Rubbing her chilled arms, she shifted and looked over at Kaden and the others. To her eyes they were only dark, still figures, but their light breathing mingled with the chorus of bugs outside. They seemed to be asleep, though Trev was harder to tell. His breaths came hard and ragged, and he had to change positions often to get comfortable. Her own chest hurt with worry for him. With any more rough treatment, who could say if he’d survive?
The glow of dawn offered some relief as darkness only fed her fears, yet it brought a new day of uncertainties. Despite Richard’s claim of waiting until they reached Valcré, she didn’t trust him not to torture Kaden again, just for the pleasure of it. She put her head in her hands and reached out to Elôm.
The grating shriek of the door drew her head back up and jolted the men awake. Footsteps, more than usual, echoed in the hall. Richard, Goler, and several guards from Valcré entered. Without a word, they unlocked the cells and led everyone out. A spark of hope grew inside Kyrin. This could be their escape. Oh, Elôm, please. But she was careful not to let any of this hope reach her face.
Outside, the coach waited, confirming Kyrin’s expectations. They marched toward it, but the group split. She stumbled to a halt and looked back as Goler led Trask off toward a group of horses. Her lungs seized. Richard grabbed her arm and tugged her forward. She pulled against him, but couldn’t break his grasp.
“What are they doing with Trask?”
Richard pulled her close, his voice low and menacing. “He’ll be executed in Landale Village as an example to the villagers of what happens when anyone, including nobility, defies the emperor.”
A tremor of panic raced through Kyrin. It wasn’t supposed to be this way! Not after all this. She struggled to look back again. This time Trask met her gaze. With just a look, he seemed to understand this wasn’t the plan. Acceptance settled, dulling the green of his eyes. He gave her a nod—a farewell.
Richard’s hard fingers crushed Kyrin’s arm. “Get in.”
She almost tripped when he shoved her forward. Limbs leaden, she climbed into the coach after Kaden and Trev. The door shut, trapping them in the dark interior, but Kyrin went to the window to watch in utter helplessness as Goler’s men forced Trask to mount a horse. She grabbed the bars to steady herself as the coach lurched into motion, still watching until Trask disappeared from sight. Her heart plummeted.
“No.” She sank to her knees.
“What is it?” Kaden asked.
Her wide eyes settled on him, and her voice wavered as she whispered, “Trask is supposed to be with us. I gave myself up so Richard would take us out of here. It’s the only way the others can save us, but they’re nine miles from here. Landale Village is only five. Trask and Goler will reach the village well before we’re rescued.”
Niton raced through the trees, skirting around the brush and effortlessly leaping over logs at Jace’s command. He was surefooted, and Jace’s expert guiding kept them at a fast pace. When a group of other horses came into view, Jace pulled the stallion to a halt and jumped down. Tane waited for him.
“Did you see them?”
Jace gave a quick nod and tossed Niton’s reins to the talcrin before rushing on another hundred yards on foot. The pounding of his heartbeat matched his feet. Near the road, he came upon Rayad and the others in the cover of the underbrush.
“They’re coming,” he announced for all to hear. “They’re only about a mile behind me.”
Warin signaled to the men across the road, and everyone moved into position. Jace strung his bow and nocked an arrow before crouching behind the bushes that hid him while still offering a good view. Everything fell quiet, except for the birds. All was going according to plan. Thank Elôm they had not had to wait for more than a day.
Jace sent another glance up the road and turned his mind to prayer. Humbly, he asked that Elôm would protect the group, that Richard’s men would surrender peacefully, and most of all, that Kyrin was safe. He sighed, exhausted. He hadn’t slept for a moment last night thinking of all the ways Richard could hurt her.
The clop of hooves and creak of wagon wheels grabbed his attention. He stiffened and motioned to Rayad, who alerted the others. His heart kicked up a notch, his adrenaline rising and blood warming. But this time, he welcomed the heat. It would help if he had to fight to save Kyrin.
Moments later, the coach and escort rolled into view with Richard in the lead on a tall black horse. Jace gripped his bow, every sense heightened and prepared. The gap between them narrowed. He stared at the coach with only one thought as it rocked and swayed—to get to it and get Kyrin out. Heaven help Richard if he’d laid a finger on her. At least the solid walls of the coach would protect Kyrin and the others if Richard didn’t give them up without a fight.
Finally, the man rode past his position. A second later, Warin stepped onto the road with his arms outstretched.
“Halt!”
Richard’s horse stopped with a toss of its head and pawed at the ground. The others danced to a halt behind him, and confusion rippled through the men.
“What is the meaning of this?” Richard demanded until recognition dawned on him. His hand dropped to his sword. “I know you. You were with the girl.”
Warin didn’t respond to this. “Dismount and disarm and there will be no trouble. We don’t want any bloodshed.”
Richard’s spine straightened, and Jace pulled back his bowstring just a little.
“You threaten a chief advisor to the emperor, as well as his officers. Step aside, or I’ll have you executed on the spot for treason.”
Warin shook his head. “Not until I have what I came for.”
Richard laughed sharply into the rising tension, but his voice held no good humor. “The prisoners go to Valcré. You would not dare to oppose His Majesty unless you wish to see his full might unleashed on your pathetic rebellion.”
“I wish only for you to release the prisoners without resorting to unnecessary violence.”
“Fool!” Richard yanked out his sword and drove his heels into his horse. The animal lunged forward, but Jace was quicker. He drew and fired. Warin jumped to the side as the snorting horse clattered past him, and Richard toppled from the saddle with the arrow shot through his shoulder.
Swords hissed from their scabbards as the guards rushed to their leader’s defense. Jace dropped his bow and whipped out his sword to join the others who burst from the trees. He ducked as his first opponent tried to take his head. The guard’s horse pranced sideways and threw him off balance. Jace reached up to grab him and pulled him down. The man landed flat on his back in the dirt. He scrambled to rise, but Jace struck him across the head with the flat of his blade, and he fell back dazed.
A horse snorted just to Jace’s right. He spun around and leapt aside just before he would have been battered by the horse’s broad chest. The animal pounded past him, but its rider pivoted so it came around again. This time Jace was ready. The gleaming tip of the guard’s sword plunged toward him. He shifted and swung his own sword upward. The guard’s blade streaked just past his face, but his own arced up under the man’s arm. The guard hunched over, his sword falling. A moment later, he too fell to the ground.
Gripping his sword in both hands, Jace looked around. The fight had already ended. Any guards left uninjured stood with their hands upraised in surrender.
Warin walked over to Richard, who knelt with the arrow still protruding from his back.
“You will all die for this,” he hissed through clenched teeth.
“If the King allows it.”
At these words, Richard growled and reached for his dagger. Instinctively, Jace lunged forward, but Warin saw it coming. He kicked Richard’s hand away and grabbed the dagger himself.
“Warin!” Kyrin’s voice called urgently from the coach.
Jace spun around and caught a glimpse of her face through the bars. Leaving the others to guard him, Warin took the keys from Richard and hurried over to unlock the door. Jace was right behind him
. The moment it opened, Kyrin jumped out. Fury burst like flames through Jace’s chest at seeing the reddened and slightly swollen cut through her lip. He shot a glare at Richard and fought the impulse to put another arrow through him. Good thing he didn’t have his bow. His attention snapped back to Kyrin.
“We must get to Landale as fast as we can,” she said in a rush. “Goler took Trask there to be executed!”
“Now?” Warin asked, his eyes wide.
“Yes! They left the same time we did.”
Warin spun around to face the other men. “Tie everyone up. They’ll work themselves loose eventually. We have to get back to the horses.”
With Trask’s life on the line, the men raced to obey.
Kaden exited the coach after Kyrin, and Jace helped him get Trev out. Warin unchained the three and ushered them toward the trees. After retrieving his bow, Jace hurried after them and stuck close to Kyrin’s side. As far as he could tell, her split lip was the extent of her injuries. He was still sorely tempted to leave Richard with more than a single arrow wound, if only to avenge Kaden and Trev.
Back at the horses with Tane, Warin spoke, his voice calm, yet tinged with urgency. “Tane, help them back to camp.” He motioned toward Kyrin and Kaden, who were supporting Trev between them. “Goler has Trask in the village, and there’s no time to waste.”
Tane immediately stepped in to help Trev to one of the extra horses. Kaden followed, but Kyrin stood looking from her brother to Warin with a torn expression. Maybe Jace couldn’t read her like she did him, but she wanted to come and help save Trask, that he could see. While it was an admirable desire, he wasn’t about to let her ride into more danger. Not when they had her safely away from Daican’s men.
She caught his eyes, and he motioned toward Maera. “Go.” She hesitated and he added, praying it was true, “We’ll save him.”
Her expression slowly changed to one of acceptance, and she turned to follow her brother, who had waited for her. But she glanced back with pleading eyes. “Be careful.”
Jace nodded. He waited until she mounted Maera, and then turned for Niton. Commotion filled the clearing with the arrival of the rest of the men. They claimed their horses and gathered around Warin.
“Let’s go get Trask,” he said.
With him in the lead, they all rode out. They had to take it slowly through the trees, but when they hit the road, they urged the horses into a gallop. Four miles lay between them and the outskirts of Landale Village. A slow ache knotted Jace’s gut with the unpleasant urgency of passing time. No matter how fast they rode, it wouldn’t feel fast enough, and every minute brought them perilously close to the brink of failure, if they had not failed already.
He grimaced. Trask had accepted him, and even Tyra, without question. He’d proven that people with such kindness were not quite as rare as Jace once believed. He should have been more appreciative. Would it be too late now to show Trask?
The distance seemed tripled before they finally pulled their panting mounts to a halt in a grove of trees just outside of Landale.
“We’ll go on foot,” Warin said. “It’s too dangerous to charge in, for both us and Trask.”
They dismounted and sprinted toward the center of the village. No villagers were in sight—not in the fields or any of the local shops they passed—which was odd on a beautiful day like this. A chill worked along Jace’s skin and sank into his middle. Sunshine or not, something ominous hung in the air, and he could only hope they weren’t too late.
They crept between buildings, working their way closer to the village square, and, at last, caught a glimpse of gathered people. Goler’s voice drifted from deeper within the crowd. Another few yards, and the square opened up before them. In the middle, Goler stood above everyone on top of a flat wagon. Two soldiers waited off to his side with Trask secured between them. Jace let out a breath. They’d made it.
“We’re outnumbered,” Warin murmured.
Jace scanned the area. Gold and black surrounded the wagon and dotted the crowd—at least twenty soldiers, if not more. He glanced at their rescue group. Eight, including himself.
“We’ll have to get closer without letting them recognize us,” Rayad said. “If Goler discovers we’re here, he’ll kill Trask before we can reach him.”
Warin turned to the men. “Spread out. Get as close to the wagon as you can without drawing attention. Hopefully Trask will see one of us and be able to jump down. If not, we’ll have to climb up and get him once we’re all close enough. As soon as we have him, we get out. We can’t fight them all.”
The men split up, moving inconspicuously through the crowd. Jace kept his head down so no one would see his eyes and mistake him for a ryrik, but most of the people had their attention locked on Goler and Trask. Jace glanced at the wagon where Goler named off a list of Trask’s crimes, no doubt milking this for all it was worth, reveling in the power he held over Trask. But no one in the crowd reacted. How could they? One look at their faces said everything, especially the women. More than one had tears streaming down her cheeks.
He slipped through them slowly, but it was a tight crowd. He looked around and caught a glimpse of Rayad. None of them had made it very close to the wagon. They would have to gain a lot of ground to reach Trask before things went south. He ducked his head when a soldier caught his eyes just as Goler’s discourse neared its end.
“And for these vile acts against the emperor, he is sentenced to death. Let this be a reminder that no matter what your station, disloyalty and treason will not be tolerated.”
The soldiers led Trask forward. Jace’s heart tripped. They would never get to the wagon in time, and if they tried to rush it, the soldiers would intercept and Trask would be dead before they ever reached him. Something had to happen quickly. His eyes darted around the area, and his fingers crept to his bow slung over his shoulder, but it was too cramped and the soldiers were too close. He could never fire from here. His gaze caught on a barn to his left. Heat surged through his muscles. If he was going to do this, it had to be now. They’d run out of time.
Trask stepped forward with the soldiers, his eyes traveling over the faces of the villagers, most of whom he knew by name. Old childhood friends he had run off to the woods with, and the older women who’d treated him so kindly after his mother died. Goler was a beast for making them watch this.
He looked over at the captain and glared at him, tempted to throw his shackled hands around his throat. He still hadn’t decided if he wanted to go out with dignified acceptance or die fighting.
His gaze returned to the people. Some aching part of him wished to find Anne among them, just to see her face once more, but he didn’t want her here. Not for this. He lifted his eyes to his father, who sat on his horse at the edge of the crowd with a handful of soldiers hovering suspiciously around him. Seeing his father’s ashen face and ill-concealed emotions turned Trask’s stomach inside out. He gave the barest shake of his head. If his father tried anything, then Goler would win, and the people would suffer. They would need his leadership now more than ever. And for this reason, in the end, Trask would not fight, because if he fought, his father would too.
Goler stepped up beside him and locked his shoulder in a painful grip. Leaning closely, he murmured in his ear, “Time to watch you die.”
He kicked Trask’s legs, sending him to his knees. A hushed whimper came from more than one person in the crowd. Trask looked out at them again. If only he could leave them a few words of encouragement, but that would just further mark them as potential rebels. Right now, the more removed he was from them, the better, though it hurt worse than Goler’s torture.
The captain’s hand gripped the back of his neck and forced him down against the block. He swallowed roughly against the wood. The sensation of it pressed to his throat shot icy jolts through his nerves. His heart took up an irregular beat while beside him, the executioner’s sword slid out of the scabbard. When he tried to swallow again, his throat was too tight. He cl
osed his eyes and whispered, “I’m ready to meet You, Lord.”
Jace scrambled up the ladder into the barn loft and sprinted across the straw-littered floor. Grabbing his bow, he pushed open the loft door, and the sight below him stole his breath. The executioner stood over Trask with his sword raised. Jace’s hand flew to his quiver. He nocked, drew, and released without even pausing to contemplate a miss. The arrow sliced the air and slammed into the executioner’s chest. The man gave a loud grunt and toppled off the wagon.
Half a second of stillness, and then pandemonium. Shouts and screams rose from the crowd as the soldiers unsheathed their swords. Goler looked about, and his eyes landed on Jace. Teeth bared, he whipped out his sword and swung at Trask. But Jace had a second arrow on the way. It plunged high into Goler’s left shoulder and halted his attack. He screamed, grabbing at the wound, but blinding anger overcame the pain. He raised his sword again. This time, Trask rolled off the wagon before the blade could find him.
In the mass of confusion and scurrying villagers, someone grabbed Trask from the ground and dragged him up. Warin. Jace scanned the panicking crowd. The rest of the men worked their way toward escape, but the soldiers were on to them.
He spun around and climbed down the ladder. On the ground again, he put his bow over his head and shoulder and yanked out his sword. Metal clashed close by and echoed amongst shouts and cries. Jace dashed out of the barn and nearly collided with a soldier. The man swung at his head. Jace ducked and sliced the soldier’s legs, leaving him writhing and cursing while he rushed into the fray.
The villagers had scattered for cover, while most in the rescue group found themselves embroiled in battle with Goler’s men. Jace threw down another soldier who blocked his path and ran to Rayad, who was with Warin and Trask. Warin called out to the men and motioned them toward their escape. They were close now, if they could just break away and get to the horses.
Resistance (Ilyon Chronicles Book 1) Page 42