Downfall of the Curse

by Deborah Grace White

  The two royals had already left, and Lord Yosef was striding through the doorway. Lucy started to follow him, but Cody stopped her with a quiet word. She turned inquiringly to him and barely held in a startled cry at his sudden movement. She whipped her blade out without conscious thought, only just intercepting his sword in time.

  “Cody!” she hissed. “What are you doing?”

  “Making sure you’re sharp,” Cody responded calmly, continuing to advance. She deflected his attack impatiently.

  “This is no time for fooling around,” she snapped, her tight words almost drowned out by the clash of metal on metal.

  “I’m glad to hear you say that,” said Cody unemotionally. His blade moved swiftly, pressing her hard enough to require her full focus as she retreated across the room.

  A flash of anger raced through Lucy, and she lunged forward, swapping to the offensive and forcing Cody back a step. “I mean it, Cody,” she panted, “what are you doing? We’re on the edge of war, and you think this is a good moment for a training session?”

  “This is the only moment,” said Cody grimly.

  With a neat flick of his blade, he sent hers flying across the small space. For a moment Lucy stood there, breathing hard as she glared at him. But his unusually earnest expression melted her anger.

  “Like you said, Lucy,” Cody said seriously, “we’re on the edge of war. Like it or not, we’re about to be plunged into a battle, and I need to know you’re ready for it. I can’t have you going into an armed conflict distracted and mooning over your prince.”

  “I’m not mooning over anyone,” Lucy spluttered indignantly. Her eyes flicked to the doorway, where Lord Yosef was framed, his astonishment evident as he took in the scene before him.

  Cody followed her gaze, but instead of acknowledging the Thoranian nobleman, he pinned Lucy with a meaningful look. “And I can’t have your hands tied behind your back because you’re embarrassed for people to see you fight.”

  Lucy retrieved her weapon. “I understand, Cody. My hands aren’t tied behind my back.”

  “Do you understand?” Cody pressed. “People will die today, and if you don’t want to be one of them, you need to be ready. The training isn’t enough.” He stepped forward unexpectedly, tapping two fingers to her temple. “Half the battle is up here. And there’s no time to fight that part once the actual battle begins.”

  Lucy met his eyes, trying to show she was taking him seriously. “I understand, Cody.”

  “I hope so,” he said, sheathing his blade.

  The three of them made their way through the streets, the rain still falling lightly, but steadily enough to drench them within minutes. The mood of the city was subdued, as Lucy would expect from a people whose king was missing and presumed dead, but not panicked as they surely would be if they knew an army was hours away from their walls. The southern gate was still standing wide, the river flowing beneath the open doors.

  Whatever King Giles had found in the castle, he obviously hadn’t found someone he trusted to send to the gate, at least not quickly. After an hour of fruitless argument with the guard on duty, the portal was still wide open, and Lucy could stand the inactivity no longer.

  She pulled Cody aside. “There’s something I need to do, Cody, and I think in order to do it, I have to be on the other side of that gate.”

  Cody frowned at her. “What is it you need to do?”

  “I have to draw Rasad out, separate him from his army.”

  Cody’s frown only deepened. “That sounds dangerous and unnecessary. Is this about revenge?”

  “Of course not,” said Lucy quickly. “It’s not personal.” She took a deep breath. “Eamon and I spoke with the dragon-ruler when you were gone. Never mind how we did it, but that’s the help I was hoping to get.”

  Cody stared at her, and she pushed on hastily. “It didn’t go quite as I hoped. The dragons want to stop Rasad, all right, but they don’t care about preventing war. They’re going to slaughter not only him but everyone who’s marching with him unless I can draw him away from the army.”

  “Was Eamon part of this plan?” Cody asked shrewdly, and Lucy sighed.

  “It was his idea. And no, he won’t be happy about me doing it alone. But I’m not going to pick a fight with Rasad. I just want to find out where he is, and keep him in sight. As far as we know, Rasad still thinks Eamon is dead, and I don’t think we should give up that advantage. And let’s not forget why Rasad wanted to kill Eamon in the first place. Kyona could barely survive such a blow. It’s much safer if Eamon doesn’t come with me.”

  “All of which is true, but none of which is why you don’t want him to come,” said Cody dryly. “You just can’t stand the idea of anything happening to him.”

  Lucy made no attempt to deny it. “I know you don’t understand that, but—”

  “Actually,” Cody cut in unexpectedly, his eyes on the distance, “I’m starting to.” He brought his gaze back to her. “Let’s go then.”

  Lucy shook her head. “You’re more use here, Cody. You need to do what you can to defend this gate. Lord Yosef won’t get anywhere on his own, and when they realize the Thoranians are attacking, he may need your protection.”

  Cody looked toward the nobleman, who was still arguing with the guard, and his creased forehead told Lucy he knew she was right.

  “You’re not going to pick a fight with Rasad?” he probed. “Just find out where he is?”

  Lucy nodded. “I’m not really asking your permission, Cody,” she added dryly. “I know you feel it’s your job to protect me. But you said it yourself—my parents would understand this is bigger than us. You’re needed here, and I’m needed,” she jerked her head toward the open gate, “out there.”

  Her resolve was harder to hang onto an hour later, when she was perched up a tree, wet to her skin, and still hadn’t seen any sign of the army. She was just starting to doubt she was needed out there or anywhere when she finally saw the sign she’d been looking for.

  The scout was moving stealthily through the trees, conveniently on the same side of the road where she had chosen to conceal herself. He caught her eye at once—it had been some time since she’d seen so much as a pedestrian on the road, and she had no doubt Rasad had somehow blocked all traffic.

  Lucy moved as silently as she could, counting on the dripping rain to mask the shifting of the branches as she climbed further down the tree. Like she had done, the scout had chosen to stay close to the road, just far enough into the tree line to not be seen. She stilled as he passed beneath her hiding place, waiting for the exact right moment before dropping like a stone on top of him.

  The man’s startled oath was cut short as he was knocked to the ground. She had taken him completely by surprise, and after a short struggle he stilled, her blade against his throat.

  “Make a sound,” she said calmly, “and it will be your last.”

  The man stared at her, his eyes wide and his breathing heavy. He was young, Lucy suddenly realized.

  “Are you a scout for the Thoranian army?” she asked, her voice quiet.

  The man hesitated only a moment before nodding. Lucy felt sympathy, mixed in with her calculating satisfaction that it was clearly not going to be difficult to get him to talk. She could see no resolution in his eyes, just fear. He likely had no idea why he was suddenly marching in war on his kingdom’s long-term friends and allies. Probably the rest of the army was equally confused.

  “How far away is the force now?” she asked.

  He swallowed visibly before answering. “Less than an hour. Maybe as little as half an hour.”

  Lucy kept her face impassive with an effort. “Is King Abner with the army?”

  The scout shook his head. “His Majesty stayed in Thirl, to deal with the renegades.”

  “Renegades?” Lucy asked sharply. “What do you mean?”

  The man looked nervous at her tone. “All I know is that one of the noblewomen was arrested for trying to counter the king’
s order to march.”

  Lady Yasmin. It had to be. “What happened to her?” Lucy demanded.

  “She was thrown into the dungeon, along with the Valorian prince and princess and the half-Kyonan, half-Balenan boy. Apparently they were helping her.”

  Lucy let out a breath. The man hadn’t said anything about Lord and Lady Rodanthe. She wondered if they were in the dungeon as well, or outside it, trying to negotiate for the release of the royals. Well, it could be worse. At least she knew Rasad hadn’t yet tried to kill Jocelyn off. The thought returned her mind to the more pressing situation.

  “What about the king’s primary advisor? Rasad. Is he with the army?”

  The man nodded.

  “Leading the charge?” Lucy guessed dryly, but the scout shook his head.

  “He’s giving the orders, on the king’s behalf. But he’s not at the front. He’s following up the vanguard, with the second battalion.”

  Lucy frowned thoughtfully. Of course. It wasn’t Rasad’s style to put himself at the front. He preferred to stand just behind the leader, pulling the strings. She wasn’t sure whether that would make it harder or easier to draw him away from the main force.

  “Thanks for your help,” she said tartly. Then, before the man could blink, she flipped her blade around, bringing the hilt down on his head. The scout crumpled into the undergrowth, unconscious.

  After reassuring herself his pulse was steady—after all, he wasn’t to blame for the looming disaster—Lucy left him where he lay, picking her way south again. If the force was only half an hour away, she was out of time to intercept them before they reached Nohl. But she might be able to set eyes on the advisor before the fighting began in earnest.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  The scout hadn’t erred in his estimation—it was an alarmingly short time later that Lucy spied the first of the troops. She’d passed a couple more scouts, but had opted to evade them. She had enough information for her task. She scaled a tree once again, watching with narrowed eyes as the armed cavalcade advanced down the road toward the city. Her eyes scanned the ranks, looking for the unpleasantly familiar head of her former admirer. As the scout had said, he wasn’t leading the force.

  The first battalion passed, all on foot. The second, mounted soldiers moving at a slow walk, followed immediately behind. Lucy could see no sign of Rasad among the horsemen, and she hesitated, unsure what to do. Should she keep waiting, in case the scout had been wrong or dishonest, and Rasad was actually further back? Or had she missed him?

  There was no time to wait around. If Rasad was still ensconced within the ranks of the army when Qadir arrived, the Thoranians would be massacred. Lucy slipped silently from her tree, picking her way further back into the jungle before winding as quickly as she could through the undergrowth, back north toward Nohl.

  She had little opportunity to observe the army as she traveled, needing to stay far enough away not to be seen. But all too soon, the soldiers nearest her came to a stop, those preceding them presumably having reached the walls of the Balenan capital. The road ran alongside the river now, meaning there was no more jungle on the far side of the thoroughfare. Lucy was glad she’d chosen this side of the road to hide on, because it would certainly be impossible now to cross over unseen.

  She took the risk of moving closer to the road as she continued northward, scanning the ranks of the second battalion once again. Where was he? The group, horses and riders alike, were so spattered with mud that it was no wonder she could hardly tell one individual from the next.

  She crept forward until the walls were in sight, scaling a tree yet again to get a good vantage point. To her relief, the city’s gates were closed, whether at Cody’s instruction or King Giles’s, she had no idea.

  A lone horseman stood between the army and the gate, a Thoranian official. She didn’t recognize him, but judging by the military decorations on his uniform, he must be someone senior.

  “Why do you come against us in force?” the Balenan guard on duty called out, his voice barely audible through the patter of the rain, and the stamp of the shifting horses’ hooves.

  “In the name of King Abner, we demand entry to the city,” the Thoranian replied. “He seeks to bring order and stability to your tumultuous kingdom.”

  Lucy winced as Rasad’s crimes were laid at his sovereign’s door. Even if they averted battle, it was hard to imagine the former friendly relationship between the two kingdoms being restored in a hurry.

  “We do not recognize the authority of King Abner here,” the guard said in a hard voice.

  “Then let your own king come forward,” the Thoranian retorted. “Let him look me in the eye if he is so fit to lead you.”

  Lucy narrowed her eyes. She suspected that Rasad, not his mouthpiece, had chosen those words. The advisor was presumably referring to King Giles’s son, believing the crown to now sit on the head of a terrified and unprepared twelve-year-old. She wondered if the spokesman even knew that the Balenan king was supposedly dead.

  The small pedestrian entrance alongside the river gate suddenly swung open. Lucy caught her breath as King Giles rode out, his horse champing at the bit, picking up his rider’s pent up energy. Only half a dozen guards flanked him.

  “Certainly I will look you in the eye,” the king said, his voice ringing with authority as he threw back the hood of his borrowed cloak. Lucy had never felt more proud of the relationship. “Although I would prefer to treat with the master, not the puppet.” He scanned the ranks. “Where is this Rasad?”

  The king was looking at the men right at the front as he made his bold pronouncement. But Lucy’s eyes moved frantically over the mounted men in the second battalion, looking for anyone with a visible reaction to King Giles’s appearance.

  She leaned forward eagerly as she spotted the telltale sign of activity throughout the battalion. Following the ripple to its source, she saw Rasad at last, issuing instructions to the ring of soldiers closest to him, his eyes fixed on the Balenan king. He looked more calculating than alarmed. Lucy should have known it would take more than this surprise to discompose him.

  It was clear he wasn’t going to openly respond to the king’s challenge, or claim responsibility for the attack. Doing so would hardly further his goal of casting King Abner as a conquering emperor.

  But it didn’t matter. Lucy had located him, and that was enough. She heard a rushing sound, and looked up in alarm. It was just a gust of wind moving the rain-drenched canopy above her, but it reminded her that wrathful dragons could descend at any second. She needed to move now.

  She dropped out of the tree, her boots squelching in the mud as she picked her way along the edge of the jungle, away from the wall and toward where the Thoranian advisor was watching events unfold.

  She heard startled cries as a few of the soldiers spotted her, but no one stopped her. The Thoranians and Balenans were probably equally confused as to her identity and purpose.

  It was too much to hope that Rasad’s own guards would be so dismissive. One of them detached from the advisor’s side, moving into the trees himself to intercept her before she reached his master’s position. She lost sight of him for a moment, then he suddenly appeared between the trunks, blade raised as he rushed on her.

  She ducked instinctively as she drew her own weapon, slashing at his knees before she straightened. She knew her best hope was to maximize on his inevitable underestimation of her skill, and she lunged forward aggressively. The guard parried her attack, but didn’t anticipate the swiftness of her follow through. She caught him in the side, and he fell to his knees with a grunt of pain, dropping his weapon.

  She didn’t wait to see the extent of the injury, racing forward through the trees again, her eyes on the glimpses of cavalry she could see between moss-covered trunks. She’d lost track of what was happening at the front, and she didn’t realize until she burst out of the jungle again that King Giles had retreated back inside the walls.

  No one was paying her any a
ttention, all focused on the walls before them. Even as her searching eyes found Rasad, she heard him give the order to advance. She glanced back toward the gates, and was reassured by how strong and solid they were. Archers had appeared at the top of the walls, and the first few Thoranian soldiers to come within range fell quickly to their arrows. Lucy’s heart wrenched at the unnecessary loss of life, but she pushed the thought aside. She couldn’t afford to let emotions distract her.

  She looked between the advisor and the advancing troops. Rasad must know that sending infantry against a fortified gate was pointless. So what was his plan?

  Even as she wondered, she saw a row of Thoranian archers moving into position behind the front of the army. At a shouted command, they released a volley of arrows, providing some small measure of cover for their advancing comrades.

  In the temporary lull as the archers on the wall repositioned themselves to be more difficult targets, a Thoranian archer at the front of the ranks caught Lucy’s eye. He was nocking an arrow to his string, but there was something strange about it. Where the arrowhead should be, the projectile had a small leather bundle attached to the shaft.

  Lucy glanced uneasily at Rasad and saw that he was watching the archer with rapt attention. She wanted to cry a warning to the defenders on the wall, but she hardly knew what, and there was no time to do anything. The archer released his missile. Time seemed to slow, then speed up, as Lucy watched it whizz through the air toward the broad wooden gates.

  She knew from so far away she wouldn’t be able to hear anything, but she could already imagine the thud of the leather bundle hitting the wood. What she didn’t expect was for the impact to create a deafening explosion that splintered the wood as it struck. The noise was so loud that for several long seconds afterward, Lucy couldn’t hear a thing.