The Renegade Son (Winter's Blight Book 2)

by K. C. Lannon

  James leaped to his feet, rabid with excitement and beaming like mad. He pumped his fist in the air.

  She did it!

  Then, without wasting another second, he raced off toward the military trucks, the heavy pack on his back barely slowing him down, adrenaline taking over. He darted through trees, skidding in the fallen leaves, and then as he approached, he slowed his pace and focused on sneaking quietly up to the side of the supplies.

  The moment James neared the military vehicles that were parked in a row on the dirt, he realized he would have an issue that he hadn’t considered. Opening the engine to get to the throttle would not be much of a problem, but it might take too long—also, even reaching the hood to pry it open would be a problem. The trucks were higher off the ground than he’d anticipated.

  James instantly tried to climb on one of the large tires and hoist himself up onto the hood, but he knew he would be spotted and he was running out of time. Deirdre’s distraction would only last so long.

  I’m not standing on a box, that’s for sure!

  Jumping down quickly, James took a moment to think things through. He shuffled around anxiously, gritting his teeth and hitting his palms against his forehead, willing a backup plan to come to him.

  “Okay. All right. I’ll just press down the accelerator with something heavy and just jump out before it crashes!”

  He ducked down around the back of the truck to get to the driver’s seat. When he pulled on the door handle, it wouldn’t budge. For one sinking moment he thought he might’ve accidentally left Deirdre with no backup. Then he realized the door was unlocked; he just wasn’t pulling hard enough.

  “Budge, damn you!” James yanked on the handle, his face flaming, and placed his feet on the step and pulled back with all his weight. It finally swung open, and James crawled inside, leaving the door ajar.

  The control panel floored him for a moment as he stared wide-eyed at all the different levers and buttons on the dash. He quickly opened his pack, looking for something to hold the pedal down with—

  If I use Iain’s skillet, he’ll murder me.

  Just then he heard yelling in the distance. His head snapped up, and he squinted out the windshield—there were soldiers pointing in his direction. He had to act quickly.

  “Oi!” one of them shouted. “There’s someone in the—”

  James froze.

  He needed a new, new plan. Taking a deep breath, James pushed the ignition, and the vehicle roared to life. Biting his lip, he reached over and switched the gears, hoping to God that he remembered what little he had learned from Iain telling him about his driving lessons.

  “Come on!” James growled. He moved his foot toward the gas pedal, frantically searching for it somewhere below him. “Oh—you’ve got to be joking!”

  Swearing more and feeling better for it, James slid down in his seat until he could finally reach the pedal, nearly lying down and barely able see out the windshield. Then, bracing himself and screwing his eyes shut, he pressed down on the pedal as hard as he could, jerking the truck forward.

  On the driver’s side, the cave formation rocketed past his open door in a blur. The vehicle jostled him about, and he grabbed the steering wheel, speeding blindly toward where he thought the equipment was. James let out a yelp as the front of the car struck something and it went flying over the nose of the car in splinters, striking the roof and bouncing off.

  “Get out of there!” a voice shouted. “Stop the truck or we’ll shoot!”

  James steeled himself, not letting off the accelerator.

  Then he heard gunfire, and bullets pelted the front of the vehicle. James yelped, trying to slow his speed steadily but ending up slamming his foot on the brake, causing him to fly up nearly out of his seat, his chest slamming against the steering wheel.

  Groaning, James tried to right himself. Smoke was starting to billow up from the engine. James covered his mouth and nose with his scarf, crawling clumsily toward the open door, the smell of burning and electric fire making him cough.

  “Get out of the vehicle! Put your hands on your head!” A soldier came up to the door, his gun raised and trained on James.

  For one moment James thought he ought to try to fight, to kick out and knock the gun from the soldier’s hand—then he heard someone bellowing. The voice was familiar but the sound of it so desperate it made James’s stomach twist in knots.

  “That’s my brother!” Iain was shouting, his voice raw. “Don’t shoot! He’s my brother!”

  James shakily lifted his hands to his head—just as he did, the soldier with the gun was shoved out of the way. James expected to see his brother, but instead he saw Boyd glaring at him.

  “Put your hands behind your back and climb out!” Boyd ordered.

  James scoffed at him. “He just said to put my hands on my head. Which is it?”

  Before he could even react, James was on the ground, the sky above him, his head spinning and aching so badly he thought he might vomit. Gasping for breath, James tried to roll over. Boyd had him by his ankle, having yanked him from the truck.

  Then he was on his belly, and his arms were being pinned behind his back. When James tried to sit up, what he assumed was Boyd’s boot came down against the back of his head, slamming his face into the ground.

  He choked out a sob, unable to hold it back. He tasted dirt, and blood spurted out his nose and filled his mouth—more blood than he thought possible. James spat out as much as he could, letting out a furious snarl, anger blotting out the pain.

  Boyd laughed. “Easy there, runt.” He hauled James to his feet, grabbing ahold of his arm, and began dragging him along.

  “We’ve got another one over here!” a soldier called from across the encampment.

  Oh no. Deirdre!

  Just ahead, across the encampment, James could see the orange of Deirdre’s ginger hair in the distance—she was being held between two soldiers. He searched for his brother, hoping to see him fighting against the soldiers, but he, too, was caught, his hands on his head.

  Boyd actually smiled, the look in his eyes almost greedy as he spotted Deirdre. Boyd said to the two other soldiers present, “They’re all together in this. That’s Callaghan’s missing faery prisoner, wanted for the king’s assassination.”

  When Boyd gave him a nudge, James began to walk forward, his gaze focused on the others by the lean-to. As he neared, he jolted at the appearance of his friends. Deirdre was wide-eyed and trembling. He had never seen his brother look so pale.

  When Iain saw the blood caked on his face, James wondered how Boyd didn’t drop dead from the look his brother shot at him. He hoped that Boyd would get what was clearly coming to him. James certainly wouldn’t get in Iain’s way.

  Boyd shoved him toward the lean-to where Alvey was sitting.

  “Commander Walker,” Boyd said, jabbing his finger at Deirdre, “this is the wanted faery. Warden Callaghan is a deserter and a traitor. He was hiding her this whole time. You saw how he ran to her aid when she barged in here exploding things with her magic, and to the other half faery!”

  Iain held up his hands in a placating gesture, looking to Commander Walker. “Commander Walker, it’s true I was hiding her, but I had a good reason—”

  “He admits it.” Boyd pointed at him accusatorily.

  Commander Walker was purple with rage, his eyes fixed on Iain. “You will explain yourself in military court once we escort you back to Neo-London for trial—after this operation is complete.”

  “I’m taking them now—” Boyd began.

  “I need your battalion to back us up.”

  Boyd’s hand went to his belt. Iain leaned over and whispered something behind him toward Alvey. Though she was a little far away, with her keen ears, she would no doubt hear whatever it was he said. Then Iain nodded to James. When he tried to meet Deirdre’s gaze, however, she did not look up.

  Something’s about to go down…

  Boyd pulled his gun from his holster and level
ed it at Commander Walker.

  “Change of plans, gents,” Boyd announced. “Looks like we’ll have to speed this along a lot quicker than intended. You follow my orders now. The faery comes with me.”

  A silence fell over the camp. Most of the soldiers turned to the commander in confusion while others merely nodded or just stood still with blank expressions. The soldiers holding on to Deirdre let her go, their hands going for their firearms around their shoulders.

  Quick as a flash, Iain went into the lean-to and wheeled Alvey out. Even Alvey had nothing to say—which James thought meant there was really something wrong and that Boyd was not just bluffing or about to back down.

  He’s insane.

  Commander Walker, red-faced, turned to face Boyd. “I’ve warned you, Prance, and now I’m going to have to take action. If you attempt to undermine my authority again, I’ll have you discharged with dishonor. Now lower your weapon.”

  Boyd did not comply.

  There was a general murmur of confusion and a few shouts as some of the soldiers turned their weapons on their fellow infantrymen. One of the soldiers attempted to disarm the other but ended up taking the butt of the gun to his face, knocking him out cold. A few of them raised their hands in surrender.

  Commander Walker narrowed his eyes on Boyd as he brought his gun up to his eye level.

  “That’s fine,” Boyd said flatly. “But see, I don’t take orders from you, Commander.”

  “Get down!” Iain shouted, just as gunfire exploded and echoed around them.

  Deirdre let out a shriek, darting to where Iain and Alvey were in the lean-to and flattening herself down on the ground. Iain quickly shielded Alvey with his body. James could only stare, frozen in place, his body unwilling to move.

  Screams and orders from the soldiers and Commander Walker rang out, swallowed up by the sound of bullets striking and ricocheting off rock formations behind them.

  Finally James ducked down, covering his head and breathing hard.

  Hard, frantic footfalls echoed with the gunfire. James looked up cautiously to see the infantrymen scatter, some finding shelter behind the military trucks or the woods beyond. Others lay on the ground, unmoving. Dust flew up from the ground as bullets pelleted where infantrymen had stood moments ago. In the chaos, only one man was visible still standing: Boyd.

  “Get moving!” Iain croaked to his left, grabbing James by his jacket and pulling him to stand. “Get to the cave!”

  Iain was pushing Alvey’s chair, and Deirdre was following close behind. He led them to the side of the slope—it was a straight shot down to the cave entrance, but it was incredibly steep.

  Boyd was slowly backing down the slope, his back to the cavern and his gun facing forward. When he saw Iain and James, however, he stopped his backward decent and strode in their direction, his gaze fixed on them.

  “Deirdre,” Iain said, “help me get Alvey’s chair down the slope—”

  “Got it!” Deirdre started down the hill backward, making the slow descent, her boots sliding against the rock but holding strong.

  Iain grabbed the handles of Alvey’s chair, slowing the momentum so Deirdre wouldn’t fall and the chair wouldn’t crash down the hill. He twisted around to James, snapping, “Get moving down the hill!”

  James peered over the ledge uncertainly. Then, as he lowered himself slowly onto the ground so he was sitting on the ledge, his head spun. “The… the ground’s too unstable,” James stammered.

  Iain, Deirdre, and Alvey were nearly at the bottom now, waiting a little ways from the cavern entrance, looking up at him. James braced himself and started down—

  Deirdre let out a shriek, her eyes wide. If she was trying to warn him, she never got the words out.

  Commander Walker came around the corner of the cavern, having gone down from another point, his weapon raised. However, he was not pointing it at any of them but rather up the slope.

  “Iain—!” James’s words were cut off as he was grabbed roughly from behind; Boyd’s arm going taut against his throat and nearly cutting off his air.

  James struggled and swung his elbow back and nailed Boyd in the face, right where his bruise was. The impact was satisfying, and James wanted to thank whomever it was who had dealt him such a blow in the first place. Boyd loosened his hold only for a moment before gripping him tighter than before, growling in his ear. Spots danced in his vision as he gasped for breath.

  Boyd pulled James up so that only the toes of his trainers still touched the ground. James scrabbled at his hands. “I’ve got a yappy dog,” Boyd called out. “We’re coming down, so don’t shoot unless you want to hear ’im yelp.”

  Iain turned to Commander Walker desperately. “Do as he says, Commander.”

  Commander Walker lowered his weapon slightly, his face pale and perspiring. James noticed that he had one hand clamped over a bullet wound on his shoulder that was bleeding through his jacket. James gaped, feeling a bit sick, having never seen a fresh bullet wound before.

  A tremor shook the ground, and Commander Walker toppled over onto his knees. Iain would have fallen as well had he not grabbed ahold of Alvey’s chair.

  James was dropped instantly as Boyd struggled to keep his balance, and James made his way toward the edge of the slope. He lowered himself down quickly, half sliding and half inching his way down the cliff and leaving Boyd behind. By the time James reached the bottom, his hands and elbows were scraped from the rough trip down, and the tremors had not stopped.

  Large, loose shards of stone rolled down the hill.

  Iain ran over to him instantly, pushing him toward the others and away from Boyd. Boyd was still at the top of the hill, having fallen on his rump from the tremors.

  “What… what happened?” James asked, dazed.

  No one spoke.

  “That is interesting.” Alvey’s voice broke the silence, her tone curious. “I have never heard a faery act this way before while using magic.”

  James and Iain tore their eyes away from Boyd’s slow descent down the slope and focused on Deirdre. She was kneeling on the ground still, shaking like a leaf, her breathing labored. However, her sharp blue eyes were fixed unblinkingly on Boyd.

  Iain looked to Deirdre, eyes wide in awe. “That’s… amazing,” he said breathlessly.

  It was amazing, James agreed. He’d just never thought his brother would think that as well.

  “If she does not stop,” Alvey said, “it will probably result in a rockslide, or this entire area may collapse. I can feel the earth is the most weakened here.”

  Iain sobered instantly, his grin fading. He glanced at Deirdre, looking lost and helpless to do anything. His hands twitched like he might reach for her—

  Commander Walker picked himself up off the ground, walking around to stand in front of Deirdre. “Stop this at once,” he demanded. “That’s an order, faery.”

  “I-I can’t—” Deirdre gasped, clasping her hands to her chest like she’d burned them. “I can’t stop—”

  Alvey sighed like it was an inconvenience. “No one can stop magic from happening. Likely, she shall stop once she is finished—unless she is completely inept and does not know how to control it, which I have never heard of happening. Though she does seem rather dense.”

  All at once, the tremors stopped. Deirdre looked up, breathless. “I did it…,” she said weakly. “I thought we were all going to be dragged down into the caves or something!”

  There was a pause, a silence settling over them, before the entire structure under their feet cracked and began to crumble. They all fell into the darkness of the cavern that opened up beneath them.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Where’s James?

  And Deirdre…

  When the rubble settled, Iain found he was lying on his side on the ground, dazed and sore. Light streamed down from high overhead, revealing the surface above while also revealing the crude tunnels that led farther down into the cave. The drop had luckily not been that far.

>   The ground was smooth and damp against his raw hands as he pushed himself upright. The floor looked as if it had been well trod, compacted from many feet stamping it down over many years. The cave walls were warped, the various passages narrower or wider in some places.

  He became aware of faint groaning all around him as people stirred into action, recovering from the fall. Commander Walker was already standing, leaning against the cave wall, his wounded arm still clutched in his hand and his face smeared with dirt, his firearm in his other hand.

  Deirdre was sitting up already, brushing rubble from her hair absently as she looked up to see how far they’d fallen. She stretched out her leg, wincing as she rubbed her ankle. She appeared unharmed.

  Alvey was still remarkably seated in her unbroken chair. She blew a strand of loose hair from her face, frowning.

  “Iain?” He heard James’s voice, but he sounded faint.

  Before Iain could think to panic, James popped up from behind Alvey’s chair, pale and shaky. He’d been standing beside Alvey when the ground crumbled, and he’d managed to catch himself on her chair. He appeared unscathed by the fall except for a small scrape on his cheek and the blood that was already drying down his nose and chin.

  Lastly, Iain thought to look for Boyd. He wasn’t certain if he’d been tossed down with them. Some areas of the cave were too dim to see much, but Iain was sure he saw no one else with them.

  “Everyone all right?” Iain asked, standing slowly. He hadn’t felt so sore since his first few days of basic training, which was apparently comparable to tumbling down a hole in the earth.

  “Fine,” James said. “That was lucky!”

  Seeing James look almost cheery brought both instant relief and anger.

  When Iain turned to look at Deirdre, she glanced away from him sheepishly. She actually reminded him of when James was younger and he’d been caught reading something he shouldn’t or breaking something he’d been told not to touch and expected to be scolded.

  Only, he had no idea what she felt guilty about. It couldn’t be her magic—she had performed brilliantly, getting James to safety even if it had backfired slightly. They were all alive because of her.