"Here we are," she said as Deswald deftly lifted his body through the trapdoor and found that they were standing between shelves stocked with barrels in a well-lit cellar.
She motioned to the mask in his hand, "put that on," she commanded.
There was something about her that made him comply to her every request and it was not just because she was his only way in. She was the kind of woman that commanded respect and immediate action just by the way she stood, even though she was dressed like a servant. A smiled threatened his lips as he thought of how much like Nyla she was, he hoped that they would get to meet each other when this was over. Deswald nodded and pulled the mask over his head, then shrugged off the heavy cloak to reveal his merchant's attire.
"Can I ask you something?" he said, holding her gaze.
She looked at him with those unreadable eyes, "quickly," she said sharply.
"Why are you doing this?"
She placed her hand on the door knob behind her, Deswald could hear that the commotion going on behind it was more than likely an extension of what he had just left outside.
The woman grunted "because your king is my king, as is your princess" she replied.
"You belong to the community,” he said, barely noticing her nod.
“Then why do you stay here? How can you stomach it?" Deswald prodded.
For the first time her stony expression cracked into what appeared to be a genuine smile.
"Then who will do this?" She countered.
Deswald nodded, "Good answer, thank you."
"Time to go," she said quickly, “the one you seek is in a holding cell one floor beneath this one. The door on the east end of the room will lead you down a dark corridor, look for a barricaded door, that is where you will find her. You understand?”
Deswald nodded, “how will I…”
“Just go, no more time,” she said, pulling the door toward her.
Deswald was about to protest, but she ushered him quickly through the partially opened door.
"And try not to stare," she warned sternly, as she shut the door between them.
✽ ✽ ✽
Stiller entered the bakery with two men following behind him. They took seats at a table in the far corner, as though they had not just helped Stiller sneak Deswald into the Royal district. Stiller made his way to his wife who was serving some legitimate guests and touched her shoulder affectionately.
“Is it done?” she asked with a concerned frown.
Stiller nodded, “the fate of those young people is in El’s hands now.”
Stacia sighed, “I wish there was more we could do.”
Stiller shrugged, “we cannot, without risking our own responsibilities here.”
“You are right,” his wife said with a sigh.
He knew how much she cared for the youth, they themselves had longed for children of their own. But the loss of the one they once had only reminded them of the risk involved in what they did.
“Did the duchess come by again?” Stiller asked, “we seem to have more customers than usual this morning. She has a tendency to draw a crowd.”
Stacia shook her head sombrely, “no she has not been by since the last time she delivered her gift baskets.”
“You worry about her.”
“Of course. She is searching Stiller and desperately. Can we not introduce her to the way?”
Stiller grimaced, “I know how fond you are of her my love, but we cannot risk bringing a noble into the community. Not only are we uncertain of how the people will respond but we do not know how she will respond to us.”
“She is different than the others.”
“You will have a hard time convincing the other members of that. Just leave it be, if it is El’s will she will come to know him soon enough,” he leaned down and kissed her cheek.
“I will be in the back praying for the mission.”
His wife nodded her agreement, clearly, she was not in full agreement with what he said about the young duchess. But at this point they could not risk it, they had lost so much already and a naive heiress with a kind heart was not enough for him to risk that. He continued past her and entered the storage room, where he sat down on a short stool to pray. It was not long after he had sat that his wife entered the room, her eyes wide and her plump cheeks flushed. He stood up instantly, he knew Stacia would never interrupt his prayers for no reason.
“What is it?” he asked.
She stepped aside, and a man fully covered in a heavy grey cloak entered. Stiller frowned when Stacia closed the door behind him. The man removed his hood. His head was shaved clean, but Stiller could spot an Aldorian with or without the distinctive locks anywhere. If he truly was Aldorian, Stiller knew that he could only be one thing; a runner. Runners were often light weight and clean shaven with excellent combative training; nothing was to hinder them from bringing their messages.
“You are a runner.”
The man nodded, his skin shimmering with the marks of his exertion, “I have a message from the king,” he said stiffly.
“Let’s have it then.”
The man glanced at Stiller’s wife hesitantly.
“Speak freely,” Stiller commanded.
With an almost imperceptible nod, he said, “the king asks that you put any plans you have to approach the mark to a pause immediately.”
“Why?”
“A small band of very capable warriors are on their way as we speak, in their company is one of Aldor’s priests.”
“A priest? I do not understand.”
The man continued to recite his message without a hint of emotional connection to it.
“You are up against a great foe, one that the young soldiers are outmatched against. Our enemy possesses a strange power with dark origins and his intentions are far more sinister than we believed. You will wait until the king’s men arrive to handle the situation. In the meantime, note that your community is in jeopardy, you are to cease operations immediately, organize for a discrete transfer out of this corrupt kingdom. For if the princess is not rescued, the fury of the king will rain down on this kingdom mercilessly.”
Stiller’s gaze hardened, “he does not know what he is asking,” he said, “these people do not want to leave their home. They want to liberate it.”
“I am just the messenger,” the man said. Stiller shook his head and slumped back down unto the stool, “as for the young soldier, it is too late. He has already set things in motion.”
“Should I return a message to the king?” Stiller sighed,
“Tell the king that the community wishes to remain in Dravia…”
“Then you will do so without his support from now on.”
“You do not know that for sure.”
“The king anticipated your reluctance Stiller Valen, and he wanted you to understand the stakes.”
Stiller looked at his wife, who shook her head, “we are staying, but I will bring the proposal to the rest of the community. Whoever wishes to seek refuge in Aldor will be free to do so. We will organize passage out of the city as soon as we can.”
“Is that all?” the man asked.
“Tell the king that darkness does not respond to fear, only power and he will do well to demonstrate the latter.”
The runner nodded, “done,” he said and turned to leave.
“Wait,” Stacia said, “have a drink of water and something light for your stomach and let us pray for your safe return.”
The man seemed to consider what she said, “time is of the essence,” he said, “but I will not turn down your prayers. The dark forest was treacherous coming in I imagine it will be even worse going out.”
“Wait,” Stacia dashed out of the room and returned just as quickly with a paper bag and a large water flask.
“Eat some of this,” she said handing him the bag and extending her hand said, “let me refill your flask.”
The man nodded and unlatched his water flask from beneath his robe, once he handed it to he
r, Stiller stepped forward and laid a hand on his shoulder.
“Let me pray for you brother, that your journey back will be safe and that El’s light will be like a shield for you against the creatures of darkness.”
The man nodded, “thank you. And you should know, that I am truly sorry about the position the king is putting you in.”
Stiller grimaced, “this day was bound to come.”
CHAPTER 22
Ben's trail led Nyla to a dark alley next to a tavern in the heart of town. A gut twisting retching sound led her to Ben's doubled over figure in the alley way. His hair, falling over his face in stringy wet clumps. She walked up to him, her lean frame casting a shadow over his miserable figure. He looked up at her, then lowered his head in shame.
"Oh you found me," he muttered.
"It was not very hard," she said, her voice just as unreadable as her face, as she bit back one of her mean remarks.
She knew that seeing him like this was as no one ever had before; without the mask of his perpetual all-is-well-with the-world grin.
She gestured to his current state, "what happened?" she asked.
He shook his head, "turns out that the wine in this place is of a much greater potency than I am used to," he replied, his voice raspy from his throwing up.
"And by wine you mean the booze served by half naked wenches in the tavern back there. Did you have any of those candies?”
Ben shook his head, “no,” he replied, glancing up at her.
“What happened Ben? Why did you leave?"
She was trying very hard to keep her emotions under control. She knew what had happened to Ben. It had happened to her parents, it had happened to her siblings, it had almost happened to her, but she had escaped it. Ben was pulled in by the charm of this kingdom, by its seemingly rich culture and promise of endless pleasure. What she did not understand was why people like Ben and princess Ruby who had always known such safety as offered by Aldor would ever want anything else. Would she one day look back on her old life with regret, would she one day feel it pulling at her heart and be powerless to fight it? El forbid! She could never come back to this place.
He staggered to his feet, and swiped his sleeve against his lips, "I uh..." he started, "I am sorry," he said.
Nyla snapped out of her slight internal panic, in time to see the shame in Ben’s eyes before he looked away.
"I know how angry you must be. Deswald must be furious."
She took a step toward him, her stoic mask cracking into one of concern, "angry? We were afraid!" she hissed.
"Afraid? for me?" still he avoided her gaze.
"You are one of us Ben, we came here together, and our every intention is to leave together, plus one."
He looked thoughtful, "I uh... I did not plan to return," he said, his voice just above a whisper.
He leaned back against the wall of the tavern and slid to the ground. Nyla walked over and stooped down next to him, there was no way she was sitting down in this filthy alley. She looked over at him with understanding in her sombre eyes. She never thought she would miss Ben’s pompous grin and sunshiny demeanour.
"I hated my life in Aldor," he continued, "being the son of the captain of the guard and having everything I have ever done, all my success, all my decisions hinge on that one fact. I just... I just wanted to get away from it all. I saw this as my opportunity, I thought Dravia was where I belonged because I did not fit in anywhere in Aldor and the Tyattarans surely would not accept me as one of them. I could not risk going through that again. This seemed like my best option."
Nyla sighed, a pang of guilt rung through her, she had been one of those people who had attributed his success to his father's position, never giving him the chance to prove her otherwise. She reached out and took his hand, despite the screaming in her head.
"I am sorry," she said, "I did not mean to make you feel like you did not belong. You of all people belong. Aldor is a safe haven for people like me because of people like you Ben. You are a soldier because you are good at what you do, you are the best archer in your class. You want to know why they tease you? because they wish they had your joy for life, your confidence... I wish I had your joy for life. Everything about you is a breath of fresh air... except that hair..."
He snorted at that and she chuckled, "there really is not much you can do with it."
He laughed and turned to look at her, those good-natured eyes alight again, "thank you Nyla."
"No thank you," she breathed, holding his gaze.
"For what? I have only brought you trouble."
She nodded, "yes you have," she whispered, "but you have also brought me clarity.”
He frowned, “I do not understand.”
“I hope you can forgive me for the way I have treated you. Since I have come to Aldor I have been fighting to prove that I am just as good as the natives, just as good as the men. And a part of me felt like that meant proving that none of you could outmatch my loyalty because of what I had been through. But now I see that we all have our struggles, no matter where we come from.”
“Wow!” Ben exclaimed in surprise, “it means a lot hearing you say that Ny.”
She lifted a hand, “Nyla,” she said firmly, “it will always be Nyla.”
He chuckled, drawing a rare smile from her, “now please Ben. Let us get out of here, let us finish this mission and let us go home, where you belong."
He exhaled, then flashed her that lopsided grin of his, "for you, anything. For the kingdom, even more."
“See Davy, I told you there was something fishy about this one!”
Nyla’s gaze snapped up and she leapt to her feet instantly. Two dirty peasants stood at the entrance of the alley, they reeked of ale and ditches, adding to the alley’s already putrid smell. Nyla slipped her hand to the side of her dress where a slit in her skirt gave her access to a blade strapped to her leg.
“Not so fast wench!” one of them shouted as he withdrew a short sword, advancing upon them with a toothless sneer.
“Look man, we do not want any trouble. We are just travellers passing through for the festivities,” Ben interjected, easing himself in front of Nyla, which earned him a glare from her.
“You take us for fools eh? Well we know spies when we see ‘em. Huh Davy whaddya think the prince will give us for ‘em?”
Suddenly a fluttering sound came from above, and before they could raise their gazes to the source of it, a dark figure dropped down as if from the skies. Landing in front of the men and knocking one of them off their feet at the same time. The one who was being referred to as Davy drew his sword. From what Nyla could see the figure was short, petite even, when compared to the men he fought, but with an agility that she coveted. She had never seen anyone move like that, evading every attack as if he was in the man’s head, but with gracefulness Nyla had never seen a man possess. The peasant was a surprisingly skilled swordsman but no match for the hooded figure. As the figure moved, his own sword drawn, Nyla caught a glimpse of a black braid… a woman?
At that moment their attacker fell backward with a groan, his sword clattering to his side. Their rescuer, who Nyla came to realize was a woman, looked down at the other man who was struggling to his feet and booted him, sending him back to rest beside his partner Davy. Now the alley was quiet.
“Who are you?”
The woman turned around now, and Nyla could see that she wore a mask beneath her black hood. It covered most of the top of her face. She regarded them thoughtfully and then sheathed her sword as if concluding that they were no threat.
“This is a dangerous place,” she said.
There was no denying it now, she was a woman. And not just any woman, her words had the crisp quality of nobility. Nyla would know the accent anywhere; her parents had served one of the pillar families of Dravia for most of her life.
“You do not have to tell me again,” Ben said, his eyes going to the men on the ground. With a curt nod, their rescuer leapt up on a barrel agains
t the wall and scaled the wall as if there were steps carved onto the side of it. Nyla watched as she disappeared above the alley.
“I need to learn to do that.”
Ben chuckled, “and I am sure you will. But right now, we have somewhere to be.”
“You do not find this strange at all?”
Nyla asked pointing at the scene the strange woman had just vacated.
Ben shrugged, “It’s Dravia, anything can happen,” shooting her a mischievous smirk.
✽ ✽ ✽
At first, Deswald saw nothing out of the ordinary. Except for the strange looking masks and odd attire of the patrons, it seemed to be a typical palace ball. But before he could relax, the crowd thinned, and the masks ceased to distract, and he began to notice other things. Things that he had never seen in his entire life. There were women dressed in almost nothing standing on display like ornaments, shifting this way and that.
Deswald forced himself to not jerk his head away and lowered his eyes, he had never seen a woman with so little clothes on, he hoped the yellow light would conceal his flushed cheeks. Now it was making sense why no other soldiers wanted to volunteer for this mission, he could not imagine seeing such things and ever being the same. On the far sides of the room there were plush looking cots all around the room upon which the guests lay, engaging in activities that turned Deswald's stomach. It was a party for the depraved and he was starting to look very out of place.
He made a beeline towards the table of food, which was closer to the door, he figured he could pretend to be glutton better than he could pretend to be a womanizer, while he made up time to get out of the decadent party and search for Ruby. He had committed the directions given to him by the spy to memory and was moving sneakily toward the side door with a plate of cheeses, when an unusual looking bird appeared in front of him, standing unnervingly close.
The girl giggled, "where do I know you from handsome?" she crooned, pouting her reddened lips seductively.
Deswald reigned in his grimace and instead flashed a toothy smile.
"I am afraid we have never met," he replied, attempting to ease past her.
Kingdom of Refuge (Gemstone Royals Book 1) Page 19