Oath of the Outcast

by C M Banschbach

  Rhys woke with a start and rubbed at his neck, cramped from sleeping in the chair. He shook the images from the dream out of his mind and rose stiffly.

  The window glinted with the last light of the sun as it slipped beyond the world. The town below them lay in darkness, silent and still with no sign of movement.

  Alan dozed on the bed, arms crossed over his chest. Two bowls of stew and a few pieces of golden-crusted bread rested on the table. The stew had cooled to a barely palatable temperature. He ate the bread as he stamped some of the stiffness from his limbs.

  He glanced out the window and saw a new light burning steadily down in the town. They’re ready.

  Alan didn’t stir as Rhys began to move around. Rhys frowned in irritation, and crossed over to the bed.

  “Alan.” He slapped Alan’s boots. “Alan!” He shoved harder as Alan still didn’t move.

  “Fine.” He picked up a pillow.

  “You do anything with that, and I’ll break your hand,” Alan said, his eyes still closed.

  Rhys slammed it into his stomach. “Then get up.”

  Alan cracked one eye open and glared at him. But he sat up on the edge of the bed, rubbing his eyes.

  “You eat any of that stew?” he asked.

  Rhys shook his head, returning to the window.

  “Shame. I was hoping they poisoned yours.” Alan yawned.

  Rhys rolled his eyes, ignoring the smirk from Alan. They waited another hour before silently arming themselves.

  “Ready?” Rhys slung his pack over his shoulder. Alan nodded, doing the same. Rhys stood by the door as Alan pounded his fist against the heavy oak door and began shouting.

  “We need to see Lord Adam now! The food changed my mind. And I can’t take being in here with the Baron anymore. He looks like he’s about to vomit rocks.”

  Rhys tilted his head with a frown. Adam smirked and kept banging at the door.

  Steps shuffled along with the rattle of keys.

  “What’s going on in here?” the guard asked gruffly, lowering his spear as he opened the door. Rhys grabbed the spear and jerked the guard inside.

  He ripped the spear from the man’s surprised grip, sending him stumbling forward another step. Rhys twisted the spear in his hand and smashed it down across the back of the guard’s head. He pitched forward without a sound, thudding to the ground.

  “Hard head, that one.” Alan nodded to the broken spear shaft in Rhys’s hand.

  He shrugged and tossed it down beside the man before gagging him and tying his hands with braided strips of blanket prepared an hour before. Alan watched the door as Rhys finished. They stepped out of the room together, and Rhys locked the door and left the keys on a narrow windowsill. He set off down the hallway, Alan on his heels. He’d spent much of the day refreshing his memories of the castle, planning the most effective route into and out of the dungeons.

  Regardless of the mission at hand, ghosts and memories still roamed the hallways, but Rhys couldn’t take time to acknowledge them. Maybe later when he was back at the Dragon Keep, when Sean was safe at home with his family, he would let himself remember. But not now.

  Rhys led the way down a dark servant’s passage and short staircase that bypassed the main hall. The passage intersected with a lit hallway on the main floor that they would take the dungeons.

  Side passages and doors broke the monotony of the white stone like dark chasms stretching further into the depths of the castle. The faint scuff of their boots was the only noise to mar the quiet surrounding them. Until it was broken by a heavier tread and muted clank of armor.

  Rhys didn’t pause. He grabbed Alan’s arm and shoved him down the nearest passageway. They pressed up against the wall, hiding in the darkest shadows that the lanterns from the hallway couldn’t reach.

  The guard’s footsteps didn’t pause as he passed. Rhys didn’t move for another long minute after the night faded back into silence. Beside him, Alan released a slow breath. They stepped cautiously back out and continued on their way.

  Alan took the lead at the stairwell into the dungeons, sliding a knife free as he disappeared down the steps. There was a grunt and the sound of a body being lowered to the floor. Alan whispered, and Rhys joined him. Alan held the keys and they trod softly among the cells. Rhys halted when the torchlight illuminated Sean’s dusky red hair.

  “Sean!” he hissed.

  Sean rolled over and limped to the door. “Took you long enough.” His slight grin lent an extra spark of life to his pale face.

  Rhys slid the key into the lock.

  “Baron,” Alan murmured a warning.

  A guard stepped into view at the entrance of the dungeons, spear lowered in threat. Rhys began to pull a knife from his belt as Alan settled into a fighting stance. They stared at one another in silence until the guard surprised them by raising his spear.

  “Get him out of here,” he said. “And hurry.”

  Rhys narrowed his eyes at the guard, but he swung open the door so Sean could step out.

  “Take the left hall once you’re out of the dungeons.” The guard moved aside. “Not many people walk that passage at night. It’ll put you out by the east gate.”

  “Thank you, Gerard.” Sean gripped the guard’s arm.

  Rhys nodded his thanks. It was the route he had planned to take. A figure moved with a quiet rustle in the opposite cell. Rhys stepped into the full glare of a torch and the figure let out a cry.

  “Rhys?”

  Rhys turned as pale as the ghost he looked at. Shock pummeled his chest, nearly stopping his heart. The ground shifted beneath his feet. He blinked and saw pooling blood. Felt a knife’s handle against his palm. A figure sprawled on the ground.

  He dug his fingers into his palm, re-anchoring himself to the world.

  “Damon?” His voice broke. “You’re dead!”

  “Not as much as I should be,” Damon replied.

  With the dungeon still spinning, Rhys slid the key home and jerked Damon’s cell door open. “Come on.”

  “I can give you five minutes,” the guard said apologetically.

  Alan stepped forward. “Sorry.” He punched the guard in the face. The first blow bloodied his nose, and the second left him semi-conscious on the floor. “You heard him, let’s go.”

  Rhys led the way, stepping over the body of the first guard in the stairwell and turning left into a darkened corridor.

  “Stairs,” he whispered to the others and they descended into another, better lit, hallway.

  Alan caught at his sleeve, lowering his voice. “Are we going to be able to take an extra person?”

  Rhys pushed on. “We make an exception for him. You heard his name?”

  Alan’s eyes widened as comprehension began to set in.

  Rhys pushed him on. “We have to get out of here first.”

  They picked up their pace to a jog. Rhys held up a hand at the tramp of a single guard near another intersection of hallways. The soldier strode by, spear held loosely in his hand. Rhys grabbed the unsuspecting soldier from behind in a choking hold. He rested the unconscious body on the floor and waved them on, frowning in concern at the short gasps from Sean.

  “Hurry. Our five minutes is almost up.” He pointed straight ahead and Alan took the lead. They ran with the sound of waves crashing against the wall masking their footsteps.

  A creak of an opening door gave a poor warning as a druid stepped into the hall. He froze, mouth open in surprise. His green robe fit him poorly, and he didn’t sport the long beard of the other druids they’d encountered so far.

  “What are you--” His gaze trailed to Sean. Eyes opening wider, he drew a breath to shout.

  Rhys stormed forward, slapping a hand over the druid’s mouth and shoving him back into the wall with a thud.

  “What’s going on?” Another voice asked from behind the door. The young druid clawed at Rhys’s arm, and he slammed the druid’s head back against the wall in response. He crumpled to the ground.

&n
bsp; Rhys drew a knife as the door opened to reveal a bearded druid. He reversed the knife and slammed the pommel into the man’s throat. The druid clutched at his neck with a wheezing gasp that cut off as Rhys followed up with a strike to his head.

  Rhys remained poised for action, waiting to see if any new threat came through the door. Nothing stirred. He beckoned to Alan as he nudged the door open further. Alan crossed the hallway to help him move the unconscious bodies inside.

  The circular room reeked of incense, and a chair sat at its center.

  “What in flames do they do in here?” Alan muttered as they placed the older druid on the floor.

  “Not sure I want to know.” Rhys shut the door on the druids.

  He turned back to the others. Sean leaned against the opposite wall, breath coming in shuddering gasps, an unseeing look of panic on his face as he faced the door. Damon stood beside him, frowning in concern as he rested a hand on Sean’s shoulder. Rhys crossed the hall and shook Sean’s arm.

  “Sean!”

  Sean’s gaze refocused on him, reassurance creeping through. He gave a short nod and pushed away from the wall.

  If I’d been here, I could have protected him from this. The thought sparked new anger in Rhys, only increased by the fact that he didn’t have enough time to hunt down the rest of the druids and make them pay for whatever they’d done to Sean.

  “Come on.” He nudged Sean down the hall, checking to make sure that Damon followed close behind.

  As they crossed another intersection, shouts began to spread through the castle. Rhys sprinted to the right and up a short flight of steps to a door. He cracked it open and stepped up into the courtyard.

  The panic hadn’t spread to that side of the castle yet. He crossed to the welcome shadows of the wall a few feet away. Damon came next, and then Sean. Rhys reached to steady the Seer as he slumped against the wall, breathing hard. Sean gave a short smile.

  Once Alan joined them, Rhys cautiously stepped along the wall until it gave way under his hand and they stood in the gateway.

  Alan and Rhys lifted the locking beam from its hooks and pushed the gate open with a heart-stopping creak.

  Alan looked over the open expanse of salty grass that they had to cross. “They’re waiting, right?”

  “They’d better be,” Rhys growled. He didn’t much relish getting shot at once the guards on the walls saw them.

  “Straight ahead. Don’t stop for anything.” Rhys pointed at the tree line and stepped out. They broke into a run together. New cries went up from the walls, and bows twanged behind them. Rhys flinched aside as an arrow whizzed by his shoulder. Two more stabbed into the ground ahead of him in small sprays of grass.

  Sean’s ragged breathing fell behind him. Rhys grabbed Sean’s shoulder and hurried him on. Damon seemed to be in slightly better condition than Sean, but he labored over the uneven ground.

  Alan ducked with a muffled curse as another arrow flew dangerously close.

  The trees loomed closer, but the moon gleefully illuminated the distance they still had to cover.

  A whoop sounded ahead and Bryn led the charge from the tree line, leading the extra horses. Rorie reined in, hauling Alan’s horse to a halt with him. Draco half-reared in Bryn’s hold as Rhys shoved Sean towards the horse that Jes held. Alan pulled Damon up behind him. Rhys half-turned as a bell began to toll out the warning. Dark figures swarmed the battlements, some pointing toward them.

  Rorie’s horse snorted in alarm as an arrow thudded at its hooves. New humming filled the air. Rhys lunged for Draco’s saddle horn, mounting as he sprang into motion, and they galloped off into the night.

  They didn’t stop to catch their collective breath until they reached the Raven’s Tooth, horses milling about in eager motion.

  “Baron?” Bryn cast a questioning look toward Damon.

  Rhys returned the question with a tip of his head, wordlessly promising an explanation later.

  “Everyone all right?” Rhys did a quick inspection and received affirmation in reply. Sean sat with a slight slump to his shoulders, but a new look of determination edged his face. He nodded once and adjusted his grip on the reins.

  The sound of the warning bells still reached them. It wouldn’t be long before they had men after them. Rhys pulled Draco around and spurred on.

  Two milestones later, Rhys jerked his thumb back the way they came. “Jes.”

  The Gedrinian nodded and cantered back down the road to check for pursuit. Rhys pulled Draco down to a trot, and the others followed suit, their horses huffing in relief. They kept to a trot and sometimes a canter through the night.

  The sky turned grey with the coming dawn when they stopped at a ford to rest and water the horses. The riders dismounted to stretch their legs and refill water skins.

  Alan left Damon standing by the river and came towards where Rhys stood by Draco. He faced Rhys across Draco’s saddle.

  “You said a name in the dungeon. Tell me that’s not who I think it is.” Alan jerked a thumb back at Damon.

  Rhys couldn’t answer as he stared at Damon, the cold panic that had lurked in his heart since he’d unlocked the cell door clawing its way up to suffocate him.

  “It can’t be!” Alan said.

  Rhys jerked his gaze away and met Alan’s wide eyes. “It is. Prince Damon Seabright, last of his line.”

  Chapter 17

  But he’s dead!” Alan gripped Draco’s saddle and leaned closer to Rhys as if the action would make him believe the statement.

  “Apparently not as much as he should be.” Rhys scrubbed a hand over his face, still reeling from the shock himself.

  The last time he’d seen Damon, the prince had been covered in blood, half-conscious with a Karanti knife in his chest.

  Except he’s not dead. Apparently he’s alive and well.

  “What does this mean for you?” Alan asked.

  “I don’t know.” Rhys lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “But this doesn’t change our plan. We need to get him to Sarksten.”

  “How do we know Damon’s not loyal to Adam? What if it’s a trick? Adam could have put him there just to taunt you.”

  “I don’t know, Alan.” Rhys growled. “Adam knows if I found Damon alive I’d do everything in my power to see him on the throne. I don’t think he wants Damon out of his sight, no matter what his plans.”

  “But why?” Alan glanced over his shoulder to where Damon stood with his face turned upward toward the sun. “Why would Adam keep him alive all these years, especially if he knew what you’d do if you found out? None of this sits right with me.”

  “Nor me. But that is Damon Seabright. And I’ve a responsibility to see him back to the throne where he belongs.”

  “A responsibility?” Alan’s gaze burned like hot oil, slow and steady and excruciating. “And why is that your responsibility, Baron?”

  “Because who else is going to do it?” Rhys snapped his hand in a wide gesture. “The council obviously missed the fact that he didn’t actually die.”

  “I saw his corpse.” Alan shifted his arms across his chest.

  Rhys gripped Draco’s saddle with both hands, drawing a steadying breath. No matter what had happened, they had more pressing concerns. “We get to Sarksten and then figure it all out.”

  Alan jerked a tight nod. He made to turn away, but Rhys halted him.

  “Alan. Keep this to yourself for now.”

  Alan inclined his head again and moved away to where Sean knelt by the river, scooping some water to splash over his face. He crouched beside Sean, resting a light hand on his shoulder. Like a brother. A new pang struck through Rhys at their murmured conversation, and the relieved smile breaking over Sean’s face. Of course, Alan, who’d grown up with them and had no siblings of his own, would have stepped in to fill that void Rhys had left.

  Because I asked him to when I knew I couldn’t go back. His grip tightened around the reins, tugging at the bit.

  Draco pulled his nose from the river, shak
ing himself with a slap of leathers. He snorted before turning his head to regard Rhys out of one eye. Rhys patted his shoulder. Time to get moving again.

  “Mount up. We need to keep as much distance as we can.”

  Alan helped Sean to his feet. Sean looked to him for a moment before Rhys turned away, pretending to check Draco’s girth. They had a long, hard journey ahead of them to the Carraig where they’d leave Sean and Alan. Talking to Sean would only make things worse.

  Alan took Damon up behind him again. The prince turned a glance to him, full of questions. Rhys shook his head.

  Later. He’d talk to Damon later.

  Rorie took the rear guard as they crossed the shallow ford and entered into the Ruthin Forest. It ate at Rhys to keep the pace to a walk when he’d rather race Sean and Damon to safety, but the horses couldn’t run forever.

  Every dozen yards or so, Rhys checked behind him. Bryn had placed Sean between him and Rhys, and Alan came behind with Jes. They rode in hard-eyed alertness, shoulders tensed and hands close to weapons. All but Sean. He sat his horse with the determination of a man just trying to not collapse of exhaustion.

  But every time he met Rhys’s glance, he tried to sit taller and his chin jutted in stubborn defiance. Rhys shook his head despite a small flicker of pride. Sean sometimes had a head harder than the boulders that cropped up in the Talam’s lower fields.

  After a painful quarter hour of walking, Rhys gave two short whistles. Draco perked his ears up and broke into a trot. The staggered clip-clop of hooves behind him announced that the others followed suit. The road ran straight and true through the forest as the miles crept by. Rhys didn’t turn around until mid-morning at a spot where the path widened.

  He reined Draco to the side of the trail. “We’ll rest here for a few minutes. Light rations only.”

  Sean wasn’t the only one to look relieved at the halt. Bryn crossed over to Sean’s saddlebags and undid the buckles.