Code Redhead - A Serial Novel

by Sharon Kleve

  Soon two guards trudged up the steps.

  “You left him in the stairway? Alone?” shouted Gillis. “He could have escaped!”

  “No, Lady Sarah subdued him,” said Turner. “Besides, he’s too weak to run away, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, too weak,” said Lucas. “And I have no desire to go home.”

  Sarah returned to find Lucas and two guards in her clinic.

  “That’s much better. Now, before I can do anything with that gaping, oozing neck wound, you’ll have to remove the shackles.”

  “You do not need to fear him, Lady Sarah. He is weak and cannot run very far,” said Turner.

  “Nonetheless, you will stay right here, both of you. Can you get him up on the table?”

  The guards removed the shackles and helped Lucas stretch out on the table.

  Sarah carefully swabbed his open wounds. “I will need the rest of his neck shaved, Turner, while I mix something to dull his pain.”

  “Yes, Lady Sarah,” said Turner. “I was hesitant to get too close to the wound.”

  “Never mind. I will do it. His wrists and ankles will heal, but this neck wound is raw and gaping, and infected from those filthy neck irons. Yes, I must clean this one out and sew it up.” Sarah moved over to her worktable and made an herbal mixture.

  “Drink,” ordered Sarah. Lucas downed the bitter green concoction in three gulps.

  “I hope you are brave, Mist prisoner, and not a screamer, because this is going to hurt.”

  Lucas held her gaze for a moment, then closed his eyes. He remained silent.

  Sarah worked quickly to shave and clean out the wound and sew it up.

  Lucas remained still and quiet.

  “His bandages must be kept clean and dry. I will change the dressings this afternoon. For now, he needs sleep. It is mandatory that he has a clean, warm place to rest comfortably. No chains.”

  “Handcuffs, then?”

  “No, Turner. No restraints on his wrists, ankles, or neck. And he cannot go back to wherever he was held. I am amazed this man is still alive. I have given him something to reduce his fever and numb his pain. It will put him to sleep.”

  “Where shall we put him?” asked Turner.

  “There are small rooms along this corridor that cook uses to store summer produce. They are empty now. Go find one that is warm and dry and close to the clinic while I sit with him,” said Sarah. “I will need to check on him often.”

  The guards left.

  “Thank you, Lady Sarah.”

  “Shh…save your strength, Lucas. That is a nasty wound in a sensitive place. Are you in much pain?”

  “No.” He grimaced.

  “Yes, you are. Close your eyes now and try to rest until the guards return.”

  After the guards returned, Sarah and Gillis went to inspect the small room near her clinic, primarily used for storage. A small cot with a hay mattress was brought into the room.

  “Yes, this will do. Go get him,” said Sarah. “And bring me blankets, three of them.”

  Sarah spread a blanket over the hay mattress. Turner and Gillis carried the groggy prisoner in and placed him on the cot. Sarah covered him with the other blankets and gave him more of the bitter green concoction.

  “You are a terrible cook,” Lucas whispered, making an unpleasant grimace.

  “Hush,” said Sarah, adjusting his covers. “I know this is far from ideal, but it is clean and fairly warm. It will have to do. Gillis went to fetch a pitcher of water.”

  Lucas nodded. “Thank you.”

  “Turner, stay with him. If he stirs, give him water. If not, let him rest. Bring him back to the clinic this afternoon when I call for you. I will send Gillis.”

  “Yes, Lady Sarah,” said Turner. He pulled a stool up to the window and sat.

  “Well, Sarah, what do you think of our royal Mist prisoner?”

  “I do not think of him. I think only of his wounds, Your Majesty. His wrists and ankles will heal up nicely if they remain clean and dry as long as he does not reinjure himself. But that oozing, disgusting neck wound? It is serious. It may have already poisoned his blood. And he has the fever. He may drop dead at any moment.”

  “That would be very unfortunate. He is the last of the Walker line of succession. The Kingdom of the Mist would be plunged into darkness and chaos with no heir apparent.”

  “From what I have heard, they are already there.”

  “No, Sarah,” King Jason said and laughed. “There is good in the Mist Kingdom. They are not all like Theodore. I met with the Mist prisoner’s brother, Prince Marcus, in secret. He was a wise and reasonable man. He was interested in alleviating the suffering of his people. I am sorry he is gone. He was a good man. I think we could have negotiated peace.”

  “Rumors abound that both Mist princes were murdered.”

  “Yes, I heard. But by whom? No one in Marlowe wished the princes dead.”

  “So you think it may have been a highlander who killed them?”

  “I have no idea. I spoke openly in Council of my hopes of ending this futile hostility between the highland and the lowlands. Maybe there is someone who does not desire peace. But who? And why?

  “And that is why I need to know what you think of this youngest prince. Is he smart? Is he reasonable? Does he hunger for peace and unity or is he a warmonger like his father?”

  “I do not know. He has only said one thing to me.”

  “What was that?” asked King Jason.

  “He said, ‘Thank you, Lady Sarah.’”

  “Well, he has manners, at least.”

  “Your Majesty, how did this youngest prince come to be a prisoner here?”

  “I am not sure. One day a hunting party returned to the castle and reported a lone highlander viciously attacked them and killed two of our men. Captain of the Guard Roderick, took chase and captured him. Roderick detained him in the dungeon.”

  “He was not brought before you to answer for his crime?”

  “No. He was never mentioned after that. I forgot about him. It was just recently discovered that the Mist prisoner was Prince Lucas. I need you to question him. I need to know if I can make an ally of him.”

  “What would you have me do, Your Majesty?”

  “I want you to talk to him. I will make a list of questions. I need to know the answers, and if you feel he is truthful and trustworthy. Do you get any sense of what kind of man he is?”

  “No.”

  “Are you still afraid he will vaporize you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you subdue him?”

  “Yes, of course I did, but I do not know how effective my ways are on one of these people. Surely, if the Red Spells worked on the highlanders, my people would still be alive today.”

  “True.”

  Gillis unlocked the door to the small room where Lucas was being kept.

  Turner tapped Lucas on the shoulder.

  “Wake up, Lucas. Gillis is here. We need to take you back to the clinic.”

  “Can you handle him alone? I must attend to a small personal matter,” said Gillis.

  Turned nodded.

  Lucas shook himself out of his deep and dreamy sleep. He steadied himself as he rose from the small cot. Lucas and Turner entered the clinic.

  Sarah was not there.

  “Can I leave you here without you getting into trouble?” asked Turner.

  “Lady Sarah does not wish to be left alone with me.”

  “She is afraid you will vaporize her. Maybe you should tell her what you told me.”

  “I will, if I ever get the opportunity. But for now, she insists on two guards.”

  “Stay here. I will go see what is keeping Gillis.” Turner left the clinic.

  A few moments later, Sarah entered.

  “Do not fear me. I give you my word you will not be vaporized. In fact, there is no such thing. My people have no special powers. We have no access to any weapon capable of such mass destruction. And I am here alone, unarm
ed, and weak. You have been nothing but kind to me. Why would I wish to harm you?”

  Sarah once again laid her hand upon his face.

  “What did you feel when I touched you?”

  “Peacefulness. Warmth. I felt a calmness wash over my very soul. It was like sunshine and blue sky, like fresh air and strawberries. Do you still fear me?”

  Sarah did not answer.

  “This vaporizer gun talk is merely propaganda to make the Mist Kingdom look invincible. It is completely untrue. I do not know what happened to your people. But I do know we did not herd them up and vaporize them. My father could not vaporize a chunk of ice on a hot day. I give you my word no harm will come to you when you are with me. I will protect you. I promise it.”

  “Sweet words, highland prince. But I do not need your protection. I need to change this bandage. Your neck wound is seeping. Does it cause your pain?”

  “No.”

  “Are you feeling any stronger?”

  “No.”

  “No difference at all?”

  “I like my new bedchamber better.”

  “Lucas?”

  “Yes, Sarah?”

  “I fear your life may be in danger.”

  “Yes. I hear I am soon to be executed for murders I did not commit.”

  “No. I mean maybe whomever murdered your brothers will come after you.”

  “Do not fear for me. Mist assassins or public Marlowe execution, I am a dead man either way. I see no way out of this for me. But I am not afraid.”

  “So you think Mist assassins killed your brothers?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “My father has many enemies. And very few friends. Many highlanders would prefer the royal bloodline of King Theodore Walker, the bloody tyrant, to end abruptly.”

  “I want to help you, Lucas.”

  “You have. You are helping me right now. You are…an extraordinary woman, so wise for your years, and tender and gentle. You have a gentleness I have never experienced before. And—”

  Turner and Gillis walked into the clinic.

  “Has he frightened you, Lady Sarah?” Gillis asked. “Leave me alone with him and I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

  “He is already injured and weakened. There is no reason to harm him any further. He assures me he will behave himself. This neck wound is extremely serious. The king wants this prisoner alive. Do not strike him. Or harm him in any way. Do you understand me, Gillis?”

  “Yes, Lady Sarah.” Gillis nodded.

  The guards helped Lucas onto the table and Sarah changed the bandages in silence.

  That evening, Sarah was summoned to the king’s chambers.

  “Well, what have you found out?” asked King Jason.

  “Not much. Prince Lucas is still very ill. He believes his brothers were murdered by their own people. He is resigned to death. I sense no hope or joy in him.”

  “Does he want peace?”

  “Peace? Your Majesty, he expects to be executed soon. He has no reason to work toward a peaceful resolution between the highland and the lowlands of LaMere. You need to give this man… hope.”

  “How, Sarah?”

  “Meet with him. You said you liked Marcus. Maybe Lucas and Marcus are very much alike. He does not wish to return to his father. Discuss a pardon. Offer him something to make him want to go on living.”

  “He must return to the kingdom of Mist if we are to negotiate a peace plan,” said the king. “If not, he is simply another refugee from Theodore’s brutal reign of terror.”

  “Talk to him, Your Majesty. You have nothing to lose, and a peace for all LaMere to gain.”

  “I will think about it. In the meantime, find out his views on peace throughout the country… and where they keep their weaponry.”

  “Their weaponry, Sire? Or their big, bad vaporizer guns? Why not simply send some men down to the dungeon to beat the information out of him?”

  “Now, Sarah dear, you know that is not my way. I am not a man of violence.” The king moved uncomfortably to the window, avoiding Sarah’s gaze.

  Sarah followed him. “So…you already tried it and it did not work.”

  “Yes. He insists they have no specialized weaponry. He also denies they killed all your people.”

  “And you do not believe him?”

  “No, I do not believe him. Where are all the Reds if they weren’t killed by the Misters? One day, your kind populated one-third of our country. The next day, all the Reds were gone. There is no way off this island world. We are surrounded by ocean as far as the eye can see in all directions. You Reds are extremely hard to ambush. And no ordinary weapon could kill your people. And no bodies were discovered. It had to be something more deadly, more advanced than anything we have.”

  “So you were aware the prisoner in the dungeon was Prince Lucas?”

  “Actually, no. Not until he identified himself during the recent, uh, interrogation process.”

  Sarah looked at the king with disappointment.

  “Do not look at me like that, Sarah. I am not a beast. It needed to be done. It was the only way to gain information. I will not apologize for his treatment.”

  “I am feeling quite ill, Your Majesty. May we continue our discussion tomorrow?”

  “Of course. Go rest.”

  Sarah agreed to see Lucas alone in the clinic the next day. The neck wound was seeping through the stitches. She cleansed it, put an herbal salve on it, and re-bandaged his neck. Then Sarah examined Lucas’s wrists. “They are healing up nicely, but I must still bandage them.”

  “Why?”

  “As soon as I say your wrists are healed, you will be put back in those filthy shackles in the dungeon.”

  “Sarah, do not fight it. I appreciate everything you have done for me; the food, the medical aid, the solace, the gentleness, and the true compassion you have shown me. The strawberries. Your gentle touch. But it is a hopeless situation. I am a doomed man.”

  “No.”

  “Yes. The forces against me are much more powerful than one skinny prince and a tiny redhead can handle.”

  “Speak for yourself, skinny prince. I am formidable.”

  Lucas laughed. “Oh, you are? Tell me, wee wizard, can you whisk me away from here? To someplace other than Mist Castle, where my accommodations are outstanding, but my treatment there is only somewhat better than it is here?”

  “Maybe.”

  Turner and Gillis entered the clinic.

  “I am finished with his bandages. You may return him to his room.”

  “He looks much better to me,” said Gillis. “Maybe soon we can return him to the dungeon.”

  “His wounds have begun to heal, but blood poisoning is still a very real possibility. He must rest.”

  “Why does the king want him to be healthy if he is to be executed?”

  “You will have to ask the king that yourself, Gillis. I am not privy to His Majesty’s thoughts.”

  “I think King Jason wants the prince here to help him make peace with the Mist Kingdom,” said Turner.

  “That’s crazed talk, Turner. There can be no peace with the highlanders. They are brutal beasts.”

  “Look at this one,” said Turner. “He is mild and rational. He is not a beast. He is…like us.”

  “No!” shouted Gillis. “He is weak and injured now. Once he is restored to full health, you will see the beast in him emerge.”

  “Boys! Take your discussion elsewhere. Your loud voices are making my head ache.”

  King Jason had a light supper and wine for two, set up when Sarah entered the royal drawing room.

  “What is all this?” asked Sarah.

  “I wanted to show you how much I appreciate your efforts with the Mist prisoner.” Sarah sat down at the table with the king. “Are you hungry?”

  “Always.”

  “So,” he said as he handed her a plate of roasted vegetables. “What else have you learned?”

  “He does no
t wish to go home.”

  “He must!”

  “How? Are you simply going to unlock the door where he is kept and say ‘Go home’?”

  “No.”

  “Has King Theodore sent a special emissary requesting the safe return of his son, the Crown Prince?”

  “No. Unbelievably, no. His last living son is threatened with public execution and he sits idly by. What in the hell is the matter with that man?”

  “Many things, I suspect.”

  “I have announced the date of his public execution. It is to be on the evening of the full moon. And it approaches quickly. If King Theodore does not do something, I will be forced to see to it that the execution is carried out. Wine, Sarah?”

  “Please.”

  “Dimitri,” Sarah spoke quietly into her mobile device while locked in his room. “We need to get the prince out of here soon. The date of the public execution in set for the full moon. Has the computer aligned the personal timelines yet? Do we know if we have the right prince?”

  “Not yet. Jack has no idea how this major screw-up happened. But he’s the only Crown Prince we’ve got left, so weʼll go forward with the plan. Contact me tomorrow night.”

  Two days later, Sarah was waiting for Lucas in the clinic.

  “What’s the matter?” he whispered when he saw her. “Something’s wrong. What is it?”

  “Nothing,” she whispered. “Just trust me. Do as I ask with no questions. I have no time for explanations.”

  Lucas nodded.

  Sarah slowly removed the bandages.

  “His wrists and ankles are healed well enough,” she said to the guards. “Return him to the dungeon. No neck shackle though. This neck wound is still tender and not completely healed.”

  “What? Lady Sarah, are you sure he is well enough to return to the dungeon?” asked Turner.

  “Do not question me, Turner,” said Sarah, holding her head. “There are so many others who are sick and ill. And only one me.”