Destroy: (The Blades of Acktar 3.5)

by Tricia Mingerink

  Keevan struggled to his feet, the tilting in his head getting worse. He squeezed his eyes shut and gripped the girl’s arm until some of the dizziness halted.

  Opening his eyes, he staggered to the horse and gripped the halter to keep himself standing. His stomach heaved with the pain pounding through him. In all his life, he’d never felt this truly awful before.

  Was this God’s punishment on him? Keevan had used his looks, his voice, to lure that maids into kissing him. Maybe God was punishing Keevan for that now, since Keevan’s father had never bothered doing so. A fitting punishment. No more voice. No more fine words and witty charm. No more good looks.

  The girl rolled their blankets into neat bundles and set them next to the saddlebags. When she’d gathered everything, she placed the saddle blanket onto the horse’s back. The horse switched its tail and shied as far as its hobbled front legs would allow. Her mouth set in a line, the girl gripped the saddle and heaved it from the ground. The tendons in her neck straining, she could barely lift the saddle past her waist, probably because she was trying to lift it only by the saddlehorn.

  Keevan reached for the saddle, staggered, and gritted his teeth. He couldn’t pass out. Not now. This girl would never be able to heave his limp body onto the horse.

  Gripping the back of the saddle, he helped her swing the saddle onto the horse’s back. Pain burst across his face, and next thing he knew, he was on his knees on the ground, gagging and gasping for breath.

  “Are you all right? Please don’t pass out on me again.” The girl shook his arm, rattling his teeth.

  If she kept shaking him like that, he might pass out sooner rather than later.

  With her help, Keevan managed to climb back to his feet. Gritting his teeth and fighting his swirling vision, he did his best to position the saddle correctly. Grasping the girth strap, he tried to pull it tight, but his arms trembled.

  The girl took the girth strap from him and pulled it tight. When it came time to tie it off, she started muttering again, fiddling with the leather strap.

  Keevan gripped the saddlehorn and shook his head. If he wasn’t about to collapse, he’d let go of the saddle and show her the correct way to tie it off.

  After a few attempts, the girl finally got it right, mumbling something about how her brothers would be proud of her.

  Brothers. Where were Keevan’s brothers and parents? Keevan swallowed and nearly buckled under the agony that ripped through his neck. Still, that agony was small compared to the tearing in his chest.

  He couldn’t think about them, especially since he didn’t know what had happened to them. For all he knew, they were all right.

  The weight in his stomach told him they weren’t. Nothing was all right.

  Between the two of them, Keevan and the girl managed to get the horse’s bridle on and strap the saddlebags and blankets onto the horse’s back.

  When they were all packed, Keevan’s face and neck throbbed, scattering black spots across his vision. He swayed and gripped the saddlehorn. Would he be able to drag himself into the saddle?

  He didn’t have a choice. He grabbed the saddlehorn and the back of the saddle, stuck his foot into the stirrup, bounced on the other, and heaved himself upward. He almost made it, but he didn’t have enough strength for the last few inches.

  The girl shoved against his back, and Keevan fell into the saddle, gasping. Pain tore across his face. The prairie and the horse’s ears blurred.

  “I’m sorry, Your Highness, but I think it would be best if we tied you to the saddle. If you pass out, I’m not sure I’ll be able to hold you on.” The girl held up a length of rope, biting her lip as if she wasn’t sure how he’d react.

  He nodded as much as he could, and even that much movement slashed pain down his neck.

  She wrapped the rope around his waist and the saddlehorn. He tried to help her as much as he could, but his hands were shaking, too weak to even tug the knot tight.

  After he was securely tied on, the girl stuck her foot into the stirrup and scrabbled up behind him, settling into a spot nestled in the blanket rolls and saddlebags. Instead of gripping him around the waist, she curled her fingers into the rope holding him on. “Do you want me to have the reins, or do you have them, Your Highness?”

  He flexed his fingers around the reins. Until he passed out, he’d direct the horse. It was one thing he could control. He swiveled as much as he could and tilted his head at her, hoping she took the hint. What direction were they supposed to be heading?

  “Did you want something, Your Highness?”

  He waved a hand at the prairie around them, then pointed back at her. If he could talk, then he could simply ask her. Opening his mouth, he tried to get a word out, but nothing came besides a wisping croak.

  “Are you all right? Is your face hurting worse? What do you need?”

  He gritted his teeth. Couldn’t this fool girl figure out he was trying to ask for directions? Nudging the horse, he turned it in a circle, glanced at her, and shrugged.

  “Oh! You don’t know where we’re going, do you? I guess you were kind of unconscious for that part. We’re headed to Walden.” She dug into her pocket and pulled out a compass. After holding it flat on her palm for a few minutes, she pointed over the horse’s right shoulder. “That way. This is going to be so much easier now that you’re awake. You can guide the horse while I check direction, and I don’t need to worry about holding you steady or checking that you’re still breathing. I was so worried you’d just stop breathing on me, and I wouldn’t know what to do, and after all we went through to get you out, you’d still die on me.”

  Keevan sighed and pointed the horse in the direction she’d pointed, focusing on an especially large tuft of grass as his marking point to keep himself headed in a straight line. He probably shouldn’t be bothered by her chatter. If he couldn’t talk, she might as well fill the silence.

  The silence was the worst of all.

  4

  Addie could barely keep her eyes open when their horse staggered over a rise overlooking a lighted town. She checked her compass in the light of the waning moon. If she’d steered them in the right direction, then this was Walden. Against the deep purple horizon, cliffs and mountains rose deep and black.

  She’d pushed them with too little rest, but Prince Keevan’s condition had deteriorated throughout yesterday and today. He sagged in the saddle, held on only by the ropes she’d tied around him. Last she’d checked, he’d been far too hot, his wound inflamed. She didn’t have the skills to help him, and Captain Stewart had been clear to trust only Lord Henry.

  She rode through the nearly deserted streets and pointed their horse toward the stone manor house rising at the end of the road. As she turned into the open space in front of the manor’s main door, a guard stepped out of the shadows and grabbed her horse’s halter. “Where do you think you’re going, miss?”

  “I need to see Lord Henry Alistair right away. It’s urgent.” Addie gripped the horse’s reins tightly. In front of her, Prince Keevan sprawled onto the horse’s neck. He must have lost consciousness some time ago. She didn’t have time to waste arguing with a guard. “Please. I must see him at once.”

  “Lord Henry has no wish to be disturbed at this time of night, especially not with trivial matters.” The guard tugged on her horse’s reins.

  “This man is wounded. I can’t wait.” She waved at the prince. If only she could tell the guard who he was. Then the guard would jump to attention. But she didn’t dare tell anyone except Lord Henry Alistair.

  “Bring him to the healer in town. It’s none of Lord Henry’s concern.”

  “I bring news from Nalgar Castle. For his ears only.” She had to convince this guard somehow.

  The guard snorted and shook his head. “Like the king would send a little snip of a girl to carry his messages. Now go find a place in town. You can try again in the morning.” He yanked on her horse’s reins, turning it toward town.

  She tugged on the
reins, and the horse snorted and shied from the competing pressures on the bridle. “Let go of my horse!”

  The guard clamped a hand on her ankle. “Go quietly or I’ll be forced to arrest you.”

  “Let go of me!” She kicked at him. Prince Keevan didn’t have time to wait until morning. She needed to get past this guard.

  “What’s going on here?” A voice asked from the darkness. A boy stepped into the light of the guard’s torch. He looked to be about sixteen with a mop of dark hair above a round face and square jaw.

  Despite his youth, the guard stepped away from Addie and gave the boy a half-bow. “Lord Shadrach, my apologies for disturbing you. I was just escorting these vagrants into town.”

  Lord Shadrach…must be one of Lord Henry’s sons. Addie had heard he had several children, though she’d never paid much attention to them when Lord Henry had visited Nalgar Castle. She met the boy’s eyes. “Please. I must see Lord Henry right away. I can’t explain now, but it’s important. A matter of life or death.”

  The boy studied her with dark, brown eyes. He rested a hand on the short sword belted at his side, his slim shoulders squared. With a final nod, he turned to the guard. “I’ll take them to my father. I believe she’s telling the truth.”

  The guard’s jaw clenched, and he glared at Addie. “Dismount.”

  She slid from the horse, her knees nearly giving out. She tottered over to Prince Keevan. He was unconscious, his skin hotter than it should have been given the cool, autumn air curling around them.

  Lord Shadrach led the way across the lawn. He helped the guard untie Prince Keevan and together they carried him inside and laid him on the floor in the entry of Walden Manor. Addie stared at the grand staircase rising to the second floor. Dark, wood paneling lined the walls while burgundy rugs covered the stone floor. On the wall above the staircase’s landing hung a large painting depicting a battle.

  “Wait here while I fetch my father.” Lord Shadrach hurried down a corridor on the other side of the staircase. Addie shifted from foot to foot, wringing her hands to restore feeling to her fingers. Would Lord Henry take the time to see her?

  Scuffing boots drew her attention back to the corridor. A tall man with dark brown hair and beard strode into the candlelight, trailed by Lord Shadrach. The matching square jaw and brown eyes told Addie the older man must be Lord Henry Alistair.

  His gaze swiveled from her to Prince Keevan sprawled on the floor. Both eyebrows shot up, his eyes going wide.

  Addie couldn’t let him ask any questions here, not while others could overhear. Captain Stewart had stressed secrecy above all else. Swallowing and trembling, she stepped forward and hurried through a curtsy when Lord Henry’s mouth began to open. She forced herself to speak before he could. “I’ll explain, but not here, sir. Captain Stewart at Nalgar Castle told me to only speak to you.”

  Lord Henry studied her, as if trying to figure out what a scullery maid in a dingy dress was doing in Walden Manor’s entry hall with the wounded prince. Addie wrapped her arms over her stomach. In the safe, comfortable world of three days ago, there would’ve been no explanation.

  But Acktar wasn’t the same as it had been three days ago. Even if no one even knew it yet.

  Apparently Lord Henry couldn’t think of a reasonable explanation because the wrinkles remained on his forehead when he turned to the guard. “Take her horse to the stable and return to your post.”

  The guard nodded, his mouth pinched, and scurried out the door. As soon as the door clacked shut behind him, Lord Alistair hurried to Prince Keevan’s side. “Shad, fetch the healer. Miss, can you help me get him upstairs?”

  After heaving him into the saddle that morning by herself, carrying him up the stairs should be no problem. Addie grabbed Prince Keevan’s legs while Lord Henry lifted his shoulders. They maneuvered up the broad staircase. Addie’s palms grew slick, but she dug her fingers into the prince’s boots. She refused to drop him. She’d grown up scrubbing pots and hauling water. Surely she could haul the prince up one flight of stairs.

  They reached the top and shuffled along the upstairs corridor to a room all the way at the end of the hallway. Lord Alistair managed to open the door, and they hauled the prince inside. In the dark, Addie got an impression of a bed, a thick rug, and one tiny window set in the far wall.

  She dropped the prince’s legs on the bed just as footsteps pounded in the hall. Lord Shadrach burst into the room, an old man huffing at his heels. The man carried a leather satchel while his grey hair spiked around his head. Lord Henry lit the lamp and several candles while the healer set his bag on the bedside table.

  When the healer turned to the prince, he started and shot a glance at Lord Henry.

  Lord Henry gave a slow nod. “I know. I don’t know what happened yet, but you’ll understand why this has to be kept in absolute secrecy.”

  “You have my word.” The healer returned his own, slow nod.

  Addie didn’t know how the healer had recognized Prince Keevan so quickly. Had the healer worked at Nalgar Castle? Or had the royal family visited Walden Manor enough for the healer to recognize him?

  Though, based on his glances between his father and the healer, Lord Shadrach hadn’t figured out what was going on, so it probably wasn’t the latter explanation. Not that it really mattered. Lord Henry seemed to trust this healer, so Addie had to as well. Now that she’d reached Walden Manor, her task was done. All she had to do now was report to Lord Henry and leave everything in his hands.

  While the healer laid out his supplies, Lord Henry clapped his son on the shoulder. “Stay here and assist the healer. Don’t let anyone else enter this room.”

  As Lord Shadrach moved closer to the healer, Lord Henry beckoned for Addie to follow him. Her stomach squiggling into knots, she trailed him from the room and down the stairs. If only Captain Stewart was here to explain. He seemed to know what was going on much better than she did.

  Lord Henry led her into what looked like his study. Bookshelves lined the walls while an alcove window seat curved under a bank of windows, the drapes drawn back. The desk stood off to the side under a map of Acktar that covered a large portion of that wall.

  Lord Henry slid into the seat behind his desk and motioned her to take a seat in one of the brown, leather chairs placed in front of the oak desk.

  Addie perched on the edge of one, ready to jump to her feet if she had to. She’d never sat in the presence of a lord before. She was a scullery maid. But right now, her feet ached too much to refuse the chair he’d offered.

  He steepled his fingers. “Would you care to explain what happened to Prince Keevan and how you ended up here?”

  How could she explain? There seemed to be so much. Too much blood. Too much death. Too many screams. Should she start with the king’s death and get that over with? Or start at the beginning as she’d discovered everything?

  “I…” She ran her tongue over her lips. “Two nights ago, I was working late and was going through the royal family’s wing when I saw movement. I hid in a linen closet and watched while four boys dressed in black crept down the hallway and…and…”

  She curled her fingers into the chair’s seat, the leather squeaking. She saw again the blood. Thirteen-year-old Prince Duncan’s mutilated body.

  “You’re safe here.” Lord Henry’s voice was soft.

  But he didn’t understand. None of them were safe. Not anymore. And Addie’s family was still at Nalgar with those killers.

  Addie blinked, and something hot trickled down her cheek. “They killed them, sir. The boys in black killed the princes except Prince Keevan. I found him, hurt and choking, and I tried to stop the bleeding. Captain Uriah Stewart and six of his men found us like that. They got us out and told me to ride here, that this was the only town he could trust besides Stetterly.”

  Lord Henry sat bolt upright now, his steepled fingers frozen a few inches above his mouth. “The king? Is he still alive?”

  “No. I never saw his body, but
one of Captain Stewart’s men did. He said…he said Lord Respen Felix was parading the king’s body around the courtyard.”

  Lord Henry’s hands clenched into fists. “Lord Respen Felix is behind all this? What does he want?”

  “I don’t know.” Her words were shakier, more a wail than words. The horrors of that night, ignored during her desperate ride to Walden, shook through her limbs and down her back. “I don’t know what he wants. I don’t know what is going on. Captain Stewart said all the generals were dead, and then we went through the guest apartments, and there were women crying and bodies, and I think some of the nobles were killed also, and I just don’t know.”

  “All the generals are dead? Were they sure? Even General Hannoran?” Lord Henry went rigid, his hands sinking into white-knuckled fists on the desk. “And my father? Lord Farley Alistair. Did you see him? Is he alive?”

  “I don’t know. I’m sorry, but I don’t know.” Addie shook. She was crumbling. “Captain Stewart stayed behind to help get people out, and I’m sure he’ll send a message as soon as he can. But that night, it was chaos. No one knew what was happening.”

  Lord Henry rested his head in his hands. She couldn’t blame him for the silence, for the slump to his shoulders. She’d just told him their world had fallen apart in a night. They didn’t even know the full scale or cost yet.

  “There is one thing. I think Captain Stewart faked Prince Keevan’s death. At least, he tried to. I don’t know if it succeeded. He had his men bring in another body as we were smuggling Prince Keevan out.”

  Lord Henry sighed and scrubbed his face. “So it’s possible Lord Felix doesn’t know Prince Keevan survived. Thus your secrecy when coming here.”

  “Yes.” Addie flexed her fingers against the leather seat. That was their reality now. The faint hope that this Lord Respen Felix might not know Prince Keevan was alive. A prince who couldn’t talk and might even be dying for all Addie knew about healing.

  Lord Henry rubbed his hands across his beard. Lines etched into his face, as if her words had added years’ worth of burdens. “Forgive me. I’ve forgotten my manners. What’s your name?”