Giving it back to Charles he asked, “How long?”
“I do not know, but soon.”
Clarence nodded and sat upon the chair pulled up closely to the small table that was high and narrow. Upon it was the ledger of the comings and goings of all who passed to and fro the Kingdom of Ohio.
Clara and Charles stared at Clarence, his eyelids heavy. Finally, they drooped closed, and Charles approached him, catching him as he slipped from the chair. “Clarence, Clarence, wake up!”
The twilight drug had worked. Now Clarence was safe from prosecution, the blame placed squarely on their shoulders.
****
They moved quickly through the tunnel, making haste. There would be a rest station only a mile ahead but Charles wished for distance. They needed to arrive at the least-heavily trafficked part of the tunnel, then use the salt mixture to penetrate the sphere wall.
Clara was literally gasping for breath, the clothes she wore a hindrance, the corset constricting her breathing. The crown gleamed like a living thing atop her head.
Charles had stopped to allow a brief rest with water; Clara and he guzzling the lot of it like thieves in the desert.
“I am so tired,” Clara said, dangerously close to complaining.
“It is not much further, Clara,” Charles replied in a calmer voice than he felt.
He drew her body into the circle of his arms and she gradually stilled, wrapping her arms around his waist, resting her head on his breastbone. “Thank you for coming with me. I feel safer with you. And thank you for not hating me.”
Charles pulled back, looking down into her injured face. “I could never hate you. Do not say such. You cannot help who you were born to any more than anyone. We are righting an injustice.”
Charles was not entirely convinced that she believed him.
They replaced the glass bottles of water in the knapsacks. Charles checked his timepiece, thinking that Clarence's replacement would arrive at three o'clock and they needed to breach the sphere at the same time.
Ten minutes hence.
He grabbed Clara's hand and they hurried on.
****
Bracus rode hard, the Band flanking him, Briar Rose a sleek machine beneath him, her breath labored but steady. As the trees thinned on either side and the path narrowed, Bracus slowed, pressing his thighs into her sides, gently squeezing. Briar Rose slowed to a trot, then a walk, stopping as the crest of the hill came into view.
The Band dismounted, leading the horses to a small stream which flowed along the interior forest border. They drank greedy gulps, their sides heaving from the fifteen mile ride.
Philip came to stand beside Bracus, putting one hand up to shield his eyes as he looked upon the sun, ascertaining its position in the sky. “Mayhap two hours past noon.”
“No, I say near three.” Philip leveled a look at Bracus.
Stephen sighed. “We do not have time for sibling rivalry about the time Captain.”
Bracus did not need to be reminded of his duties and turned his penetrating stare to Stephen who threw up his hands, stalking away.
Tempers were short.
Bracus knew that much depended on the success of this mission. He sighed, turning to Philip. “We let the horses have their fill and tether them here.” Bracus indicated the pole they had fashioned for their exploration outside the forest perimeter.
Philip grinned, giving Bracus' shoulder a hard clap.
Matthew approached the pair, his solemn expression unchanged as always. “What is next?”
Bracus outlined the strategy to Joseph, Philip, Matthew and Stephen. Matthew asked thoughtful questions, but it was Joseph who asked the most intelligent, “What if she is guarded?”
“We assumed until most recently, that she would be under heavy guard because of her stature in the hierarchy of the kingdom. Now, we are not sure what is happening,” Bracus shrugged.
Philip said, “It is best for preparedness. Let us assume that she will be under heavy guard.”
“Our females would be!” Stephen scoffed.
“That is our way, our necessity, but sphere-dwellers...” Joseph trailed off with disdain.
“We will have answers soon enough. Let us keep our speculations and curiosities in the back of our minds. We do not need to be inside our heads this day, but cognizant of the dangers,” Bracus said.
Their heads almost touching, leaning over the mock dirt map of approach that Bracus had outlined, they stood, straightening their posture. Philip rotated his massive neck, the muscles bunching and releasing with the movement. Joseph placed one of his hands on the opposite elbow, stretching the arm behind his head, then doing the same for the opposing side.
The Band was restless.
They were ready.
CHAPTER 20
Clara could see the rest stop just ahead, nothing more than a distended crescent along the wall of the sphere. It afforded a bench, towel and a spigot which stood three feet above ground, fed by the underwater copper piping that had been laid by the Guardians over a hundred years past.
As Charles and she approached, she was grateful for the sight of the slender, copper pipe, its goose neck posture a welcome view.
“It will be divine to have another spot of water,” Clara said gratefully. Her sides were burning and her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth.
Charles nodded, gaining his bearings as he looked Outside; everything looked as it always did, the Great Forest Outside a familiar flag post. Turning, he dug for the water bottles again, and filling them, he saw that the cleanse had been most recent as the water from the spigot was still chilled.
Clara accepted her water with a smile, and careful not to gulp, consumed about half. The glorious water slid down her throat like a salve.
Vaguely, Clara became aware of approaching footsteps, but was unconcerned, they came from the neighboring kingdom. It would be at least another hour before additional guards were sent to see why Clarence was in a sleep from which he could not wake. And what of it? Charles and she would be well and away Outside.
Clara felt the first stirring of excitement swell inside her. Even as the circumstances were dire, it would still fulfill her fondest wish: to see the Outside.
Charles set his water down, concern riding his face. “I do not like this.”
“It is fine, just neighboring people traveling on trade day.”
“But we must concoct a deception and dispatch them immediately. We cannot afford to appear...”
“We will not, do not worry.”
Charles looked down at her face and she squeezed his arm, the brushed cotton of his blouse a familiar texture beneath her palm.
The group rounded the corner and Clara's heart fell to her feet: it was Prince Frederic and his royal guard.
****
Bracus and the others lined up at the swell of the hill where the forest met the open valley below, quivers filled and riding high on their muscular backs, the bows strung to their sides.
It was some distance but he thought he could make out the tunnel which led from the main sphere. The place that the sphere-dwellers used to trade goods with one another and travel.
Philip turned to him. “Why do we go here? Should we not acquire her at her chamber? That is where you have seen her before.” he said, his face set in puzzled hard angles.
Bracus shook his head. “No, we enter at the place that has the least of them.” He pointed to a point one-third from where the main body of the sphere met the travel tunnel, steam escaping in lazy spirals. “We will infiltrate here,” he unsheathed an arrow, pointing to a place that bowed out slightly from the tunnel.
Matthew summarized the plan, “We will enter there, retrace our steps, overtake their lone guard and enter the main body.”
Bracus nodded.
Stephen said, “We may meet resistance on our approach.”
“Yes,” Joseph said. “But, Bracus has said we will escape from her chamber, and they would be reluctant to follow; too busy
with filling the hole we have created.” He held up his flask with the salt mixture that each Band member had. Things may occur out of the scope of their expectations, better to be prepared.
Joseph was of sound mind. They all were.
Bracus nodded, time to be about it. The Band carefully looked about them and Bracus gave the special call. The war call.
The shrill, ringing tone carried along atop the light breeze like music on the wind.
CHAPTER 21
“Well, well... my little Princess and her friend are here, how convenient for me,” Prince Frederic said, a knowing smile overtaking his face.
Charles pulled Clara behind him with a firm hand on her wrist.
Clara told herself that they were doing nothing wrong, that the Prince knew what they were about. That she had told him they traveled this day for trading with the Kingdom of West Virginia. But his face... his face told a different tale... and she knew not what it was.
“Did you think I was so stupid that I would not check on your plans? Your travel plans with this fool,” he said in a furious voice that shook with rage, sparing a glance at Charles, who stiffened.
Clara tried to step around Charles to address the prince, but Charles said, “Do not.”
“Prince Frederic, you knew of the Princess's plans to trade this day, what has provoked your ire?” Clara bunched her hand in the fabric of Charles' blouse, the heat of his body seeping into hands that had grown cold.
“We left a sentry behind,” Prince Frederic said as explanation.
Clara's thoughts turned to Clarence. One of the Prince's guard must have come upon Clarence...
Clara, once so adept at containing her expression had allowed some of what she was feeling to show on her face.
The Prince smiled. “I see by your expression you understand what I mean. Search them,” waving a dismissive hand in their direction.
The salt.
Charles thoughts raced, how could he extradite them from this now? Obviously, the sentry had come upon Clarence and communicated this to the Prince. And although he may not know exactly their plan, he must assume it did not include him or the kingdom that Frederic coveted.
Prince Frederic had four guards with him, all of similar size to Charles, he noted with grim uneasiness.
He must protect Clara at all costs.
Charles gave over the knapsack to the guard, the hilt of a hidden dirk lay at the small of his back, the element of surprise may be enough. He had been in training these many years to eventually be in the royal guard, he would need every ounce of that training now.
****
Prince Frederic approached Clara slowly, a shark testing the waters, and she stayed behind Charles, the guards busy ransacking their things.
One of the guards lifted the flask, opening it, he gave it a whiff, moving his palm back and forth over the top, smelling the contents.
He lifted his head. “Salt, Your Highness.”
Prince Frederic came very near Charles and Clara, Charles eyes following each step. “Now what, pray tell, might you want with salt? Diluted salt at that?” he said, eyes narrowing.
“To breach the sphere is to be executed, you are aware, Princess.”
He looked her over very carefully, taking in her royal attire, her crown, the vestiges of which lay awkwardly upon her.
“Very wise to wear your proper royal garb. But it will not save you, for I know what you are about. Your costume did not fool me.”
And with that, he reached his hand out, wrapping it around Clara's wrist, moving the bones together within the steel band of his grip as Charles shouted, “No!” at the same time releasing her other wrist, Charles smashed the flat of his palm in the Prince's face, and blood sprayed in a graceless arc.
He did not hesitate, grabbing the dirk from the small of his back, slashing in a tight, backhanded arc toward the neck of the closest guard at the same time the other guard grabbed his free arm. The first guard lay dying upon the ground, his mortal wound spilling his lifeblood upon the dirt floor of the tunnel. While Charles grappled with the guard who lay hold of his weaponless arm and buried the dirk in his upper chest. Staggering back, hand on the hilt, the guard gave a surprised, wide-eyed glance at Charles, who dismissed him. His full attention on the remaining two guards and now he was without the dirk.
“I think we shall have some sport. Guards, detain this man and make him watch while I teach my betrothed the lessons herein.”
Clara struggled in earnest then, knowing the beating she had suffered would pale in comparison to what she was afraid he meant.
Frederic shoved Clara down to the dirt floor, where she landed on her back, the wind whooshing from her lungs. She struggled to get up, the stays in the corset like unyielding bones which stymied her progress.
He slapped her so hard across her face that her vision dimmed and in her head swelled an impenetrable fog. She was vaguely aware of Charles struggling with the other guards, even so far as to hear the meaty sounds of his fist connecting with their flesh. But the prince was a distraction as he lay atop her, lifting the hem of her dress to her knees, trying to work it higher.
He meant to rape her, with Charles as witness.
Clara bucked and fought.
He struck her again, pinning her wrists above her head with one of his hands, unlacing his breeches with the other and Clara lost all semblance of sanity, screaming wildly for Charles.
****
“Did you hear that?” Matthew asked the others.
Bracus nodded, changing his speed from jogging to sprinting. They moved toward the sphere tunnel as a lethal wall of menace, throat slits fully open, deep red slashes of flesh against their throats. Arriving outside the slightly bulbous outcropping of the sphere tunnel, they were not able to believe the sight which greeted them.
Bracus' breath caught in his lungs, prisoner. A man lay atop the Princess, undoing his breeches with one hand while she screamed for someone and struggled to free herself. But even Bracus could see she was no match for the one that rode her, a male of similar size to some of the smaller Band members.
Philip growled low in his throat, “Gather the flasks!”
Bracus nodded, shouting, “All of them, throw everything on my command...”
“Now!” Bracus' shout penetrated the interior of the sphere.
****
Charles was prone on all fours surviving a well-placed kick to the ribs, still crawling to help Clara when she screamed for him, the plea a stab to his heart, the abhorrent prince trying to have his way with her. He must reach her, he thought, when he heard a powerful yell from Outside.
Prince Frederic froze on top of Clara, his undergarment a thin barrier between himself the Princess and what he wished to defile. Looking over the top of her head he saw men. Huge men, like the rumored Vikings of his ancestry. The gills in their necks like slashes from a knife, opening and closing with their breathing.
Charles and the guards were transfixed when water hit the sphere and a moment passed with the liquid cascading down the outside, hissing and smoking. A tear formed and the fresh air of the Outside reached their lungs for the first time.
Clara was in a dim fog, her dress about her hips, the Prince poised above her when a foot connected with his jaw and he flew several feet away from her. She lay stunned, a dull ache rooting her shoulders to the awkward position above her head as she watched the scene unfold.
Huge men flooded into the confines of the tunnel, working without mercy on the remaining guards, slitting both their throats and dumping their bodies to the ground like garbage. The one who lay on his back, hilt sticking out of his chest like an exclamation point breathed shallowly while one guard came upon him, twisting the hilt while he screamed in agony. Finally, he removed it and slit that guard's throat, turning his head to look at Clara while simultaneously wiping the bloodied blade on the guard's clothing. It was him, Clara thought with a shudder, the savage who frightened her.
He gave her a grim smile and walke
d toward where she lay. Her breath coming in large gasps, she was frozen to the ground, unable to move. She would die here, in this tunnel, surrounded by savages on the dirt floor of the tunnel.
She craned her neck, her vision swimming and saw Charles being approached by two savages, their thick thigh muscles bunching as they squatted in front of him, a battered heap before them.
She screamed, not caring for her own safety but thinking only of him, “Spare him! He is my friend... please, spare him...” she cried in a pathetic whisper, her eyes swimming through a wash of tears.
A fierce face loomed in front of her vision and it was he... the savage she had seen through the sphere wall, the one which looked upon her with tenderness, as he did now.
“Fear not, Princess, no harm will come to you,” Bracus said while lowering her arms down to her sides and lowering her dress. His expression was one of contained rage as his gaze wandered to Frederic, who lay unconscious beside her.
Her head swiveled back to Charles, the two savages kneeling beside him, awaiting the command of their leader. Her eyes met Charles' and he hung his head, realizing that their fate was in the hands of the savages.
Bracus looked down at the Princess and the black spot in his heart spread like ink spilled as he looked upon her injuries, which led his gaze to the large male who lay breathing a few feet away. He knew in his guts that this was the male that had done the first abuse. The other, who lay on the ground near Stephen and Joseph, looked as though he had defended her.
“Bracus,” Philip said, staring down at him but his eyes strayed to the Princess.
“We must go. Let us dispatch these two and take our leave, quickly, before more arrive.” He cast studious glances around them.
Clara lifted a trembling arm, shaking from lack of blood circulation and laid it on Bracus' forearm, her touch light as a feather.
He looked down at the small hand, fascinated by its size, this female was killing him, but his expression remained stoic.
The Princess said, “Please, I beg you, do not harm him, he is my dearest friend. Take me and leave him, please.”
“Clara no! You know not what their intent is!” he shouted, trying to get to his feet, but the guards held him in position.
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