She fell asleep, playing the encounter with Rankosi over in her mind yet again and woke with a start. The muffled sounds of shouting and fighting filtered through from the upper deck. She and Drogan shared a worried look, each straining to hear what was happening.
Moments later, the hatch opened and soldiers began to stream into the lower hold where the brig was located. They were big men, brutish-looking, dressed in furs and armed with simple yet effective weapons. Lacy recognized them at once-Zuhl’s soldiers.
“Ah, there you are, Princess,” the man in the lead said. He was easily six and a half feet tall with a close-cropped black beard, bald head, and dark menacing eyes.
“I’m Commander Kahl,” he said. “Lord Zuhl has been looking for you.”
Lacy’s blood ran cold. Her face went white and she nearly fainted. All these weeks of running had come to this. Zuhl had captured her at last. She didn’t know why the ruler of the island to the north wanted her so badly, but she was certain it wouldn’t be good.
“Transfer them both to the brig on our ship,” Commander Kahl said, “and be sure to secure their possessions. Lord Zuhl is particularly interested in one of the items she’s carrying.”
“What of the rest of the passengers and crew?” the man to his right asked.
“Kill them all and sink the ship,” Kahl said. “We have what we came for. Once the prisoners are secure, set course for CrescentBay.”
Lacy whimpered when they roughly locked the shackles around her wrists and she nearly screamed when the soldier grabbed the chain between them and dragged her from her cell toward the steep stairs leading to the upper decks. She watched in helpless horror as the rest of those aboard the refugee vessel were casually slaughtered by Zuhl’s brutes while she was led to the brig aboard the enemy warship. Men jeered and taunted her as she passed them, laughing at her predicament and speculating on how Zuhl might go about interrogating her. By the time the cold steel bars clanged shut on her new cage, she was totally dispirited. She’d failed her father, and she was probably going to die a terrible death.
Lacy Fellenden curled up on the pallet in the corner and cried herself to sleep.
***
Abigail sat atop her horse, looking out over the snow-dusted valley at the husk of FellendenCity. It was a cold, late autumn day. The first snow had just started falling from a bleak grey sky. The air was still and cold-the city in the distance looked the same.
They had been marching for weeks, thousands of soldiers guarding thousands of refugees. People from all over Fellenden were coming home to the central city of the entire island, the place that once, long ago, had housed the royal House of Fellenden. Now, it was a broken shell of its former glory, yet it was the best place for Abigail’s army to shelter during the winter. Centrally located on the Isle of Fellenden, it gave her strategic options if Zuhl or Phane should choose to attack during the winter, an unwise choice, yet not beyond reason for either tyrant, considering how little they valued the lives of those who served them.
The weather had been cold and clear for most of the journey. Only in the last few days had the sky clouded over. Abigail had prodded her army to move faster, hoping to reach shelter before the inevitable snows began to fall. The soldiers could handle the faster pace, but the refugees could not. They trailed behind the bulk of the army for leagues, struggling to carry all that was left of their possessions to their new temporary home.
“General Markos,” Abigail said, “send half the heavy cavalry forward to scout and secure the city and the other half back to ensure we don’t lose any stragglers in this snow.”
“At once, Lady Abigail,” General Markos said, saluting, fist to heart, before wheeling his horse and tending to his orders.
“I doubt we’ll get everyone inside before dark,” Anatoly said. “Not even sure it would be wise.”
“I concur,” Magda said. “Zuhl is not above leaving a few nasty surprises in his wake to discourage those who might pick the bones of his conquest.”
Abigail nodded, trying to gauge the time of day from the uniformly bleak sky.
“We’ll make camp on the outskirts and move into the city in a careful and orderly manner,” she said. “After bringing these people all this way, I don’t want to blindly walk them into a trap.”
Conner rode up, trailed by two Ithilian royal guards. “Scout riders just returned,” he said. “Irondale has fallen without a fight.”
“Blasted cowards,” Torin said, biting off his words.
“Could be they’re biding their time,” Anatoly said, “waiting for the right moment to strike.”
“Either way, Zuhl’s brutes have a warm place to sleep for the winter,” Abigail said. “At least we know where they are.”
“General Kern reports that the Rangers have done some damage to the enemy forces but not enough to make a difference,” Conner said. “He’s starting to lose men and horses to the cold. The snow started falling a week ago farther north and hasn’t stopped since.”
“Recall him at once,” Abigail said. “We’re at a stalemate until spring.”
“For any significant operations, I’m afraid you’re right,” Magda said, “though there are still some things we can do to make life uncomfortable for our unwelcome guests.”
“I’m all for that,” Abigail said with a sidelong grin, “but let’s see to these people first before we go poking Zuhl in the eye.”
***
A week later they’d cleared the city of the wild dogs and other unpleasant scavengers that had taken refuge in the ruins and they were beginning to rebuild. Abigail made the defenses a priority. Even though she knew that stone walls were no match for the kind of magic Zuhl could bring to bear, she felt better knowing that the people would breathe easier when they were surrounded by a stout wall and heavy Iron Oak gates.
A large portion of the Fellenden family keep had been shattered beyond repair, but part of it was salvageable. Abigail had taken that section as her command post and quarters for herself and her command staff. A single tower still stood on one corner of the keep. Abigail ordered that it be fitted with a guard house and a warning bell. The manor was cold and foreboding at first, but after a few days of work, it started to take on the lived-in feel of a home.
She had taken simple quarters that had probably been occupied by a servant before the attack, but they were close to the master bedchamber that she’d converted into a council hall and strategy room.
Several days after the last of the refugees had been moved into the city, Abigail assembled all of her advisors around the council table. She sat at the head of the table with her sword belt hooked over the corner of her chair. While she felt relatively secure within the keep, she wasn’t about to let the Thinblade out of her sight.
“I’ve received word from several of the other territories,” Torin said. “I estimate another three to four legions are prepared to join our forces. Zuhl’s defeat at the shipyards has heartened many who thought all hope was lost. While there are few on Fellenden who have any real battle experience, many are eager to join the fight now that we have a fighting chance.”
“With our losses at the shipyards, these new additions will bolster our forces to about twelve legions,” General Markos said.
“That should be more than enough to drive the barbarians out of Irondale and into the sea,” Conner said.
“We’ve received reinforcements from the fortress islands,” Corina said. “My wing now stands at ninety-seven Sky Knights, including seventeen witches. Additionally, Bianca has cleared the northern fortress island and established a base of operations there. She is prepared to assist and is already running scouting operations. And Cassandra reports that the wyvern-breeding program is moving ahead and the new class of Sky Knights is ready and awaiting the next hatching.”