Latvala Royals: Sacrifices

by Danielle Bourdon

  Elias fell silent. He drank from the bottle until it was empty. After dumping the bottle in the trash, he strolled through the ground floor, walking the hallway past stairs leading to an upper floor. A few photos on the walls drew his attention.

  In one, he and Sander stood next to a canoe on the shoreline of a gently burbling river. They were dressed alike: rugged outdoor wear, with heavy jackets and thickly soled boots. What struck Elias most were the smiles they both wore. There could be no denying the happy excitement of the trip they were about to embark on.

  The emotion Elias experienced then didn’t have anything to do with a memory but with regret. Once again it disturbed him that he could not attach poignancy to the image. He felt nothing at all except for regret.

  After his brief tour downstairs, he returned to the living area. Sander had not moved from his spot. Elias paced to a window and looked out at the waning day. None of the guards was in sight.

  “Are you planning to take us canoeing while we’re here?” Elias asked.

  “I’d planned to at first. Although I have safety concerns and I’m not sure it’s the best idea with your arm in a cast. I know we can wrap it in plastic, but I wouldn’t want you to damage the injury any further if we tipped over and you hit it on a rock or something.”

  Elias turned back to the room. “Safety concerns because of the people who might want to do us harm if they find out I’m compromised?”

  “Yes,” Sander said. “By the way, how does your head feel?”

  “It’s pounding but it’s not unbearable yet.”

  “That’s another reason we might want to put off canoeing. If your head got bad while on the river—and the river does get rough in places—then we’re very limited as to what we can do or where we can go. There are no doctors or hospitals that far out in the hinterlands.”

  Elias considered Sander for a length of time. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable for a change, and he wondered if he was slowly growing used to Sander’s presence.

  A pressing question chased itself around his mind and he decided to put it out in the open. Elias watched Sander’s expression closely.

  “I know I’ve mentioned this before, but I think it bears mentioning again. If I don’t recover my memory soon, are you going to allow me to go my own way and live my life? Away from the castle and responsibilities and everyone who holds me dear?”

  Chapter 19

  Sander studied Elias as thoroughly as Elias studied him. He attempted to suss out the young man’s mood and underlying emotion, an effort in futility for the most part. The mention of the clothing along with being comfortable at the cabin gave him hope, however, that Elias’s memory might be trying to surface. Why else would those things arise?

  Elias’s bold question didn’t take Sander off guard. He’d known it would come up again at some point.

  “I’m not going to resort to imprisoning you to keep you safe, although I’ll repeatedly stress how much danger you’ll be putting yourself and all the rest of us in if you take that route. Any number of people would love to get their hands on you to use as a bargaining tool. It would create a hellacious situation for me, I don’t mind saying.” Sander laid it all out; he didn’t want Elias to have any doubts that his actions would have severe consequences.

  “There has to be some kind of middle ground, though. Imagine having to live a life you know nothing about and are not connected to. Not emotionally, anyway. Knowing you’re all my family doesn’t bridge the large gap that you’re still strangers to me. I’ll admit that I feel more comfortable around you, but not anyone else just yet.”

  “But there isn’t a middle ground, Elias. There can’t be, not with you having been heir to the throne all your life. I realize how daunting that must be when you don’t remember who you are. There’s no erasing the past, though. The people of Latvala will never forget that you’ve been groomed for the role, born for it, nor will our enemies allow you to have any kind of a normal life. If you think you’ll slip back into society unrecognized, you’re wildly mistaken.” Sander tracked Elias as the young man began to pace the living area. He still couldn’t tell what his son was thinking. It was a difficult conversation, and an even more difficult scenario to imagine playing out.

  Elias couldn’t just walk away and start over.

  Nothing about that transition would be easy or safe.

  “And if I decided to leave the country? What about starting over somewhere that I’m less visible? This is all hypothetical, of course,” Elias said. “In the unlikely event that I never regain my memory.”

  Hypothetical or not, the question hit like a sledgehammer to the gut. Sander cautioned himself to go slow. To breathe. To temper his reactions so that he didn’t distance Elias further.

  “Well, you don’t feel the need to do that right this second, do you?” Sander asked.

  “No. But I think it bears talking about.”

  “Why don’t we wait a little longer to discuss that possibility? You’re still very fresh from a bad accident. Let’s see how you do here at the cabin for a week or so. And I think you should give yourself a month or two before you start considering what to do with the rest of your life.”

  Sander couldn’t sit still any longer. The conversation was taking a toll. He crossed to the kitchen and got into the fridge. Food had been provided at his request, most of it already cooked and easy to reheat. Many of the dishes were Elias’s favorite in hopes the sight, taste, or smell might trigger some kind of reaction. Sander thought Chey’s idea of using familiar food was a good one and meant to exploit every opportunity to help Elias regain his memory. He chose a chicken, potato, and cheese casserole to slide into the oven.

  “I’ll give it two months,” Elias said from across the room.

  Sander glanced across the cabin after setting the oven at a low temperature to heat the casserole through. Elias was studying him the same way he’d studied his son earlier. Thoroughly and openly, without guile. “Thanks. That helps.”

  “There’s a large part of me that thinks I’ll never remember anything. That this is it. This is what’s left.”

  Sander’s stomach twisted into a knot. He washed and dried his hands, fished a cold beer from the fridge, and headed into the living area. “Why do you think that? It seems to me that your memory might be trying to return after what you said earlier, about being comfortable here and being comfortable around me. I think that’s progress, however small.”

  “It’s the nothingness. I don’t know what else to call it.” Elias looked at his good hand. “Everything is empty. I feel completely disconnected to everything around me. I guess those things are what make me think I’ll never regain who I was before.”

  Sander tossed the cap of the beer into a small trash can near one of the sofas and paced the cabin near the fireplace. He was still too restless to sit.

  The conversation wasn’t helping.

  “Listen. I can’t even imagine what you’re going through. I’m sure it’s a lot harder than I’ll ever understand. Waking up, not knowing who you are or where you belong, with strangers professing their love. Love you can’t return. I’d like to ask you to hold off those thoughts of yours, though. Give it the two months we agreed on. Okay? Let’s see what happens.” Sander lifted the beer for a deep drink.

  “I’ll try,” Elias said. He sounded somber, unconvinced.

  “Do you think it—” An urgent knock at the cabin door brought Sander’s query to a halt. He set down his beer and liberated a handgun from the drawer of a desk. Although the cabin was surrounded by guards, Sander wouldn’t take chances.

  “Yes?” Sander asked when he was within three steps of the door.

  “It’s me,” Leander said.

  Sander opened the door. He scanned the clearing, looking for anything unusual or suspicious. No other guards were in sight and nothing seemed out of place. Everyone was doing their job as instructed. He looked back at Leander after tucking the gun into the back waistband of his pants.
/>   “What’s going on?” Sander asked.

  “I set up a larger perimeter around the cabin. Another layer of security besides our group here,” Leander said. “A pair of guards just stopped a guy driving like a bat out of hell on a back trail leading right to the cabin. Seems he was headed in this direction, almost as if he knew you and Elias had holed up here. When they tried to question him, the guy pulled a gun and the guards got into a shootout. One guard is dead as well as the driver of the truck. I can’t be sure that your position hasn’t been compromised.”

  “Well, that didn’t take long,” Sander snarled. “Pull the inner circle back. We’re leaving in three minutes.”

  All Elias’s internal conflict came to an abrupt halt when Sander snarled. Although he couldn’t make out the exact words being exchanged, he understood the sudden tension in Sander’s shoulders and spine well enough. As if existing on autopilot, he headed into the kitchen and turned off the oven. On his way back to the living area, he snagged his bag from the floor and donned his coat. It was awkward with his arm in a cast, but he made it work.

  So much for trying to reconnect out here in the woods. If he had to guess, they were about to leave the cabin in a hurry.

  Sander closed the door and turned to Elias. He seemed to take in the changes with one quick look. “As soon as I grab my coat, we’re leaving. Someone has given our location away.”

  “I understand.” Elias stood ready near the sofa. Something about the alertness of Sander’s eyes and the snap of his voice made Elias want to act—he just wasn’t sure how. What was he supposed to do in a situation like this? He felt on the verge of an epiphany, as if the episode had tripped a memory.

  Sander grabbed his coat and shoved his arms through the sleeves. He disappeared into a back room of the cabin but returned within seconds, pushing extra magazines into a pocket. Elias tracked his movements the whole time, desperate to cling to the fuzzy feeling of familiarity. It was a bad time for his memory to hover just out of reach.

  “All right, this is how it’s going to work,” Sander said. “You’re going to be between me and Leander and the other guard, Jeremiah. We’ll get to the SUV as quickly as possible and get you inside.”

  “What about you? Shouldn’t you be surrounded by protection?” Elias asked.

  “Don’t worry about me. Just do what I say.” Sander stalked to the front door and looked back. “Ready?”

  Elias understood then that Sander was making a sacrifice for his safety. King or not, he wasn’t afraid to use his body as a shield. It went against everything Elias thought should happen, although if pressed, he wouldn’t be able to say why.

  “Ready,” Elias said when he realized Sander was impatiently waiting for a response.

  Sander opened the door and gestured for him to move ahead. Leander and the guard who had kept looking at him earlier—Jeremiah, Elias now knew—stood on the porch in defensive stances, guns drawn.

  Before Elias could take a step in any direction, gunfire erupted from the forest. Not just a stray shot or two, but a hail of bullets from the left, from the right, and straight ahead beyond the SUVs. The front of the cabin became an immediate kill zone.

  Leander reeled back and sank to a knee, one hand pressing against his chest. The bullets from his gun arced wildly across the clearing.

  Elias found himself yanked unceremoniously farther back into the cabin. He dropped the bag as he stumbled and tried to catch his balance. Sander grunted as he lurched past, snagged Leander by the shoulders, and dragged him inside.

  The guard on the porch shocked Elias when he shouted, “Dad!”

  “Get in!” Sander yelled. Jeremiah, who was returning fire, darted inside and kicked the door shut.

  Sander engaged two dead bolts and fit a thick piece of wood across the door to bar the entrance.

  “Dad!” Jeremiah dropped to his knees and bent over the prone body on the floor.

  Elias watched the scenario play out with something akin to horror. He felt torn between actions: dropping down to offer aid to the fallen man and running through the cabin—but to do what? Secure windows? Look for other doors and check the locks? Peer outside and search for assailants? His body demanded motion but his mind was stuck in a weird vortex of indecision.

  One thing he did know: the men on the porch were lucky to be alive.

  “Is he alive?” Sander demanded. He, too, dropped to a knee next to Leander.

  “I’m fine,” Leander said. “Vest.”

  “What does he mean?” Elias asked. Something tickled his mind. Vest. He should know what that was.

  Sander cursed vividly. “He’s got a bulletproof vest on, thank God.”

  Leander sat up, still rasping for breath, and pushed at Sander’s shoulder. “Get him gone. You, too. Hurry. Me and Jeremiah will hold them off as long as possible.”

  “Elias, come with me.” Sander surged to his feet and gestured for Elias to follow.

  Bullets pinged off the cabin and several windows. Elias ducked, sure he was about to be shot any second. He crouched and followed Sander through the living area. They hurried down the hall to a large bedroom at the very back.

  Elias had no time to take in any details. One thing stood out as yet more bullets battered the cabin. “The windows didn’t break.”

  “Bulletproof. The windows won’t withstand heavy artillery, though. Come on. In here.” Sander opened the door to a large closet and stepped inside. At the back, he swept aside a row of clothing and used the toe of his boot to press against the base of the wall.

  A secret door opened and small lights blinked on.

  “They’re gonna breach!” Leander shouted.

  Sander whipped a look back and used a hand to propel Elias forward onto a landing. Stairs led down to what appeared to be a tunnel or corridor of some kind.

  “There are lights along the entire passageway. Follow this until you come to a series of forks. Keep right on all of them. Never go left. Left is a dead end. You’ll come out at another set of stairs and a door that leads into the dungeon beneath Ahtissari Castle. You’ll have to find your way from there to the upper floors. I know you won’t know anyone at the castle or know who to trust, but this is the best option. No one there should be in on the attack here—at least I hope not—so simply find someone in a guard uniform or a black and white suit and tell them to fly you back to Kallaster. King Sander’s orders. Understand? Talk like you’re in charge and don’t answer any questions. Tell them to just do it. Then tell them that I’m under attack at the king’s cabin and to send backup.”

  Elias looked down into the dim corridor that awaited him at the bottom of the steps, and back to Sander. “But what—”

  “Just go. Hurry. I don’t have time.”

  Boom!

  Someone rammed the front door of the cabin.

  Elias met Sander’s eyes before hastening down the stairs. He found the wooden steps to be sturdy and in good shape, as if they were replaced every so many years.

  The door closed behind him, sinking him deeper into gloom. The little lights along the upper sides of the tunnel did their job to illuminate the passageway, but only just.

  Elias hurried as fast as he dared. His head pounded and his bones felt loose, as if his limbs might simply fly off at the joints. The muscles of his legs protested such vigorous motion, but he ignored the strange sensations and pressed on.

  His mind buzzed with panic and anxiety.

  Would Sander die? How had the attackers discovered where they were so quickly?

  Traitors, his mind provided.

  Traitors had to have infiltrated the inner ranks.

  He stumbled on an uneven patch of ground and clenched his teeth as he shot his good hand out to stabilize his fall. All he needed was to land on his broken wrist and shatter it all over again.

  Onward.

  He breathed in the scent of old dirt and stale earth as he rounded a subtle bend and came to the first fork in the tunnel system. The left fork seemed as if that wa
s the most used one, and the one he should take. The right passage was smaller, narrower, less friendly somehow.

  He veered right, sticking to Sander’s directions.

  The tunnels seemed to go on forever. There were bends every so often that confused Elias’s inner compass. He almost felt as if he was doubling back to the cabin, adding to his stress.

  Another fork.

  And another.

  He stayed right no matter how alluring the left passage looked.

  After what seemed like hours, when he wasn’t sure he could go another step, he spotted a brighter glow at the end of the tunnel. More lights had been positioned to illuminate a broad set of stairs.

  Finally.

  He staggered the last few yards and ascended to the platform with the aid of the guardrail. Sweat trickled from his hairline and every breath sent fissures of pain through his lungs. He was half convinced the heavy wooden door at the top of the landing would be locked, that he would have to bang and kick and shout for someone to notice him. But the knob gave way beneath his hand and he pushed, stumbling into a dimly lit cavern. The air was as stale as it had been in the tunnel, though the walls were a little smoother, the ceiling higher.

  With only one corridor leading out of the cavern, Elias had no choice but to take it. Before he stepped into the darkness of the new tunnel, however, he spotted three flashlights sitting on a small wooden table and grabbed two, one as a backup in case the other didn’t work.

  He snapped on the light and the beam penetrated the gloom. There were no little lights along the upper sides of the walls, nothing else to light the way. If there was a switch somewhere, he hadn’t seen it.

  A sense of urgency accompanied his forward rush into the tunnel. He felt as if he’d been gone hours from the cabin. Panic over Sander’s safety sat heavy in his chest, a strange sensation considering his lack of connection or attachment. The idea of Sander giving his life to save his own did not sit well at all.