The Captive Kingdom

by Jennifer A. Nielsen

  From below, Wilta shouted, “That’s a lie. Please, Jaron, help me! The water is rising!”

  “Wilta?” Strick peeked down, then quickly motioned to Lump, her voice rising in a panicked pitch. “Pull her out.”

  “Wait.” Mercy’s eyes were fixed on the bag at my side. “You won’t let her drown. So give us the lens, and then we will save her.”

  “Of course she won’t drown — I intend to win my wager. But I only win if I refuse to tell you whether I found the lens.” I withdrew the square rock from my bag and held it out over the opening. “I don’t care whether I save this or not; it’s only a rock to me. But you might feel differently. If you want to see what is inside, then let me go free. When you do, I will give this to you to find any treasure you can imagine. And if you want, you can pull your daughter up too.”

  Strick blinked. “My daughter? Wilta?”

  “Is it true what I heard about the Monarch, that she had her own father killed? Your husband? Maybe you don’t want her pulled from the cave after all. If you’re considering revenge —”

  “She’s going to drown,” Roden cried. “Look below you. She’s in the water now.”

  Ignoring Wilta’s pleas for help, I lifted the rock higher. “Give me room to escape, or I will drop this and whatever is inside will be lost forever. Also, your daughter will get really wet.”

  “Make the trade!” Wilta yelled from below. “He has the lens, you fools!”

  I lifted one finger from the rock. “Wilta is running out of time, and this is getting heavy.”

  Strick’s hands were in fists, but she said, “Prozarians, stand aside for Jaron. Let him go.” She glared at me. “With an infected leg, you won’t get far before we find you again.”

  With Roden’s and Tobias’s help, I swung back onto solid ground, then gave Roden the rock and set off at a sprint along the former riverbed, which was half a stone’s throw wide and a knee length lower than the rest of the ground.

  Only seconds later, I heard the captain scream, “This is just a rock — get him!”

  I reached the rock barrier that held back the pool from the waterfall. Directly in front of the barrier was the same tree I’d rested against yesterday. Lump was halfway to me with a host of other vigils by the time I swung into the tree’s lower branches. I leaned over the branch, ready to throw my weight downward against the barrier. Before I did, I shouted to all the people still assembled there, “This barrier will break. Get as far from the overlook as you can!”

  Most of the crowd who had assembled began hurrying away down the paths, clearing the area faster than I would have believed possible. Lump urged the vigils to continue forward, while he turned on one heel and began racing back toward Strick, crying, “Get her out of the cave! Hurry!”

  As promised, I used my full weight to swing down into the pool, kicking hard against the rocks. I reared up again, doing the same until I felt the first rock shift.

  The Prozarians who had remained behind began climbing the wall, though they were helping me more than they realized. Every shift of their weight weakened the wall further.

  Finally, I rose up again and said to them, “I’d run if I were you.”

  Then I slammed back down into the water, thrusting my legs forward so hard that the vibrations echoed through my entire body. The rock gave way, and immediately, water burst forth, creating a mighty flood beyond anything I had expected. In an hour or two, this might settle, but for now, the violence was terrible, the water pulling rocks and layers of mud away from the hills and toward the cave opening, carrying with it everything in its path.

  For several seconds, I was overcome by the flow of icy water that forced the air from my lungs. I couldn’t breathe, nor could I orient myself. The branch I’d been holding so tightly finally gave way against the rush of water, propelling me into the river. I might have been carried all the way down into the cave opening, except that the branch became lodged against a rock, allowing me to crawl to the water’s edge. My injured leg throbbed from hip to toe and was no doubt bleeding again. I rolled southward and collapsed onto the grass, exhausted.

  Nearer to the cave opening and on the north side of the restored river, Wilta had been pulled to safety, though the half-cut rope was still tied around her chest. When she saw me, almost directly across from her, she forgot about the rope and instead screamed out my name, adding, “You will not get away with this!”

  Ignoring the pleas from the captain that she should rest, Wilta grabbed the sword from Roden’s sheath and began running toward the branch, the only bridge from her side of the river to mine.

  “Wilta, stop!” Roden ran after her, but her focus was so intent upon me, if she heard him, she didn’t care.

  I had a different angle and knew how precariously the branch was positioned against the rock. It was not nearly as secure as it looked.

  I sat up, waving her away. “Go back, Wilta! It isn’t safe.”

  But Wilta stepped on the branch anyway, taking a moment to check her balance, then walking forward. She wasn’t even halfway across before the branch rolled, carrying her into the river and back toward the cave opening.

  I ran along the side of the river and dove into the water just in time to catch the rope as she went over the edge. With my other hand, I grabbed a root that had become exposed by the water, but the rope burned my palm as it continued to pull through my hands.

  From his side of the river, Roden dove in as well, braced by Lump and a few other vigils, allowing Roden to grab the rope with both hands.

  With his help, we began to pull Wilta back toward the surface, but a second branch swept down the river, knocking Roden away from the other Prozarians. He lost his hold on the rope, which pulled me deeper into the river. The branch lodged against the arch and entangled the rope. Half-buried in so much cold, I tugged, but my strength was sapped, and the rope would not give.

  “Jaron, pull me up,” she begged.

  “I can’t!”

  “You must. I’ll do anything you ask.”

  “Wilta, I can’t pull you up!”

  “Please do not let go of that rope.”

  From behind me, Tobias shouted, “We’re here, Jaron. We’re back. I brought help.”

  I turned long enough to see Darius wade into the water, grabbing the rope with one hand and me with the other. On the opposite side of the river, Roden had been working to dislodge the branch, and slowly, we began dragging Wilta up from the cave again.

  Finally, Roden reached over and took Wilta by the hand, then pulled her into his arms and dragged her out of the river.

  I released the rope and might have fallen over myself except Darius said to someone I couldn’t see, “Help him.”

  Mott reached into the river and pulled me out. “We need to leave while we still can,” he said.

  “He’ll help us.” Tobias pointed to Mercy, who was crawling out of our side of the river, coughing on water. Tobias walked to stand directly over him and said, “You lost the wager. Where can we find the princess?”

  I staggered to my feet, casting a glance at Strick and Wilta. With Wilta’s bright scarlet hair wet and pulled away from her face, the resemblance was more obvious than before. I wondered if Roden saw it.

  He stood beside Wilta, offering support, but he didn’t need to. Her anger easily warmed her. We locked eyes, each of us now understanding something dangerous about the other. I could identify her. She could destroy me.

  Strick pointed to me, shouting at her people. “Consider that boy our enemy. I will reward anyone who brings him to me. Until he kneels to us, let all of Belland feel our revenge!”

  Every Prozarian near her began looking for a way to cross the river — even Roden began looking — but until the flow settled, they wouldn’t get far. Rather than care anything for their threats, with Mott’s help, I stumbled toward Mercy.

  Tobias’s hands were in fists and he was speaking through clenched teeth. “Where is she?”

  I pulled Tobias back, but i
n a firm voice, said, “Honor your wager.”

  Mercy arched his neck. “What you gave us was only a rock. I will not honor that.”

  “I wagered that you would not know for certain whether I had retrieved the lens. You only know what I gave you, not what I kept for myself.”

  “Very well.” Mercy’s eye twitched. “Amarinda is on our flagship. Give me one of your people tonight. I will bring them with me to take her off the ship.”

  “I’ll go,” Tobias instantly offered.

  I shook my head. “Then they’d have two captives.”

  “I’m willing to take the risk.”

  I looked over at Tobias. “I’m not.”

  Mercy’s frown at me was intended for Tobias to see, and he did. “If you refuse my offer, Jaron, I cannot guarantee what will happen to your princess next.”

  Tobias turned to me in a silent plea to change my mind. But I wouldn’t, and he knew it. Finally, he grunted and stomped away.

  Mercy waited until he’d left, then his face cracked into a smile. “I did try to fulfil the terms of the wager. What a pity you don’t trust me with your friend’s safety.”

  I began to retort, but Mott handed me my jerkin, dripping with water. “Let’s go, Jaron.”

  He gestured across the river. Several of the Prozarians were now halfway across, their weapons out.

  I turned to leave with Mott, though I didn’t realize how weak and cold I’d become until we were hurrying away. Every step took enormous effort, and at my best, I was still lagging behind with only Mott at my side, urging me to keep going. Once we made it safely into the hills and rounded the first bend, all of that was forgotten when Imogen darted toward me from behind some trees, where she’d been hiding. She mumbled my name and immediately wrapped her cloak around my shoulders before pulling me into a warm embrace.

  “I can’t believe you’re alive.”

  I shrugged and glanced back. “Me neither.” My gaze fell next on Tobias. “I couldn’t allow you to get on that ship.”

  “If it were Imogen held captive, would you have gone?” He huffed and continued walking.

  Imogen kept her arm around me as we fell in beside him. She said, “I was there in the crowd, you know, but I was so far back, I only heard the people talking. Did you really push Wilta into the cave opening?”

  “She’s the Monarch, Imogen. She’s behind everything that is happening here.”

  “Wilta? Are you sure?”

  “It was obvious after I realized that no women there had needles stuck into the bottoms of their skirts.”

  “So?”

  “So Wilta claimed that all Bellander women did that.”

  Tobias and Imogen exchanged a look. “That’s your evidence?” Tobias squinted at me, incredulous. “Jaron, that means nothing. Only a few women from Belland were even there.”

  “What about the scars on her forearm? She implied to Roden that they were from the captain, but they are left from the plague.”

  “How would you know what a plague scar looks like?” Tobias asked.

  I rolled my eyes. “I’ve received enough scars to know when one is given in anger. Hers were not. And there’s more. I knew a Prozarian boy once, back when I lived in the orphanage.”

  “Edgar?” Tobias glanced over at me. “He stayed at the orphanage in Gelvins for a little while. I knew him too, or at least, I knew who he was.”

  “Do you recall the way he pronounced the name of Carthya, with a drawn-out sound at the end?”

  “No.”

  “Well, he did. Captain Strick pronounces it the same way. And so does Wilta.”

  “That means nothing!” Tobias shook his head. “Maybe she learned the name from Captain Strick. Naturally she would pronounce it the same way.”

  Imogen pressed her brows low. “I’d never risk someone’s life on so little evidence.”

  “Her life never was in danger. She’s the Monarch! They were always going to pull her out.”

  “I hope you’re right …” Imogen drew in a breath. “And I hope you’re wrong. She knows a lot about us.”

  And she knew how to use that information against me — Wilta made that perfectly clear. My arm tightened protectively around Imogen. Her arm tightened around me too, something I needed.

  She continued, “Then to have collapsed the dam! Jaron, what were you thinking?”

  “That … did not work as expected. If it hadn’t been for Darius —”

  Darius stopped on the trail and looked back at me. “If Father had been here to see that, he’d have locked you in your room for a year.”

  “He tried that once. Besides, you were the one who gave me the suggestion, when you reminded me of the time I fell from the parapet. I had to kick the window open to get back inside the castle.”

  “What?” His brow furrowed. “When I asked if you remembered racing across the parapet, I meant that I had come to help you then and I would come now. Nothing more.”

  I thought that over. “Oh yes, that does make more sense.”

  A pause followed, one that neither of us seemed to know how to break. Darius was the first to try. “I see things more clearly now. I’m sorry to have put you through all this.”

  “We have more to talk about,” I added. “But I knew you’d come back for me.”

  Darius grinned. “You didn’t know it. You made a lucky guess.”

  That made me laugh, though it ended with a grunt of pain that only worsened when I tried to take the next step on my own. Imogen’s arm wrapped around me again. “Is anything broken?”

  “My ankle is swelling in my boot. Kicking at the rocks was a bad idea.”

  Tobias pointed at my leg. “You tore open the wound again. And you’re still shivering — we need to get you warmed up, and fast.”

  Tobias braced me from one side, and with Imogen on the other, I began to hobble toward Mott, who had been roaming the area to be sure it was secure.

  He said, “Trea told me about an abandoned house higher in the hills. She’s waiting there for us. The Prozarians don’t seem to know about it.”

  “I can take us there.” Darius sighed as he looked over at me. “Well, Jaron, it seems you’ve gotten me into trouble once again.”

  Mott caught up to Darius as he led the way. “Did you ever get used to that, when you two were younger?”

  Darius glanced back at me. “Never.”

  They laughed but I had more serious things on my mind. Thinking back to when I’d first seen Tobias outside the prison house, I asked, “Where is Fink?”

  Tobias shook his head. “I don’t know. He’d been out looking for water earlier in the day and told me he’d found a place in the north where he could hide. But I don’t know if that’s true, or if he ever made it there.”

  “Who’s Fink?” Darius asked.

  I glanced over at him, curious to how he would respond. “A few things have changed since you left Carthya. You have another younger brother now.”

  “Named Fink?” Darius chuckled. “It’s a good thing he’s adopted, or he’d be in line for the throne. Imagine the absurdity of that name, King Fink.”

  I stopped in place, forcing Tobias and Imogen to stop with me. Darius looked back at me again, still smiling until I said, “Fink is my brother now. He is my brother as much as you are.”

  “All right, that’s not a problem.” Darius casually shrugged that away, confirming again that he had no idea of his origins. Imogen squeezed my arm as a silent message of her understanding.

  Farther along the trail, Darius asked, “Was he meant to replace me?”

  “Never!” I waited for Darius to turn around but this time he didn’t, so I continued, “When I left the castle, my whole family was there. When I returned, I was alone. Fink is not your replacement, but try to understand, I needed some sense of family.”

  “You think I don’t understand that? Trea is the kindest person I’ve ever known, but she’ll never be our mother. And all this time, I’ve thought of Amarinda and how it woul
d be to get back to her, but now your friend, who by the way is holding his sword upside down, has taken my place.”

  Tobias reversed his grip on the sword. “I didn’t replace you either, Darius. She just had to continue on with her life.”

  His tone sharpened. “I am King Darius. Jaron may have allowed you more familiarity, but he’s your friend. You and I are not friends.”

  Tobias’s eyes darted. “Jaron is no longer king?”

  Darius looked at me to confirm his words, but before I could answer, Mott pointed ahead. “That must be the hut. Trea should already be here. Let’s get inside — it looks like it might rain.”

  Similar to the home where Darius lived, this shelter was also made of rock and mortar. It was small but seemed comfortable. I wondered who had lived here once, and why they no longer did. We crowded inside as Trea welcomed us with dried fruits and meats. “I wish I could offer something warm, or bake some bread, but I don’t dare start a fire,” she said.

  The depth of my hunger was enough that I grabbed a fistful of food before I thanked her and was halfway through a second handful before I was able to slow down. With starvation no longer at the top of my thoughts, I became aware that everyone seemed to have been waiting to speak to me.

  Darius began. “You are certain that Wilta is the Monarch?”

  “Yes.” I wanted to tell them about the threats Wilta had made while in the cave, but I didn’t have the strength for it tonight. Maybe I would tomorrow. Maybe I never would.

  Darius continued, “Did you find the third lens in the cave?”

  “No. I think it is in there, though. Even if you were angry with me, how could you give them the second lens?”

  Trea chuckled. “It looked real to you?”

  Confused, I turned back to Darius, who said, “We gave them an imitation. It had to look believable. That’s one of the reasons I asked the captain to find you — I needed to get her out of Belland long enough that we could forge a new lens.” I squinted at him, and he added, “That was one of the reasons. Also, they really did make me wonder if you were responsible for our parents.”

  “I never was.”

  “I know that … now.” He sighed. “They claimed to have proof of it. I understand better now. They always wanted to bring you here. I was just their excuse.”