staircase after staircase until he was in the entryway, making it there right as his brother limped inside.
“How’d it go?” The king said eagerly, wiping dirt off his commander.
Kenton collapsed into a chair brought for him. A doctor from the manor region began to look him over.
“I think,” he looked at the king as if for the first time, “I think we should talk in private somewhere. I need to tell you what they said.”
The king looked around the entryway as if a secret place to talk was going to appear any moment. “How about up on the fourth floor?”
Kenton nodded, wiping his face with his sleeve. “I’ll meet you up there in a few minutes.”
Chellias jumped up the stairs three at a time.
Kenton glowered at Ackerley. “Hey, go where you promised.” He said quietly so no one else could hear.
“But, what happened out there?” Ackerley asked.
“Just go, alright? I’ll meet you there in an hour or so.”
Ackerley reluctantly agreed and raced up the stairs to the third floor. He went to his room. Cerise sat on her bed, looking out the window.
“What’s going on out there?” She asked.
“I don't know. Kenton wants us to go to that little garden. I think he wants to run away now.”
Ackerley looked around the room for anything he could take with him. He realized he didn’t own anything and so grabbed his clothes and stuffed them into a small bag Cerise had given him.
“Does he think they are going to attack?” Cerise started shoving some of her things in a bag as well.
“I don’t know.”
Cerise suddenly gasped. Ackerley looked at her in alarm.
“The crates on the fourth floor. What’ll happen to them?”
Ackerley shrugged. “I guess . . . I don’t really know.”
She clutched her necklace and danced anxiously on her toes. “I can’t leave them. I don’t want those things to get them. I’ll bring what I can carry. Just a few things in this bag.”
“Alright, but we’d better hurry.”
They made their way down the hall toward the secret entrance to the fourth floor. Ackerley glanced out the window and dropped his bag. He backed up to the wall and shook all over. Cerise came over and also glanced out. She dropped her own bag and covered her mouth.
Down below a Welgo stood before the gates. For a terrified second Ackerley wasn’t quite sure what he was seeing. And then the Welgo threw the gates open and a flood of large mean looking warriors overtook the grounds.
“We . . . we . . .” Ackerley stammered. “How did that one get in?”
Cerise gave a furtive look towards the hidden stairs. “We can make it.” She said stubbornly.
“No we can’t.” Ackerley shouted. He grabbed Cerise’s arm and ran for the stairs down.
He didn’t know where to go and ended up running all around the third floor and back to where they had started. Glancing around wildly, he remembered the secret staircase Jarn had taken him down on his very first morning. They found it and a few seconds later barreled out into the back garden of the castle. No Welgos were there yet. Together they ran as fast as they could to the little garden. Cerise stopped at the entrance. She looked back at Ackerley with fear in her eyes.
“It’s open.” She said.
Ackerley looked around her and saw that the stone hiding the little tunnel was already pushed aside.
“Chellion must already be in there. Let’s go.”
Several Welgos came around the side of the castle. The two kids managed to crawl into the tunnel and slide the wall back into place before being seen.
Kenton heard the gate open and without a second thought raced out of the entryway and up the stairs. In no time at all the halls were filled with screaming. He shouted above the commotion to remind people to head to the basement as quickly as possible.
While rushing along the second floor he heard banging and shouts from below. It sounded as though the Welgos had gotten inside.
A noise jolted him from his mind and into a corner, where Yinnib sat crouched, rocking back and forth, his head in his hands.
“This can’t be happening.” He whimpered shrilly, tears streaking down his face. “This just can’t be happening.”
Kenton kneeled down, gently took hold of Yinnib, and tried to hoist him to his feet. The noble shook him off and continued rocking.
“You need to get to the basement.” Kenton comforted. “Come on now, get up.”
“NO!” Yinnib shrieked, pulling himself away once more.
Kenton couldn’t waste any more time. “You need to get down there right away.”
The commander stood up and continued on his way.
The fourth floor seemed eerily quiet with everything going on downstairs. Lord Chellion’s door stood ajar. Not wanting to take chances, Kenton moved slowly toward it. Someone appeared in the doorway and Kenton jumped in shock. It was the king.
Chellias resembled a large terrified child. He wrung his hands as he cried silently, sniveling occasionally.
“It’s alright, sir.” Kenton assured him. “I think we’re safe up here.”
“They got in.” The king moaned.
“Yes, I know.”
The sounds of the castle being torn apart sounded far away.
“They killed him. I don’t know how, but they killed him.”
“Killed who?” Kenton asked, not sure what was going on.
Chellias moved out of the way and let Kenton into the room.
At first nothing looked out of the ordinary. The bed was nicely made and everything was in its proper place. But then Kenton saw two feet poking out from the other side of the bed. He slowly made his way over. The carpet was stained red, and lying next to the bed was the body of Lord Chellion. His face was covered in blood, his yellow cap askew on his head.
Kenton’s heart beat very fast. “Who could have done this?” He croaked, taking in the gory scene.
He got on his knees and examined the body. No less than ten puncture wounds littered the old man.
“They got in.” The king sobbed from the door.
“But how?” Kenton wondered.
Chellias took a long quivering breath and punched his chest a few times. “I am the king.” He told himself. “I am brave and I will weather this storm.”
Kenton continued to stare at the lord’s body, attempting to grasp what was going on. “No Welgo could have come up here.” He mused to himself.
“I am a soldier,” the king went on, “my father was a soldier. He fought the Welgos in Welgland and won. And here I am . . .” He pulled his sword from it’s scabbard and tossed it on the bed. “I’m losing my kingdom. I’m failing my kingdom, Morzha. I’m unable to stop simple barbarians.”
Kenton stood up and looked at the king seriously. “Make peace with them, sir. Save what you can while you can. Give them the Vastlands and they might be lenient.”
The king gave his commander a confounded grimace. “Give them my kingdom?”
Kenton stood tall. “If it saves just a little Chell, then yes.”
“No, absolutely not. Chell will not fall while I am king. I will not fall, ever!”
“Then you risk losing all of it.” Kenton begged for the king to understand. “They don’t care about any of the people here or elsewhere. Trust me, I know their plan. They want to expand. They want more than what they have in Welgland. They will kill anyone who gets in their way of that. Please think about the children here. Save them by making peace and giving them the space they want. They are going to take it one way or another.”
The king went over to the window. Faint sounds met their ears, as occasional rumbles shook the castle. “I am the kingdom now.” He said faintly. He turned to face Kenton, tears in his eyes. “I need your protection, Morzha. Take my sword.”
Kenton took hold of the sword by its bej
eweled handle.
“Raise it.” The king whispered.
Kenton raised the sword to his face. He stared into his reflection on the gleaming surface. And then he raised it higher, until it touched the ceiling.
“Promise to protect me, Morzha. Promise to protect this kingdom and everything you care about.”
“I will protect—” the walls shook. “—Everything I care about.”
“You are now my guardian. You and I are all Chell has now.”
Kenton lowered the sword, not taking his eyes from his reflection.
The king walked to the open door. “They will never find their way up here. If we wait long enough they’ll go away, thinking I escaped.”
Kenton pried his eyes away from the sword. He noticed the king’s jacket wasn’t nearly as thick as the jackets the Welgos wear. His wasn’t made for fighting.
“Do you hear that?” the king asked, leaning out the door. “Do you think they’re getting closer?”
“Yes.” Kenton said, his voice emotionless.
With swift hands Kenton struck the king across the back.
Chellias howled and fell to his knees. Kenton jumped in, grabbed the king by his hair with one hand, and plunged the blade into the king’s neck with the other. He slowly and methodically pushed the sword deeper until the king’s guttural chokes died away.
The commander and guardian let go of his charge and stood up. He stared down the hall, breathing calm and deep.
And then he began to shiver as the full weight of what he had done reached his brain. He dropped the sword on the motionless body of Chell and backed away, almost tripping over Chellion. Kenton ran to the window. He stared out the window without actually seeing anything. Somewhere deep inside Kenton was
The Chellion Days Page 44
