And she remembered the expression on the Protector’s face when he told her to call him by his name. When he’d worried over his horse. When he said he wanted to be sure she was safe.
She knew then that it didn’t matter what side of the Emperor’s edicts he was on. She would do what she could to help him.
˜ ˜ ˜
The knife flashed, lamplight glinting off metal. Theron threw his arm up to block it almost entirely on instinct, his forearm making contact with the other man’s wrist. The ruler was stronger than Theron expected and the Protector felt his already pounding heart kick up at the knowledge of how near a thing his death might be.
He stopped the blade, but he couldn’t help the sharp sound of pain as the movement tore at his wounded shoulder and side. All the block truly did was stop the dagger’s downward movement. The deadly tip of it was nearly flush with his chest. Another inch there’d be blood, another three he’d be dead.
The Emperor made a sound of frustration, half-growl, half-snarl and bore down hard.
Theron felt more than saw the guards crowding inward, jostling through the narrow doorway to see what was going on. He guessed it wasn’t often the Emperor took action like this himself. If he hadn’t been fighting for his life, he might have been flattered.
The blade tip dug into the leather chest plate of his borrowed uniform. If he didn’t do something soon, he only had a few breaths left. Desperation gave Theron strength, but he knew it wouldn’t last, he was losing this battle. Until a startled oath from outside of the room caught his attention. His attacker didn’t flinch or look up, but there was a second’s hesitation in the downward pressure of that wicked blade. Theron took the opportunity it gave him.
Twisting to the left, he shifted far enough to smile grimly, letting the Emperor’s momentum take over. The ruler suddenly found himself pushing against no resistance and stumbled, overbalanced. Now. Reaching out, Theron slipped his fingers under the man’s grip on the handle. Yanking sharply, he took his dagger back, and by this time the ruler’s shock had turned into an enraged shout. Theron didn’t hesitate. Shoving against the man’s shoulder, he scrambled to his feet and jumped back, to create some space between them.
The natural swing of his arm ended with the dagger behind him. His heart was pounding, his shoulder ached fiercely. Obedience be damned, he wanted to flip that blade around and drive it with all of his strength into the Emperor’s exposed back.
If he did, there was no way he’d make it out of here.
And he didn’t know where Lynea was. If he killed the Emperor, or dared take the Emperor hostage to escape, whether he found and saved her or not, he’d be hunted to the edges of Midorihiro.
All of these thoughts flitted through his mind as his body was already moving. Taking advantage of the situation and the guards’ surprise, he went from being about to die to armed and launching himself at the first guard blocking his exit. The others were crowding forward, trying to see what had happened, trying to rush to their ruler’s assistance.
Theron could hear the growled oath from behind him. He knew it was the Emperor. To save any additional threat from that direction, he grabbed the arm of the unfortunate guard directly in front of the door. With a quick, vicious twist, he locked the man’s arm behind him, throwing him into the rising Emperor. The man let out a dismayed cry and the Protector cringed internally as the two went to the floor in a tangle.
Theron knew that even though they wouldn’t be hurt in such a fall, the poor man he’d thrown would likely suffer the Emperor’s wrath, just because he’d had the misfortune to be standing at the front of the pack. He couldn’t take the time to worry about it though, because the next two guards were in his face and reaching for him. The small space worked in his favor now. Just as he didn’t dare draw his sword (because killing was not an option), they didn’t either, for fear of harming one of the other guards. The narrow entryway prevented him from having to face more than two at a time. Adrenaline rushing, Theron felt the hurt from his injuries fade. It would come back with a vengeance when this was done and if he wasn’t dead then, he might wish he were. But he couldn’t think about that now.
Shifting to the right, he avoided the first guard’s wild grab, blocking and knocking away the second guard’s jab. Locking his wrist, a palm strike into that man’s solar plexus put him down and he was through the door, throwing an elbow back into the first guard’s temple to slow him as Theron tried to figure out what to do. A quick glance around told him that the way deeper into the building was the more dangerous of his two immediate options. Not only were there more guards blocking the hallway in that direction, but he knew they were more frequently placed the deeper you went. The closer you got to the Emperor’s chambers, at the very center of the structure.
With the nobles’ quarters just outside that, it was also the most likely place they’d keep the lady. Provided she was still alive.
Making an assault to reach the Emerald Lady, going against so many, injured, he would be a fool to try. He was only one man. The pain he felt when he turned away wasn’t from his injuries and was sharper than any dagger, but he pushed it down harshly. He was no good to her dead.
Forgive me, Lynea.
The first guard he faced after making the decision to leave took the brunt of Theron’s frustration and anger.
A throat strike with his forearm and the man crumpled with satisfying swiftness. The Protector blocked two snapped jabs from the next guard, before a palm strike took that man down. The look of shock on the man’s face brought the flare of guilt with it, but Theron concentrated on the memory of Lynea’s voice to keep him focused. A swift elbow to the temple for the third guard left only three between him and freedom, when he faced a more serious problem.
He was tiring, quickly. Fighting with his injured right arm had made his shoulder bleed again, and the increasing warmth across his abdomen told him he’d torn open that as well. He tried to fool himself that it was the flickering lamplight, but the dark spots in his vision were increasingly apparent, and he was feeling lightheaded. He wasn’t going to make it much further in this condition.
He let none of this show in his face as he moved against the next opponent, looking for the best way to put the man down without taxing his already strained body. Thankfully, it didn’t take much – the man had had to turn to face him, preoccupied with something further down the hallway. Another palm strike, this time to the chest, had that guard gasping before a sharply delivered elbow knocked him out. It was then that Theron remembered that instant of distraction earlier. The one that had saved his life. What had that been?
As he stepped over the now unconscious guardsman, he had his answer. In the shape of a girl with cobbled-together clothes, auburn hair and amber eyes. She was struggling against one of the remaining guards, one arm twisted cruelly behind her back and the man’s gloved hand gripped tightly around her throat. Even as the Protector watched, the hand was closing and he could see her eyes widen, hear her start to gasp for air.
Forgetting the fatigue he’d felt a moment earlier, he was on those men before they registered he was there, so intent were they on the young woman they held.
Theron yanked the guard’s hand away from Ria’s throat, absently noting that the extra twist he put on the wrist lock wasn’t completely necessary. The guard screamed as his arm was wrenched up behind him, beyond what tendons could handle, a hard grip on the top of his head pressing him forward and down. Theron pushed the other man back with a kick before delivering a vicious punch to jaw of the man he held. With all the anger brought on by what he’d seen, three more hits to the remaining guard and he was looking down at their unconscious forms. He had to quell the urge to kick them after they’d fallen.
Theron didn’t pause long, after making sure the girl was all right. There were still all the guards behind him. Just because he’d gone the path of least resistance, it didn’t mean they’d disappeared. A glance back at the hallway showed it was now empty except fo
r those he’d fought, lying or crumpled awkwardly where they’d landed.
The other guards must have gone to the Emperor, to get him to safety, depending on those remaining in the hallway to take care of the threat. It was their mistake, but it probably gave them a few minutes to escape. Likely, less. A few of the ones he’d fought were starting to get up.
Gripping the girl’s arm, he pulled her back towards the entryway to the training courtyard. It was the only exit in this direction and their only chance at escape, now. The guards would know that and would be headed that way.
“What are you doing here?!” He scathed, relieved and angry all at once.
Ria was rubbing her neck with her free hand as he led her down the hallway, more frightened than she was willing to admit and shocked at what she’d just witnessed him do to those men. She’d never seen someone move that quickly before. Or been so brutal.
“I followed you, I-I didn’t think you w–” she couldn’t get her thoughts in order and was stopped when he scrubbed a hand over his face, exhaling roughly before interrupting her.
“Never mind,” his gaze raked around the area again. She could tell he was listening too, probably for the sound of running footsteps. “We have to get out of here, now. They’ll be here soon.” They’d still been moving forward, but now he sped up, running down the hall with her in tow. “We’ll go out through the training courtyard.”
As he said that, in her mind she saw the palace guards converging on that place. The place she’d watched him for these past few weeks. She could see it easily in her memory, the small courtyard, surrounded by the rock wall. One entrance from the palace, one exit through a gate in the wall. It would be easy to trap them there.
It was some distance away from the main areas of the palace, so it would take a while for the guardsmen to get there. But it was also surrounded by a vast expanse of grass. Even if they made it out of the courtyard, they would have a long unprotected run across the space. With all the guards alerted to them, she felt her chest contract thinking about it. Just as Ria had known the Protector could pin her with a throwing knife if she’d tried to run (was it only this morning?), she knew that the guards could do the same with their bows. That would kill as surely as a thrown knife.
She slowed, cringing at his annoyed glance. “No,” she insisted, ignoring the tremor in her voice. “We can’t go that way.”
“What? Don’t be a fool.” It was the only exit on this side of the palace. Theron pulled on the girl’s arm, trying to get her moving more quickly. They were almost there and had a good chance of reaching it before the guards, if they hurried. His head was getting foggy and moving was becoming increasingly painful. He was reaching the end of his strength.
Ria wanted desperately to do what he wanted. She hated that instead of helping him, she was now a distraction, hindering him in whatever it was he’d come here to do. But at this moment, she sensed that below his confidence, he was on the verge of collapsing. She also knew in her heart that if they went to the courtyard it would mean their death. His death. She couldn’t let that happen. “No, I –” she shook her head. “I know another way out.” She slowed, and stopped. Reaching up, she took his hand from her arm, her eyes catching his. “Please! This way. Hurry.” She wasn’t sure why he listened to her, but he did.
She headed back the way they’d come, stopping when she reached a door a few rooms down. “That’s not a way out,” he protested as she slid the door open, revealing a storage closet. She could hear footsteps now, the staccato beat of them making the floor vibrate. “Have you lost your senses?!” The Protector behind her asked. This entire day had been insane, why should she be any different?
She couldn’t believe she was here, in the palace and running for her life. She’d never been as afraid in her entire life as she had been today. And here her heart was pounding again, but it was different this time – here, looking into this tiny space she was afraid for reasons she couldn’t name. She had the sense that she’d been here before, but things had been different. She could almost see other items, overlaid on the current contents of the space. Her heart was rabbiting in her chest. She struggled to breathe slowly and calm herself.
Calm. She didn’t understand what she was feeling or what she was seeing, but she had to stay calm.
She looked at the man behind her, grabbed his hand and pulled him into the small room with her. He uttered a sound of protest, but he could hear those approaching sounds as well, so he said nothing more as they crowded together in the tiny area.
“No,” she whispered, “I haven’t lost my mind,” even though she wasn’t sure it was the truth. She reached around him to close the door and it slid shut, closing off most of the light and muffling the sounds from outside.
˜ ˜ ˜
A few moments later, the sounds of feet moving past their hiding space faded. Ria knew that it was likely they’d bought only a little time by coming in here, but the object of it hadn’t been to buy time. She looked at the man beside her. He’d tipped his head back against the wall and closed his eyes, taking advantage of the moment’s respite.
The space they were in was very small. Light filtered into the room through a small window, flickering with the hall’s lamplight. The room smelled strongly of pine oil and wood and Ria had to resist the urge to cough. Several worn wooden buckets, linens and cleaning rags were neatly stacked on shelving that lined one side, leaving about a three by three foot space to stand in. That meant she couldn’t help but brush up against the man with every little movement. It was unsettling. He was radiating heat, and she could feel it seeping through the rough wool clothing she wore. She wondered if the close contact was bothering him as much as it was her. But she put it out of her mind, feeling along the wall next to her looking for something, she didn’t know what.
“What are you doing?”
She couldn’t answer his question, so she shook her head, searching more rapidly. She was going on instinct. She had no idea why she’d chosen this door, or why she was feeling along the wall expecting to find an undefinable something that would get them out of this mess. They were running out of time. It was quiet and close in the closet and she could almost feel it, as those guards exhausted the search for them outside. Could feel them start to backtrack along the corridor, methodically searching each room. And then, there was no “almost” about it. She could feel their energy, spiky and agitated, getting closer to their hiding place. It pushed her to keep going, feeling with both hands now, running her fingers quickly over the panels. This couldn’t be happening, it just couldn’t.
As panic rose in her chest, she didn’t hear the hitch of her quickened breathing. She ignored the burn of her eyes as she searched in the near darkness. Then a hand was reaching past her cheek to grip hers, where it was moving frantically along the unfinished wood panels in front of her.
“Hey.” Theron turned her to face him. He put one hand under her chin, tipping her face up to look at him. She expected to find scorn in his expression, but found only concern. He was hard to see, so she finally blinked, feeling hot tears escape. His eyebrows creased. “Ria. Don’t cry.”
She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. “Sorry. I’m sorry.”
“Why did you bring us here?”
“I … I don’t know.”
He sighed, his breath gusting warmly across her temple. “That wasn’t the answer I was hoping for.”
She huffed a laugh, but it was a helpless sound. “No, I meant I’m not sure. There’s a way out here, I know it.” Pulling her hand from his grip, she reached out again, feeling along the panels next to them. She shook her head again, worried she was going insane, listening intently for any sounds that said the guards were about to find them. She could hear the sound of raised voices, but couldn’t tell how far away they were. She was looking at the shelving when something clicked. “This.” She raised her other hand, pushed some of the cleaning supplies to the side and ran her hand over the rough surface. “This wa
sn’t here before.”
The Protector stepped closer, reaching out to touch the panel, his fingers brushing hers. He ran his hand to the edge of the wood where it met the wall. Softly, he asked, “You have been here before?” The sound of voices was louder now, and Ria tried to grasp the threads of that faint instinct that led her to bring them here, the knowledge that this room would lead to their salvation.
When her mind finally caught up to what he’d asked, she didn’t want to answer. So she said nothing, continuing the search, the tips of her fingers digging at the edge of the panel, feeling the rough edge catch at her skin. The Protector paused, looking at her, his eyes saying that her silence didn’t please him. “This wall,” he said quietly, indicating the shelf-covered section they faced, “Is a weight bearing, supporting wall. There is nothing behind this panel except stone.”
“It’s here. I know it.” He threw another look at her and his mouth tightened. He reached down and drew the dagger from his waist and raised it. Exhaling a harsh breath, he felt his way along the panel. When he found the edge, he used the tip of the dagger to peel it back – it splintered, cracking. They both paused, but it seemed the guards hadn’t heard the noise.
Almost holding her breath, the young woman looked at what was revealed. It was as he had said, solid. Hard, cold stone. Ria’s heart sank as the sound of a door sliding open, not too far away, filtered into the small dark space where they stood.
Life had taught her what to expect, but he didn’t yell at her or try to hit her. There was no blame in his eyes. He just nodded tightly and with a firm grip on her shoulder, he pushed her, shifting them around until he stood in front of the door, facing whatever was coming. His body tensing in preparation as the sound of another door opening and closing reached their ears.
No, it’s here. Resolutely, Ria felt along the panels again. She must have missed something. He looked at her still searching hands, his eyes sliding back to the newly-exposed stone. She didn’t see it when his head tilted, brow creasing suddenly. He turned around to face the rear wall again, reaching around her with a small grunt of pain at the awkward movement. Putting the tip of the dagger into the seam between two stones, he twisted the blade. Prying at the seam, flakes of stone and mortar fell as he applied more pressure. The stones shifted slightly, but nothing more. Still, it seemed odd that they moved at all, if the wall was supporting the weight of this portion of the palace.
Splinter (Trapped Souls Book 1) Page 11
