, dragging breaths into her exhausted lungs. "I haven't thought that far ahead."
It was the truth. She genuinely hadn't thought that far ahead. For a long time, she hadn't thought any further than getting to Berona. That had been her sole purpose.
"You have family, aside from Tanner?"
The question tied knots in Ella's stomach. She did have family, but how far away were they now? Two thousand miles? Three? Four? Ella had no idea. Even then, it would take her years to gather the coin to pay for a ticket south. How would she ever get back to them? Was going back even what she wanted? She loved her family deeply, but The Glade had always felt so small. Nothing ever changed there. Ella wanted more. But that kind of eye-opening revelation wasn't something she was going to share with Coren, who, for all intents and purposes, was a complete stranger. "I do. But they're a long way away right now."
Coren nodded. "So, you wish to stay? You wish to fight?"
"I don't… I don't know," Ella replied, still very aware of the steel resting against her neck. "I need to speak with Tanner. He's all I have here."
Ella felt Faenir grumble at that. Aside from you. There is nobody like you.
"You're going to have to make decisions eventually, Ella."
Ella bit the inside of her cheek, trying to keep down the irritation that was bubbling within. She failed. Reaching up, she swatted the flat of Coren's blade away, glaring at the woman. She held her tongue for a moment, twisting it in her mouth as her mother had taught her. Though her irritation was enough that she didn't bother counting to five. "What is the damn point of all of this? What are you hoping to find by beating me black and blue?"
Silence answered while Coren stared at her as though weighing up what to say. After a few moments, she slid her sword into the scabbard at her hip. "I needed to know your intentions."
"You could have just asked!" Ella threw her arms in the air, doing nothing to hide her frustration.
"Conversations are often more honest when steel is involved." Coren shrugged. "It's harder for that quick brain of yours to come up with an answer when you're swinging a blade." Coren grabbed her pack from the bench where she had left it and slung it over her shoulder. "I hope Tanner wakes soon, Ella. But whether or not he does, you will have decisions to make. For now, I have some things to attend to."
"What? You didn't even…" Ella let her voice trail off as Coren walked away, leaving Ella standing by herself. Even Faenir was confused. The wolfpine watched after Coren for a moment before strolling over to Ella and rubbing his head up against her hip. "Come on. Let's go check on Yana."
Yana was precisely where Ella had left her the night before, sitting on the cot beside Tanner's in the infirmary. Her coal-black hair was tied up with a piece of string, dark circles ringed her eyes, and her legs were folded in front of her with scraps of paper laid out over them and covering the rest of the cot.
The woman didn't so much as lift her head when Ella entered the infirmary, Faenir at her side. Instead, she picked through the scraps of paper, her eyes narrowed like a hawk hunting for prey.
"How is he?" Ella asked, standing by Tanner's cot, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest. He looked a far cry better than he had when he had first arrived. He wore fresh clothes, and the blood had been cleaned from his skin. Most of the smaller cuts on his body had scabbed over and healed, while some of the larger gashes looked as though they were old scars.
Yana lifted her gaze from the papers, staring at Tanner for a few moments before looking up at Ella. "Better," she said, a weak smile touching her lips. "I see his eyes moving beneath his lids from time to time, which means he is dreaming. He'll come back to us soon. He's not done here yet. He's strong."
Ella nodded, resting her hand on Tanner's wrist. "That he is. Just like Rhett."
The coldness that had taken home in Yana's eyes since that night they escaped from Berona faded a little. "If he was anything like Tanner, then he must have been a very good man."
"He was." Ella felt tears threatening her. She shook her head slightly, twitching her nose. She had done enough crying. "What are those?"
"Letters." Yana shifted some papers in front of her, lining them out beside each other. "We've started intercepting the communications from the eastern cities along the Lightning Coast."
"Doesn't the empire get suspicious?"
Yana smiled, more a satisfied grin. "They're a little busy right now with the Urak attacks and the rebellion brewing in the South. They'll likely notice soon, but for now, we get everything that comes this way. We let the ones we have no interest in slip through and add a few of our own, so as not to arouse suspicion too quickly. Everything else we keep. Though, in truth, I'm not sure what to make of it."
"Why?"
"Come here," Yana said, not lifting her eyes from a piece of paper she held in her hand. "Look at this."
Ella moved beside Yana's cot, looking over the letter the woman held out in front of her.
Commander Olivan Karta,
Brother, I hope this letter reaches you before it is too late. Last I heard, you were camped north of Arginwatch with the Second Army. I pray to Efialtír that you are still there. We lost contact with Easterlock and Ravensgate a few days past. Every scout we send fails to return. Twenty good men and women lost.
There have been reports of lone travellers telling stories of armies and dragons, burning and razing everything in their path. My head tells me that is not possible, but with everything that has been happening of late, I dare not discount the notion. I have sent letters to Berona and Al'Nasla in the hope of reaching High Command and the Dragonguard, but you are closest. Brother, whether it be dragons, elves, Uraks, or foreign invaders, something is coming. The air has changed. It tastes of blood and death.
My forces are stationed five miles north of Gildor. We make for the city in the morning. I request immediate support.
Commander Giana Karta, Sixth Army
"Dragons? Surely that's not possible." Ella read the letter again, checking she had read it correctly.
"Is it not? What of the new Draleid that torments the empire in the South? What is possible and what is not seems to have been flipped on its head of late."
Ella shook her head. "But… where would armies even come from? From the ocean? A foreign invasion?"
Yana let out a sigh, giving a slight shrug. "I don't know. Armies from Karvos, maybe. Though that is unlikely. The Karvosi haven't troubled these shores in centuries, and even then, the Order made short work of them."
"But The Order haven't existed in four hundred years. And all I've seen of the Dragonguard are stories."
"Oh, the Dragonguard are very real, girl. Believe you me. But you are right, they are not as common a sight as they once were. All this conflict might change that. We are always fearful of poking a sleeping bear, but what happens when you poke a sleeping dragon? Either way, it could be Karvosi, maybe the Ardanians. I can't see why they would attack the western coast, though. There is always the chance the elves might have finally decided to leave Lynalion. Now there is a scary thought…" Yana's voice trailed off as she read some of the other letters, each from a different person, each saying much the same thing: people are dying, cities are burning.
"The elves? I thought Lynalion was a fairytale. Cities hidden by thousands of miles of forest. Armies of elves waiting for their revenge. It's a common one amongst the bards. I have never doubted that many elves lived within Lynalion, but armies? Numbers great enough to destroy cities?"
"You Southerners believe everything is a fairytale, don't you? The elves of Lynalion are both very real and very dangerous. The cities of Kingspass and Easterlock suffer greatly from raiding parties. And no man nor woman has ever returned once they set foot in that woodland. But stories aside, Farwen has spoken of them, once or twice. It is the only time I hear fear in her voice."
"Fear? But they are her kind."
"Things are… not always so simple. Farwen has not set foot within the bounds of Lynalion since The Fall. Nobody has. At least not anybody I've met."
"Since The Fall? The fall of The Order?" Ella couldn't help but laugh. "That would mean she would have seen at least four hundred summers. That's not possible…" Ella narrowed her eyes as Yana stared at her, a knowing look on the other woman's face. "Is it?"
"You have a lot to learn, Ella Fjorn. Farwen was once one of them, a Draleid." A soft laugh escaped Yana's throat, likely at the look of surprise on Ella's face. "She is not the only one. Coren too. They fought at The Fall, watched their brothers and sisters die before their eyes, their world shattered. I'm not sure when, but sometime between then and now, they lost their dragons to the Dragonguard. I'm sure you've heard stories, but once, when Farwen and I were drowning our sorrows in a bottle of Wyrm's Blood, she described the loss of her dragon like a shattered pane of glass. Like every piece of her was broken at once, with no way of putting it back together. I might not have believed her had I not seen her hold her hand over a flame until her skin blistered. She can't feel pain, or touch, or anything really. She says her dragon took that with him when he died. The ability to feel – I've never quite been able to wrap my mind around that. If you or I think we have endured sorrow, we are sadly mistaken. All we have endured is loss."
Ella's heart ached. Physically. A pain twisted in her chest. The thought of that kind of anguish was incomprehensible. Images of Rhett flashed through her mind, images of Haem. "How… how can they still go on?"
"For the same reason you do," Yana said, resting her hand on Ella's arm. "Because we are more than what we think we are. We are more than the sum of our parts."
"I…" A strange sensation tickled the back of Ella's mind. She could hear something, but she wasn't sure what it was. Beside her, Faenir got to his feet, his ears pricked up.
"What is it?" Yana looked between Ella and Faenir, then towards the infirmary door. "Ella, what's—"
A coughing, spluttering sound came from the cot beside them, and both Ella and Yana nearly leapt from their skin.
"My love!" Yana jumped from her cot, sending letters and sheets of paper pluming into the air.
Ella's pulse raced, her heart pounding like a hammer.
"It's all right, I'm here. It's all right. Try to breathe."
"Alari!" Ella roared, screaming for the infirmerer. "Alari, we need you! He's awake!"
"Ella." Tanner's voice was dry as sand. It croaked from his throat, scratching at the air.
"Ella?" Yana turned towards Ella, her eyebrows raised, then turned back to Tanner, who still lay in the bed. "She's here, my love. What is it? What's wrong?"
Her heart beating even more fiercely, Ella put one foot in front of the other, making her way around Tanner's cot. The man's eyes were wide open and bloodshot, looking straight at Ella as she came into view. His skin was pale, as though the blood had been drained from his face. He swallowed repeatedly, trying to find moisture for his cracked lips and dry throat.
"He needs water," Yana said, her hand cradled behind Tanner's head. "Ella?"
Reluctantly, Ella pulled her eyes from Tanner. She knew Alari kept more than a few waterskins in the infirmary for just this reason. After searching every corner of the room with her eyes, she spotted a leather waterskin sitting on a shelf near the door. She snatched it and pulled out the stopper, sniffing the contents – better safe than sorry. Her mother had often kept diluted brimlock sap in waterskins at home. Ella had forgotten to sniff once; it had not been a pleasant experience.
Once she was sure the waterskin contained water, Ella darted to Tanner's side, pressing the nozzle against his cracked lips. "Drink slowly, otherwise you'll choke."
Tanner spluttered a bit as the first few drops went down, but after a few seconds, he relaxed.
"That's enough for now," Ella said, lifting the nozzle from Tanner's mouth. "I'll give you more in a few minutes. Best to take it slow. How are you feeling?"
Tanner ran his tongue over his lips, spreading the moisture across the dried, cracked skin. He attempted to sit up but grunted in pain, giving up on that idea swiftly. "Ella…" He swallowed hard, closing his eyes for a moment. "I know why—" Tanner gasped in pain, grimacing and clasping his hand to the left side of his ribs.
"Easy," Yana said, resting the backs of her fingers against Tanner's cheek. "You've been asleep for a while. Just breathe with me. In…" Yana drew a deep breath in, holding it. Tanner did as he was asked, closing his eyes and drawing a deep breath in. "And out…" Yana and Tanner both exhaled at the same time.
"Good," Yana gave a soft smile. "Good, my heart. How are—"
Ella's heart almost stopped as the door behind her slammed against the wall, and Alari the infirmerer bounded into the room, her eyes wide and manic, her apprentice, Halea, behind her. "What's wrong? Oh god, Tanner! Halea, get Coren, now!" With Halea dashing from the room, Alari ran to Tanner's side, almost knocking Ella off her feet. "What happened?" she asked, her eyes flitting between Yana and Ella.
"Alari," Tanner croaked, wincing as he turned his head towards the panicked infirmerer. "Please, wait. I'm all right. Just give me some space." With every passing second, Tanner seemed to grow that little bit stronger. He didn't, by any means, look as though he was ready to even sit up straight, but his words became clearer, his focus sharpening.
But before Tanner could say anything else, Coren threw open the infirmary door, Alari's young apprentice walking sheepishly behind her. Without waiting for anyone to speak, Coren cleared the space between her and Tanner in the blink of an eye, resting her hand on his chest. "It's all right, my friend. We weren't sure if we'd ever hear your voice again, but we forgot who we were talking about, didn't we? Lie back, I'll help."
Ella had expected Tanner to argue, or at least for Yana to, but neither said a thing. Tanner simply nodded weakly and lay back in his cot.
Ella had heard of Coren's ability to heal, but she had never actually seen it. The woman had often stood over Tanner for minutes at a time and stepped away weak and weary, but Ella had never seen any improvement in Tanner. This time however, as Coren stood over Tanner, a look of intense focus on her face, Ella could see Tanner's expression change as the pain was lifted from him. More than that, Ella watched as a cracked scab on his left cheek knitted itself back together before falling onto Tanner's pillow, leaving nothing but pink skin behind.
Ella had seen Farda use magic when they had fought the Uraks and when he had dragged the air from that man's lungs at Berona, but this was somehow different – watching a magic that could save a life, instead of taking it.
Coren stumbled, grabbing onto Alari as she did. "That's… that's all I can do for now." She nodded towards the infirmerer, giving a smile of thanks, before looking back to Tanner. "How do you feel?"
Tanner stretched his head back, eliciting a series of – surprisingly satisfying to hear – cracks. Pushing his hands against the base of the cot, he lifted himself into a seated position, allowing a smile to touch his face for just a moment. "Much better. Thank you, my friend."
"Your thanks have been given in your deeds." Coren bowed her head, sitting back on the cot behind her. The woman's eyes held a tiredness that had not been there previously. Ella noticed her shoulders were slumped, her head drooping as though it was now too heavy for her neck.
"Ella."
Ella turned her head at the sound of Tanner's voice.
The man drew in a deep breath, wincing as he exhaled. "Before they got to me, I spoke to some of my contacts within the keep. I was looking for anyone who might know why Farda was interested in you."
Ella sighed, doing her best to hold her frustration down. "Tanner, I don't think—"
"It's your brother, Ella."
A shiver swept across Ella's skin, every hair on her body standing on end. A lump formed in her throat, as though she had tried to swallow an apple whole. "… Calen. Tanner, please tell me he's all right."
A deep sadness filled Tanner's eyes. "He is all right," the man said, hesitating a little.
Tanner's hesitation coiled like a string around Ella's heart. "What are you not telling me? What's wrong?"
Tanner looked to Yana, then to Coren. Both women's faces looked as perplexed as Ella felt.
"Farda was after you to get to your brother."
Ella snorted, unable to hold it back. "Calen? Tanner, you must have hit your head harder than we thought. Why in Elyara's name would Farda be trying to get to Calen? He doesn't even know Calen exists. To him, I am Ella Fjorn, not Ella Bryer."
Tanner shook his head as though trying to clear his mind, a flash of irritation on his face. He held up his hand, drawing in another deep breath and letting it out slowly through his nostrils. "He knows precisely who you are. He knows you are Ella Bryer, he knows you come from The Glade, and he knows who your brother is."
"Even if he does, what does it matter? We are nothing."
Tanner pushed himself up further on the cot, straightening his back against the pillow behind him. "Ella, your brother is the Draleid."
"What? No…" Ella's words caught in her throat. That wasn't possible. There was no way. The laughter that left Ella's throat was more a reflex than anything else. "Calen? I think you need to get better contacts."
Silence hung in the air as Ella looked to Coren and Yana as though she expected them to burst into laughter at the ridiculous idea that her brother could be the Draleid. But neither of them did. Ella shook her head, turning her gaze back to Tanner. He returned it, unblinking. "That's just not true, Tanner. It can't be. How could it be?"
Even as she spoke, Ella's mind ran wild. Could it be true? The soldiers on the Merchant's Road had known her by name. How else would they have known? And Farda had shown up at the docks at precisely the right time. She had always thought it happenstance, but the more she thought about it, the stranger it seemed.
"Ella. There's more."
The tone in Tanner's voice pulled Ella from her thoughts. She stepped closer to Tanner's cot, her gaze never leaving his, her breath catching. "Please tell me he's all right, Tanner. For the love of the gods, please." Tanner looked away, only for a moment, but the sight sent ice flooding through Ella's veins. She gripped Tanner's forearm. "Tanner, please. Tell me."
The man shifted slightly in the cot, swallowing hard. "Honestly, I don't know. The empire is still looking for him, which is a good sign. But I truly can't be certain."
"That's good," Ella said, nodding. Her heart was galloping. She could feel her pulse pounding through her veins. Please be all right. I can't lose anyone else.
"Ella." Tanner's voice drifted to the back of Ella's mind.
"It's a good sign though, isn't it? They haven't found him. That has to be good."
"Ella!"
Ella almost leapt from her skin at the urgency in Tanner's voice, his hand clamping down on top of hers. All of her thoughts stopped, crashing together as she looked into the man's eyes. "What?"
"It's your parents."
"What about them? They…" Ella's breath caught in her throat as she saw the look on Tanner's face. "No." She shook her head, an involuntary laugh escaping her lips. "No. They couldn't… you're mistaken." Ella's heart twisted. Faenir whimpered as he pressed the side of his head against her leg. She tried to breathe, but her throat was so tight it felt like she was choking. An unseen force wrapped its fingers around her heart and squeezed, wrenching, twisting. "Tanner, no."
Tanner squeezed Ella's hand. "I'm so sorry."
Ella pulled her hand away from Tanner's, shaking her head. "No… they can't…" She stumbled backwards. Without another word, Ella turned and walked towards the door, Faenir following. With every step, she was certain her legs would give way beneath her. She could hear Tanner calling, but his voice faded against the wave of loss that swept through her.