by K. F. Breene
“Now you should.”
Marc quickly crawled forward to the next large piece of furniture.
“This conversation is starting to elude you, I think,” Xandre said in puzzlement. “An effect of the Inkna attack, perhaps? I know where the Inkna stand. It was I who contracted them, was it not? They will always sell themselves to the highest bidder. Which is why you are so invaluable to me.”
Marc crawled to the next piece of furniture before making it to the stairs. He scooted up and flattened himself just around the first bend, breathing heavily in the soft silence.
“Delusions of grandeur are so much fun, aren’t they?” S’am said. Marc heaved a sigh at the absence of running feet toward him. “You can have virtually anything you want with an overactive imagination. It’s bringing it to reality that is troublesome. Then people start rumors about how crazy you are…”
“I am not the one with all these personalities. It must be why your future is a revolving door. So many paths weaving in and out of each other, all with grossly different outcomes.”
“I think the word you meant to say was exciting. It’s exciting being around me. I’m a party.”
“Get her out of here. I’ve had enough.”
A thrill arrested Marc. They were coming!
He hastened up the stairs and sincerely hoped that the way was clear. Of course, he was never that lucky.
Leilius could swear that a worry wrinkle infused the stony face of the Graygual. He couldn’t see clearly, but something about the man’s demeanor screamed, “Eh?”
For a moment, nobody moved. Despite the desire to throw up his hands and say, “You got me!” Leilius kept everything relaxed and immobile. Thankfully, Ruisa was doing the same, because no sound came from down the hall.
The Graygual’s hand moved back up, and he pushed open his door. Despite its weight, the wood swung quickly and banged against the wall. Leilius almost jumped at the sound, and that would definitely have given him away.
The Graygual stepped into the middle of the hallway. His eyes darted in Ruisa’s direction before moving back toward Leilius’ hiding spot. The wrinkle reemerged between his eyebrows—this time Leilius was sure of it. The torches, spaced as they were, did funny things to the lighting, though. It made Leilius’ hiding place effective. But it was only a matter of time before the Graygual jabbed forward with his sword to settle the matter once and for all.
Metal clicked and a door swung open. A man stepped out in a loose, flowing sack of fabric. Leilius recognized him as the Graygual from earlier who absolutely hated the man standing almost in front of Leilius…which may or may not simply be called One.
The Graygual’s expression darkened, and he looked like he was expecting trouble. One didn’t so much as flick a finger.
“There was a bang,” the sack-wearing Graygual said.
“And so you stepped out in a sack to meet the enemy?” One replied.
“I don’t see an enemy. I see you. Unless you are trying to imply…”
One’s fingers twitched this time, and his hand drifted toward the throwing knife in his belt. “We have a prisoner in this castle. A prisoner that we have heard brings strangers flocking to her aid in times of trouble. Her people worship her. You’ve seen it in the cities and towns. They will come to save her. Maybe tonight. I ask again—you are sauntering out to greet a disturbing sound in a sack and without a weapon?”
The Graygual sneered. “I could take her worshippers down naked. I have a weapon.”
The Graygual’s movements were so fast that Leilius couldn’t help jumping that time. A knife came out of nowhere and flashed in his hand. Another blink and the Graygual was in a balanced pose, ready to throw. Leilius hadn’t even thought to grab his own weapon, something that should’ve been second nature!
One wasn’t so slow of thought, however. Almost lazily, he brought his hand up and turned at the same time. By the time he was facing the other Graygual, a knife was flying through the air. It sailed past the head of the other Graygual, nicking his ear. The other man’s eyes widened and he jerked as his fingers, letting go of his own knife. It sailed right for One’s chest.
With fluid movements born of a lifetime of practice, One angled his body just enough for the knife to glide past. He turned again and another knife was flying, one Leilius hadn’t even noticed him grab. It nicked the other side of the Graygual’s head before sticking into the wall behind him.
“You had just one weapon?” One said in a rough voice devoid of humor. It sounded like a threat.
Someone else stepped out of their room, fully dressed and with a sword in hand. Yet another, as well, just as prepared. Leilius had landed himself in the Graygual sleeping quarters. Fabulous.
“What is happening?” someone asked.
“Six was getting ahead of himself,” One said, his eyes rooted to the undressed Graygual. “Making threats he couldn’t back up and didn’t think through.”
“Not threats,” Six said defiantly. “I was simply showing you that I had a weapon.”
“You threw a weapon at a fellow Circle member, intending to kill him. That is punishable by death, or have you forgotten what happened to the former Three?” One turned his back on Six and the others long enough to retrieve Six’s knife. He passed right by Ruisa, twice, but didn’t look in her direction. He was clearly distracted, though his movements were controlled.
“I knew that weapon wouldn’t kill you,” Six said. Leilius thought he heard a tiny quiver of uncertainty in his voice.
“Did you, now? Do you often throw knives at someone’s heart in jest?”
Six licked his lips nervously. “You are not just someone. I knew you would be fast enough to dodge it. Otherwise, why would I throw my only knife?”
“Why? Because you thought you only needed one, obviously. You are lazy. You have no real skill. I knew how you would try to prove your point. The question I have, however, is what would’ve happened if you had struck me? What would you have told the master?”
Six shifted from side to side. “I told you. I wasn’t trying to kill you. It was in jest.”
“Yes, I see.”
Leilius knew what would happen one second before it did. One threw the knife up, caught it by the blade, and threw in an easy, fluid motion that only S’am had ever made look so graceful and refined.
Six hadn’t guessed One’s resolve. He twisted but didn’t get out of the way in time. The knife sliced a thick gash in his arm, almost stuck but not quite. Blood immediately soaked through the cream fabric.
Six barely flinched, but his eyes were filled with understanding. “So soon before a battle, that counts as a death strike,” he said in an accusatory voice. “That is against our laws for such a trivial jest.”
“Seven, get my knives,” One said, now facing Six. “We’ll agree to disagree on your supposed jest, Six. However, that throw was not a death strike. The knife didn’t stick. It’s nothing but a flesh wound. If you can’t fight through the minimal pain of a gash, you shouldn’t be in our Inner Circle anyway. That is our law.”
Six’s face drained of color. “This is not a trivial gash.” His eyes flicked toward the wound, blood now dripping down his arm. There was no way he’d be as fast and strong with a wound of that size, and everyone in that hall knew it. Shanti had excellent fighters in her company, who could take members of the Inner Circle at their healthiest. Six was done for.
Seven retrieved One’s knives and walked past Six without so much as a glance. He handed the knives over and stood mutely to the side, looking straight ahead. One put them away, finally ripping his stare away from Six. He glanced toward Leilius, but didn’t linger. Instead, he tucked himself into his room. The lock engaged. He clearly didn’t trust his fellow fighters.
“I told you not to mess with him,” Seven said. “You’re going to need to find a duty that doesn’t put you in the front line.”
“I’m going to take this to the master,” Six said angrily. “One has gotten out of hand.
He’s abusing his power.”
“He is One,” Seven said quietly, shaking his head. He walked back to his room. “The master gave him that power. I wouldn’t advise bothering the master. His punishments are worse than that wound.”
“Surely he’ll see my point,” Six said to the other retreating Graygual.
“Go to bed.” Seven closed his door without a backward glance.
The other Graygual, after a pitying look, did the same.
Six looked down at his arm for a moment. For the first time, pain seeped into his expression. He covered the wound with his hand and sent a hard glare at One’s door. His look moved to the stairs at the other end of the corridor. After a moment of indecision, though, he finally sagged and turned into his room. Defeated.
Leilius sagged too, and nearly followed that up by slumping to the floor. Ruisa bent forward. The light caught her ashen face and wary eyes.
A large shadow roamed across the wall.
Not again.
Ruisa pulled back as half of a face moved out from behind the bend. Thankfully, it was a face Leilius knew well.
The rest of Xavier’s head followed a moment later, until his whole body was edging down the side of the wall. Alexa came right behind him, and Leilius was so thankful that he wanted to cry like a baby. She was the only one who could help them against those Graygual. The rest of them didn’t stand a chance.
Xavier’s lips moved, but Leilius couldn’t hear what he said. That meant One wouldn’t be able to either.
Leilius took off down the hall with stiff limbs and a desperate need to get back outside. Hanging around Graygual would eventually mean death. “Go, go!” Leilius motioned them back the way they’d come.
Xavier pushed forward, jostled. A white-faced Marc stepped around him, his eyes wild. “Go!” Marc pointed toward Leilius.
“Not this way,” Ruisa whispered, jogging toward them. “This is the wrong level to be on, trust me.”
“They’re coming,” Marc said through clenched teeth. He had the presence of mind to be quiet.
“Who’s coming?” Xavier asked, glancing back at the stairs.
“S’am, Graygual, and that prisoner who killed Daniels! She said to run. So run!”
“Shit.” Leilius’ stomach rolled as he thought about what they were running toward. “I think the ones up here are worse than the ones who are coming.”
“I don’t see ones up here. I see ones back there.” Marc hooked a frantic thumb over his shoulder. “She said run. Run!”
“Let’s go.” Xavier started to jog.
“This is a terrible idea,” Ruisa said, following.
“Step lighter, Marc!” Rachie whispered.
They jogged through the corridor, fabric rustling, breath heaving, and feet pattering.
“Faster.” Leilius pushed those in front of him.
Loud voices echoed through the walls. S’am’s voice, coming up the stairwell.
Heart in his throat, Leilius reached the end of the corridor and nearly threw up. There was a large arched door, bigger than the bedrooms. It was locked. They were trapped.
“No. Oh no, no,” he said.
S’am’s voice got louder. She was right around the bend, Leilius could tell.
Taking a chance, he turned toward the door with the chair beside it. The Graygual had looked at that door when they’d mentioned the prisoner. It had to be hers. Had to be.
The handle turned and the door pushed inward. He almost fell through as the rest crowded in after him, until Marc shouldered Xavier out of the way and took great care in shutting it.
Breathing hard, they all stared at each other.
Alexa spoke first. “What if they check the room before they let her in?”
Eyes widened. Xavier brought out his sword. “Then we’ll see if our combined might can take them down again.”
“Again?” Leilius asked.
“Why are you being so loud?” came a familiar voice. It was One’s.
“What did he say?” Xavier asked.
“Shhh!” Leilius waved Xavier away and pressed his ear against the door.
“I am alive. How marvelous, don’t you think?” S’am laughed, her voice getting louder all the time.
“What are you hiding?” One asked.
“You know, I don’t like you as much when you’re surrounded by your brethren. You’re an ass. If you’ll excuse me, I need my beauty sleep.”
“I want to check your room. I don’t trust this change in your demeanor.”
“Hide!” Leilius said, shoving at people. “One has taken an interest.”
“One what?” Xavier asked as Ruisa slid under the bed. Marc looked out the window and shook his head.
“I want you to—” S’am’s words had no meaning for Leilius, which meant they were probably slang words of the crass variety that Rohnan wouldn’t say.
The handle rattled and Leilius backed away. He drew his sword, knowing they couldn’t all fit under the bed or climb out the window. The door pushed open and S’am’s body filled the doorway. Her gaze flew around the room before she shoved Leilius to the right. He fell on top of Rachie, who was sitting on the other side of a chair, not well hidden.
She turned back, still in the doorway, but angled. “Do I have to worry about your men craving a woman’s body?”
“I doubt you ever worry about such things, not with your skill set.” It almost sounded like humor. S’am didn’t answer. One continued, “I will lock the door.”
“Don’t expect me to believe your men are without a skeleton key.”
“The master and I alone have skeleton keys, but if anyone tries to get in another way, I will kill them if you don’t do if for me.”
“Fair enough.” She nodded before shutting the door. The lock turned over with a loud click.
No one spoke as she stood with her finger to her lips. After a while she shook her head and moved away. In barely a whisper, she said, “You lot are a bunch of idiots. Now we’re all trapped in here together.”
16
The next day, Cayan stared out over the swamp as the early morning rays speckled the tall reeds. Everything appeared gray and murky in the twilight, just now giving shape to the looming castle high above. In the distance, waves crashed against the cliffs.
“We’ve got incoming, sir. Sonson was right. We’ve got help.” Sanders walked up beside him and braced his hands on his hips. “What a shit hole. I am not looking forward to walking through that.”
“I’ve been thinking a lot about what happens after all this,” Cayan said softly, focusing on the pull of Shanti. He couldn’t feel her power, but her closeness existed in their Joining, always next to his heart.
“We settle down, finally, and have a nice, relaxed ale together, sir.”
“I might not get to that castle. If I do, I might not get Shanti out again.”
“Ah.” Sanders clasped his arms behind his back and rolled back onto his heels for a moment. “It’s that part of the battle, is it? The time where we discuss mortality and everything is called into question.”
“Happens every battle.”
“So it does.” Sanders fell silent for a moment, watching the castle come into sharper focus as the first rays of the sun drifted over the horizon. “That woman has already given them hell, you know yourself. That ol’ Being Supreme has no idea of the kind of trouble he brought into his world. No idea. There is no amount of preparation that can get a man ready for the likes of Shanti.”
“If we don’t make it in, she won’t make it out.”
“She still would. She’d probably jump off the cliff and swim all the way up to Clintos. I wouldn’t put it past her. And she’s got that crazy Honor Guard in there. You said yourself that Maggie and Gracas were tucked up outside the castle somewhere. They are a strange band of misfits, but no one else works as well with Shanti. Not even her own people. Those boys and girls are just as harebrained and unpredictable as she is. Together they’d drive anyone insane.”
&nb
sp; Rohnan moved up beside them, but didn’t say a word. He must’ve known the anger that would be unleashed if he did. There was a reason Cayan kept the dips in his confidence to himself—a leader needed to be the beacon of hope for his army. Cayan was the strength. The backbone. It was his job to be sure of the outcome. In the merit of what they did.
He’d never had so much on the line. His future was locked away in that castle in more ways than one. The land’s future was as well. Everything rested on his actions.
He eyed the way in front of him, thinking of what Burson had said. They’d lose one. Maybe more. Before all this was over, maybe a lot more.
“How many have arrived?” he asked.
Sanders glanced behind him. “Another dozen, all with power. The cats and beasts are here, too, though I’m not sure how they’ll get through the swamp. Portolmous said the Shadow Lord was quickly getting everyone else under way. He thinks they’ll be here by midday, maybe later.”
“They got the whole camp on the move that fast?”
“Not alone. A large group of city folk traveled out to help. They brought food, fresh horses… The Wanderer Network is in full effect. Shanti gathered everyone behind her, like Burson always said she would, and now they’re responding to your leadership. All we have left to do is get the girl.”
Cayan stared at that castle, as though merely looking would unlock the way to it. “The Gift won’t help either party unless Burson or their man is downed. That leaves the surprises of the swamp and arrow fire when we get closer. They’ll be able to hit us before we can get to solid ground. Even a terrible shot would stick us like pincushions, and they will undoubtedly be great. This looks like a suicide mission.”
“It has been a suicide mission since Chulan was five years old and Xandre sent one of his higher officers to burn out our villages,” Rohnan said quietly, his staff held within his unbandaged arm. “The elders would say that it has been a suicide mission since before she was born. Had it been anyone else—you, me—we wouldn’t have made it this far. We wouldn’t be standing here. The number of times she should have failed are numerous. Yet here she is. Here we are. It is time to trust in our victory. Give her a sign that we are coming, and then lead the way. Somehow, she will bring us in.”
