Wit'ch Gate by James Clemens

Author:James Clemens
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9780345442642
Publisher: Del Rey
Published: 2001-01-02T08:00:00+00:00

Tratal snapped her fingers, and a small bolt of lightning lanced from the energies about the ship. The blinding bolt struck Er’ril’s sword and burned it from his hand.

Er’ril gasped and shook away the burn. His sword clattered at his feet. Tol’chuk rumbled in menace, but Er’ril held him back.

Queen Tratal remained ice. “Retrieve your sword, plainsman.” She turned her back on him, unconcerned by any threat he could offer. “It is time you accepted your fate as well.”

Er’ril collected his sword. He held it a moment, then shoved it back into its sheath. “Elena will never cooperate with you.”

Tratal swung around, leaning against the rail, oblivious to the energies racing along the wood. “She will when the fate of her dear friends is held hostage against her goodwill. She is a smart girl. Here all the wild magick in the world will not free her, only get you all killed.”

Er’ril opened his mouth to argue, but he found no words. Elena would fight this imprisonment—but not at the cost of all their lives. Tratal was most correct. They were caught snugly in her icy web.

Cursing his blind trust, Er’ril stared at the spread of Stormhaven as the flagship swept toward the docks. The vast elv’in city glowed under the golden sunlight. Already hundreds of residents flowed along bridges and appeared waving at windows. All had come to cheer the return of their queen. Trumpets blared, and drums began to beat cheerily. Several banners waved, bearing the sigil of an azure eagle against a silver background.

Behind them, the mighty gates swung slowly closed, shutting out the storm beyond, cutting off any means of escape.

“A handsome city, is it not?” Queen Tratal asked airily.

Er’ril frowned at the bright citadel. “It’s as pretty a prison as I’ve ever seen.

Elena followed the others along the wide bridge spanning the length of Stormhaven. Queen Tratal led the way, borne in a draped litter floating above the bridge. Energy crackled along the small vessel’s iron runners. The lithe woman lifted an arm and waved to her people as flower petals floated and swirled in the air, tossed from windows and doorways, scenting the thin air in sweet fragrances. Voices were raised in welcoming cheers, well-wishes, and song. Tratal acknowledged them all, nodding and waving.

Elena scowled at the spectacle. Upon disembarking the Sunchaser, Tratal had invited Elena to accompany her aboard the cushioned litter, but Elena had refused. “I’ll walk with the other prisoners,” she had said coldly. Tratal had merely shrugged and climbed into the high seat.

Upon first hearing of her imprisonment, Elena’s initial instinct had been to strike out, ripe with coldfire and wit’chfire. Who dared stand in her way? But Er’ril had talked her down from her sharp fury. Hers was a power of destruction and the laying of waste. Here, her magick would only lead to a tumbling death. Mama Freda had agreed with Er’ril, insisting that time and wise words might win, where sword and fiery magick failed. Elena had finally forced her bright anger down to a tight-lipped glower.

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