Chapter 13
Her instincts kicked in, and Cinderella started running. She shot up the street like a rabbit, shooting between a swarm of playing children and dodging around carts, horses, chickens, and geese.
As she turned a corner, she glanced over her shoulder.
The man in the black cape wasn’t moving, but he was less than a block behind her. It was as if instead of running, he was moved to whatever location he desired.
Cinderella ran into another habited neighborhood, casting a terrified gaze around the streets. Where were her guards? Did they not follow her in the city? Cinderella generally didn’t bother to look for them when off Aveyron lands.
The First Regiment camp was too far away for Cinderella to reach before the black magic user caught her. She didn’t want to leave public sight—but she didn’t want to drag any helpless innocents into the fight either.
“Patrol point,” Cinderella huffed, skidding as she planted her feet and started running in a different direction. If Cinderella could reach a central patrol point—where all patrols for the area started and ended—there would be over a dozen soldiers stationed there.
Bless the Army for increased patrols, and bless me for memorizing their routes for library trips, Cinderella thought, risking another glance over her shoulder.
The tail was behind her, but on the corner she just skirted. He looked in several directions, searching for her.
Cinderella vaulted into an empty wagon tied in front of a house, and wriggled beneath a bundle of burlap sacks.
She held her breath and prayed her pounding heart wouldn’t reveal her as the black mage walked up the street, moving bonelessly.
His eyes skipped over the wagon, and Cinderella gasped in air when the mage was one street up.
Whatever his magic skills are, they don’t include tracking, Cinderella thought as she slithered out of wagon. All the same, I should head to the patrol point and send word to Friedrich.
Somewhere in all the running, Cinderella wound up in the Erlauf neighborhood. Her red hair stuck out among the fair, straw-haired Trieux peasants, but it was more of a flaming beacon among the small scattering of dark-haired Erlauf commoners who walked the streets.
Cinderella crouched low to the ground to minimize the possibility of being sighted and crept along the houses, ignoring the odd looks from the few commoners on the street.
She crouched behind a cluster of barrels and winced. Something cold pressed against the skin of her chest. Cinderella realized it was the dragon necklace Friedrich gave her when he first presented her to her soldiers. She tried to dig it out from under her dress, for it felt like a chunk of ice freezing to her skin, when she heard crying.
Down the street came the black magic user, dragging an Erlauf woman behind him by her glossy brown hair-braid.
The woman sobbed, her face twisted in pain. “Please, let me go,” she whimpered.
The necklace forgotten, Cinderella peered at those in the streets. They would help the poor woman, wouldn’t they?
The street walkers were statue still, as if carved out of colorful chunks of stone. They didn’t blink, and they didn’t move, even when the black mage clenched a dirty hand around the young woman’s throat.
The woman struggled, clawing at the mage’s hand. She gurgled and coughed as life was choked from her.
If I jump him, he will kill me, Cinderella thought. But if I don’t, he will kill her. An Erlauf woman.
The black mage turned, looking up and down the street. He was waiting for her. When Cinderella didn’t appear, the mage’s fist encased with black vapor, and the woman’s frantic thrashings became more like the twitches of a dying animal.
The smell of burnt flesh filled the street.
Cinderella grimaced, and when the black mage turned his back to her, she pushed her way up a narrow stairway that led to the second floor of the shanty she was pressed against.
The black mage lifted the woman off her feet and held her high above his head, showing off his prize.
The commoners on the street didn’t react, and everything was still—except for the dying woman.
The black magic user lowered the woman—although he kept his hands fastened around her neck.
She choked, her eyes rolling back as she convulsed, almost dead.
The black mage looked down at the nearly dead woman in undisguised pleasure, so he did not see Cinderella when she flung herself off the roof of the house directly next to him.
Cinderella landed on the mage with enough force to knock him to the ground. Sitting on top of him, Cinderella grabbed him by the throat of his cloak. She slammed his head into the ground two times before he blasted her with his dark magic, sending her careening into the front door of a house.
Cinderella was up in an instant, even though her ears rang and her sight was fuzzy. If she stayed down she would die. “HELP!” she shouted, her voice loud but shaky.
The nearly strangled woman was frozen like the others. As Cinderella grabbed a pitchfork leaning against the house, she glanced at the woman long enough to be assured she was breathing.
Cinderella charged the mage with the pitchfork. The mage—who seemed to take an abnormally long time to move—barely slithered aside in time to avoid being stabbed. He grabbed hold of the pitchfork—which Cinderella easily released—and tossed it away.
Cinderella had already armed herself with a wooden bucket when the mage turned back to her. She swung the bucket at the mage and clocked him in the skull.
“HELP!” Cinderella screamed again before winding the bucket back for another pass.
The mage shot a stream of his vaporous magic at her. Cinderella dodged, but it brushed her bucket and disintegrated it.
Cinderella tossed the remaining piece of the bucket—the rope handle—away and groped for another weapon. She found a hoe, but the mage bore down on her.
He blasted her with another wave of magic, sending her crashing into the wagon she previously hid in.
Her head lolling, Cinderella groaned in pain. She struggled to keep her eyes open long enough to watch the mage glide towards her, his skeletal hands extended like claws.
He was almost to her when an arrow pierced his shoulder. He made a choking gasp—the first noise he made since the pursuit started—and the black vapor cloaking his hands disappeared.
“N-no,” he muttered, staring at his dirty fingers
Three Erlauf soldiers were on him in an instant. Two secured his arms and a third smacked what looked like a seal drawn on a piece of parchment on the mage’s chest.
The paper clung to the mage’s clothes, and the mage howled. “No!”
The mage thrashed, but the soldiers secured his legs and arms with shackles.
“I apologize, Your Grace; we were nearly too late,” Ivo said, helping Cinderella stand.
The other two soldiers held the mage in place and smacked him with more paper seals.
“Hold him still. I want this arrow out whole,” one of the soldiers said to the other before yanking the arrow out of the mage.
The mage howled and dripped black blood on the street as the soldier nodded in satisfaction.
“Perfect,” the soldier said, wiping the arrow clean before sliding it the quiver hanging from his back.
By this time, the people on the streets started to move again. Several of them rushed to help the wounded woman. They crouched by her side, bunching around her like a flock of birds.
“Ivo, I have never been so glad to see you,” Cinderella said as the gruff soldier steadied her.
“Thank you, Your Grace,” Ivo said before turning to his squad mates. “We need to get that animal into custody and take Lady Lacreux to the regiment camp immediately.”
“I’ll signal another squad,” the soldier with the quiver said as he retrieved his bow from the street. He moved up the road, blowing a silver whistle attached to his uniform.
“Bring a physician, too,” the soldier restraining the mage said.
“And get back fast,” Ivo called after him. “I want this scum out of Her Ladyship’s presence.”
“Do you need a hand?” an Erlauf man said. His voice was deep, and he was about as wide as an ox. He held the pitchfork Cinderella used to try and stab the mage, but he held it with ease and dexterity as he eyed the mage.
Ivo nodded in the direction of the woman. “How is she?”
The man planted the pitchfork and leaned on it. It creaked in distress under his weight as he said, “Alive. Her throat looks burned, but she’s breathin’ fine.”
Ivo nodded.
Cinderella blinked to clear her vision. “Good. I thought I was too late.”
“It was smart, to get the height advantage,” the soldier holding the mage said.
“Thank you,” Cinderella weakly smiled.
“I do not think the Colonel will approve of your engaging the enemy,” Ivo said.
Cinderella pointed her head skyward. “I agree. But Friedrich rarely approves of my actions the way it is.”
“You helped her, lady?” the ox man said, squinting at Cinderella.
“Yes,” Cinderella said. “Ivo, I believe I can stand on my own, thank you.”
“Why?” the ox man asked.
“Why what?”
“Why did you help her?”
Cinderella frowned. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“To save yourself.”
“Well, yes, but I couldn’t just leave her to die,” Cinderella said, gingerly touching the back of her head. “What?” she said when the ox man stared at her.
“You’re from Trieux.”
“Yes.”
The ox man shook his head. He opened his mouth, but before he could further inquire, Ivo interrupted him. “I hear the whistle. Tobias is on his way back,” Ivo said, stepping to help the other soldier, who was anchoring the squirming, bleeding mage in place.
“You’ve lost, mage. Save your strength,” the other soldier said, shaking the mage like a terrier shaking a rat.
“You and every pest like you that approaches the lady will be crushed,” Ivo growled.
The mage laughed, a horrible noise raspy and wet with blood. “I have lost,” he said with a whispering hiss. “But we will not fail. Trieux and Erlauf will be torn asunder. And then they will fester and rot, smothered by their own bitterness and hatred. You all will die,”
“What,” Cinderella said, “are you talking about?”
“Do not engage in conversation with him, Your Grace,” Ivo said.
“Erlauf and Trieux will remain divided, and darkness thrives in division. We will come for you, and this will be our homeland—a land of all things vile and powerful.”
“Division, you say?” Cinderella asked, taking a step closer.
“Your Grace,” Ivo pleaded.
Cinderella ignored him. Her gray eyes raged like hurricanes, hypnotic and furious. “You are lying.”
The mage laughed. “Look to your people! Look to those of Erlauf. You think I am the first to try and kill you? The others didn’t even have magic. Trieux hates Erlauf, and Erlauf hates Trieux. It plays out in your very life. Do you really think that will ever change? War has filled your hearts with hatred. Hatred takes root, and never fails to destroy those who nurture it in their hearts. You are doomed,” the mage broke off.
Cinderella stood tall. The strength of her presence made the mage shift in place. “No,” she said. “If you think I will allow your kind in my country, in Erlauf, you are sorely mistaken.”
“You can do nothing,” the mage protested.
“Really,” Cinderella said, her accent more noble and royal than usual. “Is that why you were trying to kill me?”
The mage fell silent.
“There’s Tobias,” Ivo said, nodding down the street. “ Good. He has an entire squad with him.”
Cinderella turned to look.
The mage snarled and jumped from the soldier holding him captive, lunging for Cinderella.
Ivo shouted, and the mage screamed.
It was over in the time it took Cinderella to turn around. The mage was dead, speared by the pitchfork-wielding Erlauf man.
“He’s dead,” Ivo said in disgust. “The Colonel will be angry. I’m sure he would have wanted to question him.”
“It was our fault for failing to hold him,” Ivo’s companion soldier said.
Cinderella retreated several steps and averted her eyes from the gory sight. “Thank you, sir,” she said, to the ox-man, her voice shaking.
“He was right,” her rescuer said.
“Pardon?”
The ox-man kicked the dead mage as soldiers trooped down the road. “We hate,” the ox-man said.
Cinderella opened her mouth to reply, but the ox-man continued, “But that doesn’t mean there’s no hope,” he said, turning around to watch the injured Erlauf woman stand unsteadily. “Not when a Trieux lady is willing to risk ‘er life for an Erlauf woman.”
Cinderella smiled wanly. “And not when an Erlauf man risks his neck for a Trieux lady.”
The ox-man bobbed his head, and then the soldiers were on them.
The lieutenant of the squadron and an accompanying captain were riding horses. Ivo picked Cinderella up and tossed her on the captain’s horse before she noticed how close the animal was.
“Gather the mage’s body. We will meet you at camp,” the captain said.
“Yes, sir,” Ivo said with a smart salute.
The captain and lieutenant exchanged nods before cuing their horses into a canter. Cinderella clung to the captain and his horse as the city bounced past. There was more than one close call when they almost ran into a wagon or loose animals, but the officers would not slow their pace.
Before Cinderella could believe it, they were riding into the First Regiment’s camp. “Attack, attack on Lady Lacreux,” the lieutenant shouted.
“Oh, dear,” Cinderella said, her stomach gurgling from the crazed ride and the image of the violently killed mage dancing in her mind.
“Have no fear. You’re safe now, Lady,” the captain said, sliding off his horse before helping her down.
“No, that’s not it,” Cinderella said, her head swimming.
“Cinderella?” Friedrich shouted. His voice was pinched, and he broke through the ring of soldiers surrounding Cinderella.
“Are you hurt? What happened?” Friedrich asked.
“Friedrich,” Cinderella gasped.
“Yes?”
“I’m sorry, but I think I’m going to be sick again.”
Cinderella was curled like a cat on the thin pallet she had dragged to the spot of sunshine at the window. The heat and light caressed her, driving back the nightmares of the mage attack.
The door to Friedrich’s office opened. Cinderella opened an eye to watch Friedrich duck past Ensign Kurt.
Cinderella yawned and sat up, ringed by a halo of sunlight. “You have questions for me?”
Friedrich crouched down in front of her and placed a hand on her cheek. “Sorry, Pet, but the more we learn, the safer you will be,” he said, leaning forward so his forehead touched hers.
Cinderella pushed Friedrich back with a finger. “There’s not much to tell,” she said. “I left Marie’s and noticed I had a tail—and he wasn’t one of yours. He chased me, and I hid, intending to steal my way to the nearest patrol point. I think it irritated him because that was when he found the Erlauf woman. Somehow, he froze everyone on the streets, and I was the only one available to help the poor woman.”
“So, you attacked him,” Friedrich wryly said.
“Yes.”
“By flinging yourself off a roof.”
“Ivo was proud of me for that part.”
Friedrich held his tongue, but the look he gave Cinderella said he was not impressed.
“Maybe next time I’m attacked I shouldn’t run? I did it automatically—because of the library and everything—but it seems I ran so fast, I left Ivo and his compatriots behind.”
“No,” Friedrich said. “The mage identified them before you came out of Marie’s house and froze them in place. It was good you ran—you took him so far away, they were out of the range of his magic and recovered.”
“Why didn’t the mage freeze me in place as he froze everyone else?”
“I assume he tried, Pet, but because you wear my token of devotion he couldn’t,” Friedrich said.
Cinderella narrowed her eyes. “Friedrich, now is hardly the time—.”
“I’m completely serious,” Friedrich said. “The necklace isn’t a bauble I found in the market. It’s laced with magic.”
Cinderella dug into the neckline of her dress to pull the dragon emblem out. She studied it with new appreciation.
“It will cancel out any weak levels of magic. The mage’s freezing magic was amateur leveled—one can judge so by the radius around him that he froze. He was usually confined to one city block. Which yes, was enough, but a master mage would freeze at least three blocks, and I would rather not think what a fully credited enchanter could do,” Friedrich said. “The necklace can also neutralize poisons, but to do that you must smear it in your foods and drink first. Your kitchen servants are trustworthy, so I thought it was unnecessary to mention that particular feature to you.”
“Friedrich, this must have cost you a fortune,” Cinderella gaped, staring at the dragon with new appreciation. Magical artifacts of any kind were highly prized, but one that had the power to block magic—even of a low level—never mind the poison, cost as much as a small manor.
“It cost me nothing,” Friedrich said. “Because it is mine.”
“And you’ve been walking around without it?”
“I live with 600 soldiers trained for all types of combat. You live with several dozen servants who have only recently become acquainted with the art of farming. You need it more.”
“But—.”
“Putting the necklace aside, after learning firsthand of the mage’s magic, my men chose to attack him from afar.”
“Ah, yes, with the arrow,” Cinderella recalled. “It must have broken the mage’s concentration.”
“No, it sealed a bit of his power—which gave them time to get closer and completely cut off his magic.”
“Is that what those paper seals were?” Cinderella asked, interested.
“No, you will not be able to produce those to sell,” Friedrich said, correctly interpreting her bright eyes. “It requires a magician with certain strengths to build magic-binding seals.”
“Oh,” Cinderella said, her shoulders slouching.
“They cost a pretty penny,” Friedrich said. “Perhaps it would be worth it to see that the Army employs such a magician. They are scribe magicians—not enchanters—so I suppose it might be cheaper to employ one than buy the seals in bulk through the Veneno Conclave.”
“If they are so expensive, why did my guards have them?” Cinderella said.
Friedrich stood. “Because there have been several attempts on your life. I assumed it was only a matter of time before a dark mage or magician tried his hand at killing you.”
“…What?” Cinderella said. “H-how?”
“Various methods. My men have stopped each attack before it could even begin, which is why you never noticed.”
Cinderella stood as well, her expression stricken. “Has anyone tried killing you?”
“Of course—,”
“Anyone from Trieux?” Cinderella asked, her voice taut like a harp string tightened too much.
Friedrich rubbed his eye. “It offends people that I cling to you,” he said.
Cinderella sat down on her pallet, dazed. “Then the mage was right. We are divided.”
“Surely that cannot come as a surprise,” Friedrich said. “You have been subjected to scorn because of me, and you seethe with hatred for Queen Freja, like most of your countrymen.”
“But that doesn’t mean I want anyone to kill over it,” Cinderella said.
Friedrich’s expression softened. He again crouched in front of Cinderella and ran a hand through her silky hair. “Sometimes I forget just how good you are,” he murmured.
“Do you feel hate towards Trieux?” Cinderella asked.
Friedrich shrugged. “Why should I?”
“Because you have also made sacrifices for your country,” Cinderella said, placing her finger tips on the Colonel’s black eyepatch.
“Do you mind that I am missing an eye?”
“No.”
“Does having one less eye make me less attractive to you?”
“Friedrich,” Cinderella warned.
“Then, no. I can’t say I mind—now. But you are right. When it first happened, I was quite bitter,” Friedrich said.
Cinderella slumped. “Then the mage was right; Trieux and Erlauf are seeped with hate.”
“The hatred will lessen over time.”
“It’s been three years, Friedrich.”
Friedrich shrugged.
“And the mage. He referred to a ‘we.’” Cinderella said.
Friedrich sighed. “Your brilliance is sometimes a curse. You remember the attempt on my life?”
Cinderella nodded.
“We have learned that the assailants were hired by a mage. The mage was not acting alone. She was a part of something, as far as we are aware, organized under no name or governing system. This force, whoever or whatever it is, seems intent on conquering lands. The royal offspring of many countries have been attacked. Some of them survive and free themselves—as Prince Severin did. Others…We have not seen such wide spread co-operation between forces of darkness since the Snow Queen’s time and the Enchanters came to power,” Friedrich said.
“So, he wasn’t just spouting lies. There is something out there intent on destroying us.”
“Not only us, but other countries as well. So far they haven’t been able to gain a toehold here, but they seem to be narrowing their focus on us.”
“Why? The Erlauf royal family has escaped curses and magic-based attacks thus far,” Cinderella said.
“They are aiming for the royal family, yes, but they also try to stir up unrest in general. We are an easy target not because of the royal family, but due to the bitterness that dwells between our people,” Friedrich said. “Darkness is strongest among black emotions like rage, hatred, and bitterness.”
Cinderella stared unseeingly at Friedrich’s desk.
“Cinderella? Have I upset you?” Friedrich asked.
“No,” Cinderella said. “I am angry with myself. I never thought—I didn’t see any of this. The darkness, the evil.”
“You have been occupied with Aveyron, and it is not your job to wipe out threats to our country.”
“No, but…,” Cinderella sighed. She was quiet for several moments before she shook her head. “I need to think. Am I free to go? I assume you must organize your men for the Victory Ball. It will start soon, won’t it?”
“I don’t want you to leave like this,” Friedrich said. “You are upset.”
“I’m only thinking,” Cinderella said, smiling wanly. “Don’t worry about me; I’ll be fine,” she said as Friedrich helped her stand.
“Do not take this as a personal affront, Cinderella,” Friedrich said. “Our people have chosen this path of destruction. It isn’t your fault.”
“Of course,” Cinderella said, her smile growing stronger.