It all made sense. “You mean, then he’d have to find the next born protector?”
Malick beamed at me and turned to his friends. “See, he’s a smart kid. He wouldn’t have followed if I weren’t a good storyteller. Always giving me a hard time.”
“But what about Braylon? Think he loves her still, and maybe that’s why he doesn’t want her killed?”
Malick’s voice echoed off the icy walls. “Could be why he never executed her like he was ordered to. There may be a small part of Braylon’s heart that didn’t turn to stone – that still beats for her. But it’s not enough to make a difference.”
“What about Braylon. Is there a way to change him back?”
“If the Elder Tree wasn’t dead, I suppose there’d be hope, but we can’t turn back time now. Once you’ve been pierced by Slag’s staff, there’s no coming ‘round. That’s why I must find my son quickly. Any who defy King Slag share in Prince Braylon’s fate.”
Malick seemed to remember the crowd of other inmates in the neighboring cells and lowered his eyes. He sat next to me on the bale of hay and waited a few minutes until the other men listening decided there wasn’t anything further to hear and went back to their previous conversations. He tilted his head toward me and said in my ear, “If you want to escape with us, you must listen carefully to my instructions. This plan won’t work if any one thing goes wrong…”
Well, then he definitely shouldn’t have included me in the plan. My bad luck had clearly followed me into this strange, twisted dream. All I wanted at this point was to wake up. This place was depressing. I had already gotten hurt and jailed. What next?
“You listening, Nim? Braylon’s men should be coming back soon to sort us. The fools who resist enlistment are pierced with Slag’s staff to ensure full cooperation. If I taught my boy right, he should have pledged loyalty without going that route. I’m counting on it, in fact. You must show fealty to Braylon and Slag’s army. My son was taken only a few days ago, so he should be in training now. We have a man on the inside that will leave a grate to the sewers unlatched. A carriage will be waiting for us at the outlet. Stick with us and we should make it out. Let’s hope Braylon isn’t there, because he knows I’m a general in King Richard’s army. That would change the situation right quick. I wouldn’t want to risk Amerovia’s safety. Wouldn’t want Slag thinking we were here to rescue the princess.” Malick looked at the other men who had joined us in our carriage ride, standing protectively around us now.
“Um, okay. Let’s hope Braylon’s not there then.” I hoped the raincloud over my head wouldn’t affect the outcome, either.
“Good lad. How’s your knee doing? Not going to slow you down, I hope?”
I looked at my dirty, torn sweats and stretched my leg. My knee stung, but I figured it wouldn’t stop me from busting out of jail, or whatever this place was.
“Should be okay.”
I let my head drop back to rest against the iron bars behind me and I tried to get comfortable, which was near impossible. I sat like that for a while before clanking sounds echoed from outside the room. All of the prisoners faced the doorway, and I wondered what would happen next.
Chapter 5 - The Escape
“Time to get you sorted,” a guard said as he walked into the dank chamber. “Let’s go.” Five more guards dressed in black leather uniforms followed behind him. The guard fumbled with a set of keys and opened our cell.
Malick helped me to my feet and my knee stung when my leg straightened. The others filtered out of the cell ahead of me and I wandered after them. Guards flanked us as we were led up the spiral staircase one level and then down a long corridor into a large room. It looked to be an armory with weapons sorted on racks at the far corner. More guards lined the room, making it clear there was no way to escape.
I lined up beside Malick as we were instructed to stop before a stout, hairy man. He must have been important because his uniform was gray, not black like the others. He walked the length of our line and stopped before each of us, giving an icy stare. I hoped this was not Prince Braylon and eyed Malick for some sign of recognition.
“I’m Lord Grentin. I’m here to determine if you’re fit to be a part of Slag’s army, where you would best serve our King and if your heart is in it. Or not.” Lord Grentin smirked as he emphasized the word and said, “I admit, it’s a little more fun when new recruits aren’t excited to join up. Either way, it’s win-win for me.”
I was relieved for our sake that this wasn’t Prince Braylon, but on the other hand, Lord Grentin didn’t seem like a puppy lover. Lord Grentin paused before me and frowned. He reached out and touched my t-shirt with his gloved fingertips. “What exactly are you wearing?”
My heart raced as I considered my answer. Was this where my dream would end – when I died at the hands of my captor? I swallowed hard and forced myself to speak, “I, um…”
Lord Grentin’s eyes narrowed and before I was allowed to stumble over my unconvincing answer he asked, “Where do you come by? Where are you from?”
Rather than trying to make up some silly lie, I told the truth. “I’m from Portland.”
My interrogator turned away, wandered over to a long table and perched on its edge. I felt more than his eyes on me. Everyone in the room was now focused on the strange boy standing in his slippers and sweats. I must have seemed as out of place as a clown at a wedding.
“Never heard of Port Land. Is it a place of trade? Near the sea?”
“Um – yeah, sure,” I said, shrugging.
“And how did you get here?” As Lord Grentin spoke, one of the guards stepped forward. I recognized Pete as one of the men who’d detained me from the endless, gravel road. He said something into Grentin’s ear and returned to his place. “I understand you were found wandering alone on the road to Valen in Slag’s Kingdom. Why were you there and how did you get there?”
Malick gave me a gentle nudge without taking his gaze away from the wall ahead of us. I didn’t know what to say. The truth wouldn’t get me anywhere. Maybe it was time to lie. I was good at thinking up stories, just bad at talking to people. My voice shook as I muttered, “I was traveling with my aunt but she wanted to stay in Revel Green. It was boring there so I left her to go look for some excitement. Since I’m not from here, I didn’t know where I was.”
Lord Grentin seemed to consider my story for a moment and continued with another question. “Do you wish to get back to her, then?”
Again my heart thundered in my chest as I tried to think fast. I recalled Malick’s advice and warning. I should show loyalty to Slag if I was going to be able to stick with Malick and try to escape. The problem was selling my lies. My palms were sweaty and I couldn’t stop staring at my feet. “Um, she’s fine. I want to find purpose. Something to fight for.”
“Really? What would you fight for?” Lord Grentin’s jaw clenched. “Glory, wealth, honor?”
I heard the edge in his voice and became wary. I exhaled a shaky breath and scrambled to think of a useful answer, one that wouldn’t land me in more trouble. “Power.”
The response was nearly immediate. Lord Grentin smirked as he tipped off the table and sauntered over to me. His thick hand clapped my shoulder, sending me off balance and he boomed in laughter. “Not sure a strange kid like yourself will get far, but I can find a place for you, boy. What are you good at?” As he squinted at me, I was aware of every inch of my oversized, gawky body. I was as good a soldier as a rabid cougar was a pet. “Husbandry, cooking, metal smithing…or hunting?”
“I can handle a bow well,” I said, hoping I wouldn’t have to prove it before our escape.
“Well, we’ll see about that.”
Lord Grentin appeared to be through with me as he began to interrogate the other men in line. My pulse slowed and I swallowed, relief flooding through me. I had made it through without any terrible incident.
After he questioned everyone else, who all declared their undying loyalty to the faceless villain, Slag, w
e were sent to the training barracks. Men and boys of varying ages filled the multi-level building. I saw a few who looked even younger than me and by their expressions it was clear they were frightened and would rather be home with their families or picking daisies somewhere. There was a hint of something else that was familiar to me: hopelessness.
Malick leaned in and whispered, “My boy’s about your age. Name’s Red. He’s got blue eyes, and like his name, he’s got red hair – hard to miss. I’m going to start looking for him. You do the same, if you would.” He stepped away from me and muttered what I assumed were the same instructions to the others in his rescue party. They parted ways and disappeared amongst the milling soldiers.
“Oy, you!”
I turned around and straight into a tubby man who was about my height. He thrust a uniform into my arms and at just about the same time, his foul breath hit me like a punch in the face. I winced involuntarily and wished I had a breath mint to offer him as he said, “Put these on before you get whipped for wearing...whatever that is.”
“Thanks.” I ducked away for a breath of fresh air and hurried off to find a safe place to change. I didn’t go far before I found the entry to the sleeping quarters. A huge stone building with row upon row of bunks filled the first level. As I wound my way through, I bumped into another boy around my age. He excused himself and started to walk away when I got enough confidence to call after him, “Hey, is your name Red?”
The boy looked over his shoulder and said, “Naw, do I look like a Red?”
“You know him?”
He frowned at me and kept on going. Great, well I assumed that meant he didn’t. I headed to the corner, avoiding eye contact with all of the men I passed. I’m pretty good at looking like I have somewhere important to go so people leave me alone. It’s a skill I’ve perfected with time. If you can call it a skill.
Soon I found a private spot to change. I was thankful to cover up my sweats and t-shirt, which weren’t nearly warm enough for the temperatures in this frigid place and far too conspicuous. My slippers were ditched under a bunk as I buttoned up my leather jacket. The uniform came with a pair of boots that I discovered were too big, but I figured that was better than being too small. I sat on the bed behind me and tried drawing the laces as tightly as I could to help secure my feet inside.
“They too big?”
A voice startled me and I looked up into the face of a boy around my age. He leaned over and dropped something on the floor.
“Try stuffing these into the toes.”
“Thanks,” I answered, grabbing what I realized were wadded up fabric scraps. I gave them a cautious sniff.
“I didn’t clean the outhouse with them or anything. Go on.”
I loosened my laces and stuffed the padding into my boots. When I looked at him again I noticed his scruffy red hair. “I’m Nim. What’s your name?”
“They call me Red. You a new recruit?”
“Uh, yeah. Say, someone was looking for you.”
The addition of the padding in the boots made all the difference of the world, and after I was done, I jumped up, ready to lead Red to his father. I started walking and realized he wasn’t following.
Red’s eyes filled with worry and he seemed to be debating internally about coming with me or not. I didn’t want to make a scene or draw attention to us, so I jogged back over to him and said under my breath, “Malick’s looking for you. You should really come with me.”
The boy sputtered and said, “Father? He’s here? I was worried it was the captain – I haven’t exactly been working my hardest in training. He threatened to whip me earlier.”
I didn’t want to stay here long enough to meet the captain who had made such an impression on Red. “Quiet down. Your dad has a plan, but we need to find him first. Let’s go.”
With Red following right behind me, we made our way out of the sleeping quarters and began searching through the entire barracks for his father. It didn’t take long before I recognized Malick’s face across the room. His eyes locked onto us and he waved us over.
“C’mon, I see him,” I said and led the way.
As we neared Malick, he shot a warning glance to his son, who shoved past me and ran to his side. Red hung his head and I was surprised he wasn’t in a better mood.
“Father, I’m sorry. I should have listened to you and stayed away from the borders. Getting myself caught was foolish.”
Malick clapped him on the back and leaned down to look him in the eye. “Listen to me, boy. I’m not about to lose any other kin to Slag. Losing your mother was unbearable. I don’t want to think about losing you, too. We won’t say another word about it. I think you’ve learned your lesson.”
Red’s chin lifted and he gave a half smile. “I hoped you’d come for me. I’m just surprised you’re here. Didn’t think King Richard would let you come for me.”
“Well, he didn’t exactly give his blessings, but don’t worry about that now. I’m just glad to see you safe.”
“I did as you said and pledged myself to Slag rather than have my heart turned to stone,” Red said as he hooked his thumbs under his belt.
“Good boy. Now, let’s not draw attention to ourselves. We have a plan, and we need to move at nightfall, which is nearing quickly. My men are securing our escape route.” Malick turned his attention to me. “Thanks for finding my son, Nim. I see you’ve got yourself a uniform – have to say it’s an improvement on your other gear.”
“Yeah. Don’t think I’ll get on the cover of GQ anytime soon, but it’ll keep me warm.”
Malick frowned in response, but instead of asking about my meaning, he changed the subject. “Red, when’s mealtime? It’ll be our perfect opportunity.”
“Shortly. All the men will go down to the great hall.”
I recognized the faces of the men who’d accompanied us in the carriage walking over to us. They pulled Malick aside and spoke to him. I couldn’t hear their conversation, but hoped everything was going to plan. My stomach was rumbling and demanding food. Even though a warm meal sounded good, I just wanted to get out of this place. I’d take Aunt Holly’s Thai food over this nightmare anytime.
A loud clang sounded from somewhere nearby, and the soldiers around us began to filter out of the barracks. I sidestepped closer to Red, Malick and his men, not wanting to lose sight of them.
“All is ready,” Malick muttered. “Stay close.”
He walked forward, staying behind a slew of black uniformed soldiers. We followed after him, and into an open courtyard. The rest of Slag’s forces continued across the open space and into another large building. Instead of following them in, Malick veered off down a side alley and stood at a metal grate in the ground. His friends rushed to his side and they all slid the heavy iron bars to the side, making enough room for a body to pass through.
“In you go – through the sewers is the best way out.”
Red immediately dropped through the opening and I was led to the abyss next. I didn’t like the idea of escaping through a sewer. Just the thought of it, along with my empty stomach, made me queasy.
“What’s wrong, boy? Don’t you want your freedom?” Malick shoved me forward.
Was that a trick question? I stumbled and fell through the black opening, landing with a splash in frigid water. Red grunted as I bumped into him. The darkness around us seeped everywhere and fear penetrated my senses. I couldn’t see anything but the gray light above me coming from the grating. Water (and I don’t want to imagine what else) splattered onto me as more men dropped into the dank underground shaft.
Malick’s voice echoed off the walls. “Everyone all right?” Without waiting for an answer, he continued, “Follow me – our way’s not far.”
He splashed ahead of us, and I struggled to hold my breath and keep up, not wanting to breathe in the fetid air or stay too long in this disgusting place. All I could think of was taking a hot shower when I woke up from this all-too realistic dream. I’d heard of people saying
strange things about eating or drinking certain things that would produce bad dreams. No more coffee for me...
After what felt like an eternity, a dull light shone ahead of Malick at the end of the tunnel. I stopped when I saw the silhouette of a man holding a lantern.
“Oy, Samuel. Good man,” Malick said to the person just outside the passage.
I breathed a sigh of relief and walked forward. One by one, we jumped from the wet onto a gravel road. Samuel rushed to an awaiting open carriage and hollered out, “Hurry up, let’s get a move on!”
The lantern was hung from a post as Samuel jumped up at the front and grabbed the reins. I was half pushed and pulled into the back of the carriage along with Red and the others. No sooner had the last man leapt into the back than the horses surged forward and their clacking hooves crunched on the rocky earth.
My wet leather uniform squeezed against my skin and if I could have seen my numb fingers, I’m sure they would have been pruney and wrinkled. At our rapid pace, the bitter cold brushed against my sodden body, freezing me to the core.
Suddenly, I was exhausted. The rhythmic clatter of hooves and wheels moving along the road lulled me until my eyes shut. I must have dozed off because I woke suddenly from shouting.
“Stop! You may not pass! Get out!”
The carriage stopped suddenly and I was pressed against whoever was sitting beside me. As soon as I recovered my balance, I leaned out to see what was happening.
A gate blocked our way and a soldier wearing one of Slag’s uniforms was standing before it. He called out again for us to get out and it was then I noticed more soldiers approaching our carriage.
The place seemed familiar to me, but it was dark so I couldn’t quite be sure. Malick and his friends leaned over on their seats and drew out something from under their feet. Metal gleamed in the lamp light and I hoped their swords would be enough to help us through the roadblock. They climbed down from the carriage to speak to Slag’s soldiers. I edged over toward Red, unsure if we should get out as well.
An Unfortunate Beginning Page 4
