“Bryn?” His voice was hoarser than usual. “You’re here?”
“You did ask for a rescue.” Bryn reminded him lightly, biting back the curses that raged at his condition.
“You’re real?”
“Last I checked.” Bryn pushed his arm beneath the Baron’s shoulders and brought him to a sitting position. The Baron slumped against him. Dialan. “Natan, get over here.”
Natan glanced up and down the hall, a frown puckering his mouth. “It’s midnight. Where were they taking him?”
Bryn ignored the question in favor of a more pressing need. “Help me get him up.” He turned to the Baron. “You’re going to have to help us walk for now.”
The Baron nodded and let Natan take his other arm as they pulled him to his feet. The Baron smothered a soft cry, and Bryn took most of his weight as he tried to get his feet back under him.
Bryn cursed under his breath as they took a few steps forward. The way the Baron’s feet were already dragging, they weren’t going anywhere fast.
Chanting echoed down the hall, bouncing off the walls towards them. Bryn thought he imagined the torchlight jittering faster in response.
“Druids.” A gasp broke from the Baron and he shook.
“Dialan! We’ve got to get out of here,” Natan said.
Bryn jerked his chin forward. “Start retracing our steps. You get front.”
Natan pulled his long knife again. Bryn readjusted his grip on the Baron as Natan stepped away and moved up the hall.
The chanting came closer and the Baron’s shaking intensified as his breath rasped faster. Bryn swore vengeance on whoever had touched the Baron. He’d seen the Baron at his worst many times, but this?
“Just keep moving, Baron.”
The Baron dragged another foot forward. Natan ran back towards them, shaking his head and gesturing frantically. Too many people coming. They couldn’t use Lord Ainsley as an excuse a third time, not with Bryn holding the Baron up.
“There’s a side passage a few yards ahead,” he whispered. Bryn nodded. They had no other choice.
Natan grabbed the Baron’s arm and slung it over his shoulders. They hustled him forward, and pushed down the smaller side corridor—likely a servant’s hall. It bent to the left ten feet in.
The chanting came closer.
Bryn pushed them on and they turned the corner just as a startled shout disrupted the chanting behind them. The bodies of the Baron’s escort had been discovered.
He exchanged a grim look with Natan over the Baron’s bowed head. “Keep going.”
They stumbled up a set of three stairs that fed into a wider passage. No guards in sight. But the shouting still echoed through the hall behind them.
“Which way?” Natan asked, glancing to the right and left.
“You tell me!” Bryn snapped. “You’re supposed to have a good sense of direction!”
The Baron shifted his weight, lifting his head. “Where are we going?” he rasped.
“Is this really the time—?” Natan began.
He used to serve here. Maybe he knows where we should go. Bryn latched onto the idea with hope. “Small library on the southwest side of the castle.”
Two agonizing breaths wheezed from the Baron before he tried to move. “Left.”
Natan glanced at Bryn in bewilderment.
“Move.” Bryn ordered, and they turned left.
Both he and Natan breathed hard by the time they made it twenty paces down the hall. The Baron seemed to have gained some burst of strength as his feet dragged less. Until Bryn’s next step sent agony racing down his leg from what felt like a knife plunged into his thigh.
He cursed as his leg buckled, and he half-dragged the Baron and Natan down on top of him.
“Bryn!” Natan cried, regaining his feet.
Bryn looked down, clutching his leg, but nothing had broken skin. No weapon in sight. The Baron tried to push himself up on weak arms.
“You cannot take him.” A druid crept up behind them on silent feet. He held a small figure like a doll in his hand, a slender needle poised above it.
Natan drew his blade. “Watch us.” He blurred forward in smooth motion, and the druid fell under his attack. The phantom pain receded from Bryn’s leg.
Movement stirred the hallway in front of him, and another druid strode forward.
“He belongs to Deronis.”
“I don’t think so.” Bryn snarled as he pulled a knife free. He pushed to his feet.
The druid took a step back from the rage in his expression.
“He belongs to the Keep.” Natan’s voice growled behind Bryn.
The druid backed away again before turning to run. Bryn adjusted his grip on his knife. Sean had said that the druids had bled and tortured the Baron. As far as he was concerned, they lost their right to an honorable death. He threw his knife, burying it hilt deep in the green-robed man’s back, and the druid fell without a sound.
He stalked forward and yanked his knife free from the man’s back. When he returned, Natan had the Baron sitting up against the wall.
“Baron?” Bryn jostled his shoulder gently, bringing the Baron’s gaze up to him. “Can you keep going?”
The stubborn determination that had kept the Baron on his feet so many times before sparked again in his brown eyes. He nodded, and Bryn and Natan pulled him to his feet and they stumbled on.
At the next branch of the hallway, Bryn had to shake the Baron back to awareness. It took him a long moment to remember which way to go, but they set off to the right, only to backtrack a few paces and take shelter in a small linen closet as a troop of five guards hurried by.
“Well I’m glad this is going to plan,” Natan muttered.
“Shut it, Natan. Just pray that Luca is still there.”
Natan whispered a curse as they stepped back out into the hall.
The next five minutes passed in a haze of tension as they stepped into another corridor without being caught.
“I think I recognize this,” Natan said.
“You’d better be right.” Bryn readjusted the Baron’s weight, raising his free shoulder to wipe sweat from his temple.
“It’s close,” the Baron agreed, exhaustion drenching his skin and leaving clean tracks down his face.
Four soldiers rounded the corner, forcing Bryn to unceremoniously dump the Baron on the ground as he and Natan sprang to battle again. The soldiers’ spears were of no use in the already close quarters, giving Bryn and Natan seconds of precious advantage as the men dropped the weapons to draw swords.
Bryn stabbed, leaving one man with a wounded side. Natan caught his opponent’s arm as he swung, redirecting the blow into a third man. The thief followed their fall to the ground, his knife flashing in quick succession.
That left only the fourth soldier, a young man barely older than a boy. Bryn shifted his grip on his bloody knife. This was different than the druids. The boy stared at them, fear in his eyes at the quick fall of his comrades. He held his sword loosely, not even remotely ready to use it.
“Go!” The boy’s comrade waved a bloody hand from where he curled on the ground.
Bryn held out a hand to forestall Natan. He focused on the youth.
“This is the Baron.” He nodded behind himself. “Know what that makes us?”
The soldier gulped. “C-cairns?”
“We’re building graves tonight, boy. You want us to add yours to the list?”
The boy shook his head. His sword clattered to the ground.
“Take care of him.” Bryn pointed to the wounded soldier. “And don’t get any ideas about following us.”
“We should just kill him.” Natan muttered. The youth’s eyes widened again. But Bryn shook his head and returned to the Baron.
The soldier shrank back against the wall to give them room to pass with the Baron.
“Let anyone you see know that this’ll be their fate.” Bryn nodded down to the dead soldiers.
“This way.” Natan’s vo
ice rose in excitement.
Bryn recognized the ornate green and gold tapestry framed between two slitted windows. The Baron’s breath came in wheezing gasps and he could barely hold his head up.
“Hold on, Baron. We’re almost there.” Bryn tightened his grip but there was no response.
Natan left the Baron in Bryn’s hold as he hurried to open the door.
“Stormagh.” Bryn stared at the bloody scuffs that Natan had left behind. Natan followed his gaze down to the stone, tracking them all the way back to full footprints leaving a clear trail from their last fight.
Chapter 39
What do we do?” Natan asked.
Bryn swallowed hard. He wasn’t leaving anyone behind to distract from the trail. He couldn’t, and the Baron wouldn’t do it either. “Hope they think we can really vanish into thin air. Get inside.” He shoved forward with the Baron. They stepped inside, and Natan shut the door.
Luca jumped to his feet and pushed the tunnel entrance wider to allow them to stumble through. Bryn helped the Baron sit while Natan and Luca closed the secret door.
“Where are we?” the Baron mumbled.
“Rake found a tunnel that leads all around this place,” Bryn answered.
“Tunnels?” The Baron’s forehead creased like the word should mean more to him.
“Ready?” Natan crouched by them in the circle cast by the lantern. Luca stood just outside the light, staring down at the Baron in silence.
“Luca, you have water?” Bryn asked. “Luca?”
Luca started, and handed over his canteen. Bryn helped the Baron drink. He wasn’t able to manage much, but it seemed to revive him a little. Bryn’s gut twisted as he saw more and more of the Baron’s injuries.
Adam and the druids are going to pay more than they already have tonight.
“Sean?” the Baron asked.
“Safe at the Carraig,” Bryn reassured him.
“He’s not—not safe.” He shook his head.
Bryn exchanged a helpless look with the others before sliding an arm behind the Baron again.
“We need to go, Baron.”
The Baron nodded, his boots scraping the floor as he tried to get his feet under him. Natan handed the lantern to Luca and went to the Baron’s other side. They helped him up and as soon as he steadied, they set off again.
Natan called soft directions to Luca to lead them back out of the tunnels. Stops were frequent as fatigue wore on both Bryn and Natan. The Baron staggered along between them, each step an effort.
The stone eventually gave way to earth and they passed the tunnel’s first split.
“Straight shot from here.” Natan’s voice rose in triumph.
“Luca, go on ahead and let them know we’re coming,” Bryn ordered.
Luca handed the lantern back to Natan and jogged off into the darkness, keeping one hand on the wall.
“Almost there,” Bryn tightened his grip on the Baron’s arm.
He barely nodded in response, his breath hitching a little faster.
They paused for a moment, and in the sudden stillness something scraped behind them. Bryn tensed too late as his knee was kicked out from under him. He fell for the second time, bringing the Baron with him.
Natan yelled in surprise, the lantern clattering to the ground to roll wildly before flickering out.
“Stay down, Baron!” Bryn yelled, pulling a knife as he covered the Baron with his body. He caught the ring of steel and Natan’s angry cry. Something tripped over his foot, and a heavy weight descended on him.
“There’s two!” Natan’s breathless gasp came from a few feet away.
Bryn pushed at whatever was on top of him. A stray punch caught him in the face and sparks danced across his eyes. He swiped out with his knife and was rewarded by a sharp cry.
Bryn came into a crouch, keeping the Baron at his back. The whoosh of a strike filled the air. He dodged aside, but not fast enough as pain struck a sharp line across his left side. He bit down on a cry. He shifted his knife horizontally in front of him and waited, ignoring the heat that pulsed from his side.
He scraped his feet backward, mimicking a retreat. A scuff announced his opponent had fallen for it. He stepped forward, ramming his knife forward into something solid that fell into him with a soft gasp.
The unexpected weight bore him to the ground as silence settled over the tunnel. Sudden panic struck him at the thought that perhaps it had been Natan, or somehow the Baron.
“Bryn?” Natan’s cautious voice whispered through the darkness.
He barked a laugh in relief. “I’m here. Baron?”
Movement scraped a few feet away. “Here,” the Baron’s pain-filled voice replied.
“Find that lantern, Natan.” Bryn pushed at the weight atop him. Natan knocked against the lantern with a clatter. Flint scraped together, sparking the light again.
Its wavering light exposed the bodies of two men in nondescript clothing, weapons aplenty, and features hard even in death.
“Who are they?” Natan asked.
Bryn winced as he moved, pulling at his side. No insignia was visible on the men’s tunics.
“Spies or assassins. Whoever they are, it means that Adam or someone knows about these tunnels.” Bryn pressed a hand to his side, angling himself away so that Natan wouldn’t see as he turned.
“But how? These haven’t been used in years.” Natan crossed over to the Baron.
“You didn’t explore all of them. Besides,” Bryn leaned against the wall for a moment. “If the right person saw our trail, they could probably figure out we used the tunnels.”
“And here I thought that we had some luck on our side.” Natan took the Baron’s shaking arm and pulled him up.
Bryn moved slowly forward to support the Baron again, gritting his teeth as they pushed forward, pain pulsing with every step.
Just keep going. Get him out first.
What seemed an eternity later, another light flickered ahead. Luca lifted his head and called up through the hole.
“We made it.” Bryn staggered a step to the side.
They made it within a few feet of Luca before the Baron collapsed. Bryn strained to keep him from hitting the ground. Natan swore, taking most of his weight as they dragged him forward.
Rorie slid into the tunnel with a thud. He and Luca took the Baron, supporting him as hands reached down and pulled him up. Bryn leaned against the wall, relief washing over him.
We made it.
He waved Natan forward, and Rorie boosted the thief up through the hole. Bryn pushed forward, fresh warmth oozing down his side with every step. He got his foot into Rorie’s cupped hands and took Fulke’s extended hand. They nearly catapulted him from the tunnel and he sank to his knees at the Baron’s side.
Rowen already knelt beside the Baron.
“How is he?” Fulke demanded.
Rowen glanced up, a frown sharpening his features. “Not good. They bled him.” He pulled the Baron’s sleeve up to expose a bloodied bandage. “I can’t treat him here.” He gestured around them.
“Fulke, we were attacked in the tunnels.” Bryn pressed his hand against his side again. “We have to get out of here.”
Fulke jerked his attention back to Bryn as the deep boom of the alarm bell rang out over the stillness of the night. Faint shouts became audible from the direction of the castle.
The Cairns looked to Fulke and Bryn, ready for action. They’d prepared a series of campsites hidden deep in the forest and hills, knowing they wouldn’t be able to run far with the Baron. Bryn stirred, trying to force his sluggish limbs to stand. He couldn’t remember where they were headed next.
I have to keep going. We have to get him safe.
He sank back to his knees.
“Scatter,” Fulke growled. “Twos and threes. Head for the next campsite. Jes, Rorie, Milo, Rowen, you stay with me and the Baron. Bryn--”
Fulke’s voice faded to a dull rumble as the night closed in around him. The grass felt cool aga
inst his face.
Chapter 40
Kane strode down the hall toward the druids’ room. The extra soldiers patrolling the corridors snapped out of his way. Chanting echoed down the halls, and incense disguised the stench of death.
He glanced at the covered bodies lying on the floor for only a second before slipping into the chamber. Lord Adam stood against the wall, arms crossed against his chest. A wall of druids stood between him and an altar where Alisher, assisted by two other druids, led the chanting.
“Report?” Adam murmured to Kane without taking his eyes off the ceremony.
Bloody cloths piled around a bowl on the altar—whatever the druids had been able to save of the Baron’s blood.
“They got in and out through the tunnels.” Kane matched Adam’s stance, arms crossed in such a way to still hold on to a knife.
“How did they even find the tunnels?” Adam gritted out.
Kane shrugged. “Abandoned entrance we didn’t know about. They got past the men I sent into the tunnels and scattered.”
Alisher’s voice rose in frantic eagerness, his good arm waved above the altar as the incense puffed in noxious clouds. His assistants cast some substance over the cloths and bowl.
“Tell me that’s not all you had to say,” Adam said.
Kane shifted uneasily as another jar with a thick red liquid was brought forward to Alisher. The Seer’s blood if he had to guess. Alisher dipped his bare hand into the jar, sprinkling it over the altar.
“No.” Kane stifled a shudder and looked away from the blood-spattered altar. “We have the dogs and my best trackers out. Someone was wounded in the tunnels and left some blood behind, and there was enough of the Baron’s scent left in his cell. We should be able to raise a trail.”
He didn’t add that his trackers had barely found a trace of a trail outside the tunnel exit to begin with. The Cairns were good, but Kane never failed to bring in his prey.
The druids joined hands, swaying in time with the chant as they tilted their head back to howl a string of words before falling silent. Alisher pressed his head against the altar as he bowed deeply.
He spoke again in the druid’s tongue, but Kane still heard “Deronis.” Whatever he said excited the rest of the druids, and they replied with a shout of affirmation.
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