by Casey Eanes
If he could escape, so can I. The thought rolled in her head like a stone, but she dared to think it again.
Yes. If Grift could escape my prison…surely I can escape this one. But how?
She closed her eyes, searching for an answer. She willed herself to relax, to allow her subconscious to engage the problem. Her mind whirled and clicked for days, but there were no immediate solutions. There had to be something else. She held her breath, losing herself in the sound of that dank place. The slow drip of brine was the first thing she could hear. She pushed herself further down the hall, allowing her ears to see all that she couldn’t.
Yes. The distant sound of the guards shuffling their feet could be heard echoing down the far hallways. Then she heard something she wasn’t expecting. The sound was faint but distinct. The slow lumbering rhythm of waves. Willyn could hear them whisper, crashing against the rocky shoreline. It was a sound she heard before. The answer fell into her mind.
Filip’s palace. She was under Filip’s palace. Even though the guards blindfolded her upon her arrest and then taken their sweet time delivering her to her current location, she knew she was right. She could feel it in her bones. She knew that they had come right back to where she started.
So what do you do with that? The question was like a splinter throbbing in her mind. She determined where she was, but how could that knowledge benefit her?
She pondered this idea silently, but no more sounds and no more ideas visited Willyn in her cell for hours. She sat in complete silence, not wanting to even hear her own voice. The fatigue of the days prior settled into her shoulders like a lead weight. She was exhausted, having only escaped the Morel pack within an inch of her life. Thank you, Luken, she thought, brushing away the thoughts of the brute that had come after her in the bog. The waves beating in the distance began to lull her to sleep. Yet sleep brought no comfort to her.
She dreamed, and in her dreams she took on the form of a young girl. Hagan was there, but his form was not right. Her older brother was haggard and dying, coughing up putrid green bile and wasting away with each painful heave of his brittle chest. He looked to her child form and wiped his mouth. His voice croaked out, its hollow sound causing her to scream, “This is your fault. You left me to die!”
One nightmare led to another. Another dream came, and Hagan was no longer lying on his deathbed but was shackled and chained. Hosp was dragging him across the ground and turning to beat him and curse at him with each faltering step. Willyn attempted to run to save her brother, only to realize that again she was bound within the body of a small child. She charged after her enemy, doing all she could to save her brother, but with each advance she was countered by a swift kick or punch from Hosp who cackled at her futile attempts. His eyes were glazed over with hatred, and they burned brightly, like crimson yellow orbs of fire.
“Your family is cursed, Willyn Kara,” he yelled. “Cursed! You are powerless and unfit to lead. There is nothing you can do!”
To her surprise Grift Shepherd appeared out of thin air. He attacked and overtook the screaming phantom. But her joy fell to despair when she saw Shepherd slowly and willfully stand over Hagan, pulling his pistol out of his holster. Willyn screamed but no voice could be heard as Grift leveled the revolver and pointed it straight at her brother’s face. She forced herself to look away, startled awake by the crack of the pistol firing.
Willyn’s eyes shot open with the bang of her brother’s execution still ringing in her ears. She clawed her way to her feet, covered in a cold sweat. She fought to catch her breath as she tried to chase away the nightmares. As she gathered herself, a small plate rattled beneath the door.
Food. They had brought her food. That had been the sound. The vision of her brother being murdered along with the terrible smell of the room robbed her of her appetite. Despite this, she forced herself to retrieve the hard crusts of bread.
Her voice croaked, echoing off the damp walls, “You could have done better than this. I am the general of Groganlands! I swear all of Elum will regret this day!” Laughs and jeers boomed back at her from behind the thick iron door. Rage filled her mind and she fired back at them, “Why don’t you come back so I can smash this plate through your skull?!”
Stop. Stop giving them what they want. She quieted herself, her teeth working on the thick rind of the dry bread. There is nothing you can do here.
The guards left, and the hallway was once again quiet. The silence was maddening. Pacing was the only thing that seemed to help. Willyn worked her way around the room, following her small orbit of exploring the room, each rotation a new attempt to reveal some small flaw; something to leverage.
Willyn.
The sound of her name stopped her dead in her tracks. Her footsteps could not drown out the fact that someone had called for her. She stood silent, but there was no sign of anyone nearby until the voice came again.
Willyn.
It was surreal. She could have sworn she was hearing her name, but it felt like it was only a part of her earlier dream creeping back into her mind. But the voice. She heard it before.
I am here. Sit quietly and I will join you soon.
“Who is here?” Willyn said. Her eyes shot around the room. “Hello? Hello?”
Willyn continued turning in a slow circle, waiting for movement, ready to attack any sign of intrusion in her cell. A chill ran down her neck as she slowly circled, waiting for the fight that was sure to come, but nothing came. There was nothing but silence. More silence.
“Hello?” she called out one last time. You are going mad, Willyn, she thought to herself. It’s only been a few days and you are already losing it. Get it together.
Willyn sat back down in the corner of the room and tried to focus on the sound of the waves again, hoping that the meditation would help calm her nerves. As she closed her eyes and took in a deep breath, the sound of her cell’s lock snapping open rocketed her to her feet. She braced herself for a fight, but her mouth fell open when she saw who it was.
“Luken? How did you...”
He interrupted. “Never mind that. I have to be quick. What have they told you, Willyn?”
Willyn did not understand.
“No one has said anything since they charged me on your ship. How can they think that I killed Filip, Luken? It’s impossible. I’d been with you the whole time.”
Luken blinked and then stared at her. He let out a low sigh.
“Willyn...I...”
“What is it?” There was something in his eyes. Gods above. Something was wrong.
“I didn’t want to be the one to tell you.”
“To tell me what?” Fear fell over her like a waterfall.
“Your brother...”
Willyn screamed, full of shock and panic. “What about Hagan?!”
Luken’s eyes dropped. “He’s dead, Willyn. Hagan is dead,” he whispered.
A cold void filled Willyn’s collapsing lungs, and the room began to spin. She saw little white pinpricks of light, white fireworks streaking across her vision, and everything, all the colors, sounds, smells, all at once seemed to blend and bleed together. She picked up the words that were just spoken. She struggled to make sense of them. “He’s dead, Willyn. Hagan is dead.”
There was no way to process the news that she lost her only ally, her only friend. The weight of her world collapsed in on her like an avalanche, choking her of breath. Her hands went numb as she stared down to the floor of her cell, trying to somehow forget Luken’s words. Hoping that all of it was a bad dream and that somehow she did not really lose the only person who mattered to her.
“Willyn, did you hear me?” Luken grasped one of her cold hands.
She was silent but her eyes were screaming out. It was as if she left her body, as if the words had been too turbulent that they pushed her out, leaving only a hollow shell.
Luken closed his eyes and inhaled. He called out to her, his voice again penetrating her mind.
Willyn, come back. Come
back.
In a flash Willyn threw herself at him screaming, clawing at him like a panther.
“HOW DARE YOU!? How could you let him die? He was all I had!”
Luken grabbed her wrists, but she quickly pinned him down on the damp, dirty floor. He screamed at her. “Willyn! Calm down!”
She laid into him, “How dare you come in here and tell me that! Is this not enough? Are these chains not enough? You had to tell me that Hagan is dead? Why?!” She stood up and backed away from him. “And then on top of that you pull some witchcraft on me, talking inside my head?” She leapt off of him, recoiling at his touch. “Leave! Leave now! Just let me die here in peace!”
Luken blinked at the word. Witchcraft.
Hot tears streamed down her face. She heaved for air, the panic of it all finally receding. In between deep, haggard breaths, she spoke. ”I was a fool to have trusted you. You ran me around searching for the man who poisoned my brother, knowing that time was all that was needed to kill him. You stole that time from me. You and your witchcraft can burn in the hell you came from.”
Luken gritted his teeth. Anger flared on his face, and he stiffened his back. A moment passed and it dissolved, but Willyn had seen it. He spared her from something, but she did not know what. He whispered to her, reaching out his hand.
“Willyn, please.”
She slapped his touch away. “What is your problem? What makes you think you can do this?”
Luken winced and shook his hand. “Willyn, I’m here to help you. You have to calm down and listen.”
“NO. You will get no listening from me. You dragged me across creation after a ghost, and now...” The weight of the situation completely eclipsed her. Stammering, she choked out what she knew was true...”my brother is dead.”
Her tears shook her to the core, leaving her gasping for breath, only to quake again in her heart. Her chest ached, and she felt as if it were splitting open with each heave for breath. Her soul ached for Hagan, for his advice, his friendship, his leadership, his love. In losing Hagan she lost everything. Everything except for her duty to lead the Groganlands. All she wanted was one last word, one last exchange with her brother, but she knew no words would ever come.
Hagan was gone. She wailed until there was nothing left in her, until she had nothing left to give. Luken sat silently beside her in the dark.
When the sobs ceased, Willyn held her hand over her eyes and banged her head against the cell wall. She let out a moan and looked at Luken through red, tired eyes.
Luken laid a soft hand on her shoulder and pulled back her tangled mess of hair. “I am sorry, Willyn. I am truly sorry.” His words brought little comfort, but his soft touch spoke louder than he ever could. Despite her rage, she knew he was sincere. Despite everything, he was the only person she could trust now.
His gray eyes met her. “It’s time. We’ve got to get you out of this cell and find who is really responsible for this. These people are set to see you hang on the gallows tomorrow. I can’t let that happen to you.”
Willyn’s voice cracked out a small whisper. “What difference does it make? Hagan is dead; his murderer is miles from here. And I am being framed for regicide.” Her voice was cold; all of her hot, unruly emotions were left on the wet floor. “Dying could be better. I’d be free from my shame. I’d be free from failing Hagan.”
Luken grabbed her shackled ankles and inserted a small, thin wire into the lock. “That’s enough of that talk, sacker of cities.” He made a few swift strokes with the device. His grasp on her leg was firm but comforting. The same electricity she felt on the ship seemed to transfer from him again as he held her. She was mesmerized by him.
Why is he helping me escape? He has nothing to gain.
Her mind drifted as Luken continued to fight the locks. She thought back to Hagan and remembered his crippled body lying in his bed, withering away. But the image faded and a new one took its place. She could see Hagan in her mind’s eye rise from the bed. He was well once more and full of his former strength. He was as relentless as the waves crashing against the shores of Elum.
He is at peace. Where this realization came from, Willyn did not know. The thought was a small one, but it calmed her heartache like a soothing balm.
He would not give up had I been the one who died. He would have his revenge before the end. The thought was true and gave her comfort.
A resounding clang sprang from Willyn’s locks as Luken laughed.
“Got it! Come on, let’s get out of here!” Willyn’s mind snapped back into the present as she rubbed her swollen legs. Silently, she promised to herself that she would avenge her brother, no matter the cost.
Luken took her by the hand and led her out of the cell and into the narrow chamber. Five Elumite guards were splayed out on the floor like rag dolls.
“You made quick work of them. I didn’t even hear them struggle when they fought you.”
Luken smiled. “They were knocked out before they knew I was there. But don’t let them fool you; we are not out of the woods yet.”
The chamber led to a staircase that circled up into what Willyn assumed would be the main palace courtyard above her, the same courtyard where she had first been greeted by Filip. As she rose up the stairs, thoughts began to flow into her mind.
Three leaders of the Realms were now dead. Murdered. Camden, Hagan, and now Filip. This cannot be a coincidence.
This new reality crashed over her. All of this was more than another territorial conflict between Lotte and the Groganlands. It was bigger than Grift Shepherd. He had to be someone’s pawn...
Someone or something is killing the leaders of the Realms. But who is leading it and why? How can Hagan’s death and Filip’s be related?
The thoughts receded as Luken led Willyn to the top of the staircase. The courtyard that opened up in front of her was breathtaking. The immaculate white stucco shone bright in the midday sun, and the heavenly smell of fresh orange blossoms wafted from the trees lacing the lush gardens. Gulls and seabirds cried, calling in chorus with the thundering waves. Luken released her hand and stared into her eyes. “You must listen to me and do exactly as I say. We only have one chance,” he whispered.
She nodded as she allowed her eyes to scan the terrace that lined both sides of the courtyard.
“My boat is at the dock, right outside that entryway.” He pointed to the wide arch that opened up toward the sea. “When you run out of there you will see that there are seven flights of stairs that run down the cliff face toward the docks.
“I remember, Luken,” she snapped at him.
“Willyn, there are snipers lined on top of the roof now. If you run, you’ll be shot down.”
Willyn cursed under her breath and squinted at the rooftops, trying to glimpse the possible nesting spots the snipers would have chosen. She was able to pick out at least five optimal spots and figured each one would have at least one rifle with a bullet waiting for her.
“Is there no other way around? A hallway or something less open?”
Luken shook his head and gestured toward the courtyard. “Unfortunately, this is the only path. Believe me, I have been planning this little rescue from the day they plucked you off my ship, and this is the best way out.”
She actually allowed a chuckle to escape. “Thanks. That makes me feel much better.” She forced a grin and went back to examining the roof line.
“Luckily, I’ve got the perfect distraction. When you hear my distraction, run. Run like you’ve never run in your life. When you get to my ship get in the cabin below and lock yourself in. I’ll unlock it when we are at sea.”
“So that’s the whole plan? Just to run and hope for the best?”
Luken smirked, “Do you have any better ideas at this point?”
“Not at the moment, but it seems a bit farfetched to think I can outrun at least five snipers.”
Luken laid his hand on Willyn’s shoulder and leveled his eyes with hers. “Willyn, I need you to trust me.”
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“What choice do I have? No one else is trying to save me.” She smiled.
Luken’s face was grim, his normally playful expression solemn.
“Trust me when I leave now. Trust me when you get on my boat. Trust me when you get into my cabin.”
“What?”
“There is no time to explain. Get ready. You will know when to run. Just wait for it. Trust me!”
Luken ran, ascending the staircase up on the second floor above her. She swallowed her fear and waited. A minute went by, then two. Willyn sensed a change. Whatever Luken was going to do, he had done it. She felt a calm silence penetrate the courtyard and knew it was time. Everything within her told her to run, but she stayed pinned within the small doorway, staring out over the courtyard. She felt naked and vulnerable with no weapon, no rook, and no defenses. Just instructions from a stranger to run across a courtyard lined with snipers. She stayed hidden inside the doorway until she heard Luken’s voice ring through her mind again.
Now. Run now!
Willyn bolted from the door and sprinted for the line of trees running parallel to the compound’s terraces. They would at least provide some cover. After about forty yards, a deafening explosion roared behind her. She glanced back mid-sprint to see the second floor of the palace engulfed in flames. Keep running. Willyn cleared the cover of the courtyard and sprinted out the open archway. The sheer drop of the cliff face took her off guard. She had not remembered it being this steep when she first got on Luken’s boat several days ago.
There, carved in the red rock were the seven flights of slippery steps descending down the red stone ridge. She saw the waves far below her and fought to catch her footing on the slick stones. Fiery debris rained down around her from the smoldering palace, the deafening memory of the blast still ringing in her ears. Her fear of the slope and its uninviting descent collapsed once she noticed a red dot skip across her chest. She saw it for only a split second, but it was enough. A red laser sight was always followed by a bullet.
She threw herself down the stairs as the cannoning thunderclaps of gunshots rained down on her.
One flight.
