He pulled the outer door open.
Vaughn shoved past him, plunging into the darkness. “Ahh.” Vaughn bent at the waist, the tip of a sword emerging from his back. He fought even as he fell.
Jackson struggled to reach past him in the narrow opening. He swung his sword wide, missing the savage completely.
The savage lurched back.
Dakota fighting another savage behind him intruded on his concentration, but he could only hope he’d be able to handle it.
The other Death Dealers would be right behind them.
Stepping over Vaughn, Jackson lunged again, and his sword found its mark.
The savage crumbled to a heap on the damp ground.
“Are you crazy?” Jackson gripped Vaughn beneath one arm, kicking himself for not anticipating the move by the seasoned Death Dealer.
Dakota grabbed his other arm.
Ranger slid around them and took the lead, while the other Death Dealers covered them from behind. Chayce obviously hadn’t really expected them to come in through the family tunnels, or he’d have left more than two guards where the family tunnel intersected the main tunnel.
Two of the Death Dealers took Vaughn from them and moved him to the center of the group where they could best protect him.
When they reached the door to the castle, Jackson kicked it open and braced for another attack.
The chamber stood empty.
They laid Vaughn on the ground.
Ranger pressed his hands to the wound and began the healing process.
Sweat sprang out on Vaughn’s forehead. “You”—he sucked in a breath and coughed. Blood sprayed from his lips—“all right?”
“Yeah, I’m okay.” Jackson gripped Vaughn’s hand. “Thank you.”
Vaughn’s jaw clenched, and his eyes shut.
The Death Dealers spread out, providing cover for Ranger to work.
“We have to find Kiara.” Ranger’s gaze bored through him.
Jackson frowned, not wanting to voice the question out loud for Vaughn to hear.
Ranger shook his head. “I’ve only ever encountered this kind of magic once before.”
Oh, no. No, no, no. The only other magic arrow wound Ranger hadn’t been able to heal had felled Jackson’s father. Kiara hadn’t been able to heal that wound, either. “Get him to a bed. We’ll find her.”
“I’m staying with you, Jackson.” Ranger continued to work on the hole through Vaughn’s abdomen and gestured for someone to take his place.
“No. You stay with him until Kiara gets to you.”
“But—”
“That’s an order, soldier.” He gestured for two of the Death Dealers to stay with them and two others to search for Kiara. Ranger was the strongest healer on his team. No way he’d trust Vaughn’s care to anyone else.
He strode from the room.
The remainder of his team followed him.
If savages were in the tunnels, there was only one place Chayce would be.
Jackson stormed toward the throne room, the crack of his boots against the stone floors echoing through the corridors. When he reached the throne room doors, he stopped short.
One door lay splintered on the floor, and the other hung precariously from its hinges. A battering ram had been discarded amid the debris.
Jackson stood in the doorway, too stunned to move into the room. Bodies littered the floor. Cymmeran soldiers. Savages.
Dakota gripped his shoulder.
A kind show of support, but Jackson shrugged him off. He didn’t need support, or sorrow, or pity at the moment. Right now, he needed Chayce so he could relieve some of the rage boiling inside him.
The Death Dealers stared at the devastation but remained silent as they awaited his orders.
“See if anyone can be saved. Then destroy the savages’ bodies.” Jackson climbed over the remnants of the door into the room. He left the fallen to his men, fully focused on the large, black scorch mark in the center of the throne room floor. A body-shaped, blackened silhouette. And the sword that lay beside it. Ryleigh’s sword. The sword he’d specifically told her to keep at her side at all times. The sword she’d been wearing when he’d left her.
She’d been so happy when he’d given her the sword he’d had specially made for her. Images of her face when she’d opened it flooded his mind. Flashes of her practicing, her face lighting up with a smile when she successfully completed a new move.
He reached the pile of ashes, then stopped. Pain like nothing he’d ever known pierced his heart, gripped him in its iron fist. Squeezed.
And then it stopped.
Like throwing a switch, he turned his emotions off as if they’d never existed. Cold seeped into his bones. Was that the pain his father had suffered at the loss of his mother? No wonder he’d become so bitter.
Understanding filled him.
He retrieved the sword. The jeweled handle glittered obscenely in the presence of so much death. Of Ryleigh’s death. He gripped the handle tight, pressing his fist to his forehead. He’d avenge her with his dying breath if he had to, but he would avenge her.
“Jackson—”
“Not now, Dakota.”
“But you don’t think—”
“I can’t think at all right now.” The cold had left him blessedly numb.
“Permission to leave the chamber, sir?”
“Where do you need to go, Dakota? What’s more important than this right now?”
“I’m sorry, Jackson, but I have to find Mia.” He fled the chamber without waiting for permission.
Jackson ran after him. He should have thought to look for her. Should have remembered there were thousands of citizens who needed to be accounted for. He’d been so lost in Ryleigh he’d forgotten his responsibility to others, even those he loved. Exactly as his father had done to him and Chayce when Queen Dara had died, leaving Kai to tend to the boys while he devoted every second of his existence to finding and punishing Daygan.
Jackson refused to shirk his responsibility to Mia, or any of the others. He’d never allow the need for revenge to rule him. He’d find Chayce soon enough and make him pay. For now, he had women and children to find and protect.
“Wait, Dakota.” Jackson stopped. He had to think rationally. Why would anyone have stayed in the castle if it were under attack? They wouldn’t have. “Come on. We have to get to the dragons and search the mountains. All of Cymmera is burning, everything below the castle. If anyone managed to escape, they could only have gone up the mountain.”
“And Chayce probably figured that out too.”
It made sense. It would certainly explain why he wasn’t on the throne basking in his glory.
“Should we go back for the other Death Dealers?”
“No. There may still be people here they can save. We can’t leave anyone who might be helped.”
“But Mia—”
“Is one person, Dakota.” Who may or may not still be here to save. Steel gripped his heart. No way he’d rest until he found her or discovered her fate, but he had a responsibility to everyone else too.
Dakota clenched his teeth, nodded, and fell into step silently beside Jackson.
They jogged toward the tunnels, through broken furniture, shattered glass, torn fabric. It looked like a tornado had torn through the castle.
Yet, there was no security left in place. Two savages had been guarding the tunnels, probably forgotten, but other than that, they hadn’t come across a single savage. Nor had they encountered even one of the many soldiers who’d pledged their loyalty to Chayce. So where were they all? And where was Chayce?
They also hadn’t found any citizens, which bothered him even more. He had a feeling when he found Chayce’s army, he’d probably find his people as well.
A dull thud brought him up short.
He held out a hand for Dakota to stop, then slid into the shadows along the edge of the corridor. Pressing his back against the co
ol, damp stone, he listened.
Silence descended. Suffocating.
Dakota stood opposite him, his face a mask of concentration.
Jackson kept his breaths as shallow as possible.
A faint but rhythmic scraping sound. Something scratching against stone.
He waved Dakota toward a closed door a few feet down the hallway.
Dakota nodded and slid into place on the far side of the door.
Jackson stood to the other side, inhaled deeply, and yanked the door open.
A dark stairwell plunged into the basement.
He let his head drop back against the unforgiving stone wall. They’d have to go down the stairs. The worst situation possible, yet he couldn’t move on if there was any chance someone down there needed help.
A whimper echoed up the stairs. Very faint, but it propelled him down the dark stairway as nothing else could have.
Dakota stayed right on his heels, covering his back.
When he reached the bottom, he conjured a fireball and tossed it at the nearest lantern.
A large blob of black lay in the far corner of the room, concealed in shadows.
Jackson crouched and pressed his back against the stone stairway. Leaving Dakota watching the stairs, he crept toward the figure.
Harsh breathing echoed through the chamber.
Water leaked from somewhere in a steady drip, drip, drip.
Dakota’s boot scraped against the step as he shifted.
Jackson could usually see easily in the dark, but this was different. It seemed the shadows were concealing whatever lay there, intentionally hiding it. Even the dull glow from the lantern did little to dispel the shadows.
Another soft whimper.
He skirted the shadow, then reached one hand into the darkness.
Soft fur met his touch. Nika?
He ran his hand along the giant hound’s flank. It came away wet.
“Dakota,” he whispered harshly, though it didn’t seem there was any need for stealth. The castle had the empty feel of something long abandoned.
“Is he alive?”
“He’s breathing.” He tucked Ryleigh’s sword into his belt, rolled Nika onto his back, and tried to pull him out of the shadows.
Dakota grabbed him from the other side and tried to help.
“Be careful of his wings.”
“I got it.”
A shrill scream ripped through the silence from behind Nika.
Jackson jumped back, releasing the giant hound and drawing his sword in one motion.
Dakota gripped his sword and turned his back to Nika.
“Wait.” Jackson held out a hand.
Dakota froze, sword held ready.
“Back up, and let me in there.”
Dakota moved over but stayed close.
Jackson wriggled between Nika and the basement wall. He lit a small ball of light in his free hand and inched toward the corner.
A man slumped in the corner, his back to Jackson. Long, dark hair spilled across the side of his face.
With the sword in one hand and the light in the other, Jackson couldn’t maneuver into the cramped space. He sheathed the sword.
“Jackson?”
“It’s fine. Just watch my back.”
Dakota moved closer, hunched over Jackson, ready for an attack.
Keeping the light held high, Jackson gripped the man’s shoulder and turned him over.
His head dropped back.
“Dad!” Dakota sheathed his sword and reached over Jackson to grab Darius.
“Wait. Don’t move him yet.” An arrow protruded from his chest. Another from his neck. Probably not instantly fatal wounds, but if the arrows were poisoned, he had no chance. He shifted Darius. There was nowhere to set the flames, and he couldn’t help him with one hand. “Give me some light.”
Dakota’s hand lit with a ball of flame, and Jackson extinguished his.
With both hands free, Jackson broke the arrows in half. He didn’t remove the barbs, he’d need more light for that, but at least now they wouldn’t catch on anything and get torn free.
“Is he all right?” Dakota’s voice shook, but he held the light perfectly steady.
“I don’t know yet. We have to get him out.” He turned Darius away from the wall and slid his hands beneath his arms. “Back up and let me pull—hang on. What’s that?”
Dakota moved the light closer.
Several of the stones had been removed, creating a small hole at the base of the wall.
Something moved in the hole.
Jackson laid Darius on his back and climbed over him, careful of his wounds.
“What are you doing? Back out of there.” Dakota’s voice was insistent.
The hole was too small for a savage or even a grown man to fit through. Jackson had found the darkness unusually concealing. Had a spell been cast to hide the already dark corner?
Darius was no sorcerer, but he had trained with the Death Dealers, and they were trained in basic magic. He could possibly have managed a simple cloaking spell, even under extreme duress.
Jackson reached into the hole.
A child’s screams assailed him.
“Hey, hey. It’s all right.”
Teeth clamped around his hand.
He yanked it back. “Listen to me. It’s okay. It’s King Maynard.”
The screams intensified. A child from the sound of it.
Dakota leaned in beside him. “It’s Jackson and Dakota.”
Jackson gave himself a mental kick. He should have realized Chayce would have called himself King Maynard as well.
“Dakota?” A sniffle came from the hole.
“Yeah.” Dakota backed up a little and pressed a hand against Darius’s neck. “Can you get out?”
“Darius said don’t come out.”
Jackson shifted closer to the opening. “It’s okay now. Darius is here with us. But he’s hurt, and he needs help, and we can’t help him or Nika until you’re safe.”
A head full of dark hair poked out of the opening. The child lifted his tear-streaked face.
“Harrison?”
The boy nodded.
“Where are your parents?” The eight-year-old’s father was a member of the Cymmeran Guard, and his mother worked in the castle kitchen.
“I couldn’t find them, and Trey was with my mom, but my sisters are here.” He crawled out of the hole, followed by his six and four-year-old sisters. “I protected them, just like I’m supposed to.”
Jackson’s tentative control on his emotions shattered. He barely held back a sob. “You did great. You’re going to be a very brave soldier.”
Harrison lowered his head and hugged his sisters close. “I wasn’t brave. I was really scared.” His entire body trembled as Jackson pulled him and the little girls toward him.
“Being brave doesn’t mean you’re not scared. I’m scared sometimes too.” He slid past Nika with them and out of the claustrophobic corner. “Being brave means you do the right thing even though you’re scared.”
Harrison smiled up at him through his tears.
“And you did exactly the right thing saving your sisters.” He moved them into the circle of light cast by the lanterns Dakota had lit along the walls closer to the stairs. “Are any of you hurt?”
“No, we’re okay. But Darius and Nika got hurt. I tried to heal them a little, but I’m not that good at it yet. Then Darius put me in the hole with my sisters and told us not to come out.” He covered his face and muffled a sob.
Jackson ruffled his hair, sorry he didn’t have more time to reassure the kids. But with the threat of Chayce looming over them, he had to get all of them out of there. “Is he breathing?”
Dakota crouched beside Darius with his hands pressed against the neck wound. “Yeah. He’s alive. The arrow in his neck nicked the artery, but Harrison’s bit of healing probably saved his life.”
Darius m
oaned and rolled onto his side.
“All right, help me get Nika.”
Together, they dragged the big hound into the light.
A large wound on the side of his head had probably kept him from regaining consciousness, but his breathing and heartbeat were strong and steady.
Jackson pressed his hands against the injury, calling the healing power from his core and lacing it through the wound.
Beside him, Harrison knelt and pressed his hands against the gash on Nika’s side. Light flickered into the cut.
“You know what, Harrison?”
The little boy shook his head, his face scrunched into a deep scowl of concentration.
“When we get out of here and get things straightened out, I’m going to give you a medal.”
His mouth dropped open, and the light dimmed. He nodded and returned his focus to healing the hound. He held his back a bit straighter and his head a little higher. He’d done his family proud.
Now if they could only find them.
Growling, Nika shot to his feet.
Jackson pushed the kids behind him and held his hands out to the sides. “Easy boy. It’s me.”
Nika whimpered and lowered his head.
Jackson weaved his fingers into the big hound’s soft fur.
Nika had comforted Jackson since his father had given him the pet when he was a boy. He laid his head on Jackson’s shoulder.
Jackson reached around his neck, allowing the relief to flow through him for only a moment before pulling back. “Come on, boy. We have to get out of here.”
“I don’t know if we should move my father yet.” Dakota still hunched over Darius.
They didn’t have much of a choice, but where could they take him? “Harrison, come here.”
The boy approached Jackson with his two sisters clinging to his sides. He dropped to his knee and lowered his head, keeping a firm hold on the girls. “Sir.”
“Come here, son.” He knelt before the child, staying at eye level, hoping not to scare the children any more than they’d already been scared. “Can you tell me what happened?”
He nodded.
His youngest sister clung to him, her arms wrapped around his neck.
He sat and helped her climb onto his lap. “My mom was working by Princess Mia’s room, but she had to go back to the kitchen for something. She took my little brother with her and told me to keep an eye on my sisters.” He sniffed and wiped his eyes. “The castle got attacked. Savages came up the stairs. I heard them coming, and I didn’t know what to do, so I pushed my sisters into a cabinet with towels and stuff; then I hid there too.”
Battle for Cymmera Page 8