by J F Rogers
“Stay? Here? What about my friends?”
“The invitation is extended to you alone. I’m intrigued by your…abilities. You’ll prove to be quite useful, I imagine.”
“I need to go with my friends.”
“Give it a day to think it over.”
“I don’t have a day. You banished them. They’re leaving this morning. I’m going with them.”
“Guards, bring Fallon to a suite in the west wing where she’ll be comfortable.”
“But I told you, I can’t stay.” I fought against the guards. “Let me go. I can’t stay!”
They carried me to a room and shoved me inside. The one carrying Rowan dropped her on the floor. I tried to push my way out behind them, but they shoved me back in and shut the door in my face. A lock clicked in place. I wiggled the handle, then banged on the door. “Let me out!”
“Don’t waste your energy,” Rowan called behind me. “They’re not going to release you…us.”
I spun around. Rowan must’ve changed in record time.
She rubbed her back. “I must say, getting dropped and tossed around in a bag is not a pleasant experience.”
“What am I supposed to do? I can’t stay here. The ship is leaving today. This morning.” Spotting the window on the opposite wall, I ran to it. Bars. Closely spaced. Even as a falcon, I’d never squeeze through. I squeezed my hands over two and tugged. They didn’t wiggle in the slightest.
Ships in the harbor were barely visible in the dim morning light. “How can I tell which one is ours?” I turned around to an empty room. “Rowan?”
“I’m looking for a way into the tunnels.” A tapestry bulged as she moved along the wall behind it. She came out, hair ruffled, and blew a blonde tuft from her forehead. “If there was one, they sealed it. Where’s a pech when you need one?”
“Rowan, can you tell which ship is ours?”
She crossed the room and stood beside me. “Isn’t Kagan giving you a ship? There’s no way to tell which he’ll offer. Unless they’ve stripped the flag. They won’t allow your people to wave our flag.”
“So, it won’t be any of those.” I pointed to a fleet flying the same white flag with what appeared to be four spirals or a mirror image of a short tree with two long curly branches.
“Right. The symbol for strength. They’re likely readying those for battle.”
“The flag on the ship we arrived in was white with a circular symbol of a tree with roots.”
“Kylemore’s symbol.”
“Would they use that flag?” Panic welled up within me as I scanned the flags. “I don’t see it.”
****
“You’re going to wear a hole in the rug.”
I stopped pacing and glared at Rowan lounging on the massive bed.
“What else am I supposed to do? I’m trapped like an animal!” I shouted at the door as if someone listening might realize their error and let me go.
“I take offense to that.” She yawned.
“It’s getting dark out.” I motioned toward the window. “My friends might’ve left without me, and I’ve been kidnaped!” I shouted the last word toward the door again. “And you’re sitting there like nothing is wrong. How can you be so calm? What if you get caught? What if they come back for me and I can’t bring you with me because you’re not in the bag?”
“Perhaps it’s my royal training.” Sitting up straighter, she spoke the words with genuine curiosity as if she too hadn’t a clue how she was so calm. “Or maybe not. Somehow, I know this is in God’s hands. All will be well.”
“How is that? Didn’t you grow up here?” I twirled around, arms up, putting our cage on display. “Don’t your people believe in multiple gods and things?”
“I did. But something happened when I drank your blood.”
Just the distraction I needed. “What?” I plunked down beside her. The transformation completely intrigued me. Her experience might unlock some of its mystery.
“I remember being in pain. But it was strange. It wasn’t a physical pain.”
“Really? You were writhing on the ground. You looked like you were in agony.”
“Aye. I remember. And I was. But it wasn’t physical. It was as if God was showing me all I’d ever done wrong.” Her face twisted at the memory. “It was the worst thing I’ve ever experienced.”
“How’d you know it was God? Did you see Him?”
“No. But I sensed His displeasure…and His love. He wanted me to change. And as I relived every horrible thing I’d ever done, I cried out for help.”
“I didn’t hear you.”
“Not out loud.” She placed her hand on her chest. “In my heart.” She moved her hand to her temple. “And in my mind.” She gazed at the ceiling, a smile replacing the sorrowful twists. “He answered.” She refocused on me. “He said He made a way for me to live with Him forever if I chose to turn to Him. If I believed. I did. I did believe. I do.”
“And you didn’t think to mention it? Man! Has this happened to everyone who changed back or just you?”
She shrugged. “I can only speak from my experience.”
“But why did you choose to stay in the dark?”
“God has forgiven me. But I’m still working on forgiving myself. He loves me. But I’m struggling to love myself.”
Her words struck me as if this was something I should see in myself. How did she see these things so clearly? Was that the reason for her calm in this storm?
I walked toward the window. Distraction over. “We still have to get out of here…somehow.” A light flickered in the distance. “Uh…what’s that?”
Cloth rustled as she moved beside me. “The signal fires.”
“Would they light the signal fires because of my friends?”
“No. We must truly be under attack. The fasgadair must be…”
A shrill whistle pierced the darkness.
“…here.”
Chapter Twenty
◊◊◊
SHOUTS ACCOMPANIED CLANGING SHOES outside the room.
“We have to get out of here,” Rowan said. “Now.”
“How? We’re trapped?”
“Think, Fallon.” She laid her hands on my shoulders, fingers clenching into my flesh, and peered into my eyes. “Why is Kagan desperate to keep you?”
“Because I can turn fasgadair back to gachen, like you.”
“Is that all? That’s not useful on a battlefield. Knowing Kagan, he has bigger plans.”
She was right. My ability was useless on a battlefield. So, what would he want from me? A light sparked. Fire. “I can start fires.”
“What?” She released me and stepped back. “How?”
“I don’t know. By thinking about it.”
“Why didn’t you tell me before? Burn the door down. Get us out of here!”
Why hadn’t I thought of that?
My heart raced as I ignited the wood surrounding the lock, careful not to overdo it and trap us inside until it cooled or fell away. Rowan morphed into a raccoon. I gathered her clothes and shoved them in the bag. I pushed her fuzzy butt in after them. She chittered in protest. Probably not typical royal treatment, but I needed her with me wherever I ended up. And to get her out of here alive.
“What in Druantia’s name? The door’s on fire!” someone yelled from the other side.
“Kick it in. We have to get to her,” came another shout.
A loud thump accompanied splintered wood, and the door burst open.
“Quickly. Come with us.” Two guards waved for me.
“Where are my friends?” I stood my ground.
“Their ship sailed hours ago.”
My legs nearly gave out. They left? They actually left? Without me? No way. They couldn’t have.
One guard clenched my arm. “If you value your life, you’ll come with us now.”
I yanked my elbow out of his grasp. “How do I know we’re really under
attack?” I’d heard that once before. But then, what purpose would it serve to lie to me now? I was already their prisoner.
A shrill scream sounded like a horror movie blaring on a television in the next room. Close. Too close. I gathered my bag with Rowan into my arms and caught a faint whiff of a fasgadair.
They were here.
One of the guards held a finger to his lips, peeked out the door, then signaled for us to follow. So far, they didn’t seem to be falling under the fasgadair spell. The bloodsuckers must be too far away. Or otherwise detained.
Either everyone had dispersed or whatever caused that scream was still feeding on its victim. I had no desire to find out. I kept stepping on the lead guard’s shoes while the guard in back gripped my arm. Was he being protective or fearful, hoping I’d protect him?
I followed the guards to the throne room, empty but for the electric fasgadair scent. It wafted from the halls along with screams and animalistic snarls that sent shivers coursing through my body, urging me to flee.
What was I doing? Wasn’t I here to help? But what could I do? They’d kill me too. But lighting them on fire might slow them down and save people. I stopped.
The guard behind me passed and tripped, nearly losing his grip on my sleeve. “What are ye doing? Let’s go!”
“I can’t. I can save them. I can set the fasgadair on fire.”
The guard released his grip. He looked at me with new respect. Or fear. “If that’s true, it’s too late. This place is overrun. We have to go. Now!”
“I have to try.”
“Don’t be a fool.”
I’d be on my own. My friends were gone. Only unbelievers remained. They’d be like flies in a spiderweb awaiting their demise once the fasgadair were close enough to enact their mind control. Remembering what it felt like to be paralyzed in their mind-grip, I shuddered.
Save Arabella.
What was that? Was that God? Was this somehow His plan? I hugged the bag tighter and gazed down the hall. It sounded like someone watching The Walking Dead had turned up the volume. The electric odor strengthened, mingling with a metallic blood scent. Did God really want me to leave them?
I had to follow His plan.
The guards ran into the small meeting room behind the throne. I hurried after them. The first guard had disappeared. The other held a tapestry away from the wall and motioned for me to come. Thank God, he waited.
A false wall closed behind us, immersing us in complete darkness. We waited as the guard who wasn’t clinging to me fumbled with something, probably a torch.
We had to move. But I didn’t want to light the wrong thing on fire, so I groped in the dark until I found the torch in the guard’s hand. I felt my way to the tip, removed my hand, and set it on fire. He jumped and dropped the torch on the stone floor.
“So ’tis true.” He retrieved the torch from the ground. “You can light fires. I hope the other rumors are true as well. C’mon.”
The light illuminated a few feet of the dingy hall strung with cobwebs and laced with mold. We pushed through the tunnels, the torch singeing cobwebs along the way. The unpleasant aroma, like burnt hair, mingled with the mold or mildew…something dank. The air was oppressive. I imagined mold spores filling my lungs as we ventured deeper. My feet kept slipping on the slick stone. But we pressed forward.
“Where are we going?”
Both guards ignored me. As the distance between us and the fasgadair grew, so did my resistance to meeting the fate that awaited me, wherever it was. The guards gained distance.
Perhaps we were safer in these tunnels? But then, how long would the torch last? There was nothing else to ignite, other than spiders and rats.
I quickened my pace.
We descended several flights of winding stairs to a dungeon. The stench of human waste hit me like a wall. I staggered. Ammonia made my eyes water. Grimy gaunt faces peered through the bars we passed. Spindly hands reached toward us, mouths gaping like fish as if they’d been away from humanity for so long, they no longer knew how to speak. Some managed to squeak out “help” and “save us.”
I stopped.
“What about them?”
The second guard looked back. “The prisoners? What of them?”
“Set them free.”
“Bah! I’ve no authority to do such a thing.”
“Isn’t everyone fleeing Bandia? They don’t stand a chance to survive if everyone leaves. If the fasgadair don’t get them, starvation will. There will be no one to feed them.”
Highlighted by the torch, indecision twisted the guard’s face.
“At least give them a chance.”
He groaned and threw me a key. “Be quick.”
My heart raced as I unlocked the doors and the prisoners shuffled out. Rushing feet clanged on the stone close by.
“We must go now!” the guard yelled in a hushed voice.
I glanced back at the poor souls. “We have to help them.”
“We did. We set them free. But if you want to catch the boat, follow us. Now.”
The guards ran ahead. I tried not to think of those poor prisoners. At least they had a chance.
I ran to catch the guards. Stamping feet echoing in the hall followed—from the prisoners, other escapees, or the fasgadair?
It couldn’t be the fasgadair. We’d never outrun them, and I couldn’t smell them. Only mildew. Thicker and stronger than before, it felt as if it were taking up residence and accumulating in my nasal passages. I covered my mouth. Who knew what disease-inducing spores were down here.
The tunnel sloped in a never-ending downward curve to the left. I slipped on the mucky bottom multiple times trying to keep up with the guards. Rats squeaked and hissed as we dodged each other.
The ground leveled, and a breeze swept through carrying salty air. I inhaled as if smelling the sweetest perfume. But the breeze passed, and I choked on the musty air.
The guard stopped at the end and put his back against the wall before peering, FBI style, into a cavern. He beckoned us and hurried to a row of boats tied to a platform at an underground lake. No, not a lake. It smelled like salt water. It had to be an inlet.
The boat rocked, pulling the rope and clanging against the platform. I knelt and placed Rowan in the skiff. The guard held my hand to steady me as I stepped in, toppling into my seat. I grabbed the bag and placed it on my lap, hoping I hadn’t hurt her royal furriness.
The lead guard placed the torch in a slot at the helm while the other untied the boat. Once the second guard boarded, they picked up the oars and pushed off. My heart continued to race despite the calming rhythmic motion. Water dripped from the oars and lapped against the chamber walls. Rowan remained tense on my lap. Her claws had pierced through the bag. I petted her, hoping I wasn’t irritating her. She became slightly less stiff.
Where were these guys taking me? Where were my friends? Had they really left without me?
I had no idea how much time passed. What felt like an hour was probably only fifteen minutes. Cool air swept through my hair, and I took a deep breath. Dim light dawned before us as the tunnel opening grew. Moonlight sparkled on the rippling waves. The guard yanked the torch from its holder and extinguished it in the water. It let out a soft hiss as the sea swallowed the flame.
Fresh air swirled around me, but I held my breath, certain fasgadair would spot us. Highlands surrounded us at every angle. Where was the harbor?
“Where are we?”
“Shhh!” The lead guard raised his finger to his lips.
We continued on forever. My body felt heavy, and my eyes threatened to close. My mind kept wandering to the horrors I’d left behind. Would the prisoners survive? How could I just leave?
As we drew nearer to the land, the hills parted, revealing a canal. We passed through. On the other side, it opened once more. On the open sea, the waves strengthened. The tiny skiff rocked. Sea spray accumulated, flooding the floor, soaking my shoes.
>
Please don’t let us sink.
When I’d get carsick, I’d open a window and close my eyes. That usually helped. I closed my eyes and clung to Rowan and the dinghy.
I jostled and woke, nearly falling off my seat, and caught Rowan mid-fall.
Hushed voices called out. “Someone’s here!”
The guards hopped out and dragged us ashore. “We have Fallon.”
The wide-eyed faces surrounding us relaxed. “Come inside.”
I followed the guards across the pebbly beach through a gate lined with more armed guards to a fortress.
“What is this?” I asked. “Where are we?”
“The king’s stronghold.”
In all the talk about defenses, Valter failed to mention this.
“Ah, Fallon,” a relieved voice greeted me as I crossed the entryway.
Facing Kagan, I tensed. I was still a prisoner. We may have escaped the fasgadair. But my friends were gone. He was responsible. “What do you want from me? Where are my friends?”
“We may need to test those abilities of yours sooner than expected. Please go rest. My guards will call on you when your services are required.” He signaled the guards. “Bring her to the upper room, next to my chambers.”
The guard who led me out of the castle nodded and tugged me. I nearly dropped Rowan.
“Need me for what?” I called behind me.
Kagan turned his back to me and walked away. I had been dismissed.
I glared at the guard.
He released his grip and held his hand up, showing he meant no harm. “My apologies, I’m merely following orders. But you’re safe here. You and whomever you’re smuggling in your sack.”
He knew I carried someone. But he didn’t know who.
“The name’s Sandor.” He bowed.
Was he afraid I might go on a rampage and set everything on fire? If that was the case, he clearly didn’t know me. But then, perhaps it was best he didn’t.
Was this all God’s plan? He’d told me only to save Rowan. I glanced at the bag in my arms. Better play nice. For now.
Chapter Twenty-One
◊◊◊
MY DOOR BURST OPEN, and light rushed toward my bed. I wiped my eyes and tried to make sense of what was happening.