by Erin Beaty
Movement nearby caught her eye. Several birds had lifted from their perches when the explosion echoed through the valley, a large hawk settling back down on a tree a few dozen yards away. With a chill she recognized it as a tame bird. Maybe even the one she’d seen several days ago, though there was no way to be sure. Perhaps the Kimisar weren’t gone after all.
Sage pulled herself to a higher branch, wincing as the needles scraped her tender face. From her new position she had a clear view of the hawk, but saw no sign of anyone in the trees or on the ground below. Possibly the bird carried a message from someone far away and belonged to them, but she wasn’t searching. She was waiting. Her master was near.
If the hawk was a messenger for their enemies, killing her could be critical. Sage reached a shaking hand into her pocket for her sling and a stone.
She was so nervous her first throw went wide by several feet. The hawk’s head swiveled around to follow the stone’s path, but she remained on her perch. Definitely trained. Sage pushed herself to a precarious stand on a limb and leaned out to give her arm more room. Anyone on the ground would be able to see her.
She snapped her wrist and let the stone fly. The bird turned back and started to lift off too late. The missile hit the hawk in the shoulder and she screeched and tumbled backward. Sage yanked herself back into the tree and hugged the trunk, listening for indications of the hawk’s owner.
She heard nothing, but she felt his eyes.
After several minutes of barely breathing, Sage turned her head to look out into the forest and saw him almost instantly. He stood motionless in an open area on a nearby slope, a dark cloak hanging around him almost to the ground and a hood shadowing his face. One step backward into the foliage, and he would be invisible. His elaborately tattooed arms were crossed as he watched her. Like he was waiting for her to see him.
He carried a crossbow, and she was well in range.
Almost lazily, he swung the weapon from his back but made no effort to aim it. Was he taunting her or debating whether to shoot her? Sage trembled all over. She should move lower, to where the branches and the trunk were thicker, but fear paralyzed her.
“Fowler!” called a voice in the distance. The scouts were coming back for her. She turned her head toward the sound and tried to answer, but her voice came out as a weak croak on the first two tries. When she looked back to the man on the hillside, he was gone.
She scrambled down the tree, breaking half the branches she touched and falling several feet twice. She hit the ground running and never looked back.
80
THE LOWER STOREHOUSE was deserted, except for a few scurrying rats. In the dungeon, one more level down, Alex killed three guards, two of whom were too sick to put up much of a fight. The last managed to open a cut on the side of Alex’s leg before falling to his sword. A glance told him the wound was nothing of immediate concern, and he stepped over the guard’s body to the foul-smelling cells beyond.
He found one of his father’s couriers, broken and unconscious, but the man could be better tended once they were in full control of the fortress, so Alex left him. The other cells were empty.
She wasn’t there. He’d chosen wrong.
Alex ran back up to the junction and the infirmary in the first level of the keep, dispatching several sick and weak guards without hesitation, but found no trace of Sage. Though he feared what he might find, he checked the cold room, where he came across the body of a castle guard, dead almost a day from what looked like blood loss. Other than a broken left arm, the only wound the man had was under the right shoulder, where he’d bled out. One of the pickets must’ve done it.
Relieved, he returned to the sickroom and three stunned healers staring at the bodies around them. “You won’t be harmed if you go to the Great Hall now,” he told them. “Otherwise you’ll end up like them.” He pointed with his sword to his earlier victims. At that moment the barracks in the outer ward exploded, and a dozen screams followed.
“Or them,” he added before turning and running from the room.
* * *
It felt like he had a chapel bell clanging in his skull. Casseck rubbed his left ear as he clambered down the steps to the ground level of the inner gate, his hand coming away bloody. Every noise on that side sounded like it was underwater. Sergeant Porter came up to report the outer gate was secure, and Casseck left him in charge of the area and joined Gramwell outside the Great Hall.
“Have we found her yet?” asked Gramwell.
Casseck shook his head. “I don’t think so.” Alex was searching the keep from bottom to top.
Gramwell looked up at the keep. “The longer it takes, the more I worry something will go wrong.”
Casseck shared his friend’s concern. Every minute was a minute D’Amiran had to slit Sage’s throat. He peered into the Great Hall. Nearly half the nobles inside had their hands bound behind them. The other half looked dazed and resigned while Corporal Mason kept watch with a crossbow as two soldiers tied up the rest.
Regardless of where Sage was, they still had to capture the duke. “Take two men,” he told Gramwell. “Go find the captain and assist him as needed. I’ll take charge here.”
* * *
The red fire burned lower and what little smoke it produced was dissipated by the rain. Charlie gave up trying to direct it with the flag and looked down over the side of the keep. Black smoke obscured almost his whole view of the scene below. Cries of agony floated up from the area of the explosion. He had the last packet of red blaze with him, but Alex had told him to save it for the pickets if they came so they could take it back across the pass. His job now was to stay put until Alex or one of the soldiers fetched him.
Charlie tucked himself under the small shelter the fire bowl offered and warmed his chilled fingers on its underside.
The wooden floor beneath him thumped with the impact of someone trying to break through the trapdoor.
81
CHARLIE WEDGED THE remaining flagpoles across the trapdoor, but it was only a matter of time before the guards below bashed it open. Too late, he realized the crossbow wasn’t loaded. He didn’t have the strength to pull the string back without using a crank, and there was none. Charlie cast his eyes to the rope looped around a crenellation. The Kimisar body hanging from it was too heavy for him to lift, which left climbing down. If he cut the body loose, maybe he could swing to a window, but he doubted it. Even if his frozen hands could manage to hold on to the slippery rope, he probably wouldn’t have time to cut it before the guards below broke through and pulled him up.
Or until they cut the rope from above.
He leaned over the edge to look down and shivered. Backing away, he tripped over one of the two miniature barrels he’d brought up. Normally they would’ve contained ale, but Alex had filled them with a purer spirit, one that would burn. Charlie threw himself to his knees and began prying them open with his dagger.
Just as he got the second open by its end, the trapdoor lifted, revealing a straining face beneath. Charlie hastily dumped the contents down the hole and all over the man standing on a box of kindling. The soldier cursed and sputtered as the door dropped shut. Charlie stood and wrapped the wet flag around his hand, reached under the metal rain guard over the fire bowl, and grabbed a burning chunk of wood.
Once again the door creaked and lifted, and this time when Charlie poured the alcohol, he touched the flame to the liquid, creating a waterfall of fire, then kicked the burning wood and flaming barrel at the man’s face. The trapdoor slammed back down, and Charlie heard him and another man screaming. He rolled away, slapping at his trousers to extinguish the flames, which had caught him, too.
Charlie cowered against the wall as the wooden floor steamed from the inferno raging below, consuming the men and stored firewood. But no matter how tightly he clutched his ears, he could not block out their screams.
* * *
Alex returned to the junction and took the other fork, up toward the quarters of the ho
usehold. It was foolish to be doing this alone, but the thought of Sage ending up like the Kimisar soldier hanging from the keep drove him forward.
The next level was a large gathering room that served as the Great Hall in the early days of the fortress. At the moment, it was used for storage and housing some of the guests. It appeared deserted, but he couldn’t risk anyone coming up behind him. He paced around the room, kicking chairs noisily aside. He saw no one.
Before reentering the passage, he paused inside the door to listen and caught the sound of a guard coming down and around the corner. From somewhere there also came the scent of burning wood, which differed from the oil used to light up the tents and armory. Alex pulled out a knife and stepped back several feet from the opening, making himself visible as the guard crossed in front of the door. The man barely had time to pause when the dagger came flying at him and buried itself in his neck.
Alex retrieved his knife and continued up the stairs.
* * *
Charlie crouched on the stone wall between the higher crenellations as the wooden floor smoked and smoldered. One side collapsed as the support beneath burned away. The stack of firewood must have contained several fast-burning items for sending signals, much like red blaze, because green flames licked up through the hole. Though he was more frightened than ever, Charlie was grateful the screaming had finally stopped.
He needed to escape, but the only way down was through the fire. Catching sight of the wet flag, he hopped down and pulled it off the steaming deck. Much of the moisture had baked away, and it was hot to the touch, but it would have to do. He wrapped it around his body as heat seeped through the soles of his boots, and he remembered something his father had told him weeks ago. When you’ve chosen your course of action, seize it with all your might.
Charlie pulled the corner of the flag over his head and launched himself into the breech, pushing and rolling away from any surface he touched. Smoke and cinders blinded and choked him as he bounced his way to the stone floor until he came face-to-face with the burning skull of a man. The body tipped back as he bumped against it, making the jaw open farther, shrieking silently at him. With a terrified sob, Charlie crawled away on his belly, using the direction the smoke was being drawn upward and out as an opposite compass.
Once he was safely away from the furnace above, he rested against the wall and tried to decide if he should stay there. Then the remainder of the ceiling collapsed with a thunderous roar, and he ran down, stumbling over the body of the first guard Alex had killed.
82
THE NEXT LEVEL up, Alex found a family room with several offshoots to bedrooms. Like the rooms below, they were all deserted. The smell of smoke was stronger and included burning flesh, and the building shook with a tremendous crash from above. Understanding came to him: the top of the keep was on fire. A new fear realized, Alex dashed out of the room and up as he heard a high-pitched yell he recognized instantly.
Charlie.
He flew around the corner and around another bend to the duke’s level. At the top of the steps stood Captain Geddes, holding Charlie against his body. The boy was singed and covered with soot but otherwise looked unharmed. Alex would’ve sobbed in relief if the feeling wasn’t so immediately displaced by rage.
With his head twisted to the side and pinned against the guard’s stomach, Charlie could meet Alex’s eyes with only one of his own. Alex tried to give his brother a reassuring smile before shifting his gaze to the leering face of the man above him.
“You have quite a habit of losing things, Captain,” the guard said, sliding a large, menacing knife from his belt. He gestured with it. “Drop your sword.”
Alex lowered his blade but did not release it from his grip. “Let the boy go.”
“Out of curiosity, Captain, if you had to pick one to save, which would you choose?” He cocked his head to the side. “This one, I guess.” He sneered. “But now we have someone who actually matters to you. So drop it.”
“I’ll drop my weapon when you drop yours,” Alex replied calmly.
Charlie took the hint and let his knees buckle, forcing Geddes to suddenly support all his weight with the arm slung across his small body. For a moment, the man struggled to keep from losing his balance on the edge of the landing. In the long-practiced move, Alex released his sword and drew his own dagger, flinging it up and into the guard’s face in a single motion. The dead man froze for a second before crumpling over the boy now crouched at his feet.
Alex crawled up the steps to pull the body down, allowing Charlie to slither out from under it. He was about to ask if his brother had seen the duke when D’Amiran himself stepped out of the doorway, seized Charlie by his dark hair, and heaved him back up to the landing.
Alex lunged for Charlie’s feet, but D’Amiran dragged the boy backward and into his room. By the time Alex reached the door, it was barred shut. He kicked and pounded on it, trying not to scream in panic.
A noise on the stairs made Alex turn away from the duke’s chambers and reach for his sword, which he belatedly realized was still on the steps where he’d dropped it. He had only one dagger left, and he clutched the hilt as Gramwell came flying around the corner.
The lieutenant stopped when he saw Alex and glanced around. “What—”
“Charlie,” Alex gasped, pointing to the door. “He’s got Charlie in there, but I think it’s just him left, no guards.”
And Sage. She was probably in there, too. It was the only place left.
Gramwell nodded and scooped up Alex’s sword and ran up the last few steps to hand it to him. Corporal Denny and Private Skinner came around the corner behind him, wheezing from their sprint up the keep. Alex gestured to the door. “Get it open.”
Alex sheathed his sword and pulled Gramwell aside as the men hacked at the door with battle-axes, barely denting the solid oak. “We need to get in another way. We can’t wait.”
“There are two windows on the east side,” Gramwell said. “We can climb down from the top of the keep. I’ll go find some rope.” He turned to run back down.
Alex grabbed his arm and pointed up the stairs. “There’s already some up there.”
Together they ran to the next level, Alex praying the fire hadn’t burned away the rope the Kimisar hung from.
The stone floor was warm under their boots, but the fire had nearly succumbed to the rain that poured in once the ceiling collapsed. Alex picked up a sodden flag at the top of the stairs and began swinging it at the remaining flames to clear a path. He could see the rope around a crenellation above and thanked the Spirit it was only singed. As he tried to climb up to it, the half-burned wood beneath him gave way, and he fell back down to the floor.
Gramwell grabbed his arm and pulled him to his feet, slapping the cinders that threatened to burn through Alex’s clothes, but he barely felt their heat. “I need a boost,” Alex said.
His friend dropped to his knee and laced his fingers together. Alex stepped into the joined hands, and Gramwell heaved him up. He reached the wall and pulled himself higher until he could throw a leg over the edge.
“You good?” Gramwell called. Alex nodded and leaned over to pull up the body hanging from the rope. Gram picked up the wet flag and kicked the blackened remains of the ceiling aside. He wrapped the cloth around his hands and grasped a burning chunk. “I’m going to take some of this fire down to the door.”
Alex nodded again and pulled out his knife. His stomach clenched as his fingers wrapped around the blood-crusted black hilt with its gold letters, and he began sawing the Kimisar soldier free from his noose. A minute later the body tumbled down the side of the keep, and Alex lifted the loop from around the stone block in front of him. He stood and climbed atop the wide crenellation. With the rope over his shoulder he ran around the wall, bounding from rise to rise, until he got to the opposite side.
There were two windows below: one into the bedchamber and one into the sitting room. Which one? The bedchamber could undoubtedly be barred
from the inside. From the sitting room, he could again be on the wrong side of a locked door. But he could let Gramwell in, and the bedchamber door probably wasn’t as strong as the outer one.
Sage was likely in the bedchamber, the implications of which made him sick. But if he entered through that window, the duke might panic and kill her if he felt he had nowhere left to hide. As long as she and Charlie were alive, D’Amiran had bargaining chips. Geddes’s words came back to him: Which would you choose?
D’Amiran would make him choose.
Alex could have help if he got in the sitting room. He’d be on his own in the bedchamber.
He settled the rope so it would hang next to the sitting room window, and began climbing down, bracing his feet against the wall.
83
ALEX KICKED AWAY from the wall to swing in with more force. As he crashed through the window, the duke leapt up from where he straddled over Charlie. Alex scrambled to his feet and drew his sword as D’Amiran yanked Charlie up and held the boy tight with an arm hooked around his neck. Charlie had been gagged and his hands tied together, but his feet were free. He kicked wildly until the duke jabbed a knife in his back. “Enough.”
Charlie gave a muffled cry and let his legs dangle. Alex watched in torment as tears streaked down Charlie’s dirty cheeks, his brother silently begging forgiveness for being caught like this. Smoke drifted in from the crack under the door. Gram’s fire was taking. From the smell, he’d added alcohol to help.
Alex took a deep breath and lowered his sword as he raised his left hand. “It’s over, Your Grace. Let him go and give me the girl, and I’ll stand for clemency at your trial.”
D’Amiran’s mouth twisted into a leer. “The girl? So you haven’t found her yet?”