Pillars of Six

by St Clare, Kelly

  Caspian could take the sword.

  Ebba hobbled through the destroyed treasury. Gone were the orderly rows and neatly arranged heirlooms. She’d wrecked the place earlier, but the second explosion had turned the room from a mess to chaos. She followed Caspian’s groans to a cabinet. His arm and legs were sticking out from underneath. Here was something she could do. Ebba gripped the underside of the cabinet, feeling the dynami’s searing tickle against her chest. She heaved and pushed the cabinet off, wincing at the noise as it landed clear of the prince’s body. Odds were, the sound would be missed over the muffled clanging of swords and shouts she could hear coming from the safety chamber.

  Caspian groaned, but managed to gain his legs quicker than she had. “Sierra, Anya,” he called.

  “We are okay, brother,” one called back from the direction of the door.

  “The sword be at the secret door,” Ebba said to the prince.

  His face fell into a scowl. “Leave it,” he withered. “I don’t want it.”

  “We need it,” she said over her shoulder. “I think it’s one o’ the magic tubes. Like the dynami and the purgium.”

  “What?” he said then gasped. “That can’t be.”

  “Why not? I’m certain it showed me a vision or sumpin’ earlier.”

  “Veritas has been in our family for centuries. I would have known,” Caspian said, straightening. “Though the sword remained locked away in here, I suppose. And traditionally, the Colonel of the King’s Army carried it, not the royal family. That was all before my time, however.”

  “The Colonel? Ye mean the knight in the paintin’?” she asked, despite the urgency of their situation.

  Caspian nodded. “Yes, that was the last Colonel to bear the sword for my father. How did you guess?”

  “He ain’t wearin’ a crown.”

  “Could the sword really be another magical object? Right under my nose this whole time,” he said, bafflement coloring his voice. “When I was very young, my father spoke of the dreams the sword sent and of the truths it showed the bearer. I’ve always assumed his tales were designed to entertain a child, not that they were real. He never spoke of veritas after my mother’s death, and I only have a handful of memories where he actually touched the sword.”

  “But ye touched it yerself,” she said. “Didn’t ye see anythin’?”

  He lifted his hand, reminding her he wore a glove.

  “Do ye think that be how yer father knew magic existed?” Ebba asked.

  The prince stared at her, and she recalled they were about to die. “We’ll discuss this later. Away with ye to get the sword. We need to move,” she said. If that was even a possibility. They were at the dead end of the right wing.

  Ebba clambered over an overturned chest, eyes scanning the stone ground for the purgium. It had been somewhere around here. Unless one of the soldiers moved it.

  Where was the blasted thing?

  She lowered into a crouch at a faint tapping noise. The staccato sound came from the inside of a cabinet to her left. Ebba crept forward, scanning the treasury for company, and then flung back the front of the toppled cabinet.

  A glowing traitor with wings floated inside, the purgium clutched in her tiny arms.

  “Sally,” Ebba greeted coolly. In truth, her stomach unclenched at seeing her friend was safe even though she’d betrayed them for a champagne fountain. A closer look told her the sprite didn’t look too hot.

  Sally sighed in relief and flew up to Ebba’s face, extending the purgium for her to take.

  Ebba took a hasty step back. “Nay, I ain’t takin’ a third beatin’ today. Ye’ll need to carry it. That is, if ye plan to stick around.” She glowered at the wind sprite. The reason behind the sprite’s sagging appearance came to her. “Ha! The purgium cured ye. It cured ye o’ yer grog addiction.” Ebba laughed again. “Take that, ye shite,” she said, adding, “It didn’t hurt ye none, did it?”

  Sally shook the purgium in Ebba’s face, squeaking indignantly.

  That meant the sprite was okay. Sally must’ve been the cause of the rattling coins they’d heard earlier. She’d been fishing around in here and had to hide from the soldiers. Ebba bet the sprite hadn’t expected the purgium to heal her of alcoholism.

  Ebba snorted, and Sally scowled darkly at her.

  “Aye, well ye shouldn’t have drunk so much. Don’t be givin’ me that look. And I’ll tell ye right now, things will be changin’ for ye when we’re back on Felicity. No more drinkin’.” She resumed her climb over the strewn furniture, heading toward the treasury door. The fighting in the next room still continued.

  Caspian was already at the closed door.

  “What’re we goin’ to do?” Ebba asked, ignoring the haggard Sally for the time being.

  The princesses gaped at her.

  “You’re a pirate,” the eldest said.

  “Eh?” Ebba glanced down at the charm and then at the prince. “Gone?”

  “Gone,” he said. “I didn’t notice.”

  His words soothed her frayed ego. Maybe the reverent way everyone had treated her tonight had affected her confidence.

  “You knew she was a pirate?” the younger asked. “How do you know a pirate? Are you really marrying a pirate?”

  Caspian interrupted her. “I’d love a chance to tell you, but not until we’re out of this mess.” He faced Ebba. “They’ll come here next, won’t they?”

  “Aye, there ain’t no way they’ll rest until they’ve found what they came for,” she said. “And I ain’t convinced that’s just yer father. We’ve got to get out o’ the castle.”

  He nodded. “Sierra? You have any ideas on how to get out? Strolling out of the grand entranceway won’t be an option.”

  The youngest princess pursed her lips. “Yes, but we need to get to the third level. The servants have a narrow stairwell they use to do their chores. It goes all the way to the bottom, and the pirates probably won’t know of it. Most people who live here don’t.”

  They’d have to get to the grand stairway in the middle of this level to go down one floor. Ebba walked around the princesses and pressed her ear to the treasury door, listening hard. Discerning any sound from the hall outside with the sounds from the next chamber was impossible. “Now be our best chance to get past the room, while they’re fightin’. Hopefully there be less o’ them out in the passage. I don’t like the odds o’ us waitin’ here. Treasure be mighty temptin’ to a pirate, even if they ain’t here for the cylinders.”

  “Yes, I agree. Anya, Sierra, get behind me,” Caspian said to his sisters. “We need to sneak past the safety chamber. You’ll need to be quick and very quiet. There are other pirates, bad pirates, in the room with Father. Ebba and I will be in front, but you don’t worry about us, do you hear? If we’re spotted, you run as fast as you can for the servant stairwell. You need to get out of the castle and hide in the building where mother used to get her dresses made. Do you remember?”

  Both of his siblings nodded. The youngest kicked off her shoes, expression determined. The eldest glanced at her sibling, amber eyes huge, as though her sister had taken off every stitch of clothing and was frolicking naked through a meadow.

  “Ye might want to do the same,” Ebba said, wriggling her toes. “Yer shoes be too noisy to sneak well.” And the only way they’d get out of this dead end was to sneak.

  The eldest princess was clearly scandalized by the thought of taking off her shoes.

  Caspian sighed. “Please just do it, Anya. Better bare feet than a cold grave.”

  The princess blanched and hurried to obey.

  “Ready, Sal?” the prince said to the wind sprite. The princesses dragged their eyes from him to the sprite but didn’t voice their obvious questions.

  Ebba exhaled and pulled the treasury key from the front of her dress, inserting it into the lock. She squeezed her eyes shut, holding her breath, and twisted. The clicks were like the boom of a drum to her ears, but Ebba didn’t stop until the fourth clic
k had sounded.

  She only pulled the door open wide enough to get her head and shoulders through.

  Ebba peered down the level passage, squinting through the haze of smoke. When had the guns gone off? Or was the smoke rising up the staircases from fires below? Bodies were strewn through the hall, but no one else was out in the passage. Most importantly, she couldn’t see any shadows to suggest the pillars were around.

  She pulled back. “It’s empty.” For now.

  “The sounds next door have stopped,” Caspian said.

  Ebba opened the entrance completely. “Let’s go. We have to move while they’re in the chamber next door.” If they waited, they risked that the pirates would come here next.

  She and Caspian led the way toward the grand stairway, and Ebba cursed at the slight rustle of her dress. What point were quiet footsteps when your clothing announced your presence to the world? The elder princess sobbed softly as they encountered the first of the soldiers’ bodies in the hall.

  Caspian patted the air, and their group slowed as they neared the ajar door of the safety room.

  Loud voices and sounds made by the shifting of many bodies moving about floated out of the chamber and toward them.

  “Where is the veritas?” a familiar voice asked.

  She inhaled sharply, and the prince threw her a look, not recognizing the voice. Unfortunately, she did. Pockmark, Ebba mouthed at him.

  “I don’t know what you’re referring to,” the king lied calmly.

  Pockmark screamed, “Where is it?”

  Caspian’s eyes briefly closed, but when he opened them once more, they were hardened. He jerked his head, and their group crept forward, coming alongside the doorway.

  Ebba, unable to resist, turned her head to stare into the chamber as they passed. The door was splintered and half closed. Ebba’s breath hitched as she took in the familiar sight of Malice’s black uniform, the crimson sash about the pirates’ hips. They were surrounding Caspian’s father. She could only see the left half of the king’s body. Pockmark held a sword to the king’s neck, Swindles and Riot stood either side of their captain. Her heart thundered wildly, the muscles in her legs ready to bolt for her very life. She wasn’t ever going back to that ship. She’d rather die than be there again.

  She didn’t dare pause, didn’t even think to help the man at swordpoint. He’d chosen his fate, and deep down, Ebba knew he’d been right. They never stood a chance to escape unless he’d stayed as a distraction and a decoy. Even if the pillars were here for the veritas and not the two cylinders, Caspian now had the sword.

  Her chest rose and fell rapidly as their group of five inched past the door. She glanced back to see Sally had hidden away in the folds of the younger princess’ skirt to conceal her white glow.

  Hurry, Caspian mouthed over his shoulder at them.

  Once the safety chamber was twenty feet behind, they picked up their pace, and soon they were halfway to the stairs.

  None of them spoke, and Ebba wondered if, like her, their ears were straining to hear the loud conversation at their backs.

  “Ye know,” Pockmark taunted, “there be things worse than death.”

  The king’s laughter echoed down the hall. She glanced at the prince and saw another tear rolling down his dust-streaked face.

  “You think I have not suffered worse than death?” The king’s laughter swelled.

  They hurried on. Nearly at the stairs.

  “Then die, o’ great king,” Pockmark called over his laughter. “Yer kingdom be mine. Yer people will be slaves to my masters, their will forfeit. But my masters wanted to thank ye kindly for not killin’ my father when ye had the chance. That was a great help.”

  A sickening squelch rent the air, and Ebba stumbled, hearing Caspian’s gasp and the soft moan of the eldest.

  But the raw scream from the younger princess, Sierra, obliterated everything else.

  Shouting ricocheted from the safety room, and Ebba grabbed the eldest princess, shoving her down the stairs, seeing Caspian was grabbing the still-screaming youngest. She’d announced their presence more effectively than a lighthouse beacon.

  “Run!” Ebba hissed. “Run.”

  They tore down the grand stairway, the footsteps of Malice pounding after them.

  Caspian managed to shake his sister from her panic as he hauled her down the stairs. Sierra began to run in earnest, yanking free of his grip.

  “Where are the servants’ stairs?” Caspian urged his sobbing sister as they reached the floor below. “We need to get off the main stairwell.”

  “End of this level. To the right,” she choked out, ashen.

  Shite, Ebba hoped they could make it. As instructed, they turned right, the footsteps of Malice now louder behind them. Their jeering calls bounced off the confines of the castle walls, and Ebba sprinted alongside the others, tearing toward the end of the hall as fast as the layers of fabric swirling around her knees would allow.

  The group of pirates upstairs couldn’t have stormed the castle alone. So where were the others?

  Ebba’s chest burned, and cold sweat trickled down the nape of her neck. “Sal,” she panted. “Fly ahead, and open the stairwell door. Hurry.”

  The wind sprite didn’t need to be asked twice. She surged ahead of them, the purgium still clasped tight in her tiny hands.

  “There they are!” someone yelled behind them.

  “Faster,” Caspian urged his eldest sister.

  Anya gasped for air, clutching her side. “I’m trying, brother.”

  A gun fired; the boom exploded at their backs. The bullet pinged into the stone walls behind them. “Get in a line,” Ebba shouted. She didn’t have the breath to explain it would make them a smaller target, but the prince understood.

  He dropped back so the bullets would hit him first.

  Ebba wiped her forehead, peering past Sierra, who led the way. “Sal has the door open.”

  “Quickly.” The strain in Caspian’s voice was clear, and she didn’t dare look behind.

  She reached the narrow stairway and didn’t break her pace, all but throwing herself down the servants’ narrow stairs. She stopped once inside and dragged Anya and Sierra in behind her before dodging the tip of the sword and clasping Caspian’s wrist to drag him inside, too.

  “Keep goin’,” Ebba screamed as Sally flared a brilliant white back in the hall.

  Agonized shrieks rose from outside the stairs, and Ebba reached for the door, shielding her eyes from the pure light glow.

  The crewmembers had shied back from the perimeter of the sprite’s light as though it was a flame burning their skin. Pockmark was stumbling back, arms thrown high. Swindles and Riot were doubled over just behind him.

  “Inside, Sal,” Ebba shouted.

  The sprite dropped her glow and dove into the stairwell, and Ebba wrenched the door toward her, slamming the lock bar down. That wouldn’t hold them for long.

  Ebba took the steps two at a time, pelting after the others. The memories of her time on Malice breathed down her neck.

  She caught up with them at the second level where they stood outside the servant stairwell in plain sight. Ebba didn’t have time to dwell on their logic. The sound of smashing and cheering sounded from the top of the steps. They’d broken through the door.

  She glanced over at the princesses. They were exhausted. And so was she. Sally’s wings were fluttering limply after the purgium healing. Everyone was tired.

  “Stand back,” Ebba said, trying to sound confident. It was time to use these damn things.

  Like water bursting from a dam, the searing tickle of the dynami exploded through her body. Ebba turned and placed her hand against the inner walls of the narrow stairwell she’d just exited.

  And pushed.

  A deep crack appeared in the stone of either wall. She heard one of the princesses gasp.

  “Ebba,” Caspian said tightly. “More.”

  More? Oh, she could do more. Ebba might not have known or par
ticularly liked King Montcroix, but she considered Caspian to be part of her crew. Malice had just taken the prince’s father away. If someone had killed one of her fathers, there was no way she’d be holding it together right now. Ebba stood slightly in the stairwell and crossed her arms in front of her. Then, with a shout, the searing tingle mounting, she slapped her open palms against the stone walls.

  The stone underneath her hands shattered like glass. Deep fissures split the walls of the accessway as fast as an earthquake split the ground. The walls groaned, and as Pockmark and his cronies appeared around the corner, directly in front of Ebba, large squares of stone began to cascade from the stairwell ceiling. More stone slabs fell. The tops of the stairs began to cave in.

  Ebba was yanked out into the second level. She stumbled down the wide hall behind Caspian for a few steps before pumping her legs to race alongside him, eyes wide at the sound of stone crashing behind her.

  It wasn’t until the crashing stopped that they all paused to catch their breath, partway down the second level now. Sally hovered at the back of their group, and Ebba peered past the sprite at the damage she’d caused.

  She’d probably brought down a fair bit of the right side of the castle. Hopefully, no innocents were hurt, but the pirates chasing them must have been crushed by the caving in of the stairwell. A twinge pulled under her ribs at the thought. She knew that the pirates aboard Malice were slaves to the pillars, but once they would have been everyday people. She’d nearly succumbed to the taint herself. Her heart twisted for the people they might have been if not for the pillars’ evil. Just as she also felt relief that the pirates, even Pockmark, were now free of the nightmare.

  “Caspian, I think I broke yer castle a scant bit.” Ebba gasped, pressing a hand to the painful knot she’d gained at the back of her head in the treasury earlier. And then her side. When had she hurt her ribs?

  His reply was dry. “Yes, I believe you might be right.”