Bethany took the guard’s sword and scabbard, tying the belt around her own waist. She also found his dagger, which she handed to Jonas.
The guard stirred. Bethany whirled, pulled her stolen sword, and buried it into his throat. He gurgled and choked but, without a windpipe, couldn’t scream for help. The blood sprayed and pooled predictably, but she sidestepped most of it.
Some of the blood hit Myra’s hand and arm. She let out a mewling sound before collapsing to the dirt floor.
Bethany stared down at the unconscious girl at her feet. “Did she just faint?”
“A spy afraid of blood. She’s in the wrong line of work,” Jackson said, deadpan.
“Shut up, you’re going to make me laugh,” Bethany whispered, kneeling to coax Myra back to consciousness.
Myra woke up. She blinked and stared at Bethany. Bethany chuckled and helped her to her feet. Myra wiped her face on her sleeve, then looked at the spattered sleeve. She paled again.
Bethany grabbed her by the jacket. “Don’t look at it. Shut your brain down and get us out of here, or we’ll all be covered in each other’s blood.”
“Right,” Myra said. “Sorry, that’s the first time I’ve seen someone…um…um—”
“Focus,” Bethany snapped. “We need to get out of here. Details. How many guards?”
“Two in the corridor upstairs. Three in the kitchen where we need to go. They’re drunk, though.”
“Outside?”
Myra’s voice gained strength. “I counted three on the second floor balconies that can see the stables. There’s no guard in the stables, but a few stable boys sleep there.”
“Is it night? What time is it?”
“Two hours before dawn.”
“How many Magi?”
Myra shrugged. “A few, though most of them are at the Abbey, not here. This is where the wannabes and the supporters are. Most of them here dabble a bit. The ones that can hurl fire and wind practice in the field about twenty minutes’ ride away. The ones who make amulets and potions are at the castle.”
“Jackson has a broken foot, Jonas took a horrible beating and, well, Kia’s ready to eat one of us. We can’t move fast. No weapons, so we can’t fight.”
Myra nodded. “I’ve been stealing these.” She untied a purse from her belt and pulled out small metal amulets and brooches. “When you touch these to your skin, they make you invisible. You have to keep them in skin contact.”
“Those are Magic,” Bethany said.
“It’s the only way to move around. I’m the only one still alive from my scouting party. We have to ride out to the boundary and across.”
Bethany looked down at the brooches and amulets. She didn’t want anything to do with those things. Even if her Power was gone, she still didn’t want Magic anywhere near her. She also didn’t want to die here.
“We need to get away,” Jackson said. “I’m scared shitless of that crap, but it’s worth the risk.”
“I don’t care, Lady Bethany,” Jonas said. “I’ll do anything to get home.”
Kia looked like she was going to object, but then she shook her head. “I’ll follow your orders.”
“How do these things work?” Bethany asked.
“As soon as they touch your bare skin, they simply start working,” Myra said. “But, and this is important, they don’t last forever. Turning them off and on makes them fade faster. So keep them activated for as long as possible because once they go, they’re gone.”
Bethany ran through the options and decided the risk of the amulets was worth it. “Fine. Let’s get out of here. We can argue about the ethics later with Allric. So we get to the stables? Then what?”
“I’ve been hiding in an abandoned mineshaft not far from here. Once we organize there, we can make a run for the coast,” Myra said, her voice uncertain. “Maybe we can steal a boat or something.”
“I hate boats,” Bethany murmured. She considered their situation. “If we can get weapons, shelter, and food, we can stay here, find pockets of Rygent resistance that were caught when the barrier went up, and cause some trouble.”
Myra frowned. “Isn’t that dangerous?”
“This is a war, Myra. Everything we do is calculated danger. But let’s have this argument later. For now, let’s get out of this room. Stables. Horses. Cave. Everyone in agreement?”
They all nodded.
“Okay, Myra said, “it’s not too hard to get out, but you have to be careful. The Magic on these makes it really hard to see, so you have to be careful or you’ll bump into things.”
“Bethany never sees anything more than spitting distance away,” Jackson said, with a grin.
Bethany rolled her eyes. “My eyesight isn’t that bad.”
“You keep pretending.”
A nervous giggle escaped Myra. Bethany gave her a supportive smile. “Keep going. Come on.”
“I’ll be in front to open doors for you, since I’ve had practice. We have to be careful because there are guards and some are still awake.”
“Directions?”
“It’s up the stairs here, right turn, down the hallway, down the spiral stairs, into the kitchen, out the door.”
“Up, right, down, stairs, kitchen, door.” Bethany repeated it three more times. “Okay, got it.”
She accepted a metallic item from Myra.
Lightning flashed in front of Bethany’s eyes and thunder boomed in her ears. She collapsed to the ground, gasping for air. She tried to pry her fingers open to get the blasted thing out of her hand, but her muscles tightened around it.
“Help,” she gasped. “I can’t drop it.”
Kia kicked Bethany’s hand. It was enough for her to drop the amulet.
Bethany lay on her back, waiting for the lightning to stop flickering.
“What just happened?” Myra asked. “Light was all over your arm.”
It was a few beats before Bethany could speak, and when she did, it was a torrent of curses directed at the crude jewelry. She hadn’t felt her own Power in months, but she was still the daughter of a Goddess. The healing oil had caused her pain, and now she knew Magical do-dabs were beyond her ability to use.
“What’s Plan B?”
“There…there isn’t one,” Myra stammered. “I don’t know how to get you out if people can see you. You’ll stand out, Lady Bethany. I mean, look at you.”
Bethany lay on the dirt floor for another minute before sitting up. She pointed at the guard. “Myra, help me strip him. I’ll go dressed like him and hope for the best. You can wear my armour.”
“Lady Bethany, you’re not going to make it. Your hair alone…And you look so much like Sarissa.”
Bethany stared up at Myra. “How do you know what Sarissa looks like?”
“I saw her two weeks ago.”
“She was here?”
“No. I was at the Abbey. That’s where we first crossed over. I got separated from my group. They were all caught and…” she gulped. “I don’t know what happened to them. But I was hiding in the stables and saw Sarissa. She was frail-looking and her hair was grey, but it was clearly your twin, even with all that.”
“Then why did you come here?” Bethany demanded.
Myra’s voice turned uncertain. “I heard her talking about this Chateau, and how she was recalling most of the Magi back down, since she didn’t believe the elven army knew about the tear in the barrier in the North. So I thought I’d head north, where there wouldn’t be so many Magi to deal with. I got here, learned about all of you, and…”
“Here we are,” Bethany said. She turned to Jackson and raised an eyebrow. “I still look enough like Sarissa.”
“Oh, fuck, no. Bethany, don’t,” Jackson said.
“What’s going on?” Kia asked.
“Um, Lady Bethany,” Jonas said. “I don’t mean to tell you what to do, but um, this sounds like a very bad idea. The guard plan is horrible, but it’s better than the Sarissa plan.”
Myra shook her head. “
No, that’s a bad idea. I don’t know which guards know it’s you down there. I’m sure some know, at least, by now. If they know you’re in the Chateau, then there is no way you can pretend to be her. It won’t work.”
“If they knew, why haven’t they been down there? Think this through. There’s two elven women down here, but we’ve only seen a couple of guards. We’ve been left unmolested.”
“So?” Myra asked.
“So, this is Taftlin. Well, I guess Rygent since we’re on the Islands, but these are all Northern men. I know what they do to elven women.” Bethany ground her teeth thinking of Drea. “They don’t know we’re here.”
“They will kill you if you’re caught,” Myra protested.
Bethany laughed. “Oh, they’re probably going to kill me in any case. All right, fuck it. Myra, help me. I’ll put his tunic over my tabard, that might help.”
“This is a horrible idea,” Myra said, but did as she was told.
“Shut up and help,” Bethany snapped.
Myra did as ordered. Thankfully, the guard was bigger than Bethany, so his tunic was loose enough to hide her bloody garments and cover her many layers of armour. She pulled her tabard’s hem up and tucked it into her belt.
“This is not going to work,” Kia muttered.
Bethany whirled at her. “Do you have a better idea?”
“No,” Kia said meekly.
“Then keep your opinions to yourself.” Bethany adjusted her clothes and spoke. “Okay, all of you follow me. If I get lost, just let me wander unless it's safe to help me. If I get into trouble, use it as an opportunity to escape in the confusion. It's been a while since I spoke with my sister, but I do believe I can pull this off.”
“If you don't, they'll kill you,” Jonas said.
“They’ll most likely drag my half-dead body back to whatever hole my sister is currently hiding in and then I’ll just wish they’d killed me. Is everyone ready?”
They nodded agreement, though there were plenty of dubious glances.
“Let’s go.”
****
The first objective was to make it into the hallway above. Bethany walked ahead of her invisible subordinates and cracked open the door. The stone walls were bare except for the occasional flickering candle in a wall sconce. The floor was stone, with no carpets laid down. No tapestries on the walls, so the sound would bounce around. She’d have to be careful. The others had most of their sound masked, too, though there was still an odd rustling behind her. She dismissed it as her being hyperaware they were there and that anyone else would equally dismiss it as a breeze from an opened window.
An oddly-echoing noise came from the far end of the hallway. A sleeping guard, presumably. So far, Myra’s intelligence was right. The guards who should have been in this area were elsewhere, most likely drinking. If she was very lucky, they’d be drunk and passed out by now.
Ideally, she’d pass this guard without waking him. She’d kill him if she needed, but a corpse in the hallway was a rather suspicious thing to leave hanging about a corridor. She certainly didn’t have time to drag him elsewhere. Stealth had to be on her side.
She held her breath and begged herself not to start coughing, farting, or burping while she slipped past. He didn’t move. His snoring didn’t change. She pushed open the wooden door. The hinges squeaked and she stopped, breath held. The guard stirred, but settled back down. She pushed open the door a crack more, with more squeaking—and more stirring of the guard—and managed to get it open enough to slip through.
Once the air stopped stirring around her, indicating her companions’ passage through the doorway, she eased the door back into place.
Objective complete. Next phase.
The second step would be significantly harder. She could hear voices, so these guards were not asleep. Time to act.
She rolled her shoulders until she got them into the correct position, as she’d been taught in etiquette class too long ago. She tilted her chin upwards until the muscles in her neck, shoulders, and back all complained. That’s how she knew she had achieved the appropriate stance. This was how elven ladies were to walk.
Of course, Bethany never walked like this. Military training had beaten the habit out of her; no one walked with their nose pointing upward while holding a sword. But Sarissa only ever had etiquette training. Even in their last encounter, Sarissa still held herself square and high, a proper elven lady to the end.
Bethany took two steps and stopped. She shortened her stride and focused on gliding, as opposed to marching. A lady never marches. A lady glides.
Miss Bethany, you are an Elorian, so I cannot expect you to be as refined as a true elven girl. However, you are half elven, and as such you shall comport yourself accordingly. You are an ethereal creature, floating on a cloud of poise, grace, and dignity. Your steps are light and delicate, like the flower you wish to be. Not the mouthy brat who is rolling her eyes at me this very moment.
Bethany hadn’t thought of her etiquette mistress in ages. Oh, she’d hated that old hag. She never thought she’d say it, but she wished she’d listened to the instructions better. Of course, she highly doubted her teacher had ever imagined Bethany would be in enemy territory, covered in blood, trying to be her murderous twin sister. Hopefully the poor lighting would hide the blood stains on her trousers and boots, if not her soldier’s posture.
She rounded the corner with deliberate steps and made her way toward the two guards down the corridor. They were seated on the floor, cards and coins laid in front of them. They jumped to their feet when they saw her.
Bethany resisted going for her sword. She wasn’t even certain Sarissa carried a sword. To Sarissa, a sword was ornamental in the face of Magical destruction. Bethany was her own form of destructive force, so she focused on that aspect of her skills and not her weapon.
“Who are you?” One of the grubby men asked. “What are you doing down here?”
Bethany stared at him with the deadest expression she could imagine. Then she remembered that Sarissa was blind the last time she saw her. Did Sarissa have her eyesight back? Ah, shit. It was too late to back out, so she went along with the original plan and hoped she wouldn’t start fighting here in the hallway.
“Do I know you?” The other man asked. “You look familiar.”
Bethany leaned forward and hissed, “You should know me, since you are fighting for me.”
The guards exchanged glanced and ducked their heads. “Lady Sarissa? I didn't know you were at the Abbey, my lady. I apologize.”
Bethany made no attempt to set the man at ease.
“We were told you were too ill to be moved,” the guard said.
“And so I am,” Bethany said, not even thinking. “But I can do many things when the need calls for it.”
“Right,” one of them said. “Should we take you to the prisoners? Or have you—?”
“I recommend you go back to your game before I make an example of guards who ask too many questions of their betters.”
“Yes, my lady.” They both immediately sat back down on the floor and picked up their cards.
Sarissa’s reputation was well-earned and it was serving Bethany well. Her heart pounded in her chest as she swung the door wide. She needed to keep it open long enough for the others to slip through. One of the men looked at her, puzzled.
Bethany scrambled for something appropriate to say. Then it occurred to her to ask about defenses. “Tell me, are there enough archers patrolling the upper levels at this time of night?”
“Four in total.”
Still air, moving past her. A brush of…something against her skin that sent a shiver through her. Four archers was four too many, sure, but less than she would have put up there. “Why so few?”
“Most of the archers and their equipment were sent to Castle Brook. We haven't had a chance to make much new stuff, what with the weather and all.”
Bethany made a disapproving sound. “I will see to that.”
�
�That would be helpful.”
She stepped across the threshold and let the door swing closed. Once it shut, she relaxed her shoulders and coughed into her hands. She tried to stifle the sound as best as she could, but a lung-rattling seizure overtook her. It was nearly a full minute before it stopped. On the mend, but not yet fully recovered.
Thankfully, it being so late, there wasn't anyone around to take notice, except the guards on the other side who said Sarissa was sick…so her being sick was actually consistent. Well, for once, this hacking disgusting mess of a sickness might work to her advantage.
There were no more obstacles until she reached the kitchen. Five guards were next to a barrel resting on its side. Bethany left the door at the bottom of the spiral staircase open and strode into the kitchen as if she belonged there. She kept the door open and surveyed the room. A typical kitchen. The back door was propped open and it was dark outside.
Three fires roared and the heat reminded Bethany’s bones of just how cold she was, even in her armour. There were knives, cutting boards, and bowls on the tables. Pots and pans hung from hooks.
Sacks of grain too heavy to carry. The salt box would serve no useful purpose. A barrel of ale, while comforting, wasn’t something they could steal.
“Who are you?” One of the guards demanded.
She ignored him, still searching. She saw most of a cheese wheel on one of the counters. From the looks of it, the drunkards had been feasting on it. Bethany walked over to the cheese. The rind was green with mold, but the inside looked nice and white, with just a hint of orange to it. She picked up one of the slivers and tried not to moan when she popped it in her mouth. Oh, Goddess divine, she was starving.
“Well?” The guard asked.
The five men stood up, stumbling as they did. Two pulled their swords. It took a few beats for the others to pull theirs. Bethany checked herself; she was playing a role. She examined the men, nodding. “Very good. I was concerned when I saw you drinking at the barrel, but the beer has not gone to your heads. Excellent.”
The guards exchanged looks. The shorter asked, “Lady Sarissa?”
Bethany grunted, and they put away their swords. All but the man who’d challenged her first. He was older, and from the scars on his face and hands, more experienced than the others.
Fury (Tranquility Book 3) Page 15
