He finished his breakfast quickly and headed to the stable with the others. Melissa met them at the front door to see them off, and tried to coax Clyde inside.
Clyde refused. “Go with Will,” he said as the team began mounting their horses.
“I give up,” said Melissa, throwing her hands up in defeat. “He knows you’re going, and refuses to stay. I guess he’s a daddy’s dragon.”
“Let him follow, Will,” said Rachel. “If he can’t keep up, he’ll come back home.”
Clyde had trouble at first, especially when William urged his mare into a canter. Clyde tried running, but his wide, heavy frame made it awkward. Running was too slow, and flying too fast, and he frequently either lagged behind or surged ahead. Soon he tired of landing at all, preferring to soar above and around them, taking small detours to view the countryside.
They stopped at Lord Kevin’s estate, finding with relief that the rebels had passed it by untouched. Emma stopped William as he and the others were about to depart. “I’m proud of you William,” she said with a pained look. “But I worry about you. You’re so much like your father that it scares me. He couldn’t leave things alone either, and it got him killed. Promise me you’ll stay safe.”
William squirmed in his saddle as the others waited a short distance ahead. “We’re just going to look around, Mom. Besides, they won’t want to mess with us a second time, I’m sure.”
“When it comes to people like that, you can’t be sure of anything,” she replied. “If you see the least bit of danger, get out of there. Let Sir Hendrick deal with it as best he can. That’s his job, and you have your own.”
He departed without promising anything more than to be careful. Clyde resumed circling above the group as they traveled the remaining distance, soaring with ease as though he’d done so for years rather than hours. Jack pulled up beside William as they neared the town, craning his neck to follow Clyde. “You’ll have to ground him soon. It’ll be hard to go unnoticed with a green dragon flying above us.”
They pulled off the road and made camp among the trees near the edge of town. Clyde finally landed and sniffed around before settling on a spot to rest.
“What’s the plan?” asked Jack. “Do we wait for dark, or walk around town for all to see?”
William rummaged through his pack for food and began passing it around. “I don’t like the idea of waiting. But going in as a group will draw attention.”
“They know you and Jack well enough,” said Maya. “But the rest of us can walk around without being recognized, right?”
“Don’t count on it,” said Rachel as she tore off a hunk of bread. “Those rebels will recognize me from the fight, and Charlie too. If we’re spotted, we’ll be locked up.”
“We don’t even know if they’re still here,” said Jack. “For all we know, they may have gone already.”
“We can’t all risk getting captured,” said William. “One of us needs to go into town and report back.”
The annoyance on Jack’s face was plain. “And I suppose that someone has to be you, right? How long before you outgrow your hero fantasies, Will?”
“I’m not a hero, Jack,” insisted William. “But I have a title, a sword, and a dragon. They might capture me, but they won’t hurt me unless I fight them—which I won’t. If I’m not back by sundown, you can sneak to Deacon’s at night and get a rabble together.”
“So that’s your plan?” asked Jack. “To be a lightning rod?”
William glared back at him, his lunch forgotten. “If it comes to that, yes. You knew what our plan was; if you’re so against it, why did you come?”
“To stop you from doing something stupid like this.”
Rachel stepped between them and turned to Jack. “What other choice do we have? We need to know more, so someone has to go in. If we all get captured, who’ll know about it? Will’s in the best position to scout for us, and we’re his backup.”
Jack stared back at her. “Is this your father’s wisdom, or your own?”
A trace of cold anger crossed her face. “Does it matter where the truth comes from? If you have a better plan, tell us. Otherwise be a decent friend and have his back on this.”
Jack breathed deeply, calming himself. “Maya? Charlie? Can one of you talk sense into him?”
Maya shrugged. “I don’t like it either, but I hate it less than anything else I can think of—which isn’t much. I’d rather be at home cracking open oysters, but if Will needs my help, I’m behind him.”
“Me too,” said Charlie. “Rachel’s right about keeping reserves. Standard Guard procedure.”
“Okay, fine,” said Jack with a resigned look. “I know when I’m beaten. I still don’t agree with it, but I’ll back you up, Will. Just don’t get caught.”
William nodded his thanks. “I’ll do my best. Come on, Clyde. We’re going for a walk. No flying—I don’t want people spotting you from a distance.”
“Walk now. No fly,” said Clyde.
Despite all his precautions, they spotted him quickly. Guards patrolled the streets in pairs, glancing his way, though they never approached him. William carried on, puzzled, his head swiveling about as he looked for signs of danger.
None came. They left him alone. But why? They obviously knew who he was—who else would have a green dragon in tow? Were they under orders to avoid him? Or were they simply biding their time? Whatever the reason, he needed to learn more. The path up Administration Hill looked unoccupied, so he climbed the gravel path, encountering not a single person along the way, rebel guard or otherwise. Emboldened, he walked past the administrative buildings, alert for any sign of activity but finding none. He tried the Library door and found it still locked. The meeting hall was empty and unguarded, and the earl’s office stood silent, no one coming or going. He walked as close to the Guard barracks as he dared, peering around the corner of another building, spotting only the single guard on gate duty.
Why would the guards patrol the streets but not the Hill? Were they keeping the townsfolk from gathering? Or was something else going on? He touched the hilt of his sword for comfort and turned back to town.
They ambushed him at the top of the path. Six guards, fully armed, blocked the only direct path to town. He turned again, intending to race for the trails behind the Hill, but found another patrol behind him, spears pointed his way. Three more advanced toward him on either side.
He was boxed in, his capture imminent. His heart pounding, he dropped to one knee and faced Clyde. “Clyde, you need to find Jack and the others. Fly to Jack and tell him I’m in trouble. Do you understand?”
“Find Jack?” asked the dragon.
“Yes, find Jack. Can you do that?”
The dragon nodded. “Fly now?”
“Yes, now Clyde, before these bad men come.”
Clyde hesitated. “Not fight?”
William sighed. “I wish we could, but we’re outnumbered. Go. Now!”
Clyde reared up, his wings unfolding and spreading several feet. The guards halted as the dragon leaped into the air and circled to gain height. Two or three pointed their spears at him but lowered them again when it was clear he wasn’t attacking. Instead, Clyde soared away, taking William’s hopes with him.
Dolinski stepped out from behind the advancing guards. “William Whitehall, you are under arrest.”
“You don’t say,” said William, who made no move to defend himself. “That’s quite the bruise on your forehead. You weren’t demoted after being beaten up by little girl?”
A few of the guards snickered, but Dolinski ignored the barb and read from a list. “You are charged with sedition, interfering with lawful activities of town officials, tax evasion, spying, attempted murder, and theft. You will be taken to prison and questioned. Anything you say from this point on will be treated as evidence. Mr. Whitehall, please remove your sword and toss it out of reach.”
“My name is Lord Will—oh, never mind. Let’s get on with this farce.” Willia
m did as instructed, unbuckling the scabbard and tossing it at the patrol leader’s feet. “Anyone who unsheathes that sword will be dead before the week is out. You hear me?”
“We can add threatening a guard to your list of charges, MISTER Whitehall,” said Dolinski. “The earl revoked your title yesterday.”
His hands were bound, and he was led to a cell block he’d never noticed before, hidden behind the earl’s offices. Built from massive timbers and a fortune’s worth of metal bars, they had clearly stood for decades, if not longer. The guards withdrew after locking him inside, leaving him alone to inspect his cell. A wooden bench was his only furnishing, with a bucket tossed in the corner for obvious use. There was no sign of food or drink, and his stomach rumbled at the thought of being deprived for who knew how long.
The cell door connected to a hallway, and a small, barred window provided his only interior view; another barred window high on the opposite wall offered the only view outside. Standing on the bench, he looked over the woods behind Administration Hill. From years of hiking with Jack, he knew those woods stretched out to the swampy plains that surrounded Marshland Crossing.
He was alone. Imprisoned in a building so well hidden he hadn’t noticed it in eighteen years of living in Marshland, even during the year he’d worked at the Library. Jack was right—scouting alone was foolish, and now he was paying the price for his stupidity.
A voice came out of nowhere. “Wee Willie Whitehands. It seems the lord’s life doesn’t agree with you.”
The cold voice sent shivers down his spine. He knew that voice, even before he turned to look into the black eyes staring back at him through the cell door window.
William’s mouth dropped open. “Kirby Elric…”
A crooked smile grew on Kirby’s face. “Aw, you don’t look happy to see me, Willie. How come? Is it because you sent me away and told me never to come back?”
“I sent you away because you’re sick, Kirby. If you think you can inflict pain on me like you did before, you’ll find I’m not so easy a mark as I was then.”
“Oh yes, I’m sick. You have no idea how sick. But you think I’d come back for you? Perhaps lordship has made Willie a little self-centered. Or did those books about you inflate your ego? No, you’re just a nice little bonus. Oh, and this, of course.” He held up William’s sword, still sheathed and on its belt. “I heard you threatened whoever pulled this out. Well, watch this.” He tugged on the hilt, loosening it from the scabbard, and slowly drew it out and held it in front of him. “So, I’ll be dead within a week, will I? What if I do this?” Kirby stuck out his tongue and licked the length of the blade. “Mm…recently used. Delicious.”
William suppressed the urge to retch. “You’re even more sick than I imagined, Kirby.”
“Worried about my health, Willie? Don’t be. You should be concerned with your own. How long do you suppose people survive in here?” He thumped the wooden wall with the hilt of William’s sword. “Even if you escaped from the prison, the whole town is crawling with guards. You aren’t getting away.” He turned to leave but stopped at the outer door. “Decide what you want for your last meal. Not that you’ll get it—but it will give you something nice to think about while you starve.”
The door slammed shut, locking him behind two impenetrable barriers. He sat in a bewildered silence, too stunned to react. He had entered Marshland Crossing fully expecting to be captured, or at least followed and observed. To find this monster from his past instead was too much to believe. His mind jumped to the squatter’s camp in his woods. He had little doubt it was Kirby who tortured those poor animals, but why do it on William’s land? Why risk being captured by the one person who stood up to him years ago?
He forced himself to change focus. Kirby was right about one thing: he couldn’t expect to be well-treated, and escape was the only way to avoid that. Justice was not on Kirby’s agenda; he would hold no trial, pronounce no sentence, just prolong William’s suffering for as long as it amused him. William didn’t intend to accommodate him.
A quick search confirmed the door was locked. The hinges were outside and out of reach, and the barred window was as solid as the door itself. He couldn’t pry out the bars without a crowbar, and they were far too thick to be bent by hand. Even if he did bend them, he’d never squeeze his body through the tiny window. The same was true of the window above the bench.
Nor could he dig his way through the floor of solid stone slabs. If he had the tools, he might eventually chip through them, but he knew the hill itself was granite bedrock. Only the dragons could tunnel through that.
That left the walls. Luckily, the bolts anchoring the bench had rusted through, leaving it free for William to move it as he pleased. Positioning it near the door where the wall would be weakest, he swung it like a battering ram at the thick wooden beams. Working alone, he built up too little momentum, and the bench simply bounced off the wall, leaving only little dents on the surface.
Exhausted from the effort and with nothing to show for it, he shoved the bench back to its original spot and lay down on it. With no food or water to sustain him, he would have to conserve his energy unless he devised a quick escape. But for now—rest and think.
He stared at the lengthening shadows on the wall as the sun sank toward the horizon behind him. The dim light played tricks on him, turning the ceiling from a patchwork of cobwebs into a cloud-covered sky, and he pretended he was lying somewhere in an open field with the wind on his skin.
His thoughts turned to Melissa. He had spent the entirety of his first day of their marriage away from her, and he had no prospect of returning to her soon let alone tonight. What kind of husband did that to his wife? Who would swear a vow to be together for life and then run away at the first opportunity?
If he ever escaped, he would find a way to make it up to her.
Chapter 17
He woke in darkness. No stars shone through the little window, and nothing stopped the cold night air from wafting in. He considered covering the window with his coat, but decided he’d be better off wearing it.
A whispered voice called his name. He leaped onto the bench, pulled himself up, and looked through the window at the ground below, gasping with relief. “Jack! Am I glad to see you!”
Jack stared up at him with an annoyed look. “Maybe you’ll listen to me now about running off and getting yourself into trouble?”
“Is this really the best time to chastise me?” asked William. “Did you come here to scold me or help me escape?”
“Why can’t I do both?” asked Jack. “Anyway, stand back. It’s about to get hot in there.”
“Good, because I only have one coat, and I’m a bit chilly—ow! Hey!” William jumped off the bench, as the wall beside him became hot.
“I told you to stand back, didn’t I?” asked Jack from the other side of the wall.
Heat continued to radiate from the wall. Smoke began to rise from it, and bright tongues of flame began flickering between the beams.
“Take cover,” said Jack as the flames stopped.
“From what?” asked William as he stepped back. “And where? There’s nothing in here but—”
The bottom of the wall burst in, chunks of charred beams flying all around him, one glancing off his shoulder as he turned away. As the debris and dust cleared, Clyde pushed through the gaping hole, scampered to him, and nuzzled him in joyous relief.
William reached down and scratched the dragon’s head, wincing at the pain in his shoulder. “Hello, Clyde. That was a neat trick. Where did you learn it?”
The dragon gazed up at him, his eyes showing a mix of devotion and worry. “Jack show me. Go now?”
“Good plan.”
William crawled through the hole, Clyde following quickly behind him, and greeted Jack. “Was this your idea?”
Jack looked down at Clyde with admiration. “We worked it out together. He insisted we come get you right away, and I barely convinced him to wait until dark. Speaking o
f which…let’s scram before someone raises the alarm.”
They crept into the woods, following the route Jack and Clyde had used to find him. They stopped and listened for a moment, mystified that no one had come running in response to their noisy jailbreak. For some reason they couldn’t guess, no one was patrolling Administration Hill, not a single person to notice the gaping hole in the jail house or the smoke rising from its charred edges. Satisfied they weren’t being followed, they continued down paths they’d known since childhood, reaching an old abandoned road minutes later.
As they stopped to catch their breath, William turned to his friend, his mouth twisted in anguish. “He got my sword.”
“Who did? That Dolinski fellow?”
“No—Kirby Elric.”
Jack stared in disbelief. “Tell me you’re joking,” he said, his face devoid of any humor.
William nodded. “I didn’t mention this before, but Kevin and I found a squatter’s campsite on my land. That’s bad enough, but then I found a ghoulish display of animal carcasses. They’d been tortured, impaled on stakes, and left for me to find.”
Jack raised his hand to stop him. “Don’t tell me any more. Wait until we get to Deacon’s and you can tell the whole group. Everyone’s waiting for us.”
“Deacon’s?” asked William as he rubbed his sore shoulder. “Won’t they look for me there?”
“Deacon says they’ve avoided his place so far. Besides, the rebels can’t overpower everyone there. The whole town finally knows something weird is happening, but no one has all the details. We need to get everyone together and share what we know. It’s the only way we’ll figure this out.”
William sighed as he stared back at the hill. “Okay, fine.”
“Then let’s go, Will. Why aren’t you moving?”
He turned to Jack with a flash of anger. “My sword! It’s bad enough that I lost it, but the thought of it in his hands…disgusts me.”
“King’s knuckles, Will! Forget about the sword. You can’t get it back right now. The faster we get to Deacon’s the sooner we can plan something. Then maybe you can get your sword back.”
Skyrider of Renegade Point Page 17