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Weylind gave a slight cough. “I will meet you on the train.”
That was what Farrendel thought. He turned on his heel once again and left.
He boarded the train and locked himself in his private car to wait out the nearly sleepless night as the train glided toward the border with Kostaria. It was as if Essie and the brief glimpse of happiness that she had given him had never existed.
ChapterTwelve
Farrendel crouched in the brush at the edge of the Gulmorth Gorge. Far below, the Gulmorth River surged between the two, sharp cliff faces formed of hard granite.
Somewhere on the far side of the gorge, the troll army remained hidden in the jumble of rocks and tall pine trees.
No matter how well their army was currently hidden, the troll warriors would fall to Farrendel’s magic as soon as Weylind and the rest of the elven army flushed them out.
A small squad of warriors crouched in the brush behind Farrendel. Weylind had insisted, of course. He was not going to send Farrendel off on his own, even if Farrendel now had an entire squad he had to worry about accidentally killing.
The commander eased into the stand of trees next to Farrendel. The smile the commander sent Farrendel was far too reverent. “It is a pleasure to go into battle with you, Laesornysh. My warriors and I will guard your back.”
Farrendel froze, trying to process those words and come up with a socially accepted response. At least with the nobility’s dislike, all he had to do was put on his hard Laesornysh face. But this awe from those in the army? That was harder to handle.
After a long moment, he managed a nod.
It seemed to satisfy the warrior. He gave an even more enthusiastic nod in return, then faced forward once again, studying the Kostarian side of the gorge.
Farrendel checked his swords in their sheaths on his back. The back sheaths were more cumbersome for drawing his short swords. But the back sheaths kept the leather out of his way while he was fighting and flipping, and the swords were more secure there than on his hip while climbing.
A blast of plant growing magic flared to their right, just out of sight behind an outcropping. Roots reached for the far side of the gorge.
Stone and ice blasted from the far side, followed by the hooting war chants of the trolls, though they remained concealed.
With a few whispered words, the commander motioned to his squad. Two elves crept forward and unrolled rope ladders down the side of the cliffs. Half the squad swarmed down the ladders, then it was Farrendel’s turn. He checked his swords one last time before he climbed over the side of the cliff and quickly navigated down the rope ladder.
By the time his boots landed on the small ledge of stone next to the raging Gulmorth River, the members of the squad tossed grappling hooks, snagging them in the tumbles of rocks at the top of the far side. The first two swung across, landing on the far side of the Gulmorth. They tossed the ropes back and stepped aside as two more elves swung across.
Farrendel caught a rope and swung across, landing lightly. The sounds of fighting echoed down the Gulmorth Gorge as Weylind and the rest of the army battled the trolls across the way.
Once the rest of the squad had crossed, Farrendel pushed past the others to grab one of the ropes.
The commander opened his mouth, as if he wanted to protest. But after a moment, he nodded and gripped the other rope.
With one last deep breath, Farrendel drew on the ice in his chest, in his veins. He climbed the rope hand over hand, then rolled onto the ground above, coming up in a crouch. Drawing his swords, he crept through the rocks, circling farther around where the trolls seemed to be hiding. He did not wait for the squad to climb the ropes. They were not necessary, not for his style of fighting. They were only there to appease Weylind’s overprotectiveness.
With ice still filling his veins, Farrendel drew on his magic, letting bolts twine around his fingers. The rest of his magic tugged at his control, begging to be unleashed, eager to destroy and kill.
Farrendel gritted his teeth and held most of his magic in check. He did not dare let it blast out as it wished.
Arrows and bullets pelted against the fringe of his magic. He let just a little more of his magic blast around him as he leapt onto the rocks, charging at the hiding trolls.
Troll warriors turned to face him, raising swords and axes. Farrendel stabbed down at one troll, taking him through the chest. He pushed away and parried another troll’s sword. He coated his swords with magic and plunged into the mass of troll warriors. His magic blasted around him, killing even more trolls than he killed with his swords.
A roar from his left drew his attention. A second army of troll warriors charged from the rocks and stands of trees deeper into Kostaria.
Farrendel pivoted, placing his back to the gorge behind him. This had been a trap. For him. The trolls had lured him across the gorge and now they had him pinned between two squads of this raiding party.
It did not matter. These squads would simply be more trolls for him to kill.
What would Essie think if she saw him now? Spattered in blood and about to massacre all these troll warriors in front of him.
No, he could not think about Essie. Not now.
