In Chains

by K. L. Thorne

  Sivelle’s eyes widened with fear. Haros shot her a sympathetic look and stroked her chin affectionately.

  “It’s not ideal, I know.”

  Hearing more guards approaching, Haros led them through a narrow stone archway. Sivelle knew they were approaching her favourite fountain, a place that was usually so comforting was now dark and terrifying.

  They crept along the walkway. There were guards everywhere in this part of the garden, the paths were lit up with torches bobbing back and forth.

  Haros and Sivelle tucked tightly against one of the pruned hedges as a king’s guard soldier strode by. He failed to notice them. Once he had passed, they snuck out from their hiding place and darted into the next shadowed hedge.

  Sivelle was no expert, but she recognised the calm, masterful persona of her demon. This sneaking around, living on a knife-edge, was clearly something he’d had more than a bit of practice at. Sivelle had never really had cause to dig too deeply into Haros’s past. She made a mental note to ask some questions if they ever made it out alive.

  The castle’s main portcullis, the same one they had used to attend the fayre, was still open. Sivelle spotted it in the distance. Strangely, it appeared to be unoccupied. Where were all her father’s men? Surely they would have shut it, trapping them inside the castle grounds?

  Haros didn’t speak, just caught her eye and pointed across to the portcullis. When Sivelle shook her head, Haros cast her a questioning look.

  “What if it’s a trap?” she whispered.

  Haros simply shrugged and shot her a cocky grin. Sivelle scowled disapprovingly, but didn’t have much time to consider it as Haros yanked her from their shadowy hiding place.

  “Demon!” a soldier yelled as they sprinted across the path, leaping over a small hedge and stumbled across a large open snowy area.

  Soldiers began chasing them and an arrow was loosed from nearby. It whistled through the air and hit the ground just shy of Sivelle’s leg. She squealed in terror and ran on, her pace increasing as adrenaline coursed through her veins.

  As they approached the portcullis, Sivelle saw the iron gate beginning to lower.

  “Shit!” she heard Haros hiss and he sped ahead, practically dragging her off her feet as she attempted to keep up with his blistering pace.

  More soldiers appeared, standing in preparation to guard the gate and prevent them from escaping. Haros didn’t slow his pace as he approached. He dodged a blade and rammed straight into one of the soldiers, knocking him to the ground.

  He released Sivelle’s hand as he stopped to fight off the three men. A fourth was sprinting across the garden to join them.

  “Go! Get on the other side!” Haros yelled at her.

  Sivelle blinked, taking a moment for his words to sink in. She glanced at the slowly lowering gate and then back at the demon.

  “Not without—” she began.

  “I’m coming!” he yelled furiously. “Just get on the other side! Quickly!”

  In a panic, Sivelle scampered beneath the gate, hiding just out of sight. She listened with bated breath as Haros fought. Swords and metal clanged loudly, along with grunts of effort and hisses of pain.

  She watched with wide eyes as the portcullis continued to close. The opening becoming smaller and smaller.

  “Haros!” she yelled, her panic overwhelming her.

  Sivelle saw her demon expertly disengaged from his opponent. As the men leapt for him, grabbing him and pulling him back from escaping, he turned and blasted them with a burst of majicka.

  It was only a stun, one of the few enchantments Sivelle could actually cast herself, but it was enough to disorientate the soldiers for a second. Haros ran forwards, skidding beneath the gate to join her.

  The gate clanged closed and a soldier started yelling. Haros and Sivelle darted away down a dark alley and they heard the gate being opened once more behind them.

  She and Haros ran hand in hand, gasping for breath, through the dark, gloomy streets of Awrelwood.

  A vagrant appeared from a side-street and Sivelle barged into him. The poor man went flying, Sivelle only remained upright because Haros steadied her.

  “Sorry!” she yelled over her shoulder as they continued on.

  “You crazy fucking bitch!” the man yelled after them.

  They didn’t pause, just continued running. Haros dived down alleyways, changing his direction in an attempt to lose the guards who were in hot pursuit.

  They stumbled out into a wide courtyard area and an unsuspecting king’s guard soldier startled, blinking wide eyed at them with surprise.

  “For fuck’s sake,” Haros hissed beneath his breath and sprinted onwards.

  The soldier jumped to life, fumbling with his sword as he gave chase.

  Sivelle’s heart felt like it was going to burst. Her head ached and her lungs were shredded by the ice-cold air as she sucked it in with harsh, fast breaths. Still she followed, fighting to keep up.

  Haros practically threw them down a narrow, icy stairwell, taking the steps two and three at a time in his haste. Sivelle stumbled gracelessly after him. They turned down another dark alleyway.

  This street had a deep groove running down the centre. Water from melting snow coursed through the channel, heading for the sewers.

  Haros turned and followed the water. Sivelle splashed through dirty, slushy snow, splattering mud and water up her legs.

  When the water channel turned off, pouring over the edge into a sewer pipe below, Haros skidded to a halt.

  “Come on, quick – down here!” he instructed, dragging Sivelle to the edge.

  “Down there?! Are you serious?” she gaped.

  The sewer pipe was easily big enough to travel through, though Haros would have to stoop considerably. The acrid smell of mould and fermenting plant debris wafted from the dark entrance. A rat squeaked nearby.

  “As a heart attack, sweetheart. Quickly, climb over.” Haros pushed her again, glancing warily over his shoulder

  Sivelle huffed but allowed Haros to heft her up over the stone wall. She dropped carefully over the edge into the water below. It splashed up, soaking her. She waded through the ankle-deep water towards the sewer pipe and Haros dropped down to join her.

  The demon hunched as he stepped into the dark mouth of the pipe first. Determining it was safe, he held out his hand for Sivelle. She took it and allowed him to lead them into the darkness.

  Though Haros’s palm glowed with majicka, helping to light the way ahead, Sivelle still stumbled and tripped. She didn’t want to give too much thought to the mulchy feeling underfoot.

  “It stinks down here,” she grumbled.

  “Just be grateful this is a storm drain, not one of the latrine pipes,” Haros whispered. Sivelle could hear the grin in his voice.

  “How do you know this pipe isn’t a dead end?” she asked.

  “I don’t, but the water is flowing somewhere. All sewer pipes eventually lead out, it’s just a matter of figuring out how far away from the end we are.”

  Sivelle startled as something scurried over her foot. She jostled into Haros’s back.

  “Don’t be such a baby, it’s only a rat,” he chided.

  “Only a rat?!” Sivelle gasped, her body growing cold with terror.

  The demon chuckled softly and squeezed her hand in his. Sivelle followed on obediently. She squinted through the darkness, on the lookout for more unpleasant surprises.

  They walked in silence for a long while, just listening to the splashing of one another’s footsteps in the deep water. Sivelle’s feet had long since grown soggy, her boots squelching uncomfortably with every step.

  Eventually Haros came to a halt. Sivelle peered around his body, trying to get a look ahead. Faintly, glistening in the distance, was the outside world.

  “Is that…?” Sivelle asked.

  “The end of the pipe? Fuck I hope so,” Haros replied.

  They strode onwards, invigorated and hopeful. Sivelle peeped around Haros every few
minutes, relieved to see the exit looming closer and closer.

  A bitter wind howled around the mouth of the pipe, sending spooky screams and whistles echoing around them. Sivelle shivered as the dank sewer air became crisp and fresh once more.

  There was a metal grate blocking their way. Haros released Sivelle’s hand to give it a testing shove. Though the construct was made from solid iron, the metal was eroded and flaking away. Its joints were old and badly deteriorated and the construct bent encouragingly as the demon pushed his weight against it.

  “Fuck, I’m exhausted,” Haros sighed, slumping against the grate. “I’ve used a lot of majicka in a short space of time.”

  “Are you going to be able to get us out of here?”

  “Yeah, we’ve come too far to give up now. How many incantations do you know? Do you know any spells that could be useful here?”

  “Very few and I’m gravely out of practise. I’m not sure I would be of any use to you,” Sivelle replied sadly.

  “Oh, I don’t know about that,” Haros playfully swatted her bottom.

  “Seriously?” Sivelle cast him an incredulous look and fought a smile.

  Haros simply grinned before inspecting the metal grate. He frowned thoughtfully.

  “I should have enough left to get some heat into these joins. They’re pretty flimsy, a bit of encouragement and I bet we could break through them.”

  Sivelle watched curiously as Haros closed his eyes and focussed. He wrapped a palm around the edge where the grate met the pipe.

  They waited in silence for a few moments, but slowly Sivelle saw the grate beginning to glow in the darkness. Soon it was red hot and the wet metal hissed beneath Haros’s grip.

  “Push against it for me, sweetheart,” Haros asked, opening his eyes and frowning with determination.

  Sivelle strained with all her might against the grate, pleased when it steadily started moving. She continued to barge her weight into it.

  “Just a bit more, one hard shove,” Haros hissed.

  As Sivelle took a slight run up, Haros released his grip and slammed his own weight against the metal grate. They hit into the bars in unison and the grill shunted forwards, snapping away from the walls of the pipe.

  “We did it!” Sivelle beamed.

  “Now we just need to do the same again for the other side,” Haros swiped a hand down his face wearily.

  Sivelle cast him a concerned look. The demon was tired. Expending majicka was a gruelling business.

  Nevertheless, Haros steeled himself and placed his hands in the same position on the bar at the opposite side of the pipe. This one was a little less corroded and would require a bit more persuasion.

  Sivelle growled beneath her breath as she did her utmost to help her demon. The quicker they got through this, the better.

  Haros’s arms began to shake as the last dregs of his majicka coursed through him. Once again, the metal glowed red hot and they shoved against it together.

  Sivelle and Haros collapsed forward in a heap as the grate gave way and clattered loudly. The noise echoed away down the sewer pipe.

  They got to their feet and shuffled to the open mouth, looking out warily at the dark forests of Hestaesia.

  The water flowed over the edge of the pipe, trickling down into a murky, algae-ridden pond of muck. A chorus of frogs croaked, startled by the sound of the metal grate collapsing.

  “Nearly there,” Haros smiled and crawled forwards to clamber out. He nearly lost his footing on the slimy rocks and jerked to grab the edge of the pipe.

  “Careful!” Sivelle gasped.

  “It’s really slippery out here, take your time.” Haros warned, with a short laugh. He held the pipe for support and reached a hand out to help Sivelle.

  She stretched her leg out, feeling around with her toe for stable ground before trusting her footing.

  Her second leg joined the other and though she wobbled for a moment, she remained upright.

  “Okay, now, carefully…” Haros released his grip on the pipe and took an unsteady step forward.

  Another rat, much larger than any she had ever seen, jumped from a nearby patch of shrub. Sivelle yelped and startled. Her legs slid out from underneath her and, in her panic, she grabbed hold of Haros.

  The demon’s footing wasn’t strong enough to hold them both upright. With a crash, they fell into the shallow bog. Sivelle’s scream was cut short as she took in a mouthful of gloopy pond water.

  Several more frogs and another rat darted away in surprise.

  “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Haros laughed, wiping brown sludge from his face as he sat up. He held their satchels up out of the water. Though they were splashed and a little damp in places, the contents were mostly unsoiled.

  Sivelle spat out her mouthful in disgust and shuddered. She was soaked, splattered head to toe in thick, stinking mud.

  They looked at one another for a moment. Haros started laughing again, hesitantly getting to his feet.

  “It’s really not funny.”

  He held out a hand for her before quickly retracting it. “Actually no, you’re the one who pulled me in, you can get yourself out,” he teased.

  “Haros!” Sivelle whined.

  There was a thick schlup as she pulled her bottom from the grime. When her legs waivered once more and she wobbled precariously, Haros darted forwards and grabbed her tunic. She just about remained upright and cast him a thankful grin. He just shook his head in despair.

  They both leapt gracelessly out from the bog, thankful to be on firm, frozen ground once more. They paused for a moment, catching their breath and Haros rung out his now brown silk shirt.

  “We’re going to need to get going,” he muttered. “We’re going to get cold quicker now we’re soaked.”

  “Sorry! I really hate rats,” Sivelle mumbled, nibbling her lip guiltily.

  Haros grinned. “You will be sorry, but let’s just get out of here before those soldiers realise we’ve escaped through the pipes. Our tracks will lead them straight here, so we can’t dally.”

  Haros grasped her hand firmly in his and they took off through the woodland.

  Though it was pitch black, Sivelle glanced around curiously. For thirty years she had been gazing from her balcony at these beautiful forests. Now she was walking through them. It all felt so surreal.

  She took in a deep breath, hoping to smell the pines and wondering if they smelt as wonderful as she had imagined but instead all she got was a whiff of herself, saturated in pond water.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Haros and Sivelle squelched their way up a snowy bank and out onto a deserted track. It was undoubtedly one of the main routes into the castle. Though they were alone, the snow had been recently disturbed by cart wheels. Only a fine dusting of fresh snow covered them.

  It was now bitterly cold and, soaked to the skin in pond sludge, Haros began to shiver. The back of his thin silk shirt, shredded by Lazuli, hung limply at his sides and snow bit at his bare skin.

  He glanced at the princess beside him. Her teeth were chattering and her eyes had that glazed look again. They needed to find somewhere safe to lay low and warm up.

  Haros recalled Cirro’s advice about the stables. He wondered if they would be able to make it there before they froze to death. He glanced up and down the road, trying to decide which direction they should head in.

  Echoing through the fog came the heavy thud of hooves. A horse and rider approached. The rider was well wrapped up against the weather and his horse snorted with alarm as it spotted Haros and Sivelle on the roadside.

  The rider pulled their horse to a halt and yanked down a snood to reveal a dark beard. The man narrowed his eyes with suspicion before cautiously nudging his horse on with his heels.

  “Are you alright Miss?” he asked Sivelle, casting his eyes warily over Haros.

  Sivelle snapped back to life, surprised that the man had addressed her. “Oh, well no, not really. We’re terribly lost.”

&
nbsp; Haros almost smiled. The princess was getting the hang of this fugitive business. He stood back, keen not to interrupt.

  “Is this demon bothering you?” the rider asked.

  “Goodness, no. He’s my thrall.”

  Haros held up his manacles as proof and the faerie visibly relaxed. He adjusted himself on his horse and Haros saw the man’s hand slip away from the hilt of the sword at his waist.

  “You look to be in a sorry state, that’s for sure.”

  “We lost our footing…it’s a long story. I don’t suppose you know the road to Rosenhall, do you?” Sivelle asked hopefully.

  “You’re on it,” the man replied. “But you’re a fair way off the castle, if that’s where you’re headed.”

  “Why ye—”

  “No, we’re here on business. My mistress has a horse to collect, but we lost the map we were given. Do you know of the stables along this road?” Haros interrupted.

  The faerie chewed on something before spitting into the snow. His horse shifted beneath him, eager to get from the freezing blizzard.

  “Riley’s place? I know it.”

  “Could you set us in the right direction?” Sivelle pleaded.

  The faerie cast his eyes over them again and a frown formed on his brow.

  “It’s back two or three miles south,” he turned a little in his saddle to point in the opposite direction. “I’ve got to be honest Miss, it’s not wise to travel these roads alone.”

  “I’m not alone,” Sivelle gestured to Haros.

  “Hm, I suppose.” The rider glanced at the demon’s sodden silk shirt and wrinkled his nose. Without another word, he dug his heels into the side of his horse. The creature picked up a trot and the man pulled his snood back over his face.

  “Thank you!” Sivelle shouted. The man simply held up a hand and disappeared into the snow storm.

  “At least we’re on the right road,” Haros sighed with relief. “That’s a start.”

  They began walking in the direction the rider had indicated, keeping to the dark shadowy edges of the road. Haros was prepared to leap into the forest at any moment, his ears strained for signs of anyone approaching. A soft giggle drew his attention.