by K. F. Breene
“It’s to One’s door. We’re not in One’s room…”
“Pick the lock with it.” Rachie started off toward the door.
“You can’t pick a lock with the wrong key. I didn’t bring the stuff we found that might’ve helped. And yes, I’m kicking myself for it, okay? Let’s not dwell.”
“Sure, dwell on my going in the trunk, though nothing came of it, but don’t dwell on your leaving behind something that could actually help.” Ruisa shook her head as she peered inside the fireplace
“What are you looking for?” Alexa asked.
“Shhh!” Marc flinched away from the window again. “He looked up here this time,” he whispered.
“A secret door or something,” Ruisa said quietly, now almost inside the fireplace.
“This group is like a gypsy show,” Alexa muttered.
“Mutter those types of things in your own language if you insist on saying them out loud.” Xavier tied together two strips of fabric and pulled, his muscles flexing. The fabric ripped apart.
“Have to braid it,” Marc said, analyzing.
Leilius tried to grab the key away from Rachie. “Give it back. We might need it.”
“We do need it.” Rachie fit the key in the lock. “See?”
“Just because it fits in there, that doesn’t mean it actually turns—” The lock clicked over. Everyone froze, except Rachie. A big grin spread across his face.
“This changes things,” Marc said from the window.
Xavier dropped the fabric and started for the door. “Ghost key. Makes sense that One would have it.”
“He said he had a skeleton key.” Leilius hung his head. “I’m an idiot.”
“Which means it’s another thing he’ll miss,” Marc said.
Ruisa rolled her eyes dramatically. “You’re welcome, by the way. For saving all your asses.”
“Nothing has been saved yet.” Xavier focused in on Alexa. “Are we clear?”
“Yes. I can’t feel anyone on this floor.” She pushed him aside and joined Rachie at the door. “Let’s go and get in position. Remember, I need to stay as far away from mental power as possible.”
They opened the door and filed through, silent and stealthy. At the end of the hall, they went down the steps, letting Alexa lead the way. Once on ground level, she motioned them right and through two more rooms. Finally, they emerged on the cliff side.
“Hey,” someone whispered.
Leilius ripped out his knife and stepped away from the others so he could run or fight—he wasn’t sure which yet.
On the other side of a sitting area, Gracas popped up for a brief moment, then sat back down.
Relief flooding Leilius at seeing them again, he raced over with the others, finding the two displaced Honor Guard crouching with dirty faces and mussed hair.
“Where have you been?” Gracas asked, his eyes still scanning.
“Trapped in S’am’s room. You?” Xavier helped them up.
“Hiding. Do you guys have anything to eat?” Maggie asked, licking her lips.
“Good point.” Xavier nodded, looking at Alexa again. “We should work around to the kitchen. We’ll have you scout the way, then take up our positions.”
“What positions?” Maggie asked.
Xavier motioned them on, explaining everything they’d learned in such a short time. Moving around the sea side of the castle, they found empty walkways and halls.
“The captain must be working closer,” Xavier surmised. They filed through a dimly lit corridor with no windows. He lowered his voice to a barely heard whisper. “They are probably readying to greet him when he gets here.”
“And we’re supposed to attack from the rear as that happens?” Maggie asked evenly.
They paused for Alexa to hold up her hand. A moment later, they darted into an empty kitchen. The heels of loafs of bread and a brick of cheese had been left out on the large table. Sliced meat sat off to the side.
“I wonder if they noticed the absence of the kitchen people,” Marc asked.
“There aren’t that many of them. They had to, right?” Leilius scratched his nose and waited for Gracas and Maggie to grab first. They were clearly the hungriest.
“Then why not sound an alarm?” Xavier shook his head and wandered toward the back door. Alexa had already taken up position near the other entrance.
“A lot of things about this place aren’t making sense,” Alexa murmured. “It seems like there is something else going on that we’re not seeing.”
“Whatever it is, we have a job to do. Hurry.” Leilius took a turn and grabbed enough to satisfy him. He stuffed a little more into his pockets before nodding to Xavier. “I’m going to work my way around and find S’am’s group. I can get close without being seen. It’s what she trained me for.”
Xavier stared at him gravely. “If you get caught…”
“S’am has faith in us. In me. She only has faith in people who are excellent. I won’t get caught.”
Marc turned with wide eyes, his jaw set and his back straight. Rachie and Gracas straightened up too, fierce determination lighting his eyes.
“It’s true,” Alexa murmured from the doorway. “If she has taken all this time with you, there is a reason. She gave me a chance. We all have to make good.”
With a deep breath, Leilius shook everyone’s hands. He looked at each face, memorizing their features. It might be the last time he saw any of them. After a silent farewell, he drifted out of the door and skulked his way along the corridor. It was time to be there for S’am like she’d always been there for him.
“Stop!” Sanders held up his hand.
Beside him, Boas showed him a furrowed brow. “What?”
Sanders crouched to look closer at a shallow pool, reeds and grasses sticking up, undisturbed. Within their depths, though, a metallic object lurked. Something that didn’t belong there. He disturbed the water carefully with the tip of his finger and watched the small waves ebb and flow around it.
“There is something in here.” He stood and surveyed the land around them before glancing at the sky. The sun was climbing faster than they were traveling. They had to move quicker. Sanders didn’t want to spend the night sleeping in damp conditions.
“How can you see with the glimmer on the water?” Portolmous asked behind them.
“I have something here.” Boas took a step back from another shallow pool. “It doesn’t look as though the vegetation has been disturbed at all. It was laid well.”
“What is it?” the captain asked.
“I don’t know, but I don’t want to find out.” Sanders moved to the side. His foot squelched into mud and sank. He pulled it out with effort and chose another spot before it sank again.
“What the—” Boas put his arms out and looked down. “Sinking mud. Back up! Back up! This is the wrong way!”
“What’s sinking mud?” Sanders asked as the ground sucked in his feet. He yanked at a foot, but just sank a little deeper. “What’s happening?”
“We had it in the Shadow Lands. Don’t struggle—you’ll go down faster.” Boas yelled something in his language. Those behind him grabbed his shoulders and dragged him backward.
The mud engulfed Sanders’ shins, pulling him downward. He stayed still as panic gripped him, the need to thrash and rip his legs out consuming his desire. The descent slowed, but didn’t stop. The mud grabbed at his knees.
“Any time you’re ready,” he said, fighting the panic.
Hands grabbed his shoulders. He was dragged backward, a person on each arm. The mud resisted, not wanting to release him. Finally, his feet made a suctioned pop when he was finally pulled free and fell heavily onto his butt.
“Clever,” Portolmous said, standing over Sanders, who was trying to get a grip. Men he could fight. Even better, faster, and stronger men than he was. But the ground? No. That shit was out of his league.
“Let’s try this way.” Boas pointed to the right. “There is a narrow path of firm ground.
”
“If the metallic items didn’t catch us, the ground would while we looked at them,” the captain said thoughtfully. “Being more careful is not an option. There is a time limit, regardless of there being anyone waiting at the other end or not. This defense was planned with precision.”
“I agree.” Portolmous glanced at Burson. He probably had the same impulse Sanders did—to ask which person would die with each new way they chose. Was it always the same person, or did it change? Did any of the routes result in more death?
“Not that way,” Sanders said, eyeing the path Boas chose. “It looks like the obvious choice, which means it’ll have nasty traps. We should go this way.” Sanders pointed at a watery route with little dryness.
“There is no telling how deep some of those pools are. The water is too murky.” Portolmous shook his head.
More people looked at Burson this time. No one asked the question.
“Left,” the captain said. He looked at the castle, then at the sky. “Let’s remember, they use horses in and out of here. We might get a little wet.”
“Why not do both?” Portolmous said.
“No.” Burson shook his head. “Not both. Not here, at any rate. Not now.”
“That solves that.” Sanders started left, going too slowly. All this was too slow. “Drag me out if I scream.”
Boas laughed, catching up. “Enjoyed the mud, did you?”
Unable to see the bottom of the small pool, Sanders cursed as water rose up his leg. When it reached the bottom of his balls, he cocked his head, but forced himself to keep going. Something brushed against his ankle. He paused for a second and his head snapped toward Boas. “Did you feel that?”
“A creature in the depths?” Boas asked.
“Not the phrasing I’d use in this situation. I’d be more comfortable calling it something. As in, did something just brush by your damn foot?”
“Something big, yes.” Boas kept going.
“You have balls of steel.”
“You wouldn’t last too long in the Shadow Land.”
“No shit. I hated that place.”
Someone behind them sucked in a breath. Another person gasped.
“Ouch,” someone muttered.
“What happened?” the captain asked as Sanders’ balls dipped into warm water. He grimaced.
“Something bit me. Let’s hope it doesn’t respond to—flak.”
Sanders turned back at the sound of thrashing. Sayas dipped and then started hopping. Clearly it was his leg that was bitten. Kallon reached out to him.
“We need to move faster,” Kallon said, his voice calm.
“How can you stay calm with a creature trying to bite your feet off!” Sanders put on speed.
“Now you use the term creature?” Boas fell in beside him, leaning forward through the waist deep water.
“It’s eating people. My fears are confirmed.”
“Is it bad?” the captain asked, also calm.
Did none of these people have fears of terrible things that lurked at the bottom of ponds, or was Sanders the only one traumatized by childhood explorations gone wrong?
Sayas’ answer was in his language, which probably meant that it was certainly not good.
The land started to slope upward toward a drier patch. Sanders looked at his stomach where the water was starting to recede.
“It feels as though…” Boas looked down. “I might’ve stepped in something—” He was ripped under the water.
“What the fuck?” Sanders paused when a hand grabbed his knee. “Shit. Stay back.”
He reached under the surface and felt hair. Further down and he found shoulders. Sanders hooked his hands under Boas’ arms and pulled. He didn’t come all the way, though; somehow he was anchored.
“Come behind me,” he yelled back, ripping out his knife. “Boas is caught in something.”
The warm water enveloped Sanders’ head as he ducked under. Using Boas’ body, he pulled himself downward until he found the hole in the ground. Still further down, trying not to flinch when something grazed his body and kept swimming, he felt down to Boas’ feet. A rope was tethered to his ankle.
He grabbed hold and swiped his knife across, severing it. Boas swam upward, dragging Sanders with him. His head broke the water and he took a gasping breath before being dragged to the side where he could touch bottom. Boas stood right beside him, steadied by the captain, heaving.
“Anything broken?” the captain asked.
“Pride only. I pissed myself.” Boas scrubbed his fingers through his wet hair.
“Oh, great. I swam through your piss.” Sanders walked the rest of the way out, feeling his way with greater care. “I’m not sure I’m going to volunteer to go first anymore.”
“This is not the most fun I’ve ever had, either.” Boas walked onto the small island and surveyed the way ahead. “Is this the right way, or the wrong?”
Sayas made it and immediately stooped to his foot. Jagged teeth marks cut a crescent shape in his ankle. Blood seeped down his skin.
“I have a wrap,” Portolmous said.
Sanders let them doctor as he moved on, scouting the way. They were a quarter of the way but the sun was already high in the sky. He blocked the sun with his hand and looked at the castle. Was it him, or were there figures looking out over the wall?
There were probably figures looking out, waiting for the right moment.
“Xandre didn’t get all his power without having the intelligence to back it up,” Boas said, coming up beside him.
“We’re not going to make it before sundown.”
“We’re not going to make it at all.”
The truth of that statement settled in Sanders’ stomach. He shifted to look back at Burson. “You never mentioned we’d all die out here. Was that because it hadn’t occurred to you, or we’ve strayed?”
Burson turned his face up to the sky in a smile. As he did so, Sanders caught movement behind him. The cats, who had so far followed at a distance, slogging through like the humans, had now turned away east. The beasts, on heavy chains, were pulling at their leads, trying to head in the same direction.
“Can’t be,” said the captain incredulously.
A horse neighed and bucked, clawing at the air with his front feet. He was cutting his way to them across the swamp, taking a zigzagging path. He neighed again and bobbed his head. The cats sped up, working toward him more quickly. The beasts roared and ripped their heads, yanking their leads free. They trotted in that direction.
“That is the strangest horse I’ve ever seen in all my life,” Boas said, blocking the sun with his hand. “I would not believe this is happening if I wasn’t seeing it with my own eyes.”
“He’s like a big dog,” Sonson said thoughtfully. “He’s smart enough to get in, and then come back to help. How he is gathering the other animals, I have no idea.”
“He’s an ornery bastard who’ll never say die.” The captain started to follow the same path. “He’s Shanti’s horse, through and through. Let’s go. Our miracle has arrived.”
18
“What’s happening?” Xandre stood and walked to the wall. A member of the Inner Circle moved a short distance away. One shifted in his seat, but didn’t stand. He had clearly been ordered to guard Shanti, hence his close proximity.
She looked up at the sky. The sun was nearing its zenith. Rising the spyglass, she saw that Cayan was quickly winding his way closer, his team weaving along a crooked path, following that mad bastard of a horse.
A grin tweaked her lips. That animal was worth his weight in gold. The Graygual should’ve guarded him to the last.
“They have brought all the animals with them.” Xandre spread his hands on the wall, staring out. “So be it. Ready the defenses. Bring me a master executioner.”
The Inner Circle member bowed and darted away.
Xandre turned slowly until his back was to the wall, looking down at Shanti. He gazed for a long time, a strange gleam comi
ng to his eyes. A familiar gleam. He was accessing his Sight. She’d seen that look in Burson’s eyes plenty of times.
“This was always a possible outcome, of course,” he said. “I confess, I didn’t think it would come to pass. The probability was so slim. A horse leading them to the wall? Ridiculous.” Sadness took over his expression. “It has created a great many other events that are not favorable for what I’m trying to do here. So I am forced to reconcile the matter. It grieves me to no end, I assure you.”
“All that flowery speech just to say you’re going to try and kill me? Being in the Inner Circle must be such a mood killer.” She crossed an ankle over her knee, blanking her mind. She wasn’t certain how his Gift worked, but she was pretty sure that if she created plans, the paths would be laid out for him to see, like a map. She needed to react within an instant if she was going to beat him.
Beating the Inner Circle afterward, however…
“I do not want to do this, you see. It feels like killing a piece of the past. While you would have made things a little easier, I don’t actually need you. Navigating the power in this land is easy. Brutality, spreading fear, and the occasional nice gesture keeps people in line. It works so well. And will continue working well as I live out my days in luxury. I just need to maintain things. Having my army in place is sufficient for that.”
“Are you trying to convince me, or yourself?”
Xandre gave her a placating smile as the Master Executioner climbed the steps, his white coat practically glaring in the bright sun. He stood off to the side and clasped his hands together. Sweat stood out on his face from the heat.
“You were always a moving target, as it were. Tracking you, infiltrating your camp, trying to capture you. So entertaining. I loved it.” His smile grew. “And finally I won, and here you are. At my disposal. Truly a fitting end to a long game of cat and mouse.”
“Please tell me that’s the end of your speech. I’m about to fall asleep.”
“I know about the missing members of the Inner Circle.”
