Deny (The Blades of Acktar Book 2)

by Tricia Mingerink

  Shad’s horse tossed its head. Leith glanced at Shad’s white-knuckled, shaking grip on the reins. Nothing Leith could say would make this moment any better.

  42

  Their cell door slammed open. Four guards, Martyn, and another Blade she didn’t recognize pounded inside. A guard tied her hands, shoved a black hood over her head, and threw her over his shoulder.

  “Renna?”

  Renna squirmed, but she couldn’t see Brandi past the hood shrouding her face. “It’ll be all right.”

  Something was different. Wrong. The guards never bound them like this. Was this it? Was King Respen going to execute them?

  Her stomach bounced against the guard’s shoulder as he trudged up the stairs. As his stride leveled, voices babbled around her. Feet scuffled against stone. She twisted her head. Where were the sounds coming from? It sounded like a mass of people bustled around the courtyard.

  The coldness of the stone passageway engulfed her. Renna squeezed her eyes shut. She had this passageway, these stairs, memorized by now. Martyn’s knock sounded on the door to the king’s chambers. King Respen’s voice slithered through the wood and fabric, bidding them enter.

  Renna shrieked as the guard dumped her on the floor. She curled her body as she fell and landed on her back and shoulder, sparing her already injured leg. Her own hot breath swirled around her face.

  “Untie them.”

  The black bag jerked off her head along with a handful of her hair. While the guard ripped the bindings from her wrists, she gulped in the cool air. Brandi tore away from her guard and flung herself toward Renna. Renna wrapped her in a hug. As long they were together, they’d survive.

  Martyn dragged them to their feet by their elbows and shoved them forward. King Respen stood alongside the window overlooking the cobblestone courtyard, his hands clasped behind his back.

  He turned toward them. A smile creased his face. “My soldiers informed me that Stetterly was burned to the ground.”

  Renna staggered with the force of those words. Her home was gone? The white outer walls, the tall chimneys, the gilt ballroom. Gone. Burned. Nothing but black, bitter ashes.

  She could taste the ash on her tongue, feel the gritty coating of dust billowing in the air. If she ever returned to Stetterly, the prairie wind would’ve carried off the piles of cinders. Not even the hint of smoke would remain to grate in her lungs.

  Brandi turned wide eyes toward Renna, the vibrant color leaching from her face, burned away with Stetterly. Renna tightened her grip as grief melted Brandi’s spine one bone at a time.

  Renna cleared her throat. “What about the people?”

  King Respen’s smile spread like rot on an apple. He stepped back and motioned to the window as if he presented them with a gift. “See for yourself.”

  Martyn’s fingers dug into her arm as he hauled Renna forward. Brandi stumbled with her, refusing to let go even if it made walking difficult.

  As the view of the courtyard spread out before them, Renna caught her breath. Soldiers shoved thirteen men and women into a line.

  A group of soldiers blocked Renna’s view of the center of the courtyard. One soldier had his arms crossed. Another soldier, apparently an officer, snapped an order, and the protesting soldier was hauled to the side.

  Renna gasped. A wooden block hunkered on the cobblestones. A black-garbed man stepped forward, an ax in his hands. Renna clapped a hand over her mouth as her stomach heaved.

  King Respen was going to execute them all.

  Her eyes scanned the captives, skipping from one familiar face to the next. They all belonged to their underground church at Stetterly. The baker and his wife. A farmer whose leg she’d stitched after he’d cut it plowing. Two of the men who herded Stetterly’s cattle. Several women she’d talked with after church services. A boy whose arm she’d once bandaged.

  She latched onto two faces at the end of the line. Uncle Abel and Aunt Mara held hands, their mouths moving in words she couldn’t hear this far away. As she watched, Aunt Mara glanced upward. Their eyes locked. Aunt Mara nudged Uncle Abel, and he met Renna’s gaze also.

  “No.” The word tore from Renna’s throat. She crumbled to the floor. “Please don’t do this.”

  “Your God cannot stop death. I am the master of life and death here.” King Respen twitched his hand. Screams pierced morning sky. A dull thud rang out.

  Renna flinched. If only she could cover her ears and pretend she didn’t know what was happening outside that window.

  But she couldn’t abandon her people through ignorance. Her duty lay with Stetterly.

  “Admit your God’s weakness.” King Respen loomed over her, as invincible as the walls of the Blades’ Tower.

  His words curled slick fingers around her heart. Did he speak the truth? He held the power of life and death over her, Brandi, Aunt Mara, Uncle Abel, and the eleven—no, ten—other captives of Stetterly.

  Thunk. Her stomach twisted.

  Brandi fell to her knees beside her, her face white. Her body shook.

  Thunk. Renna choked on a sob. Another life taken.

  “I will spare them. All you have to do is acknowledge my power.” King Respen gazed out the window. A smile lingered on his face, framed by his thin mustache and pointed, black beard.

  Thunk. The curve of his lips grew.

  Bile scraped at the back of her throat. He enjoyed this. How could a human being enjoy watching the execution of thirteen people?

  She should give him what he wanted. They were empty words. She wouldn’t mean them. Leith lied to save lives. Surely she could do the same. It’d be a meaningless denial. Right?

  In the Bible, Peter had denied Jesus three times. Meaningless denials given out of fear. It was wrong, but Peter hadn’t done it to save lives.

  Thunk. Renna pressed her hand over Brandi’s ear and held Brandi’s head to her shoulder. A weak effort. Nothing could block the sound of that relentless ax.

  It was her duty to sacrifice for Stetterly. She should offer to trade her life for her people. Her back quivered. Who was she fooling? She didn’t have the courage to even open her mouth.

  Thunk.

  “Lives are wasting.” King’s Respen’s voice pounded her fragile strength.

  Jagged edges splintered through her soul. Resolve, courage, strength bled through the cracks, dumping her spirit onto the carpet at King Respen’s feet. She had nothing left.

  Her mouth creaked open. What did she have to lose anyway? Hadn’t she all but denied her faith earlier?

  A voice—one Renna had listened to every Sunday for the past nine years—rose above the sobs and ax, singing clear and strong. “Jehovah is my light, and my salvation near.”

  Renna blinked. As Uncle Abel’s baritone joined Aunt Mara’s soprano, tears trickled down her face. They were singing a song based on Psalm 27, Renna’s favorite psalm.

  “Who shall my soul affright, or cause my heart to fear?” Slowly at first, then swelling into a chorus, the other captives joined in the singing. They might believe their minister and his wife were singing for them, but they sang for Renna.

  The wails and screams died away. The ax thunks muted. The captives of Stetterly sang with one voice, one heart, for one Lord. “While God my strength, my life sustains, secure from fear my soul remains.”

  How could they sing as they watched their loved ones succumb to the ax? They should be shaking their fists at stone-hearted Heaven. God could stop this. He had the power to create the world in a word. Saving them from King Respen was paltry compared to that. Yet, God remained silent.

  “When evildoers came to make my life their prey, they stumbled in their shame and fell in sore dismay.”

  Renna couldn’t understand their courage. The words seemed to make them fearless, but she wasn’t fearless. She cowered at King Respen’s feet, flinching every time the ax came down. The Lord should be her Light. He should be her Courage. But all she saw was darkness. All she felt was fear. Her enemies weren’t stumbling. They
were powerful.

  Thunk.

  In her arms, Brandi squirmed. Turning her face to the window, her voice wobbled into song as well. “Though hosts make war on every side, still fearless I in God confide.”

  Even Brandi had hope. Renna shook. What was wrong with her? Why did everyone else find such hope in God while she felt such emptiness?

  The stones of the castle hummed as the remnant of Stetterly’s congregation sang the next verse. “My one request has been, and still this prayer I raise, that I may dwell within God’s house through all my days.”

  One request. Her one request of God was safety. She’d prayed for it over and over until it had become a constant chant.

  But, her focus was wrong.

  In all her prayers for safety, she’d focused solely on her earthly life around her, the power of her enemies, and her pitiful strength.

  Her sight should be on Heaven. She tipped her face upward. Everything that happened on this earth prepared God’s people for the moment He brought them into the glory of Heaven. Her parents were there now, basking in the beauty of God.

  Thunk. Another soul lifted to Heaven.

  How many times had Renna placed Leith’s life in God’s hands? She hadn’t understood what that meant until this moment. God’s hands wrapped around her, around Brandi, around Aunt Mara and Uncle Abel in the courtyard below. He never let them go. Not even here.

  Renna tottered to her feet. She faced the window but kept her eyes shut. With a deep breath, she added her voice to the dwindling number of singers below. “When troubles round me swell, when fears and dangers throng.”

  Brandi slipped her hand into Renna’s. Renna squeezed Brandi’s fingers and kept singing.

  “Stop that!” Respen snapped.

  Renna ignored him. “Securely I will dwell—”

  A blow struck her cheek. She stumbled backwards and clenched her fingers to resist rubbing her throbbing cheek. With a glare at Respen, Renna faced the window and kept singing.

  Thunk. Only two voices sang in the courtyard below. Renna risked a peek. Her aunt and uncle stood all alone in front of the red-coated block. She focused on them rather than the bodies stacked in a wagon by the gate. They turned to each other. Uncle Abel swept a lock of Aunt Mara’s hair from her face and kissed her.

  As a soldier strode towards them, Aunt Mara stepped back. They held hands as long as possible, their fingers sliding against each other until they fell free. Aunt Mara faced the block, her posture perfect, and sang once again.

  Renna hugged Brandi and turned her sister’s face from the window. She shouldn’t witness this. Squeezing her eyes shut, Renna sang as loudly as she could. “Uplifted on a rock above my foes around...”

  Thunk. Aunt Mara’s voice cut off mid-word. Uncle Abel’s voice wobbled, but he continued singing. “Amid the battle shock my song shall still resound.”

  Brandi shuddered and pressed her face against Renna’s shoulder. Her singing, though muffled, didn’t stop. Renna took a deep breath. Hopefully Uncle Abel heard her. “Then joyful offerings I will bring…”

  Thunk.

  Brandi broke down into tears and stopped singing. Tears gathered in her throat, but Renna forced herself to finish the last line even though she now sang alone. “Jehovah’s praise my heart will sing.”

  The last word clung to the air like a drop of dew, perfect and innocent. She’d grieve later. Right now, she turned her eyes towards Heaven and felt…joy.

  “Do you acknowledge my power now?”

  Renna snapped her gaze to Respen. He glared at her, arms crossed, eyes on fire. A shiver slipped down her spine.

  She was not going to fear. Focus on Heaven. Focus on the joy of being with Jesus.

  “No.” The word squeaked across her tongue. She drew in a deep breath. “No.”

  The members of their church had died rather than deny Jesus. By herself, Renna didn’t have the courage to do the same. But she wasn’t alone. God was with her. He’d been with her this whole time, even when her fear had imprisoned her.

  Brandi straightened and swiped at her wet face. “Like Daniel’s three friends.”

  Of course Brandi would see the resemblance to that story. Renna squeezed her shoulders and found the words she needed to tell Respen.

  “Our God is more powerful than you. He can deliver us out of your hand if He wills. If He doesn’t, He will bring us home to the deliverance of Heaven. Don’t you see? You can’t harm God’s people.” She waved at the window. “God is in control. No matter what you do, you can’t shorten my life a fraction of what God has already planned for me.”

  “You’re a fool!”

  As her gaze collided with Respen’s burning eyes, Renna caught her breath. She saw the anger there, but also something else. Pain. A wounded heart. The question slid from her tongue before she thought better of it. “What happened to you?”

  Respen reared back from her. “Silence!”

  A long forgotten memory sparked in her mind. She was five. Her parents missed her birthday. Something about a funeral in Blathe.

  “You lost your wife and son years ago. You blame God for taking them. You—”

  Respen backhanded her across her face, harder than before. She crashed to the floor. Dark spots lurched across her eyes. Before she could recover, he grabbed her shoulders and yanked her off her feet. Renna kicked and squirmed, but she couldn’t loosen his grasp.

  “Your God didn’t save them. Didn’t save her.” Respen shook her. “The healer couldn’t help her. The preacher said it’d be all right, but it wasn’t. Of course it wasn’t.”

  She stilled. Where had Uncle Abel and Aunt Mara lived before they moved to Stetterly? A knot in her stomach told her it was Blathe.

  Brandi squealed and tugged at King Respen’s arms. “Let her go!”

  King Respen flung Renna to the ground and backhanded Brandi. Brandi tumbled to the floor next to Renna.

  Renna trembled and clenched her icy fingers. She’d probed too deeply. Now Respen would kill them.

  43

  Leith neared the hill overlooking Nalgar Castle. He turned back to his companions. Shadrach leaned his forearms on top of his saddlehorn. His bow and quiver rode across his back. Jamie sneaked glances at the hill in front of them, his face pale beneath his tousled hair.

  Leith met Shad’s gaze. “Wait here. If I’m not back in three days, assume I’m dead and head into the Hills as quickly as possible.”

  Shad nodded. No words were needed. Leith understood. Shad had his back.

  Facing forward, Leith nudged Blizzard into a walk. As they crested the hill and started towards the castle silhouetted against the sunset, something on the far hill caught Leith’s eye. A wagon heaped with indistinct lumps parked next to a large pit. Shovels stood in a dirt pile next to it. Whoever had been ordered to dig that pit had probably returned to the castle to eat their supper before they continued their work.

  Leith turned Blizzard’s head to investigate. As they neared, Blizzard snorted and shied away. A faint breeze carried the musty stench of blood and death.

  Stomach churning, Leith dismounted and dropped Blizzard’s reins to the ground. “Jamie, stay here with the horses.”

  Eyes wide, Jamie gripped his horse’s reins and nodded. Leaving Blizzard in Jamie’s care, Leith trudged through the thigh-high grass until he stood at the edge of the pit.

  Not a pit. A mass grave. Headless bodies stacked on top of each other in a tangle of stiff arms and strangely angled legs. Blood spattered the ground, the dirt, the bodies’ clothing. The heads belonging to the corpses lay tossed in the pit with no concern for dignity. A few bodies remained on the wagon, waiting for the grave diggers to return from supper.

  Leith collapsed to his knees, teeth clenched to keep his stomach from heaving up his throat. In all his years as a Blade, he’d never seen such death. Men and women heaped like hay after a grotesque harvest. The odor of death—a sour scent of human body, metallic tang of fresh blood, and a sweet smell of fear—bruised t
he air. He’d smelled all of the reeks of death before, but never on this scale, never to the point he might never exhale another breath that didn’t carry the taint of death.

  He wobbled to his feet and forced himself to glance at the faces. Near the edge of the grave partially covered by the layer above them, Leith discovered the remains of Abel and Mara Lachlan.

  He’d arrived too late to save them.

  Heat pounded through his chest. He’d failed to save his mother. Now he’d failed to save the Lachlans. Why did he always fail to protect those he cared about? Would he fail to save Renna and Brandi too?

  Something trickled across his face. He swiped at it. A hot, wet smear spread across his fingers and cheek.

  No, he wasn’t going to give in to that weakness. Not here. He scrabbled for the cold that numbed his heart so many times before this.

  He’d once promised Lachlan that he’d protect Renna and Brandi, a promise he’d failed to keep so many times already. Lachlan was beyond hearing him now, but Leith clasped his hand over his heart anyway. “I promise I will get them out of here. With the last breath in my body, I will rescue them.”

  Leith returned to Blizzard but couldn’t find the strength to haul himself into the saddle. He gripped the saddlehorn and leaned against his horse’s warm neck.

  “Who is it?” Jamie’s voice wavered.

  “The people of Stetterly. Respen executed them.” Leith swallowed and swung into the saddle. “Renna and Brandi weren’t there.”

  “Good.” Jamie eyed Leith and chewed on his bottom lip. “You might want to wait a few more minutes.”

  How much of what he’d seen still showed on his face? Leith leaned his arms on his saddlehorn and fought to banish the images to the same place he buried all the memories he’d rather forget.

  Might as well use the time to go over last minute instructions. “Remember to watch the door to the Tower. If I can, we’ll sneak out tonight.”

  “I know.” Jamie’s eyes focused on Nalgar Castle below them. “If you can’t get away tonight, we’ll rescue them after the Meeting. I’ll be the Thirteenth Blade then, and I’ll watch for you from my new room. When I see you leave the Tower, I’ll go to the trainee rooms and get whoever will come with me. We’ll go to the stables and saddle the horses so we can ride out of there as fast as possible.”