Erdhan turned to her, his blue eyes clouding over. “The prisoner was Akolom.”
Orlla’s throat bobbed as her brain raced to make sense of the words. “Are you sure that’s what they said?”
He nodded. “The villagers recognized him as soon as they set eyes on him. They seemed upset.”
Orlla bit her bottom lip. There could be no mistake. Everyone knew the master mentor. “Did they say what the charges were against him?”
“The Protectors remained tight-lipped. Some of the villagers are speculating Akolom collaborated in Samten’s escape. Others inquired after your whereabouts.” Erdhan stalled, rocking back and forth on the soles of his feet. “The Protectors confirmed you are also considered a fugitive now.”
Orlla’s mind raced in several different directions at once. Her own safety was of no concern to her. She needed to do something to help Akolom, but there was little point in pursuing him with such a heavy escort of Protectors. They would never be able to free him without the assistance of the other Keepers. Her thoughts turned to Grizel. She had promised to keep her apprised of any news of Akolom. But if she hadn’t already heard, it wouldn’t be long before the villagers took the unhappy news to her door.
“Keep moving,” Orlla said. “We need to inform the Keepers of what’s happened. Perhaps they can petition the king on Akolom’s behalf before he is put on trial.”
The cart rumbled forward again and Orlla sank back down below the blankets, her stomach churning from the agony of knowing that she had put Akolom in this terrible position. She could still turn herself in and save him—forget all about bringing the Opal of Light to the mainland—but deep down, she knew Akolom would never forgive her if she gave up now.
When Erdhan drew up outside the Conservatory, Orlla threw a cautious glance around before climbing out from beneath the blankets and dusting herself off as best she could.
“We made good time,” Erdhan commented. “It’s barely dusk.”
“Park the cart around the back of the building out of sight,” Orlla said. “I’ll go inside and see if the other Keepers are here yet.”
She sped up the steps, coming to a sudden halt in front of the open door. Her pulse thundered like a waterfall in her ears as she tried to make sense of why Barhus was standing in the vestibule surrounded by Protectors.
Chapter 25
“Where are the other Keepers?” Orlla tried to mask the tremor in her voice. She looked from Barhus to the armed Protectors standing at attention and back to Barhus again. He slid her a shifty-eyed look, then gave a subtle nod to the Protector on his right who stepped forward, jaw set like flint. “You are under arrest for treason by order of King Ferghell.”
The hairs on Orlla’s neck stood on end. “Barhus!” she cried out, as two more Protectors closed in and grabbed her arms. “What is the meaning of this betrayal of our Keeper kinship?”
He jabbed a shaky finger at her, sweat beading on his forehead. “You helped your fugitive brother escape to the mainland and sought to persuade Akolom and the other Keepers to sell out our king and country to Hamend and Brufus.” He frowned, a dangerous glint in his red-veined eyes. “It is my duty as a Keeper to turn you over to the Protectors to be taken to Tansk to await trial.”
Orlla shook with rage and confusion. Barhus must have been listening outside their secret meeting the whole time. She had always despised his lack of self-control when it came to his proclivity to drink, but she had never thought him capable of such duplicity. Keepers did not betray other Keepers, and especially not to Protectors. What did he have to gain by denouncing her like this? And where were the other Keepers? Surely they weren’t embroiled in this deception?
“You were informing on Akolom all along, weren’t you?” Orlla spat out. “You sent him that missive assuring him of your support, all the while backstabbing him to the king.”
Barhus tightened his lips. “Akolom betrayed his kingdom. And you betrayed your Keeper pledge with the words fresh off your lips.” He raised a languid hand to the Protectors who proceeded to divest her of her weapons and bind her wrists with strips of cloth.
A sickening feeling gripped Orlla when she remembered Erdhan was still outside somewhere. Had he been captured too, or had he noticed the Protectors’ horses at the back of the building and suspected something was amiss? He must have got wind that all was not well inside the Conservatory, or he would have been here by now. She furrowed her brow. Jubel might have found out about Barhus’s plan and tried to warn her. She would have sent a message to her father’s house, not knowing she and Erdhan were at Grizel’s.
As she contemplated how deep the plot ran, Akolom’s foreboding words came to mind.
The king surrounds himself with warriors without learning, and scholars without brawn, and fuels discord between them.
She had learned from her short spell on the mainland that monarchs had spies everywhere. Apparently, King Ferghell was no different.
Some of the other Keepers might have secretly sided with Barhus. For now, at least, she would have to assume that the only person she could trust was Erdhan. It wasn’t much of a consolation. He was a fugitive here too, alone and unarmed, and without friends.
“You will pay for your disloyalty, Barhus,” Orlla seethed, as the Protectors marched her outside. She cast a furtive glance around as they descended the front steps of the Conservatory, searching for Erdhan in the shadows. Knowing him, he was counting the Protectors, noting their weapons, and planning how he would intercept them and rescue her, like before. Only this time, he had no chance. Her heart sank further. He would be captured, and King Ferghell would make his execution a public one—a dire warning to anyone who dared bring a mainlander to Efyllsseum.
The Protectors leaned forward in their stirrups, their steeds hurtling along the rutted highway toward King Ferghell’s castle. A dusky darkness had fallen by the time they rode into Tansk, their horses’ hooves clattering like hammers on the deserted cobblestone streets. Most of the merchants had packed up their stalls for the day and retreated inside their tightly shuttered homes and lodgings that piggybacked the businesses lining the winding streets. Only a few scruffy-headed urchins shifted in the shadows, curious about the late arrivals to the city and hoping for a penny to buy bread in the morning. Eyes wide in their grimy faces at the sight of the Protectors escorting a prisoner—the second in the space of a few short hours—they beat a hasty retreat into the town’s warren of alleyways.
Orlla lifted her eyes to the stone castle nestled between the rolling hills above the town. She could barely make out the inky silhouette of the turrets. Somewhere at the base of one of those towers was the dungeon where she would be taken to await trial. She grimaced at the irony of it. She had escaped death at the hands of Hamend and Brufus, only to be put on trial in Efyllsseum and condemned by the very king who had charged her with fortifying the runes to protect them from the mainland and war. This would be a very different reception to the previous one when King Ferghell himself had sanctioned her Keeper pledge, and jewel-laden courtiers had showered her with congratulations and well wishes for her future.
Orlla swayed wearily in her saddle as the horses wended their way up the steep hill to the castle. Upon command, she dismounted at the guard house, sliding awkwardly from her mount, her shoulders screaming from the pain of holding herself steady in the saddle with her wrists bound. The Protectors exchanged a few words with the sentries before leading the horses around to the back of the castle and handing them off to the stable hands who came running to meet them. Two of the Protectors ushered Orlla over to a stout, oak door banded with rusted metal. A weather-chiseled guard with a bulging brow and shaggy brows stood stoically at attention as if expecting them.
“We have the prisoner,” one of the Protectors said in a tone of icy indifference.
The guard gave a scant nod and pushed open the door. “I’ll take her from here.” He seized Orlla by the arm and swept her into a dank, dark stone corridor lit only by flickering t
orches. After slamming the door behind them, he bolted it, then marched her along a corridor that branched off several times before coming to a steep flight of stone stairs leading down into the bowels of the castle. Orlla faltered, images of her time spent in the prison at Lichtenburg flashing to mind.
“We don’t have all night,” the guard snapped, yanking her forward.
Reluctantly, she descended the steps, wrinkling up her nose at the putrid odors that ascended from the dungeons below. Was Akolom being held here too? She flinched at the distant clanging of a metal gate and the echoing shriek of a prisoner. The guard slid her a malevolent grin, clearly reveling in her distress. Terror crawled along her spine, but she masked her emotions and returned him a sour look instead. She had to escape this place, and tonight might be her only chance.
The guard stopped outside an empty cell and thumbed through several keys on a large ring before selecting one. He jammed it into the lock and forced the key with an exasperated grunt until the door clicked open. As he reached for Orlla, she lunged forward, smashing her forearm into his neck as hard as she could. Momentarily stunned, the guard’s knees buckled and his hands flew to his neck as he struggled to take a breath. Orlla rammed the heel of her foot into his chest, kicking him backward into the cell as hard as she could. She slammed the door shut and locked it, yanking the key out and stumbling away from the cell just as the guard regained his footing.
“You miserable wench!” he rasped, one hand still clutching his throat protectively. “Open this door at once or I’ll skin you alive when I get my hands on you.”
Orlla arched her brows. “I sincerely hope you don’t get skinned alive yourself for letting such a high-profile prisoner escape.”
“You’ll never make it out of Tansk alive,” he sputtered, his face flushed with the effort of breathing through the pain.
Orlla gave a careless shrug. “My chances are marginally better on this side of the bars.”
The guard grabbed the bars with one fist and spat at her, his face pulsing with rage. Without another word, Orlla turned and ran back down the corridor, stopping briefly at each cell to look for Akolom. In the weak light of the guttering torches, it was hard to tell who was lying in the pile of rags on the straw-strewn floor. Several times she yelled at a sleeping figure until they stirred, and she could make sure it wasn’t Akolom.
When she had checked every cell, she climbed back up the winding stone staircase, sweat prickling the nape of her neck. Cautiously, she glanced up and down the deserted corridor before making a beeline back to the heavy oak door that led to freedom. Ever so slowly, she unbolted it and peered around it. The courtyard was deserted, the Protectors long since dispersed to their quarters. She took a deep breath, grateful to be free of the suffocating stench of the dungeons, before darting across the yard to the stables and slipping in among the horses to hide.
A young stable boy appeared at the far end of the stalls, carrying a bucket of water. Orlla dove into the nearest stall and flattened her body in the straw until he went back outside. She waited in place for several minutes to make sure he didn’t return before tip-toeing out of the stall. Combing through some farrier’s tools on a wooden workbench, she came upon a double-edged knife and immediately set to work rubbing her bonds against the blade until the cloth frayed enough for her to slip her wrists through.
As soon as she was free, she pocketed the knife, kicked the remnants of cloth under a nearby trough, and scanned her surroundings. A chestnut mare eyed her dubiously and snorted. Orlla gave a wry grin. She could tell the horse felt as trapped as she did, but she’d never get past the sentries at the guard house on horseback. She stroked the mare’s head for a few minutes to soothe her, and then slipped out of the stables and began making her way toward the castle gate, skulking in the shadows of the stone walls that lined the courtyard.
From a safe vantage point, she studied her escape route. Even if she managed to take out the two sentries and scale the gate, she was still trapped behind the town’s drawbridge which would remain up until morning. She would have to find a sheltered place in Tansk to hide out until then. And nowhere would be safe once the guard she had locked in the cell alerted the castle to her escape.
She turned her attention to the courtyard wall. Perhaps she could find enough footholds to climb it and escape without confronting the sentries. It would be particularly dangerous in the dark, but less of a risk than trying to take out two sentries on her own, armed only with a farrier’s knife. The sound of her heart thumping grew louder in the silky stillness of the night. It would take every reserve of courage she had to escape this place, but she had to find a way.
She changed course and snuck back along the base of the towering stone wall surrounding the courtyard to the rear of the castle. When she was safely out of sight of both sentries, she began searching for a section of wall with enough holds to support her. She needed to move quickly, but she couldn’t afford to start climbing in the wrong spot and then have to come all the way down and begin again.
Eventually, she found what she was looking for—a weaker section where the slabs were crumbling in part and in need of repair. Many of the stones were loose and would make for a treacherous climb, but the holes would provide the purchase she needed to scale the wall.
Before long, her fingertips were aching with the effort of clinging to the wall above her head while her feet sought out a new ledge to support her weight. Sweat slicked the back of her neck as she pictured herself plummeting to the ground and smashing every bone in her body. She shook the thought loose, focusing instead on each incremental step as she moved painstakingly higher like a dark-winged moth on the shadowy courtyard wall. After successfully navigating the lower section, she was relieved to find the upper part of the wall proved to be an easier climb.
In a relatively short space of time, she was over the top and making a rapid descent down the other side. She dropped the last few feet, landing in a crouch with a crunching of gravel. She stiffened and peered around her, sweeping the shadows for watchful eyes, but only a bat flitted overhead. Satisfied she had not been detected, she sprinted down the cobblestone street from one shadowy doorway to the next, her heavy breathing echoing in the dark silence that shrouded the sleeping town. It wouldn’t be long before her escape would be discovered. She needed to find a safe place to hide, and soon. Her eyes roved over the slouched buildings, searching for and eliminating possible hiding spots.
Darting around a stand of kegs, she raced down a back alleyway to seek a more secluded place to tuck away in until morning. The soft glow of a swinging lantern up ahead pulled her up short. She froze in the inky darkness, trying desperately to mesh with her surroundings. Were they looking for her already? Skin prickling with fear, she edged backward until she could no longer see the flickering light.
She turned to run, but a ragtag beggar in a hooded cloak blocked her path.
Chapter 26
Orlla kept her attention fully riveted on the vagrant, fearing he would draw a weapon on her. Hoping for an escape route, she shot a desperate glance back down the alley in the other direction, but the glowing lantern was moving rapidly closer She was trapped! They must have been following her in the shadows, planning to rob her at the first opportunity. And she had made it easy for them by slipping into a side street. Unbeknownst to them, she carried no purse and had nothing worth stealing except her cloak. And she wasn’t about to relinquish that without a fight.
The ragtag beggar took a step toward her. Orlla clenched her hands into fists, readying herself to spring at him. He raised a hand as if to stop her, and then unexpectedly flung his hood back. Orlla’s head spun. She blinked, shock seeping through her veins. “Father!” she croaked.
He reached out a hand and placed it tenderly on her shoulder. “It’s all right, Orlla.”
“You … know me?” She shook her head in disbelief.
A troubled expression flickered across his face. “You were gone so long. I sensed you were in troubl
e and needed my help.” He gestured behind her. “My friend, Teldus, a retired Keeper here in the city, told me you had been arrested. He received a missive from Jubel informing him of the substance of your recent meeting and directing him to report any news of you or Akolom back to her. We have been monitoring the castle all night, hoping to hear tidings of you from anyone entering or leaving the grounds. Teldus spotted you scaling the wall.”
Orlla spun around and cast a wary glance at the dark figure holding the lantern. Was this some kind of trick? Her father was scarcely fit to distinguish the subtleties of friend or foe anymore. But, there was nothing in Teldus’s wide eyes that registered as untrustworthy as he bobbed his head in acknowledgement.
Orlla inclined her head in return and then turned back to her father, marveling at his transformation. His familiar face was filled with a life she had long since feared had departed. A muffled sob escaped her as she flung her arms around him. He held her to his chest for several minutes and then gently pried her loose. “Any word on Akolom?”
She shook her head. “He wasn’t in the dungeons.”
“How did you escape?”
“A defense technique taught to me in the Conservatory,” Orlla replied, demonstrating with her forearm. “I incapacitated the prison guard.”
Her father nodded thoughtfully. “You always were a peerless student.”
Opal of Light_An epic dragon fantasy Page 22