“Around the corner,” whispered the man and nodded to his right. “There’s another entrance. Pull on the torch to the left of the wall. It will take you straight to the noble’s quarters of the palace.”
Piper looked at him doubtful, but he nodded reassuringly to her.
“Thank you,” she whispered, and took off as quickly.
“Wait!” called the man. Piper stopped in her tracks, praying whomever had caused the uproar at the main dungeon entrance had not heard. “I didn’t get your name, lovey. Seeing as you’re probably the last pretty face I’ll see before I rot away in here.”
Piper slowly turned to face the man. She held her head high, the light of the torches making her red hair appear as flame in the darkness.
“My name is Piper Romilly. I am Princess Taraniz’s sister, and I will make this right.”
She left the man staring, his mouth hung open in awe. He turned to his cell mates as Piper rounded the corner he had indicated. It ended at a dead end wall, framed only by two torches. The sounds of footsteps were coming closer. She thought she heard the man in the cell shouting for the soldiers’ attention, and she vowed she would pay him back the favor of aiding her escape. She raised a hand to the torch on her left. It would not budge from its bracket. She pulled hard, and heard scraping. The bricks of the wall moved slightly. The uproar of the prisoners increased, and she saw a group of five soldiers run passed her, drawing their swords, and paying no mind to her. She breathed a sigh of relief, pulled the torch with all her strength, and squeezed through the small opening it had created. Moments later she heard the scraping sound again as the torch and its bracket returned to its normal position and the wall slid back into place.
Piper found herself in a small alcove. To her left and right was an enormous, golden hallway with the trunks of trees carved as great columns in the center of the hall. She looked up and saw the branches of the canopy above had been woven together over time, creating a ceiling that would keep any weather out. The sight was somehow familiar to her.
The hall was quiet and deserted. This only made Piper more on edge. She kept her hand poised over the hilt of her sword as she went. Torn between looking for Gran and wanting desperately to find Taraniz, Piper wandered the halls, lost in strange memories. She had visited the palace with Gran on numerous occasions, but it did not seem to help her remember her way through the winding corridors.
Ghostly figures materialized before her down the hall. Piper recognized one as Gran, but from many years ago. Her hair was flecked with honey brown, and she wore it in a knot at the base of her head as Piper remembered when she was very little. The ghostly images faded, and Piper hurried after them.
She wandered the hallway, looking side to side at one closed and locked door after another. She did not have Dimitri’s gift of unlocking doors, and she dared not try wasting her time to pick the locks. Instead, she continued through the halls, growing increasingly more uncomfortable with the lack of people.
The noble’s wing was where members of the royal family, the Conclave of Nobles and select ambassadors kept their rooms and quarters. If an army was ready to march on Mount Kelsii, the noble’s wing should have been crawling with dignitaries, noble messengers, beck-ands, and palace guards. But not a soul stirred in the vast, echoing hall. Piper was certain she could have heard a feather land on the golden tile floors.
The ghostly image of a dress train disappeared through a door toward the end of the hall. Piper ran full out toward it. She did not care how much noise she made. She stopped in the doorway, and saw the ghostly figures of her Gran, an old man she did not recognize and herself as a child.
The figures glided over the moss that served as the floor for the elven library. This was one of the original rooms of the palace. The trunks of the trees were carved into towering book shelves. A partial ceiling had been built around the boughs of the trees, but she might as well have been standing in the middle of the Belirian Forest by the palace butterfly bushes. It was the perfect climate for preserving the delicate skins and parchments of the ancient documents.
“I need a favor of you, Raoul,” said Gran in a distant, echoing voice. “No one must know.” She pulled a piece of parchment from a scroll case she carried and handed it to the man. He stared at it, his expression unmistakably one of shock. He looked at the little girl running her hands and toes through the soft moss at his feet.
“Is she—” he began to ask, but Kaytah held up a hand to silence him.
“No one can know,” she said again.
The figures vanished and Piper was left staring at the vast, empty library. She knew she would never find her birth record in the labyrinth of trees and parchment. She would have to worry about that later. She needed to find Taraniz. She needed to talk to her sister.
Movement caught the corner of her eye. Piper darted into the hall and saw two little girls, one red-haired and one blonde meet at the end of the hall.
“Hello. Do you want to play a game?” Asked the little blonde in the same distant, echoing voice.
“Sure!” said the little red-haired girl. She reached a hand toward the blonde’s outstretched one. A beck-and bustled up behind them. She lifted the little princess from the floor and brushed at her clothes.
“My lady!” cried the woman. “You will dirty your skirts before the banquet tonight! Come along. Your father is waiting.” She grabbed the girl’s hand and pulled her away. The little princess looked sadly over her shoulder at the red-haired girl who waved at her and faded away.
A door opened at the end of the hallway. It creaked slowly and stopped suddenly. No one stood behind it. No hand had turned the intricate knob, or pushed it from its frame. Cautiously, Piper walked toward the door and stopped before a winding stone stair. She took a step, and dust plumed around her boots. With her hand still clutching at her sword hilt, she headed up the stair. Higher and high she climbed. The stair held no windows, and light from the door below quickly faded. She thought she was nearly above the treetops when the stair ended at a small landing and a plain wooden door.
She knew she should have been looking for Taraniz. She should have been trying to find Gran. But Piper reached for the handle on the door. The latch clicked loudly, and dusty cobwebs moved aside as she pushed the door inward.
It was a tiny room, untouched by time for nearly two decades. Dust covered the little dressing table, the carved wooden chairs and the four poster canopy bed. Shackles and chains bound to the wall above the headboard hung innocent and unmoving. Piper gasped, realizing at once where she was. She turned to the dressing table and lifted a hair brush with trembling fingers. She pulled a strand of red hair from its bristles and blinked tears from her eyes again.
She let her fingers roam over the back of the chair that sat before the dressing table. Her mother had sat in that chair, brushing her hair and watching her belly grow – watching Piper grow. The latch to the window was rusted shut. Piper could barely see through the glass, but she was well above the boughs of the trees. She ran a hand over the bedcovers and pinched the lacey trim between her fingers. The top drawer to the bedside table sat ajar. The top of the drawer had been nearly wiped clean of the dust and dirt that sat heavy on the rest of the room. Piper pulled the drawer open. At the bottom was a small, leather bound book, slightly brittle and perfectly preserved. She lifted it, running her hands over every delicate edge, and sat on the bed in a puff of more dust.
Her hands shook as she opened the book to the last pages and read her mother’s final words.
“The time is drawing near now. I know it has not been long enough, but I can feel it in my heart. They will be here within the week. Yes, they. I say they because I know I carry twins. I cannot say how I know this. Perhaps it is the size of my belly, too many kicks in the night for one child alone, a mother’s intuition. I pray my babies will grow up safe and loving, and without magic. This has been like a curse to me, and I can feel such fighting forces of anger welling up inside me— and no, it is not
the morning sickness. I have told Aramor I believe I am carrying a boy. We have agreed to call him Taran. If my first born is a girl, she shall be Taraniz. If my second born is a boy, I wish him to be named Valon after our friend and advisor, Valar, whom has never abandoned me, even after all this time. I care for Aramor, but I can say now that I love Valar, though he will never know. If my second child is a girl, I wish her to be named Eva Ruani, for my grandmother and myself. I know my time is drawing close. My suffering will soon end. I can feel the magic building in my veins, and I am certain I will never survive to see the faces of my beautiful children. I will be at peace once more.”
Tears rolled down Piper’s face. She wiped them away quickly before they hit the delicate words written across the page. Valar had said her name was Eva Ruani, but she had not known it was for her great-grandmother. A knot tightened in the pit of her stomach, but she pushed it away as she turned the pages, willing herself to continue reading.
“Valar came to visit me today. It was so good to see him again. He had been away visiting Duke Ewan in the Rushing Reeds province. We talked about our childhood today. We reminisced about the times we played in the stables and trees as children. What I wouldn’t give now to be picking wildflowers again or climbing a tree. No, not trees, for I have lived too long and too high with nothing more than the birds and boughs for company. But I could not help myself. I could not bear the loneliness any longer. He smiled so warmly, so genuine to me. I kissed him. Damn myself! Aramor, my husband, my king, has abandoned me, and I only long for some kind of comfort. I kissed him, and he kissed me. I had not expected it, and it frightened me. I cried. I told him I loved him, that I think I have always loved him. He said so too, and then he left. He left me. Just as everyone else I have ever loved has left me. I am alone again, with nothing more than these stone walls for company. If this is the way my life shall forever be, then I will leave them too. If my children do not kill me tonight, for I can feel the discomfort of child birth paining me as I write this, then I shall do it myself. I will not be left alone again, and all those who ever loved me will know my pain.”
Piper slammed the book shut. Her tears were gone, replaced with a hot anger that rose inside her. Even if Aramor had not sent her away, she never would have known the love of her birth mother. Runa would have left her, the same way everyone had left the Queen in her tiny tower prison. Runa would have selfishly taken her own life than live to love her children. Piper threw the book on the floor. It slid the length of the room and stopped in the open door way. A pair of embroidered shoes stepped forward, and long, delicate fingers lifted the book from the ground. Piper stood, her hand flying to her sword hilt. The figure pressed the book to her chest in a lovingly.
“Hello, dear sister.” The voice was calm and sweet.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Sisters
“There should not be guards in this area,” Valin whispered. They had reached the edge of the elven palace. Valin had recognized the outlying gardens, and abruptly halted their way when he saw two guards on patrol. They doubled back behind several Belirian trees, and peered out cautiously at the guards beyond.
“They must know she is here,” Dimitri said. His tone spoke of worry, but his face was set hard.
“How are we supposed to get in now?” Jayson asked.
Valin pulled the tabards from his pack. He handed one to each of them, explaining which lord and area he represented.
“Piper would have gone to the dungeons looking for Kaytah first,” said Dimitri.
“If she did, that way’s probably less guarded now. They aren’t going to put more guards in places she’s already been,” said Leo.
“But if she didn’t go there first,” Jack whispered, “It could be crawling with soldiers waiting for her to look for Gran.”
“I believe it is our best chance to begin,” Dimitri replied. They nodded and followed close behind Valin.
They skirted around the same area Piper had followed. Dimitri pointed out a similar set of footprints to those they had been following. They ducked behind the butterfly bushes and nearly tripped over the bodies of Piper’s victims. Jack and Leo looked sick. Jayson couldn’t look at the men at all.
“This must be Piper’s handy work.” Jack’s face was ghostly white as he spoke.
“She killed her own people,” Valin murmured, closing the eyes of one of the men.
“She likely had no choice,” Dimitri said in defense.
“She could have just knocked them unconscious instead.” Leo was as pale as Jack. The shock of what Piper had done washed over him with a wave of unease.
“We don’t know what happened,” Jayson snapped, “We weren’t there. We can’t blame her.”
Jack and Leo exchanged looks and nodded. Valin and Dimitri still appeared uneasy.
“Come, then,” said Valin, and they crept toward the dungeon door.
Jack, Leo and Jayson gagged as the stench of the dungeons hit them when Valin opened the door. They pulled their tabards over their noses and coughed.
“You are squires of some of the greatest lords of Chartile,” said Valin, his eyes narrowed in distain. “Remove your tabards in that manner.”
“We can’t help it,” Jayson choked.
“We need to blend in,” Dimitri replied more empathetic. “You must try. For Piper,” and he led the way through the open door. Valin gestured for them to follow. The boys reluctantly lowered the collars of their tabards and followed close behind. Valin brought up the rear and closed the door behind them.
They were instantly plunged into darkness. Many of the torches that had burned when Piper entered hours before had been taken by soldiers searching the cells and surrounding areas for the intruder. Dimitri grabbed one of the remaining torches from its bracket and followed the main corridor past the cells.
It appeared some of the prisoners had caused a riot. Dead bodies had been carelessly kicked to the side of the walk way, and many in the cells were helping each other nurse wounds to the best of their abilities.
“Oy! You’re with that red hair girl, ain’t yeh!” called a voice from a cell behind them.
They spun around, looking for the voice in the dark. A man, his left eye puffy and swollen shut, leaned against the cell door. He spat a mouthful of blood on the floor and readjusted the arm hanging in a sling. It seemed to have been made from the bottom half of his tunic.
Valin pulled the pack from his shoulder and knelt to extract ointment and bandages.
“You look like you’ve seen the wrong end of one of them guards’ fists,” said the man, pointing to the black eye Piper had given Valin the day before.
“What happened here?” Valin asked, ignoring the man’s probe and instead dabbed at a cut on his eyebrow.
“Some girl came in the back. Don’t know how she got passed the soldiers outside.” He shrugged with his good arm and accepted another cloth with ointment from Valin. He passed it on to a woman behind him with a gash across her forehead. He put it in her hand, raised it to the wound, and patted her shoulder before returning to the onlookers outside his cell. “She asked me some questions about the Princess, then the soldiers came lookin’ for someone. She said she was Taraniz’s sister. I had no reason not to believe her.” He shrugged again and leaned on the cell door. “I told her how to get into the palace, and then told the others that Taraniz’s sister had come to save us. They – well, we really – we started making a commotion to distract the guards.”
“Where did she escape to? Where did you tell her to go?” Dimitri reached through the bars and grabbed the man’s tunic. Valin pulled him away, and Dimitri glared, wiping his hands on his pants.
The man smiled and spat another mouthful of blood on the floor. “So it’s true, eh? I wasn’t sure at first, but any reason to give these damned guards a little hell, and I’m game.”
“Where is she?” Dimitri repeated.
The man backed away from the door a bit, but still continued to smirk. “Around the corner th
ere. It dead ends. Pull on the left torch bracket. It takes you to the noble’s quarters.”
Dimitri took off without a second glance. Valin grabbed his pack and hurried after him, Leo and Jayson close on his heels.
“Thank you,” said Jack. “We’ll do something to fix all this. I promise!” Jack bowed to the man and hurried after his friends.
Jack skidded around the corner and watched Valin pulled the torch bracket at the dead end wall as the stranger had indicated. The secret door slid aside with a deep grinding noise, and they hurried through, hands at the ready on their weapons.
“This way,” Valin whispered, and motioned them toward the library.
Dimitri pressed a finger to his lips emphasizing caution to the boys.
“Where are we going?” whispered Leo at Dimitri’s shoulder. Dimitri ignored him and continued to look side to side, his entire body tense with anticipation of an attack.
The door to the library was open. Valin pressed himself against the wall outside the door, breathing shallow and listening intently. Nothing stirred within, and he dared a peek around the corner. It was empty.
“Let’s split up,” said Dimitri. “We can cover more ground this way.”
“No!” cried Jayson, and his voice echoed in the great golden hallway. “We have to stay together. We promised.”
“Piper did not heed that promise, did she?” Dimitri snapped.
Jayson looked at his feet, a lump forming in his throat.
“Well, we aren’t splitting up,” said Jack, standing beside Jayson and placing a hand on his shoulder.
Dimitri sighed. His shoulders drooped and he rubbed his forehead.
“So be it. You three search the library. She may be looking for the birth records,” said Valin. “Dimitri and I will continue to look for the circlet.” He looked at Dimitri who stood beside him. Though still glaring, Dimitri nodded.
Chartile: Prophecy Page 26