The Golden City

by Paige Elwood

  She didn’t stop. She started to run instead, pumping her legs as fast as she could, barreling towards the throne room’s enormous wooden door. The rasp of steel being unsheathed spiked her adrenaline and she ran even faster, holding her free arm out in front of her and using the momentum from her running to push the door open. It was heavy, and her outstretched palm slapped against the wood, stinging across her palm.

  She had made it! She raced into the room, collapsing into a panting heap in the middle of the floor, with two sweating guards close behind her.

  “What is going on?” the King’s voice boomed out. “How did she get into the city, let alone the castle?”

  “I never really left,” she said, “and I have something I need you to see.” She pulled the papers out from the bodice of her dress, where they’d been nestled.

  The King opened his mouth, but Queen Natasha reached an arm out and placed it on his knee. “Wait,” she said. “Hear her out. She might know where our son is.”

  “Max is missing?” Sarah said, fear slamming into her chest.

  “Like you didn’t know?” the King sneered. “We know he left to be with you,”

  “He’s not with me, I’ve not seen him since I was banished,” she said.

  The King’s jaw twitched. “Then perhaps if we keep you here he will return. Guards, put her in the tower jail!”

  “No, wait!” she yelled. “I’m nobility. I’m not a commoner, I have a legitimate claim to the throne, and I’m not leaving until you recognize I am good enough to be with your son.” The guards circled her, waiting for clarification from their king.

  “It’s irrelevant now,” the King said, waving an arm to indicate the throne room, “He isn’t here, and we don’t know where he is.”

  Sarah thought hard. Where would he have gone? “Have you searched the woods, the groundskeepers cabin?”

  Queen Natasha laughed. “Of course, we’ve searched every inch of the castle and its grounds. We’ve searched the city, we’ve searched everywhere.”

  Of course! The guards earlier hadn’t been looking for her. They’d been looking for Max.

  It dawned on her suddenly. “I know where he’s gone,” she said. “I can help you find him, if you agree we can be together.”

  The King’s face turned red. “I... I… You impudent…” He waved at the guards. “Seize her!”

  The Queen shook her head and held out a hand to stop the guards. They hesitated, unsure which Royal to obey.

  The Queen turned to her husband. “Don’t be hasty, James. If the girl is a suitable match then we should consider it. He wants to marry her. Perhaps we were hasty in banning her, but we didn’t have all the information. Now that we do there is no shame in lifting her banishment and recognizing her claim. It’s the mark of a ruler with integrity, which of course, you are.” Her voice rose in pitch at the end. Sarah said a silent prayer.

  “I have yet to see this proof,” the King said, eyeing Sarah suspiciously. She approached the throne, handing the papers over. The King snatched them from her and checked the seals before breaking them open.

  He stared at the documents for a long time. Eventually, he looked up, and Sarah’s heart hammered as she awaited his response.

  “These could be forgeries. Bring me my council!” He snarled at the closest guard, who scurried off to find them. The sound of the enormous doors closing behind him echoed through the room.

  “You can wait where you belong,” the King said to Sarah. “In the castle jail.”

  “James!” the Queen interjected. “Is that really necessary?”

  “Where else would we put her?” he said, eyeing Sarah disdainfully.

  “Perhaps in her old chamber, with guards on the door?” the Queen suggested. She gave Sarah an apologetic look. “If she is telling the truth, then she has committed no real crime.”

  “You are too generous,” the King said, but when the Queen kept her hopeful, unwavering gaze on him, he relented. He waved a hand at the six remaining guards. “Take her to her chamber and ensure she does not leave until I call for her again.”

  He levelled his gaze at Sarah. “If I discover this is a forgery, you will be executed.”

  Sarah swallowed, her throat dry and her tongue suddenly thick. She nodded, trying to hold her confident stance steady. What if the council members thought it was false? Or said so to please the King? What if any of them knew the family personally?

  These thoughts raced through her mind as she was grabbed by the arm and led back to her old bedchamber. It felt strange to be back in that room, bare and empty without the few belongings and books she’d collected.

  She sat on the bed, aware she’d not eaten for hours, but her stomach was churning while she awaited the King’s response. Had she done the wrong thing by coming back?

  She stood and walked to the window, looking out at the castle grounds. The garden she’d spent so many hours walking around with Max looked strangely forlorn without anyone making good use of it. She thought back to the happy times she’d spent here.

  She lifted her gaze out across the wider view, beyond the castle. If the King was telling the truth, Max was somewhere out there. Was he looking for her? Would he come back if he heard she’d returned? She hoped so.

  Hours passed, and the sun was low in the sky. She was still lost in her thoughts when the door to the room opened and the guards ushered her out.

  “The King will see you now,” the tallest guard said, leading her by the arm. His fingers dug into her flesh, even through the material of her dress, and she tried to ignore the urge to rip her arm away or employ some of the self-defense that Max had taught her.

  The walk to the throne room seemed to last a lifetime. These could be her final moments, she realized. A cold sweat settled on the back of her neck as the throne room doors opened and she was marched to the front. She tried to read the King’s face, but he gave nothing away with his stony expression.

  The Queen was equally as impassive. Sarah waited for them to speak, her whole body quivering despite her stubbornly neutral facial expression. It felt like an eternity passed before the King finally spoke.

  “The council verified the records. You are no longer banished.”

  Sarah’s legs felt like jelly, but she stood firm. She’d keep her head! She folded her arms across her chest and addressed the King. “And Max?” We can marry?”

  “Don’t you think I’ve been generous enough, allowing your evidence to be presented?” The King said.

  The Queen laid a hand over the King’s. “James, we’ve possibly lost our son because he wanted to choose love and you wanted him to choose duty. Now we can have both, and maybe get our son back. Surely that’s a victory, and not a defeat?”

  The King rubbed his eyes. He suddenly looked like a tired father, and not a powerful king. “If we find him, and he still wants to marry her, then we can discuss it further.”

  “Really?” Sarah said, feeling elated.

  “All of this is irrelevant unless we can actually find my son,” he added.

  Sarah nodded. “I think I can help. I think he’s gone to visit Katherine. She gave me her address, but I gave it to him just before you interrupted us in the workshop, so now I don’t have it.”

  “Do you know where she is?” the Queen asked. “Can you remember any of it?”

  “I don’t remember the full address, but I remember some of it. Plzen, I think?”

  The King rose from his throne. “That’s near her father’s kingdom. We’ll head that way, and then if we don’t find him, we’ll call on Katherine’s father. They might know where she is.”

  A cough from the back startled them all. “I’m sorry, Your Highness,” a familiar voice called.

  “What is it?” the King said. “How did this man get in here? Are all my guards asleep at their posts?”

  “Forgive me, Your Highness,” Henry said. “But I have news about your son.”

  Sarah felt like she was listening to a conversation underw
ater, the words all distorted and blurry as Henry recanted how he’d arranged a horse and a guide to take Max to Katherine’s, but that the guide and both horses had been found slain just a mile north of the city.

  “They didn’t find my son anywhere?” he asked, his face ashen.

  Henry shook his head. “No, sire, but there were signs of a struggle according to the merchant who discovered the other bodies.”

  The Queen clutched at her stomach, as though she might vomit. Sarah felt the same way.

  “Your Majesty,” a guard appeared at the throne room door.

  “Not now.” He waved him away impatiently.

  “Sire, I have a letter for you.” The guard insisted.

  “Bring it here.” The King held his hand out and snatched the letter. Seeing the seal on the back, a dragon’s head pressed into the blood-red wax, he turned a terrible shade of gray. He tore open the letter, his eyes scanning the page. Sarah’s chest was so tight she couldn’t breathe as she waited for the King to speak.

  Eventually, he spoke, his voice gravelly. “It’s Benak. He has Max and he’s demanding that I hand over control of the kingdom.” There was a soft thud, and the Queen was in a heap on the floor. Sarah forced herself to suck in a gritty breath.

  The King looked at her, despair written all over his face. “I have a plan,” Sarah said. “Let’s go rescue our Prince.”

  Chapter 39

  Max hurried along the narrow, cobbled streets. It was dark, and he wished he would have finished building the streetlights. It would be just his luck to be attacked by bandits now. The sound of echoing footsteps had him turning anxiously to see his follower, but it was just Henry.

  “You startled me,” Max said.

  “Sorry, Your Highness,” Henry said, falling into step beside him. Max slowed a little, conscious of his long legs and fast pace that might aggravate Henry’s old bones.

  “Did you find what I needed?” he asked in an urgent tone.

  “Yes, your guide and the horses are at the end of this street,” Henry said, pointing towards where the street bent slightly. Max couldn’t see around the corner yet, but the street opened up onto a wider road just after that bend.

  Max resisted the urge to speed up, keeping his steps short enough for Henry to keep up. Eventually they rounded the bend, and two white horses came into sight. A shadowy figure lurked by the side of the horses.

  “Max, this is Jonas,” Henry said, introducing the figure in a hooded cloak. Jonas pulled the hood down, revealing a young man in his mid-twenties with a jagged red scar down one cheek.

  “He’s your guide,” Henry said. “He knows all the neighboring kingdoms like the back of his hand, so he can get you where you’re going as fast as possible.”

  * * *

  “Thank you,” Max said, giving the old man another hug. “If I can, I’ll keep in touch, but in case I don’t, I’ll miss you a lot!”

  Henry patted him on the back. “I’ll miss you too.” He nodded at the horse. “Now get going before someone notices you’re gone!”

  Max climbed on the horse. “Where are we going?” Jonas asked him. Max pulled the paper out of his knapsack and showed it to him.

  Jonas nodded. “Follow me,” he said, and Max took his first steps towards freedom.

  They rode for over an hour through the darkness, and Max struggled to see. The moon was just a tiny sliver in the sky tonight, and he could barely make out the path they were riding on. He glanced up at the sky and spotted the North Star.

  “Are you sure we’re going the right way?” Max asked.

  “Yes,” Jonas shouted over his shoulder. “I’m the guide, remember.”

  “I know,” Max said. “It’s just that we seem to be going east and I thought it was west.”

  Jonas didn’t answer. Perhaps he hadn’t heard. Max opened his mouth to shout again, but his horse toppled suddenly to the floor, and Max hit the dirt with a thud. His arm twisted behind him, and he roared from the pain.

  He glanced over to see if his horse was alright, and bile rose in his throat at the pool of blood that was collecting around the body. In this light it looked thick and black. An arrow protruded from the horse’s side, and Max glanced around in confusion.

  A procession of torches approached from his left, and Jonas was circling his horse round to Max. “You hurt?” Jonas asked.

  “Just my arm,” Max said. “I think someone shot my horse. Who’s that approaching?”

  “Don’t worry,” Jonas said. “I’m expecting them.”

  Max rubbed at his aching arm and peered across the expanse at the approaching torches. As they neared, he could make out the uniform they were wearing. A gold emblem on a black background. Max tasted bile in his throat again. They were King Benak’s troops.

  “Jonas, these are not friends,” he whispered urgently. “I think we need to go.”

  “On the contrary,” Jonas grinned. “They are my friends.”

  The procession edged closer, and Max could make out a familiar figure leading them. Lord Novak. He rubbed his temples — was he hallucinating?

  “I brought you your prize,” Jonas said to Novak.

  “So I see,” Novak crooned.

  “We agreed on thirty pieces of gold,” Jonas said. Fear made Max’s gut cramp. What was happening?

  “There’s a slight change of plan,” Novak said, raising the crossbow that he’d been holding in his right hand.

  “What…” Jonas never got to finish his sentence. His body hit the ground next to Max with a soft, sickening thud.

  You need to do something, Max told himself. He hauled himself off the floor and started to run into the woods, hoping the cover of the trees would allow him enough time to shake off Novak and King Benak’s men.

  Sweat soaked his undershirt, running in rivulets down his chest and his back. His legs pumped and his lungs burned as put all his energy into reaching the woods. He was only a few more steps away when he was gripped from behind and hauled up by his tunic. Several guards bound his wrists and ankles and slung him over the side of one of their horses.

  “Why are you doing this?” Max asked Novak, whose horse had slowed to a trot beside him. “Not two weeks ago you were swearing an oath to my father.”

  “They’re just words,” Novak sneered. “Your father won’t be a king long enough to hold me responsible, and I’ve pledged my allegiance to the most deserving king.”

  Max chuckled, a thick, desperate sound. “You think Benak is the most deserving?”

  “He’s the one who’s going to win, and only a fool backs a losing horse.”

  “Well, if you hoping to use me as a bargaining chip, you’re out of luck,” Max said. “My father practically disowned me yesterday, so he’s not going to hand over his kingdom for me.”

  Novak shrugged. “I beg to differ, but either way you’re coming with me.”

  They rode a short way to a military camp set up on the border of their lands. Max craned his neck to try and see the camp, but he could only see the road and the flanks of the horses beside them. He could hear the crackle and smell the smoke of the campfires and roasting meat. His stomach grumbled. It had been hours since he’d eaten.

  They trotted into the camp, and two guards took Max down from the horse and dumped him unceremoniously by a large tent, still bound tightly at the hands and feet. This was Novak’s tent, if the Novak family crest emblazoned on the side was anything to go by. His cheek was pressed into the muddy floor, and he struggled against the ropes binding him to no avail.

  The guards paid him little attention — his binds meant that he was unlikely to be going anywhere. He wriggled for a while, trying to loosen them, and then it occurred to him that the flexibility he’d gained from the last eight weeks of consistent yoga practice could help him immensely here.

  He shifted, contorting a little more each second until he was able to grip the ropes binding his feet with his hands. His fingers searched for the knot, and he loosened it just enough so that his feet
were no longer tightly bound. A sharp movement would release them enough for him to escape. He eyed his surroundings, watching the guard’s movements. Most of them were eating, and his stomach growled again. Although he wasn’t directly being guarded, there were too many guards for him to make an escape right then.

  He rested his head back against the muddy ground. He would bide his time and make a break for freedom as soon as an opportunity presented itself.

  Chapter 40

  Sarah was busy doing what she always did in a crisis — organizing things. The king watched in amazement as she ordered his guards around with the authority of a battlefield general.

  “Yes, that one!” she shouted to a guard who was wheeling the Onager prototype across the Great Hall. “Bring it here!”

  Henry emerged, carrying a basket with six of the fireball vessels that Max had created. Sarah thanked him and asked him to bring some hay. The old man followed the instruction without a challenge, which surprised Sarah, given that he’d never liked her.

  A guard announced Leona and George. “Perfect!” She spun to greet them. George was carrying several vials. He eyed the basket at Sarah’s feet.

  “Are those...?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Sarah said, “these house the two compounds.”

  George looked impressed. “I will fill them,” he said, picking one up and inspecting it. “I don’t trust anybody else.”

  “That’s fine,” Sarah said. “Just hurry, we don’t have a lot of time.”

  They set to work, Leona holding the vessels carefully, and George filling the compartments with a steady hand. By the time Henry returned with the hay, they were all filled. They loaded them carefully into a cart with the Onager. There was no time to test the fireballs. They would just have to trust they would work.

  “It’s a bit small, isn’t it?” George said, running a hand over the Onager’s body.

  “It’s a prototype,” Sarah explained. “But it’s all we’ve got, and it still packs a punch!”

  They hurried outside, where the King’s guards had prepared the horses so they were ready to go. Sarah hopped onto her horse, which was the one at the front next to the King’s. Henry hooked up the cart with the Onager and the fireballs to her horse. They set off, with George, Leona, Henry, and Queen Natasha wishing them luck as they went.