Lucy remained silent, trying to respect the significance of the moment for her companion. It wasn’t like Cody to wax nostalgic, but she could imagine how surreal this experience must be for him. He had seemed so casual in agreeing to her parents’ request that he accompany Lucy and Matheus on the delegation, that it was easy to forget that he was the only one of the whole group who was not coming to Balenol for the first time. He was returning to his childhood home, one which had all manner of mixed memories. And Lucy was well aware that her own presence beside him did little to change the reality that he was returning alone to the place of his community.
“Well, come on,” said Cody, after another moment’s contemplation. “Lights aren’t going to spring on if we wait here long enough.” Without further hesitation, he lowered himself confidently into the blackness of the hole. A soft thud told Lucy that his feet had hit some kind of wooden surface.
“Ha!” he shouted a moment later, his tone triumphant. “There’s still a torch here. Maybe I can…” His voice trailed off as he rummaged in his supplies, and soon Lucy could hear the sound of a flint striking. After several attempts, Cody succeeded in lighting the torch.
Lucy closed her eyes momentarily against the sudden blaze of light. But when she opened them again, she felt her excitement building at the sight of the underground base stretching before her. She hastened to follow Cody down onto the wooden platform, trying to stay close to him and the sole light as she followed him down a set of rickety wooden stairs onto the wide surface below.
Cody moved confidently through the dim space, and in a short time, a number of other torches had blazed to life, illuminating the abandoned chamber. Lucy gazed around her in silent amazement. It was a surreal sight. The dust and decay of two decades lay on every surface, but she could still get a sense of what the room had been. And it clearly hadn’t been touched since the departure of its former inhabitants.
“You left in a hurry,” she said softly, running a hand over a wooden table, noting the bowls still scattered across it.
“We did,” said Cody, a touch of humor in his voice. “Once we felt the curse break, it was all Stan and the others could do to keep people from running straight to the harbor. It was weeks between then and when we actually left, and no one wanted to prolong our departure when the opportunity finally came.”
He wandered over to a corner of the space, sweeping a layer of dust from the surface of a carved bench with a casual hand. “This was where your mother and the other leaders used to sit, when exchanging reports and giving instructions. This is where they planned their attacks, too.” He smiled reminiscently. “I was always trying to hover close enough to overhear their plans, hoping they’d decide I was finally old enough to fight as well as scout.” His expression turned rueful. “They never did.”
Lucy followed him across the room, trying to picture her mother as a young Cody had known her—no older than Lucy herself, but leading a large and effective slave resistance right from the heart of the court.
“Tell me more,” she said suddenly. “About what my mother was really like back then.”
Cody smiled, clearly pleased with her interest. “She was unstoppable. She was lethal with a weapon, but more compassionate than anyone I’d ever met.” He turned, looking Lucy in the eye. “Honestly, Lucy, she was a lot like you are. You see her sweetness, and I’m glad. But she can be calculating and hard headed, too. I know you don’t like to think of yourself as deadly, but you are. And you get that from her.”
He smiled grimly. “And yes, on some level I think that wily side of her came from her father. But for you to say that you’re like the Overseer at heart because you like the rush that comes from being a skilled fighter…” He shrugged. “Well, I shouldn’t be surprised, I suppose. I guess that’s just the kind of idiotic thing I would expect from you in one of your moments of identity crisis. But it bears no connection to reality.”
Lucy frowned, but not because she was offended by his uncomplimentary characterization of her opinions. She could never really take offense at Cody—he was always blunt, but he never spoke in malice. She frowned because she was deep in thought, trying to reconcile his comments with her own perceptions.
“Sure, the Overseer also liked the feeling of power,” Cody was continuing. “And he used to beat children as a way to reinforce that power. Plus beheading unwary victims for fabricated acts of ‘insubordination’ was a regular form of entertainment for him.”
Cody shook his head. “He was a rotten apple, Lucy. The only reason you imagine for a moment you’re like him at heart is because your life has been sheltered and happy. The truth is you can’t even begin to comprehend the darkness that was in his heart.”
Lucy was silent for a moment, mulling it all over. “Do you really think that’s true?” she asked seriously. “That I’m nothing like he was? That my…lethal instincts are a good thing?”
For a second Cody looked exasperated, but he didn’t speak. His expression gave no warning of his intention, but Lucy’s instincts—honed by Cody’s extensive training—kicked in the moment Cody’s hand moved. By the time his blade was up, her own was in position, blocking him.
Cody grinned. “Do you really think that instinct is a bad thing? Why would anyone not want to be good at defending themselves?” His expression turned serious. “Not to mention defending others.” He raised a challenging eyebrow. “Others like Benjy.”
“Of course being able to defend people is a good thing,” Lucy admitted, disengaging her blade from Cody’s with a practiced flick of her wrist. She stepped back, but Cody immediately followed, and she was forced to once again intercept his attack. “But that’s not the same as enjoying the fight. My mother is good at defending herself and others. But nothing you say will convince me that she likes fighting.”
She was panting by the end of her speech, Cody pressing her hard enough to make her persist in her focus, but not enough to really challenge her.
“True,” Cody acknowledged. “But maybe she doesn’t get quite the same thrill because she’s not actually as good a fighter as you are.”
Lucy grinned in spite of herself, waiting for Cody to relax his posture in response before she dropped into a sudden roll. The motion took her under his outstretched arm. She sprung to her feet behind him, her blade pressed against the back of his neck before he’d had time to turn.
“Maybe.”
Cody chuckled, still not facing her. “Not bad for the belle of the court, but you wouldn’t survive a day in the resistance at that speed. I could see that move coming a mile off.”
Lucy snorted, pulling her blade away from his neck but keeping it raised in a fighting stance. “Is that why you hadn’t turned in time to block me?”
“I was taking pity on you,” said Cody outrageously, turning around at last. “Trying to give your bruised ego a little boost.”
“That would be a first,” said Lucy dryly.
Cody chuckled again, before he lunged forward. Lucy met his attack with enthusiasm, determined to best him again and make him admit her prowess. The thud of their feet on the packed earth of the floor and the metallic clash of their weapons were muffled strangely, absorbed by the enclosing walls of their unusual training ground.
For several minutes they sparred, blades flashing in the firelight, Cody’s familiar chuckle sounding every time Lucy pulled off a move that particularly pleased him. Lucy felt her own spirits soar with the release. The weeks since her last training session with Cody felt more like years, and in the moment she couldn’t imagine why she had been so reluctant to spar during that time. It was the most invigorating feeling.
“Enough,” Cody said abruptly, pulling back and wiping a hand across his brow.
Lucy stepped back as well, panting and trying to wipe the sweat off her own face in a surreptitious way. She had been so caught up in the fight she had forgotten to complain internally about the stiflingly moist air, but it was certainly making her tire more quickly than an equivalent
training session would have back home.
“You’re excellent with a blade, Lucy,” said Cody fairly. “I don’t deny it. But that’s really only effective if someone comes at you with a knife.”
He picked up the extra sword he had brought along and tossed it through the air. Caught off guard, Lucy recovered her focus only just in time to catch the larger blade by the hilt and avoid injuring herself.
“It’s at least as likely that an opponent would be armed with a sword,” Cody continued. “And let’s be honest—your swordplay could use some work.”
Lucy grimaced in acknowledgment of the observation. She sheathed her familiar dagger in a swift motion, bringing the sword up in front of her without loss of time. She knew how Cody trained, and she had long ago learned not to expect fair warning.
Sure enough, Cody was on her before she could blink, and it took her full focus just to hold off his blade. She threw herself into the familiar activity, once again forgetting about the heat, her inner conflict, everything. There was only the moment, the clang of metal, the scuffling of feet, the thrill that came with a well-executed parry. She could almost have laughed aloud. When she wasn’t in the heat of a fight, she might wish she didn’t enjoy it so much. But when she was sparring, none of that mattered.
Cody kept her training for what felt like hours, never letting her rest long enough between bouts, never failing to take advantage of any time she lowered her guard. He was the better swordsman, and he was clearly holding back for the sake of her learning. But he was pushing her hard enough to keep her constantly on her toes.
“All right,” he said at last, lowering his blade. “That’s enough with the swords for today.” Lucy kept hers raised for another wary moment, in case it was a trick of some kind. Cody loved trying to catch her off guard. As much as she complained to him about it, it was part of what made him such an effective teacher.
But when Cody actually sheathed his sword, Lucy copied the motion, breathing a sigh of relief. “I’ll never be able to match you with a sword, Cody,” she said, craning her neck from side to side in an attempt to relieve the tension. “You’re just too much taller and too much stronger.”
“True,” said Cody matter-of-factly, no hint of gloating in his tone. “But you’re good, Lucy. And you can always improve. If you reached your full potential, you’d be able to hold your own against most people.”
Lucy didn’t respond, looking again around the dimly lit space. “It’s strange,” she said softly. “Being here, seeing it in real life. It’s not like I imagined.”
“Well, this isn’t exactly what it used to look like,” said Cody fairly. “This is just a ghost of the base it used to be.”
Lucy wandered toward the far side of the room, still drawing in deep breaths as her heart rate slowed to a more normal pace. “It must have been pretty claustrophobic, especially with lots of people inside.”
“I guess so,” said Cody with a shrug. “You get used to it. And the slave barracks were worse.” His eyes followed her progress across the space, noting that she was examining a hollow area carved into one wall. Cushions were still visible, although years of decay had eroded their original shape. “That was Raldo’s place,” Cody explained, his voice holding no particular emotion.
Lucy looked up, surprised. “Raldo actually lived here?”
“More or less. He did go back and forth to other nomad settlements, but he was here most of the time. He preferred to stay close to Nohl. Mainly to keep an eye on Scar, I think.” Cody nodded toward the cushions. “He used to sleep there a lot.”
Lucy stared down at the cramped little living space, a wave of sadness washing over her at the hardships of the life so many of her countrymen had been forced to lead. One of the cushions was starting to fall apart, and she frowned as she glimpsed something underneath it. Reaching down, she unearthed a small leather journal.
“What’s that?” asked Cody curiously, his voice suddenly right behind her. Lucy had to fight not to jump.
“I don’t know,” she said. “It was under one of the cushions.” She turned the volume over in her hands. “It looks like a journal. Maybe it was his.”
Cody frowned. “It’s hard to imagine Raldo keeping a journal, somehow.” He gestured with his head. “Have a look inside and find out.”
“It’s not…” Lucy hesitated. “It’s not invading his privacy or something?”
Cody snorted. “He’s been dead for twenty years, Lucy. I don’t think he’ll mind.”
With a shrug, Lucy flipped open the journal, moving toward one of the torches Cody had lit. “It’s a journal,” she confirmed. “But I don’t think it was Raldo’s.” She squinted at the page. “I can’t see his name anywhere.”
“Is there a date?”
“Uhh…” Lucy thumbed through the pages, back to the front. “Yes.” She showed the first entry to Cody, and he leaned in for a better look.
“Much too early to be Raldo’s,” he said thoughtfully. He tilted his head to the side as he calculated. “That’s more like Alben’s era. A bit after, perhaps.” He waved a hand. “What does it say?”
Lucy cleared her throat, still feeling strange to be reading someone else’s journal. But she read the first entry obediently.
I have returned to Balenol, and my heart is too heavy to carry everything inside it. I think I will write it all down, to see if this little book will take some of the burden for me. Although at the moment, it just makes it worse. The journal was a gift from her, after all, and she was the one who taught me to read and write.
I’m in the jungle. I should be grateful. Considering how long I was away, I’ve been lucky to meet up with some of the other survivors of the terrible shipwreck disaster.
Lucy looked up with a gasp of understanding. “This was written by one of the slaves who was part of Alben’s resistance! One of the ones who survived when the ships all sank because the curse was preventing the slaves from sailing back across the sea, to Kyona!”
“Yes, thank you Lucy,” said Cody dryly. “I’d figured that much out.”
Lucy rolled her eyes, returning her gaze to the words on the page.
We may not have been swallowed by the sea, but if we survive like this, stranded in this jungle, it will be more than I bargain for. Perhaps these pathetic scribblings will be all that’s left of me in a month.
The others in our little group have confirmed what I feared. Alben was captured when the ships went down, and executed immediately. They say he saved a great many from the water first, some of whom are here, having escaped into the jungle.
But that’s small comfort. The resistance is dead. It’s over.
I don’t know if others escaped into Thorania like we did. There must have been more, but we didn’t come across any. Some of the others here can’t believe that having made it into Thorania, I turned around and came back to Balenol by choice. But I couldn’t stay—I couldn’t bear to watch what was happening.
The problem isn’t that I returned to Balenol. It’s that I returned without Isidore. I don’t know how to recover from that. But it’s too close—I don’t wish to write about it. My heart will have to carry that burden by itself for a bit longer.
“It’s signed ‘Haydn,’” said Lucy, reaching the end of the entry.
Cody frowned. “Never heard of him. Bit of a downer, wasn’t he?”
Lucy didn’t answer. Something about the despair of this long-gone rebel touched her heart, and she felt unexpectedly moved. She was also intrigued by the mention of slaves escaping into Thorania. That was what Eamon and Jocelyn were going to the neighboring kingdom to investigate, after all. Maybe they would be interested in any information this journal might offer.
“Come on,” said Cody, turning away from Raldo’s former space. “I didn’t bring this bow for decoration. Let’s get back up to the surface and work on your archery.”
“All right,” said Lucy absently, waiting to make sure Cody wasn’t watching before slipping the leather book into a
pocket of her leggings. The older man’s curiosity might not be roused, but Lucy wanted to know more of this Haydn.
Chapter Twelve
The afternoon was well advanced before they slipped back through the gate into Nohl. The guard on duty was different, but it was clear to Lucy that he had been looking out for them. He didn’t challenge their entry, but he watched their approach closely, and before they were within earshot he muttered instructions to a nearby boy who took off in the direction of the castle. Lucy’s heart sank as any hope of remaining inconspicuous in her training gear disappeared.
But in fact their trip through the bustling city was uneventful. People stared at Lucy as she passed in her strange getup, but she didn’t see any faces she recognized. On their way back through the jungle, Cody had glimpsed a jungle pig through the foliage and had very sensibly brought it down with an arrow, to support his story that he had taken Lucy to the jungle for the purpose of hunting. The royals would surely think it was strange that the Kyonan had taken it upon himself to provide meat for the well-stocked castle, but they probably thought all the Kyonans were strange anyway.
When they entered the castle courtyard, Lucy picked up the pace, eager to reach the sanctuary of her own chamber. She had been deeply impacted by what Cody had shown her and told her about her mother’s former life, and there was a lot to think about. But that didn’t mean she was ready to publicly embrace an identity as a fighter, and she wanted to change back into a gown before seeing anyone she knew.
She parted ways with Cody in the entranceway, hurrying up the broad steps and wincing as she caught a few startled looks from well-dressed locals. She had almost reached her room when she heard a door open nearby and was hailed by a familiar voice.
“Lucy! There you are. Come in for a moment.”
Lucy changed direction with a sigh, hurrying into Jocelyn’s suite instead of her own. At least it was still out of sight of curious servants and critical courtiers. She barely restrained a groan when she entered the room. She should have realized that Kincaid would likely be there, but she hadn’t expected both Eamon and Matheus to also be present, as well as Lord and Lady Rodanthe. She was suddenly acutely aware that she needed to wash after her extensive training session.
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