Warrior Witch (The Malediction Trilogy #3)(42)
“We’re here to rescue you,” I said. “Gather everyone at the center of town.”
“They’ll see us,” one of the men exclaimed. “They told us they’d kill anyone who tried to escape before their prince arrived.”
“They won’t see.” I pointed to the oblivious trolls speaking to Chris some hundred yards away. “And if you wait for Prince Roland to arrive, the only freedom you’ll ever know is death.”
The man blanched, but it was the herding gestures my overly tall companion was making that got them moving. “Gather the animals, too,” Victoria said to the villagers. “Tell them we’ve goats to go.” She grinned and I shook my head at the pun.
“Are you sure you can do this?” I asked.
“Don’t undermine my confidence with your doubts. Go dose the people with your potion – the last thing we need is them all running about like frightened chickens.”
The villagers peppered me with questions as I ushered them to the largest building, the general store. “For courage,” I said, handing a flask topped off with magic to one of the men and watching it pass from mouth to mouth as those in terrifying circumstances were wont to do, aided by a bit of compulsion on my part for those reluctant to partake. For the children, I handed out tiny potion-laced candies that Victoria had helped me make, which they gobbled down, growing silent and still the moment the sweets hit their bellies.
Victoria leaned in the front door, and I nodded once, going to stand in front of the only window. Ready.
“Everyone be calm,” I whispered, hearing the wind howl down the mountainside. “We’re going to get you out of here.”
In hindsight, the potion might not have been necessary, so smooth was Victoria’s magic as she lifted the tiny village off the ground, her actions hidden by her brother’s illusion. But I could see the ground moving away, and I found myself swallowing down a wave of dizziness as the building, and all those around us, rose on a platform of magic to a dozen or more feet off the ground before beginning the long journey deeper into the mountains.
I held my breath, waiting for one of the trolls to see something, or hear something, but they lounged contently in their gazebo, watching with disinterest as Chris pushed his horse through the snow, fighting to get to safety before the second part of our plan took place.
The crack was deafening, like a hundred pistols firing simultaneously, but for a second, it seemed a sound without cause. Then one of the mountain slopes began moving.
At first it appeared a single sheet of snow was sliding, then it tumbled and crumbled, clouds of white rising up into the air as it roared down with deadly force. The gazebo blinked out of sight and the trolls raced toward the opposite slope, one significantly faster than the other.
The avalanche slammed into the barrier that had surrounded the town, destroying or burying it, I couldn’t tell which, and then it overtook the slower troll. Snow burst up high as he tried to shield himself, but the earth’s might battered his efforts and he disappeared from sight. The faster troll made it partially up the opposing slope before turning. I imagined how he felt: the moment of relief when he believed he had cheated death. Then a tall figure stepped out of nothingness and clamped a hand on the smaller troll’s shoulders.
We had our prisoner.
* * *
It took several hours for Victoria and me to deliver Revigny to its new location, explain the situation to the villagers, and secure their cooperation. The journey to the rallying point took far less time – all of which I spent with my eyes squeezed shut – thanks to Victoria’s fearlessness and a magic sled.
“Any luck?” I asked Chris, accepting his offer of an arm to steady my still wobbly knees.
He shook his head. “Not sure if he’s not talking because he can’t or he won’t, but Vincent hasn’t been able to get a word out of him.”
Given what had happened with Albert, I wasn’t entirely surprised, but part of me had still hoped that we might have gained at least a clue as to where Angoulême was hiding. “I want to try something.”
Along with Anushka’s grimoire, I’d packed small amounts of the herbs required to perform certain spells, and I took out several of those now, setting them on the snow next to our troll captive. He eyed them nervously, muscles flexing as he tested the magic binding him.
“I need a bit of your blood,” I said. “This will sting.” Pushing up the sleeve of his coat, I cut across his forearm, ignoring his sharp intake of breath as I held a clay bowl under the stream of blood. Picking up a handful of snow, I tossed it in where it melted instantly, then added the herbs.
“Fire?” Victoria asked.
“No.” Dipping a finger into the mixture, I marked his forehead and then my own. Then I tossed the rest of the bowl’s contents up in the air. Little droplets hung suspended like a cloud of rubies, then they began to swirl between me and the troll. I closed my eyes.
His thoughts came in little flashes. A troll woman smiling. A sword. The waterfall in Trollus.
“She’s in my mind,” the troll screamed, but I tuned him out and focused. Roland.
The troll prince appeared, himself, but twisted, as though the troll’s mind saw him for the monster he was. “I will rule,” he screamed. “I will rule.”
Other trolls were on their knees in front of him, and one of them said, “Death to Thibault! Death to Tristan!”