Chapter 621: Left in the Dark
Left in the Dark
Martel sat in disbelief. He was alone again, left in darkness except for the faint illumination that could struggle its way up the stairs. Despair and anger wrestled against each other for control of him, and the latter won. He tore at his chains like an animal desperate to escape. He tried to pull at them, break them, move just an inch beyond what they allowed, all in vain.
Falling back against the wall, he finally punched it with his hand. It did nothing but break the skin on his knuckles. The sharp pain broke through his anger and made him realise the futility of it all. His actions, his situations. He could not win against this. Military intelligence, the Imperial administration, the Inquisition, the legions – all the powers of the Empire arrayed against him, bending him to its will. How could one man, even a mage, hope to stand against all of this?
Martel tried to think of a way out. If he did get a warning undetected to Eleanor, could she avoid the Seventeenth? Or failing that, somehow find a way to avoid leading a charge into certain death? Maybe once released, rather than go into Khiva, he could go upriver to their camp and warn her.
That would still put her at risk, though; he did not doubt Wulfstan’s ability or willingness to make good on his threats. The only way to be safe was if she fled, like he would have to do, and left Aster permanently. She could never return to Morcaster or see her family again.
She had already chosen Martel over herself before, and she had suffered countless dangers for it. Only a few days ago, he had watched the life bleed from her; a few moments more, and he might have been too late. Martel faced an unpleasant conclusion. He could not ask further sacrifice of Eleanor. He would have to do this, on his own, and hope that his abilities could see him complete the mission and make it home.
***
Martel woke from dozing off. Commotion on the lower floor again. Was it already morning? Had Wulfstan returned already? No fragment of light made it through the shutters on the window, and the lamp still burned below from what he could tell. It was still night.
A light-footed figure made their way up the stairs. Martel straightened his back, being metaphorically and literally in the dark as to what he should expect. He could not see his visitor’s face, but he believed he recognised the fluid movements of a lithe person, itself belying the strength she possessed. “Eleanor?”
“Martel,” she whispered, swiftly approaching to kneel in front of him. “We do not have long.”
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“You shouldn’t be here. If anyone finds out –”
“I was cautious. I noticed someone following me, so I went to the Tyrians and out the back. Starkad helped me,” Eleanor explained.
That had to be Wulfstan’s men, watching her. “Eleanor, you must leave.”
She ignored his words. “I have pleaded your case, to no avail. The legate tells me I am being sent to the Seventeenth, perhaps to get rid of me, but I will refuse to go. I will come with you to Morcaster and marshal all influence to help you,” she spoke rapidly, barely taking the time to breathe. “My father –”
“Eleanor, it doesn’t matter.” Martel’s heart broke seeing her expression; how his words struck her like a slap. “Cheval, the legate… I am certain to be found guilty. But I’ve been offered another way. If I go into Khiva and destroy where they make their cannon powder, I’ll be cleared of any accusations.”
She frowned, and he could almost see the thoughts churning inside her head. “A trial in Morcaster may not be hopeless. You have served with distinction at the most difficult posting in the Empire.”
“It has already been decided.” Martel raised a chained hand to scratch the stubbles on his cheek. “This is not the legate’s idea. Wulfstan, the spy, came to me. Military intelligence has arranged all of this. The choice is simple. I die in Morcaster, or I complete their mission. It’s been made clear to me that those are the only outcomes.”
Slowly, Eleanor exhaled. “Alright,” she finally declared. “When do we leave?”
He wished that he could hold her; the weights around his wrists reminded him of his limitations. “I have to go alone.”
“I am your protector. This is exactly what I do.”
“Two people going only increases the chances of discovery. It’s safer if I go alone.” That might even hold some truth.
“Martel, clearly another mage going with you would increase the chances of success greatly. Do you think you could have survived all our previous missions without me?”
“No.”
“So you understand why…” Her voice faltered for a moment. “You do not think you will return.”
Martel pressed his lips together, unwilling to lie nor speak the truth.
“All the more reason you need me by your side.”
“You can’t come with me. They won’t allow it.”
“They? The spy? Why not? They must want this mission to succeed.”
Martel looked into her brown eyes. “Because they don’t trust me. For good reason. I refused to do it at first. So the only way they can be sure…” He could not make himself form the words.
“I am their leverage,” Eleanor realised. “Is that why I am being sent to the Seventeenth?”
He nodded slowly. “Away from here, away from me. And near lots of cannons if I don’t do as they demand.”
“That is monstrous!”
From downstairs, a voice called to them. “Sir? The bell just rang. I’ll be replaced any moment now.”
“I cannot believe… no, I can.” Eleanor shook her head, and her voice overflowed with bitterness. “We are nothing but pawns to them.”
“You have to leave,” Martel told her. “Don’t be found here. They might kill you just for knowing the truth.”
She extended her hand to place it against his cheek, and Martel melted into her touch. “This is not right.”
“Sir! Any moment now!”
She swiftly leaned forward to kiss his forehead, and despite the despair of his situation, his heart trembled. “I will not abandon you,” she promised with a whisper before tearing herself away, and she all but leapt down the stairs, leaving Martel alone in the dark.
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