“Where was the fortress? Do you remember?”
He fought his flustering for the information and jumped when he found it. “Twenty miles east of the Hollow,” he said. “Heavily guarded.” Audrey pulled them both from the stream, and Scorch stumbled with the weight of water in his boots. “That’s where they’ll be keeping him. We have to go to him.”
Audrey laid a hand on his chest to stop him, for he was trudging forward with blind determination. “Wait a second, before your haste gets all of us killed.”
“What?” he asked impatiently. Now that he knew Vivid was in trouble, nothing mattered but reaching him.
“The monks delivered this to the Hollow like a present,” she said, handing Scorch the precious, fabric-wrapped hair. “They wanted us to know they had him.”
“They have one elemental,” Scorch murmured, “and aim to lure more. Did you find this alone, or does the whole Hollow know about it?”
Guilt looked foreign on Audrey’s face. “I found it. I know I should have shared it, but if Vivid was involved in Elias’ death, I couldn’t be sure how Axum would react to news of his capture. So I found my way to you instead.”
“How long ago?”
“Two days. Once I had your scent, it wasn’t hard to track you.”
“That’s good, right? It means she’s not had Vivid for long.”
“She?”
Scorch met her eye and wondered if he looked as fearsome as he felt. “I know who their new leader is.”
“You do? Who is it?”
Scorch could still see her face and hear the calming hum of her voice, feel the kindness of her touch. “Kio.”
He should have let Vivid kill her.
****
Audrey, quite expectedly, turned out to be a master thief. The little village Scorch had avoided three weeks earlier fell victim to her skills in the way of two horses and one linen shirt.
“Blue,” she said, handing him the shirt she’d nabbed from a clothesline, “to match your eyes.”
“My eyes are brown,” he told her.
She squinted at him. “Huh.”
The two mares she procured were siblings, both with grey manes and white dots speckling their hindquarters. They were lovely, but more importantly, they were fast and able, and Scorch and Audrey kept them at a steady clip, traveling by the main road. Scorch’s trek to the town of Elanor had taken close to eight hours on foot from the Hollow, but by horse, they had made up that distance before midday. From there, due east for twenty miles took four hours. By the time the sky turned orange and dusky, Scorch and Audrey had tied their mounts to a tree and were spying on the fortress in the distance.
It stood tall against the colorful sky, a sturdy, stone building with spire-topped towers. It was centered in a woodland clearing and obvious in its abandonment. Wildlife breached its walls and foliage crept through its windows and up its flank. To Scorch, it was a near replica of a drawing he’d seen in one of his Guild tomes of a haunted castle, full of spirits.
Vivid was in there somewhere, beneath the ivy and stone, and Scorch’s skin crawled with the need to reach him. But as Elias had reported to Axum, the fortress’ perimeter was swarming with monks. Scorch could see the flashing steel of weapons, even in the darkness.
“They’ll be expecting us,” Scorch whispered to Audrey, who lay beside him in the swath of wild grass. The look she gave him said she was fully aware of that fact. “So how do we go about this? At the Guild, when we were learning rescue tactics, we usually amassed a team and stormed the point of interest from opposing sides.”
“Since the team I would have amassed consists of people who want to kill you,” Audrey whispered back, “we will have to forgo the guardians’ approach on this one.” Her gaze turned curious. “In your lessons with Vivid, did you ever reach the waterfall?”
Scorch gulped. “I, erm, reached the honey cakes. But . . . they got smashed.”
Audrey rolled her eye. “Gods, help us.”
****
To Scorch’s dismay, the bulk of Audrey’s plan consisted of stealth. They were to sneak past the outer guards, scale the western tower, and slip through its midway window. Scorch informed her that climbing vines and craggily old stone was not in his training, and that if he were to fall, the drop would most likely kill him. She agreed and suggested he avoid falling.
“Once we’ve breached the fortress, there is no telling what we might find. The window may lead to a room full of monks, or it may be completely empty.”
“I bet I can guess which it’ll be.”
“If we are seen, our only choice will be to fight,” Audrey advised. “But then the fortress will be alerted and our chance of reaching Vivid will plummet.”
Resolve hardened inside Scorch. “We’ll reach him.”
Audrey nodded approvingly. “Hopefully we can remain undetected long enough to find where they’re keeping him.”
“Then we save him?”
“Then we save him.” A smile passed between them. “It will be harder getting out than getting in, especially if Vivid is injured.”
His chest burned at the thought of Vivid hurt, and it surprised both himself and Audrey when his next words came out as a growl. “I’m getting him out of there if I have to burn the whole damn place to the ground.”
“It might come to that,” said Audrey, “so keep your sparks at the ready.” He lifted his hand and concentrated his power to the tips of his fingers until they spit little darts of flame. “You know Vivid’s not going to thank you for this,” Audrey sighed. “He’ll call you a fool.”
“I am a fool,” Scorch admitted. “I’ve come to terms with it, I think.” Scorch couldn’t wait for Vivid to call him a fool, for him to flare his nostrils and furrow his eyebrows and be pissed off and safe. Scorch needed Vivid to be safe.
“Save the moon-eyes for after the heroics,” Audrey chided. “Are you ready?”
He tempered the heat swelling in his gut and took a deep breath. “Yes.”
“Then let’s go.” She grabbed his arm before he could move and fixed him with a deadly eye. “Don’t smash your honey cake once you have it.”
He nodded with fervor, and off they went.
****
Sneaking up to a fortress was ten times more nerve-wracking than sneaking through a forest. Instead of half-worrying about being caught by Vivid, wherein the punishment was Vivid’s hands all over him, Scorch was fully petrified of being spotted by one of the dozen monks guarding the fortress perimeter, wherein his being caught could result, not only in his and Audrey’s deaths, but in Vivid’s, too.
Every step was a severely monitored challenge, but he kept pace with Audrey through the grass, and he kept Vivid’s commanding voice in his head, reminding him how to walk and breathe. His boots fell softly on the ground and his breathing was easy, in and out and soundless. The fortress sat perched at the top of a slope, which gave the guards an easier task of assessing the outlying area, but Scorch and Audrey had the benefit of nighttime, which clung to their sleek-prowling figures and prevented immediate discovery as they inched their way closer.
The Priestess’ Monks moved in a pattern as they guarded the fortress, walking back and forth across their designated stretch, often stopping to peer out into the grass. In those moments, Audrey extended her hand and touched Scorch’s shoulder, and they knelt together, making themselves small in the shadows. Scorch felt like a predator, stalking toward his unsuspecting prey, only the monks were anything but unsuspecting.
Every new yard claimed felt miraculous and brought him one yard closer to Vivid. When they were thirty feet from the closest guard on the westerly side of the fortress, Audrey squeezed his shoulder and they separated, as agreed. She veered around to approach the tower from the other direction while Scorch kept on as he was; it was under the assumption that should one of them be caught, the other could still have a shot at making it inside. Scorch tried tracking her, but she soon vanished into shadow.
Scorch watch
ed the guard in front of him make their turn and walk in the opposite direction, and then back. He waited, belly to the ground, for what felt like forever, memorizing the movement of the monk, figuring out their timing. He would have to be spot on to slip through the patrol unnoticed. The monk turned their back, their long robe flowing, and Scorch was afraid. Even with his training and elemental power, he didn’t trust his odds of going up against a horde of Priestess’ Monks. His stealth was imperative. Vivid’s life depended on it.
Scorch watched the monk as they turned, walked forward, stopped, turned, walked back. When the monk was turning away again, Scorch took his chance, slinking from the grass and toward the tower. He reached it in seconds, but he only had thirty more seconds in total before the monk would turn back. Praying that his climbing stealth was superior to his puddle-jumping stealth, Scorch reached up and grabbed a jutting piece of stone. His foot found another, and he hoisted himself up, trying not to tangle his limbs in the ivy.
Clinging to the wall, he was exposed, and he had fifteen seconds to move far enough up the tower to maybe go unnoticed by the monk. He was pretty sure Audrey was cursing him somewhere in the dark. He was cursing himself as he tried to scamper quietly up the wall. His hands grew hot and he had to pause to breathe, reminding himself that if he set the vines on fire because he couldn’t control himself, he would be caught, and then Vivid would remain captured. He searched for another foothold, pushing himself further up the tower.
Five seconds until the monk turned.
He moved upward another few feet, pressed himself against the stone, and held his breath, hoping the heavy vines would help hide him. Footsteps approached from below. They came closer and closer, magnified with chilling clarity. No one had ever walked as slowly as the monk walked. No footfall had ever been so petrifying. No elemental had ever clung so fiercely to the side of a fortress. It was thirty seconds of torture and waiting and being sure that, in the next moment, the alarm would be raised.
But then, extraordinarily, the footsteps began to retreat as the monk made their scheduled turn and marched in the opposite direction. Scorch could have cried with relief, but that would have contradicted the point of being stealthy, so he promised himself a cry later and did all he could do. He carried on, climbing up the side of the tower, and continued in his efforts to not get caught.
He had thought, while examining the fortress from far away, that the intended window was rather far up. It turned out, it was rather far up, ridiculously far up, and when he was only halfway there, his whole body was tingling from exertion. Someone with a body like Vivid, small and agile, could probably make quick work of scaling such a height, but Scorch, with his damned muscles and mass, was arguably not made for scaling towers. The fact that he was still climbing was proof of his willpower to reach the windowsill. He maintained his focus on the space above his head, where he could see the ledge, and, careful reach after careful push, it came ever closer to touching.
When he was finally hovering in a jumble of ivy directly beneath the window, he took a moment to re-gather himself. He did not know what waited beyond the windowsill. He strained his ears and heard no signs of movement, but that didn’t mean monks were not waiting inside, not if they were being as quiet as Scorch. He looked down to see if Audrey was climbing up behind him. He didn’t see her, nor could he wait for her. Sneaky as he was being, if any of the monks dared look up to study the integrity of the spire, he would be spotted. Lingering was not a viable option. With the thought of Vivid in the hands of Kio, he hauled himself over the sill.
He landed softly on a blessedly solid floor. The room was dark save the moonlight seeping through the window. He glanced anxiously at all its corners and saw it was unoccupied. Luck was temporarily on his side, but he wouldn’t take it for granted. He crept, moving himself along the dark of the walls, and made for the door that led, hopefully, to the main hall of the fortress.
He was at the door’s edge when he heard sounds of life: the faint swish of robes brushing stone, a whisper of murmurs. He stole another glance at the window, hoping to see Audrey climb through. He waited three minutes and then decided he could waste no more time. They’d separated for a reason. Perhaps she’d been captured or found another way inside. Regardless, he had to move on without her and hope for the best.
He rolled his shoulders and rubbed his legs, grimacing at their soreness, but he made an assessment of his body and found he wasn’t tired. Adrenaline was coursing through him, loaning him preternatural alertness, and so it was with hyperawareness and soft-stepping boots that Scorch slipped from the room to seek out Vivid.
The main hall of the fortress did not greet him on the other side of the door. Contrarily, the door opened to a narrow, enclosed stairwell, with spiraling steps stretching upwards and downwards. It was lit by torches but filthy with cobwebs, and Scorch was reminded again of the haunted castle.
He had hoped for broader construction, a way to see all around him and determine where Kio might be keeping Vivid, but it wouldn’t be so easy. He had to choose whether to head up or down. It felt like the hardest choice of his life, when heading the wrong way could result in his capture and flummox the entire rescue. At least, he acknowledged warily, he had the benefit of knowing Vivid’s captor.
He thought of Kio. The last time he’d seen her, she was struggling for breath after Vivid had almost killed her in the temple. Before that, she had shared her Mountain Flower Whiskey in the cave. Scorch closed his eyes and pictured her elevated, high up, in her place beside the High Priestess. If Kio was such a devotee, she would be emulating her deceased Holy One in every way. She would be at the top of the tower. Scorch went up the staircase.
The space was cramped, and he felt trapped as he walked up the stairs. There would be no room to draw his sword if it came to it, but he hoped it would not come to it, not yet, not until he had Vivid. The rustles and whispers he’d heard before decreased as he climbed, making him worry that he’d chosen the wrong direction. He was uncertain, but he kept on.
The stairs ended at a door-less archway. He leaned cautiously around it and peered into the space, seeing no one. The room’s ceiling was high and pointed. He was at the topmost point of the western tower, but there was only a large window and no furnishing. Vivid wasn’t there. He had chosen wrong. He sighed, and was readying to turn around when a noise stopped him.
Humming.
His insides burned and he scanned the room again, taking a step inside, his hand on his sword. “Kio,” he whispered.
“Scorch,” a voice answered at his back.
He jolted, spinning around. A cloud of green dust hit him in the face, and he gasped, sucking in a lungful of the strange substance. He coughed violently and dropped to the floor. Somewhere, someone was speaking, but he didn’t understand. His vision hazed and his mouth fell slack and everything went dark.
The Small Sound
18
He was in the Hollow, tossing and turning in his cot, and his blankets had fallen to the floor. Someone pulled them over his shoulders and tucked them beneath his chin.
“He’s handsome.”
“Shut up. He needs to rest.”
“Working him hard?”
“Go away.”
“You’re really not going to share?”
“He’s not mine to share.”
“He may not be yours, but you’re his, aren’t you?”
“I wonder why you’re still talking to me like I can tolerate the sound of your voice.”
“He doesn’t see the way you look at him, but I d- Ow! What was that for?”
“I told you to go away.”
“Will you punch me in the face when I get your boy bent over for me?”
“He wouldn’t.”
“If I make him?”
“I will kill you, Elias, if you hurt him.”
****
Scorch was wet.
It was such an unexpected sensation that he thought he was still dreaming. In his head, he co
uld hear the remnants of Vivid’s voice, and Scorch listened to its threatening rumble, wondering if it had been a dream or a memory. It felt so real.
“What do you think of my nocturne powder? I think it works quite well.”
Scorch knew that voice, and he turned his head to the source, opening his eyes. Water lapped at his face.
Kio was sitting cross-legged at the edge of a pool, and he was in the pool. It was shallow, very shallow, filled only with enough water to cover his ears. He tried to sit up, but other than being able to turn his head, he couldn’t move. He wasn’t tied up, but he couldn’t move.
“The nocturne powder I made from Peggotty Lush-fern and Starleaf. In larger doses, it can render one paralyzed long after consciousness has returned. I gave you quite a large dose. Sorry about that.”
Scorch tried to curse her, but he couldn’t speak.
“Muteness is another side effect of the nocturne. I apologize. I know you like to talk.” She cocked her head at him, her cattish eyes open and friendly. “But for now, you have to listen.”
Scorch could at least roll his eyes, and for that, he was grateful.
“As you can see, I knew you were coming. I made this water chamber especially for you. It’s nowhere near as lovely as the temple’s, but it should do to keep your fire at bay.”
She stood gracefully and smoothed the folds of her monk robe. Her hair was shaved close to her head, bringing out the strong bone structure of her face. If she was closer, he knew he would see the faded burn on her cheek, the one he’d unknowingly left in the cages of the Circle. Objectively, she was beautiful, but when he looked at her, he only saw the friend who had betrayed him.
The Sun Guardian Page 28