Kendrick sighed and released him. “I’m sorry,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “I’m wound tight, I guess. Please forgive me.”
“I understand,” said the little man and went back to tending Jarrett’s wounds.
Kendrick moved away to give him space and hunkered down against the mossy wall beside Muzik. Muzik shook his head. “Did you see her? She was magnificent.”
Kendrick gave the commander a stunned look. “She killed a man.”
Muzik snorted in response. “He deserved it.”
Kendrick braced his skull with both hands. “Do you think Tyla’s going to feel the same way? She’s a healer, Muzik.” He made a motion at the little man working over Jarrett. “She’s afraid enough of her power, afraid it will turn her into the very thing Rarick made her today – a killer.”
“What choice did she have?”
Kendrick exhaled and closed his eyes. “None, but think what this means. Rarick has his weapon, and such a weapon. No one will be able to stand against him.”
Muzik didn’t answer.
“Kendrick?”
Kendrick’s head snapped up and he rose to his feet, hurrying over to the pallet and taking a seat at Jarrett’s side. “How do you feel?”
“Like raw meat,” murmured the Terrian, lifting a hand to feel his bruised jaw.
Kendrick looked at the healer. “How bad is it?”
“Lot of bruising, some abrasions, a few cracked ribs, but nothing that won’t heal in a few weeks. Luckily, nothing’s seriously broken,” he said, packing up his medicinals and bandages.
“Thank you,” said Kendrick, but the healer merely nodded and waddled toward the cell door.
Muzik slid over to the end of the pallet. “I thought for sure you were dead.”
Jarrett gave a short nod, but didn’t answer.
Kendrick looked away. “We’ve certainly made a mess of this.”
Jarrett’s eyes opened and Kendrick felt them searching his face. “Yes, we have, but what do we do now?”
“We’ve got to get her out of here.” Kendrick shifted uncomfortably on the pallet. He didn’t want to broach the next subject, but he felt it was necessary. “Can you contact her, find out if she’s all right?”
Jarrett carefully shook his head. “She contacts me and I haven’t felt her touch for hours.”
Kendrick met his gaze. “Do you think she’s all right?”
Jarrett stared at him a moment in silence, then he drew a shallow breath. “I just don’t know,” he answered.
* * *
Tyla sat for a long while staring at the door. Her thoughts were at war within her, a tumult that seethed and surged in her mind. Forcing herself to calm, she pulled the thoughts together and pushed each separate one away, until one single thought was left. Taking a deep breath, she pulled the single thought to the foremost of her mind.
She had to escape.
She rose to her feet and stepped before the mirror. Her emerald eyes seemed strangely bright against the dark, sunken appearance of her face. Wisps of hair had fallen out of her braid and lay plastered against her forehead. She reached up and braided her hair once more, then wiped the remaining tears from her eyes.
She leaned against the vanity and stared at her reflection. So now it’s done, she thought, he’s finally made you do the thing you swore you’d never do. You are now a killer.
She straightened. So little else should matter. She’d stepped over the boundary she’d imposed on herself all these years, she’d stepped over it and she could never step back. For the last ten years, she’d used her power little, afraid that each use would drive her closer and closer to this moment, but that made no difference now.
When she’d struck out at Gorn, she’d done so knowing that she would kill him. She’d turned all of the power she had pitted against Rarick to him and even as it had left her body, she knew what she’d done. She had even felt a moment of exhilaration.
So there it was. Rarick must have known that she would enjoy the taste of her own power, of her own ability to destroy. And it had been easy. So very easy. Life was fragile and her power was great. She bit her lip and stared hard at her reflection, then she shut her eyes and took a few long, deep breaths. What was she becoming?
It didn’t matter now. What mattered was that no one else should ever profit from her power. What mattered was that only she should control it, only she should control her life. She had to escape.
She must take herself so far away that Rarick would never find her. It didn’t matter if she used her power now, and she knew she must if she was going to get away.
The door was locked, she’d heard the bolt slip after Kalas had left. Her eyes shifted to the window, but she shook her head. No, she needed to be in the castle. She needed to find a way into the dungeon.
She looked at her reflection again and smoothed her dress. She needed a few things if she was going to make this work. She crossed the room and opened Kalas’ closet. She pulled out a plain white shirt and a pair of black trousers. Pulling off her dress, she put on her brother’s clothes. Kalas wasn’t a large man, but his clothes were far too big for her.
She tied the ends of the shirt around her waist and cuffed and tucked the pants into her boots, lacing them tightly to secure them. She took a long cloak and another shirt from the closet, and stuffed them into a knapsack. Looking around the room, she wondered what else she would need.
Then she remembered that Jarrett would need some sort of medicine, at least to ease his pain. Her healing bag was in her room and she couldn’t risk returning there, but she’d dried some herbs in the main kitchen just four days ago. They would be ready by now, if only she could get to them. But first she must get out of this room.
She crossed to the door and put her ear against it. She’d heard Kalas tell a guard to stand watch outside. If she could make a connection with him, she’d be able to affect his will. She closed her eyes and concentrated. It took a great deal of time, but finally the bolt slipped free of the lock.
She stepped away from the door and watched as the guard peeked in, then stepped into the room. She moved through the shadows beside him and he turned, his hand falling to his sword. With a touch of her power, she stopped the flow of blood to his brain and his eyes rolled up in his head. His legs crumpled and he sank to the floor. Tyla released him and the blood began to flow normally.
She bent beside him and unhooked the belt that held his sword, strapping it around her own waist. It was too large and cumbersome, but she knew that either Muzik or the Nazarien would need a weapon. She hesitated a moment and bent close to the guard. “Please forgive me,” she said and placed her hand on his forehead. Then she rose and moved to the door, peering out.
The hallway beyond Kalas’ chamber was empty. She stepped out and closed the door behind her, balancing the knapsack on her shoulder. She crossed to the very end of the hall, past many closed doors and a few open ones, but no one appeared to intervene. Finally, she reached the spiral staircase that led to the main kitchen, the servants’ stairs. She opened the door and slipped into the darkened stairwell. She didn’t stop to light a lamp, but wound down as quickly as she could, one hand on the rail, the other held slightly before her to part any cobwebs. Then through the dark came a glimmer of light from the kitchen itself, and the smell of roasted meats rose to her senses.
Tyla rarely ate meat, but the smell was suddenly the most delicious one she’d ever experienced and her mouth began to water. She paused in the shadows, just under the stairs, and peered into the kitchen.
Sarkisian guards stood at the far end, but they were turned in the opposite direction. She looked at each of the cooks in the large, steamy kitchen and finally located Greypen, Tarnow’s personal cook.
She shrank back further in the shadows and narrowed her eyes, concentrating on his broad, damp, red face. His head lifted and he turned to look in the direction of the spiral staircase. Then he glanced over his shoulder at the soldiers, noting that thei
r backs were still turned, and stepped into the dark stairway. Tyla moved forward and touched his arm. His face lit in surprise, then he smiled and embraced her.
She put her finger to her lips to silence him and leaned close so she was speaking just into his ear. “Greypen, I need your help.”
“Name it, Your Majesty, and it’s yours,” he said.
Tyla smiled. “I knew as much. Do you remember the medicinals I brought in from the garden to be dried?”
Greypen nodded.
“I need a small pack of them, specific ones only because I won’t be able to carry much. Can you get them for me?”
The cook nodded again and bent close while she whispered her order to him. Then he slipped into the kitchen and Tyla leaned back in the shadows to wait.
Her knowledge of healing was, for the most part, innate. Her father had been one of the greatest healers of his time. He’d learned a great deal from the Nazarien and some from the Temerian Stravad, but most of what he’d known had also been innate. Like Talar, Tyla instinctively knew which herbs produced which effects and which to avoid altogether.
It seemed to take an unbearably long time for Greypen to return. She listened to the noises all about her, certain that her departure would soon be discovered. She moved restlessly in the shadows and then Greypen appeared. He pressed a small, tightly wrapped package into her hands and even through the wrappings, Tyla could smell the pungent odor of the medicinals as they intermingled with one another. She stuffed the packet in her knapsack and lifted her eyes to the cook. He reached into his belt and pulled forth a butcher knife, smiling as he handed it to her.
“I thought this might be a better weapon for you, Your Majesty. A little less cumbersome, eh?”
She smiled and looked down at her clothes, realizing that she must make quite a sight. She secured the knife in her belt and reached up to hug the cook. “Thank you.” She opened a side door that led to a narrow corridor behind the kitchen. She glanced through and saw that it was clear, then looked back at the cook.
“Farewell, Your Majesty,” he said, “May Eldon be with you.”
Tyla smiled. “You could be hung for uttering that name,” she said and he smiled in return.
“I haven’t served you in days, Your Majesty, and you’ve never heard me utter that oath,” he said with a wink and Tyla nodded.
She slipped into the outer corridor. It was narrow and long, winding behind the main hallways of Kazan. These narrow, stark corridors were used mostly by the servants; however, Tyla was familiar with them, using them to escape the castle without an entourage.
She wound through them, one hand against the wall, her senses strained ahead, searching for soldiers. She expected an alarm to be raised any moment. The guard in Kalas’ room would surely have come around by now. Then Rarick would have the entire castle searched. He was clever, too clever. He’d think to have the dungeon searched at once, knowing that she would try to get down there. She’d simply have to be one step ahead of him, so she quickened her pace.
A chill of premonition raced down her spin, causing her to draw up sharp and slip into a doorway, holding her breath as she did so. Two guards appeared around the corner of the corridor headed straight for her. She tried the door at her back, but it was locked. The doorway was shallow and she knew they’d see her. Closing her eyes, she reached out with her mind and cloaked their thoughts with a false sense of security. Despite what their eyes may have seen, Tyla brushed it away and told them that all was well. They passed by without hesitation and Tyla waited until their footsteps died away down the hall. She leaned back against the door and took a deep breath. Controlling the thoughts of two minds at once was much more difficult than controlling one. It took a lot more energy than she’d expected and she had little to spare. She wished suddenly that she’d thought to ask Greypen for some food.
She pushed away from the door and hurried on through the twists and turns of the small corridors. The door she sought lay on the opposite end of the castle and the corridors in Kazan had never run straight from one end to the next. Tyla had to trust her memory to take her through each turn, continually pausing to listen for footsteps. Then when she had just about given up, there before her on the ground was the heavy trap door leading to the dungeons below.
She crossed to it and tried to lift it, but it was too heavy. Drawing the sword from its sheath, she placed the blade against the door and threw her weight into it, using it as a lever. She wedged it open enough so that she could pull it back with her hands. It fell with a loud crash against the floor and she crouched beside it, prepared at any moment to see soldiers appear.
Nothing happened. She sheathed the sword and stepped down through the trap door into the dark stairway beyond. The golden glow of a lamp shown at the base of the stairs and Tyla crept to the edge of the light and paused.
Peering into the light, her eyes adjusted and she saw that only one soldier stood at guard outside the prisons. She was surprised. Usually there were many more soldiers down here. He was standing at attention, his sword drawn, gazing toward the stairwell.
Tyla figured he must have heard the door fall only moments before and was now waiting for a change of guard or something equally as dangerous to her. She took a deep breath and stepped into the light.
The soldier opened his mouth to protest, but Tyla stopped him by raising her hand. “I don’t want to hurt you. Please don’t make me. I only want to see the dog.”
“You aren’t supposed to be down here,” said the soldier, moving toward her.
Tyla sighed. “I don’t have time to argue and I really don’t want to hurt you.”
The guard shook his head, but as he opened his mouth to speak, his words caught in his throat and he fell to the ground, the sword dropping from his hand. Tyla bent down, checked his pulse, and then unhooked his belt, slipping a large ring of keys from it. She rushed to the door of the cell. She fumbled with the key ring, but her fingers closed over the right one and she shoved it into the lock. Then with Kendrick and Muzik’s help, she pulled open the door. She gave each of them a brief embrace and then pressed the keys into Muzik’s hand.
“Get Kian, please,” she said, then turned to Kendrick. “See if you can secure the trap door up there.” She motioned to the staircase. “It was too heavy for me. Then bring this man into the cell. We’ll lock him in before we go, so he won’t be able to sound the alarm.”
Without waiting for Kendrick to respond, she hurried into the cell and dropped to her knees beside Jarrett. He caught her in his arms and she buried her head in his neck for a moment. Then she straightened, swinging the knapsack over her shoulder. She opened it and tore into the small packet, removing a dark brown root. She cut it in half with the knife in her belt and put half of it in his mouth.
“Chew this. It will ease the pain,” she said. “Tell me where the worst wounds are. We don’t have much time.”
He took her hand and held it between both of his own as she reached for the buttons on his shirt. “A healer’s already seen me. He cleaned the abrasions and wrapped my ribs.”
Tyla gave him a skeptical look. “How? I’m the only healer at the castle.”
“No, Rarick has one. Kalas sent him.”
Tyla sat back and dropped her hands into her lap.
“Tyla?”
She forced the thought away. She didn’t have time to think about Kalas or all he meant to her just now. Before she could answer, Kian bounded into the cell, smothering Tyla with kisses.
Tyla threw her arms around him, feeling tears start in her eyes. She’d been so afraid they’d had him destroyed. Muzik entered and moved to Jarrett’s pallet, offering him a shoulder to help him lever himself to his feet. Tyla studied him worriedly, but he gave her a tight smile and motioned to the door.
“We better go,” he said, then hobbled beside Muzik toward the entrance.
Kendrick appeared, dragging the guard. Tyla helped him arrange the young man on the pallet, then they shut the door and Tyla l
ocked it, placing the keys on the guard’s chair.
“What now?” asked Kendrick.
“And how did you do all this?” said Muzik.
“First things first,” said Tyla, “I’ll explain how later, but we’ve got to get away. Soon they’ll turn the castle inside out and this will be one of the first places they’ll look. I left another soldier in Kalas’ room and he should be coming around about now. We don’t have much time.” She turned to Muzik. “Did Tarnow ever take you through the catacombs?” Muzik nodded and Tyla continued. “I seem to remember him telling me there was a secret door once you made it through that would lead you to the outside, outside the wall of Kazan. Is that correct?”
“Yes, there’s a door. Lord Tarnow had it built, the entire catacombs and the door to the outside, in case he should need to escape Kazan unseen. He showed me the way through many years ago, but I remember very little of it now. You first go through the wine cellar and then the catacombs wind back and forth under the castle – they even backtrack on themselves in places. I don’t think I can find the way.”
“You must. We haven’t any other choice. We can’t go back into the castle. This is the only way out. You need to remember, Muzik.”
“I’ll try,” he answered. Taking two torches from the wall of the dungeon, he gave one to Tyla and kept one himself. Leading the way, he took them behind the staircase that led to the trap door and went to the end of the corridor where a door stood hidden in the shadows. He turned the handle and pulled it open with a loud groan. Cobwebs and dust came with it and fell on the four companions. They brushed them away and peered into the dark wine cellar.
Muzik signaled them through and then pulled the door closed behind them. They were left now in the dank, dark cellar with only the light from two torches to guide them. Wine casks rose on all sides, huge casks, larger even than Muzik, of oak with black iron rings around the base and top. The air was close and musky, smelling faintly of vinegar and leaving a crystalline trace in the back of their throats.
Muzik led the way across the dirt floor, Kendrick and Tyla supporting Jarrett between them. The wine cellar and adjoining catacombs were deep underground. None of them were dressed for the cold. They had prepared for their escape weeks before, but now their parkas, coveralls, maps and provisions were all locked away within the castle.
The World of Samar Box Set 3 Page 19
