Those minutes burned away quickly as I tried to work the subtle nuances required to pick the lock with my tool barely in my grasp. I managed to get a few of the tumbler pins where I wanted them when I slid one of my fingers a bit too far. The result was my hairpin jumping from my grasp, landing a few feet away from me. I held back the desire to rant, investing the energy instead into getting another hairpin off my head and starting again.
Twice more this happened, the impromptu key slipping from my fingers just as I started to make some progress. My patience was running on fumes, but I knew that this was the best bet I had to free myself. I tested my power each time my picking attempt failed, but the results were the same as the first time. It was my talent, or nothing.
I was about out of hairpins, though. It was so frustrating, especially since I knew that if my hands were free, I'd be able to undo the manacles in a snap! I needed my manacles off to remove my manacles - I almost laughed at the absurdity of it. I missed my old leg bindings from the plantation in that regard, how simple they'd been. I found it ironic that my feet were free when my hands needed saving this time.
The gears in my head turned a few times, and that irony gave birth to a stupid idea. Why couldn't my feet do the work now that the shoe was on the other hand?
I had been thrown in the dungeon without my sandals, so my toes were already free to grasp at one of the hairpins that had spilled from my previous attempts. Awkward as it felt, I somehow was able to maneuver it between my big toe and long toe. With my foot clenched tightly, I felt more assured that the pin wouldn't slip from this unlikely grasp.
Now, to deal with the problem of reaching the lock.
Needless to say, it took some unusual folding and positioning. I wanted to lay on my back, but the chain didn't stretch quite far enough to manage that. I had to resort to letting my entire body dangle by my wrists from the fetters, curling into a fetal position while suspended in midair. It hurt, and I probably looked like a fool, but I was able to get the hairpin to the lock.
There were a tense few moments as I popped the lockpick in place and couldn't make heads or tails of what I was doing. I was afraid I'd just wasted a lot of time for something as worthless as it was demeaning. But then I felt one of the pins move, and all at once I knew exactly what to do. I'd picked locks like this my whole life. As long as I could reach it, I could probably pick a lock with my elbow.
When that final glorious click filled the stale dungeon air, I didn't even care that I was dumped on my back with a painful thump, or that the sound was echoing up the corridor. I was just damn glad to finally be unchained once more. I rubbed my sore wrists, giving them a few celebratory kisses, and threw a few towards my foot, too.
Maybe it was something ingrained in my subconscious from my youth, but simply having freedom of movement emboldened me. Suddenly, I didn't care so much that I was in the bowels of enemy territory, without a weapon and surrounded by ravenous monsters.
Strangely enough, the grinel didn't make an appearance during my escape. Aside from the motionless corpse Othenidus left behind, I hadn't even heard them skulking in the darkness. Perhaps they only showed up when they sensed the mad Lord of Val'Hala was near?
Whatever it was, I was glad for their absence. I had enough to worry about as I rushed up the corridor towards freedom.
I paused at the base of the stairs, listening for anyone who might have heard the racket I made in my struggle. The only sound was my own labored breathing, which I fought to control before starting the ascent.
The stairwell only went up a short distance before curling the opposite direction. I had to cautiously peek around the corner to make sure no guards lurked just around the bend, but all I saw was a faint glow coming from somewhere above. I crawled up slowly, ready to bolt at the first sign of trouble, though the only place to retreat was back into the dungeon's depths.
The stairway opened up to another floor directly above the prison area, with about the same dimensions as its lower counterpart. Where the barred cells had been below, stone walls stretched along the length of the floor, with sturdy oaken doors bound in steel spaced regularly. Brackets of torches filled the hall with light, much more than my previous holdings.
As much as I wanted to check if there were any supplies I could use in the rooms, it was too risky. For all I knew, this was the sleeping quarters for the wardens, and any number of them could be inside. I forced down the urge to check and slunk my way past each one, holding my breath lest any stray noise call undue attention.
I had to stifle a gasp when I heard voices coming from one of the doors in passing. I froze, expecting someone to barrel out and catch me any second. The voices continued on, back and forth, in undisturbed conversation, and I let myself breathe a bit. I couldn't make out the exact words, but one of the voices was high and soft, a mature sort of feminine.
The other one was deep, the low thrum of distant thunder. I'd heard that voice all too recently. Othenidus was on the other side of the door.
Part of me wanted to run as fast as I could for the exit, but the other half was gripped by my damned curiosity. If he was talking about something that might help Hawke and Uraj defeat him, it was worth the risk to listen. My more sensible side was quashed, and I sidled to the door as quietly as I could manage and pressed an ear to the wood.
“—always working, dear. You need to relax every once in awhile,” said the higher voice. I'd heard it before, and from the way it referred to Othenidus as 'dear,' I assumed it had to be Lady Lheona, Othenidus' wife and co-ruler. She spoke on, saying, “It's so rare for you to be home for so long.”
“The work I do over the next few days is more important than everything from the last ten years, honey,” said Othenidus. If anyone called me honey the way he spoke to his wife, I would have run for my life. “That little runt down below is the straw that will break the Old Kings' backs. I need to be ready for them”
“Hmph. I remember that little brat. I've half a mind to go down there and make sure she's clear on her position. There won't be any miracles like last time,” said Lheona. “But this is the first time we've gotten to be alone in so long. Won't you put that pen down for a bit?” Her tone grew husky as she finished her plea, and I heard the shifting of fabric.
Othenidus let out a strange grunt. “I suppose I could step away for a bit to tend to other duties,” he purred. He purred. There was the sound of a chair sliding back, followed a few moments later by heavy metallic thumps, like pieces of armor being discarded onto the floor.
Horrified, I started to back away, but then I paused for a second. No, not to listen! I knew it was my best chance for escape, with the leaders of the country, ahem, preoccupied. At the same time, I knew that if they found out I escaped, they'd be more than a little angry at me for the interruption.
So, in my magnanimity, I hastily shoved a hairpin in the lock and worked some magic of my own. Unlocking something was second nature to me, but breaking a lock was even easier than that. Hopefully, they would understand that I was just thinking about their privacy.
Knowing that my most dangerous obstacles were wholly absorbed in their work, I felt safer hurrying up the stairs and putting as much distance as I could between myself and them. The staircase wound upward without interruption after that, save for the occasional sharp bend. It took me a good ten minutes before I finally made it to the top.
Another door barred my way. In my haste, I almost barged right through it, only barely catching myself in time. It was unlikely that a military state like Val'Hala would just leave such an important entrance unguarded. I was only armed with the clothes on my back, badly scuffed and torn from my handling during my capture. I didn't even have a pair of shoes to kick with.
First things first, I needed to see if the door was even locked. I crouched down to try my hairpin, and by reflex started calling on my essence. This time, I was met with a familiar tingle up my arm. Not expecting my power to so suddenly return, I dropped the pin.
“What was that?” said someone on the other side. Dammit, I was right.
I needed time to think. I grabbed the doorknob and worked my power. There was a jangle on the outside, and I heard a key put into the keyhole and turn with a click. My locks held, though, as I heard the strained grunts of whoever was on the other side trying to pull the door open.
“Damn thing's stuck,” someone else cursed. So there was at least two of them. I could probably handle two with my power back, but any more might prove fatal.
“You jam the key or something?” said the first voice.
“The key's fine! Probably just moisture swelling or something. Help me with this.”
The first voice joined the second in their exertions to rip the door free. It sounded like just two of them. I could do it. I just needed a good opening gambit.
And the best one I could think of was to tap the handle and remove my power.
The door jerked open immediately, accompanied by the surprised cries of the guards on the other side. They had both been tugging on the knob, and promptly fell into each other. Considering that it would have happened even if the door were truly stuck, I briefly wondered why they didn't expect it.
I wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth. In the small window of opportunity I had, I stepped to their tangled bodies and applied a few well-placed locks to them. The two became a single ungainly mass of armored limbs, incapable of moving or speaking (thanks to an extra couple of locks on their mouths). They fought in vain to stop me while I helped myself to one of their short-swords, but it didn't take long for them to realize they'd been outclassed by a slip of a girl half their size.
The weight of steel at my side was reassuring. I wished that I could have found my old sword, until I remembered that my first short-sword was also stolen from a Val'Halan guard. I doubted I'd have much trouble with this one. Armed again, I assessed my surroundings.
I had stepped into the main audience chamber, where Hawke and I had treated with Lady Lheona. I didn't remember a door here the last time, but it had been a long while since I'd been in here. The important part was, I knew exactly where the exit was, and nobody had answered the cries of the guards during our scuffle. At the least, there was no one else in here.
I still had the problem of how I'd make it through the city without raising alarm, or through the gates for that matter. Every able-bodied citizen in Val'Hala was conscripted into their military. If one person caught on to my ruse, I would have the entire city hunting for my whereabouts. All it would take is one look from anyone to tell I didn't belong here. What I needed was a disguise.
Looked like I had a bit more to confiscate from my prisoners.
It took much longer than I wanted, but I somehow was able to wrestle a half helm, breastplate, shin guards, and boots off the soldiers. I kept expecting someone to walk in on the most bizarre thing they'd probably ever see in their lives, but my luck held out a little longer. The armor was loose-fitting and shuffled uncomfortably on me when I moved, but it wasn't threatening to fall off. It would have to do.
I was already starting to get a bit winded. Using so much essence so rapidly was draining me quickly. Despite my hurry, I forced myself to take my time as I marched toward the entrance to the keep. I would need my power a lot more before I was done.
My new steel shod boots sank into the carpet that lined the hallway leading out, helping to muffle their desire to clang loudly with every step. Set in regular intervals on the walls were portraits of Othenidus, looking much the same as he did in person, save for more blonde in his hair. High crystal chandeliers and wall mounted candles lit my path, but their light added an angry fiery glow to the oil-based portrayals of Val'Hala's lord. I could feel their stares following me, but all it took to ignore them was the reminder that the real one would give me worse than scowls if he caught up.
The hallway ended in a foyer identical to the hall, save for the pair of doors of studded, dark iron that blocked my way. Opening them wouldn't be an issue, but the guards certainly would. I couldn't pull the same stunt I did in the audience chamber; I lucked out that it was just two guards, but just outside was the training pavilion. There could easily be hundreds of armed Val'Halans out there, ready to jump to their land's defense at the slightest provocation. Hawke had blasted his way free with sheer force when we escaped before, but I lacked the control and raw strength he possessed.
I needed to know how many guards were outside the door, without them knowing I was looking. I reached for my essence, calling on as much as I could gather without losing control. Rather than channeling it into my power or through my body, I imagined it forming a bubble around me and expanding outward, through the walls and doors and into the unknown.
My scrying range was much less than Hawke's, but I still knew how to “feel” for people with my essence, and I only needed to check right outside the doors. I extended my essence as slowly and gently as possible. Too much force would make anyone waiting outside feel the pressure of my energy, and that could easily blow my cover.
I didn't feel any disturbances. I kept pushing outward, all the way towards my absolute limit, but I couldn't feel anything like a person out there. Drawing the energy back into my body, I tried the door. It was locked, but popped open with a little help from me. I hazarded a peek out the crack, and couldn't see anyone, or much of anything, for that matter. I took a deep breath and stepped all the way through.
Dusk had just fallen, from the looks of it. From the top of the keep, hundreds of feet in the air, I could see almost all of Val'Hala spread out before me. Even as I watched, points of torchlight flared to life around the city to ward off the night. I could see tiny figures, many armored, bustling about the streets on some business or another, but none watched the doors to the keep itself. This wasn't the same Val'Hala that I remembered, bristling with guards everywhere. Something big was going on.
The pavilion lay spread below me, with not a soul in sight. Empty of people, it seemed to balloon in size, becoming a small desert plain of worked stone. I would be horribly exposed the whole way through, but there was no other way out to the main city. First, though, I had to get down the stairs.
Lord, why did there have to be so many stairs?
The top of the keep was at least ten stories up, the only access a flight of hundreds of the damn steps. It was so much easier when Hawke was there to carry me all the way down. Then again, he was carrying me down when we dropped off the Ururu. I had to do it myself.
Somehow, I forced myself to take that first step, fighting the urge to close my eyes. It would have been an ignoble ending, to fight all this way just to die tumbling down like a ragdoll.
I almost didn't believe I'd made it when I reached the bottom. I'm fairly certain I blacked out at one point, and when I reached the last fifty or so I vaguely recall leaping down like Hawke was wont to do. He probably didn't have so much bile in his throat when he did it, though. I wiped my mouth off on my sleeve and hurried out of the pavilion.
Where the training square had been devoid of life, the streets were more lively than Hafwei had been. Hundreds, if not thousands, of people thrummed about with the air of urgent efficiency. Most of them wore gray tunics, well faded with use, while small squads of armored soldiers rushed from one place to the next. I did my best to blend into the current of human traffic, letting myself get swept up in their activities.
Freedom was so close, but the last hurdle would likely be the hardest. There were only three gates in and out of Val'Hala: East, North, and South. All of them were heavily guarded at all times, and I doubted that I'd be so lucky as to find them as lacking as the keep's defenses.
“You!”
Someone shouted, at the same time a heavy hand gripped my shoulder and spun me around. I almost lashed out on instinct, but the fear of having the army surrounding me on all sides turning against me stayed my hand.
A guardsman glowered at me from behind their half helm, the decoration on their breastplate suggesting they w
ere someone of station. I expected them to call for reinforcements and haul me back to my prison, but they didn't make any move to apprehend me.
“What are you doing just milling about, soldier? Who is your superior officer?” they barked.
I held back my sigh of relief. In such a large army, it wouldn't be likely that every soldier would know every other soldier's face. I just needed a convincing lie. There was only one I could make, in this situation.
“C-Captain Farhel, sir,” I said, praying he wasn't part of her squad. “I'm a new recruit, and I lost track of—”
“Figures. Diane's always going easy on the newbies.” He leveled a finger at me. “She's at the Northern Gatehouse. You find her and tell her you've volunteered for night watch. If I see her later, and you haven't done as I say, you'll get worse than that.”
“Y-yessir,” I said, making every word drip with regret and humiliation. Likely, night watch was a scrub job that nobody wanted. He puffed up a bit, and I knew he had bought it.
“Get going, then! On the double!” He whirled on his heels and left before I had to figure out if I needed to salute him or not. Bless the negligence of the overworked. And bless my poor reflexes on that one. If I'd struck him, I'd be lucky to be alive. As it was, I now had a useful alibi to fall back on. If I could convince a ranking officer that I was a Val'Halan, there might be some hope for me yet.
I started working through the flow of people again, now with a destination in mind. I didn't want to meet with Farhel directly; she'd identify me on sight. However, if word got around that someone looking like me was shirking punishment, they might start a manhunt. I'd rather try to avoid one person than the whole city.
A few other important-looking soldiers stopped me, asking the same questions as the first, but armed with my “orders,” they let me go much more quickly. Just mentioning Captain Farhel was enough to cause some of them to dismiss me. Apparently, she held a certain amount of prestige amongst her peers.
The battlements of the Northern Gatehouse stretched high enough that I could see them from several blocks away. They linked the curtain walls of Val'Hala together, another cog in the gearworks that made the Lonely Kingdom a fortress without peer. From the outside, they were all but unassailable; somehow, I'd have to find a way to break them from within.
Savants of Humanity (The Scholar's Legacy Book 2) Page 27
