Devin appeared not to hear him, his concentration elsewhere. At that moment, a shimmering shield appeared over their soldier’s heads, and Ryland recognized it as Devin’s magic. Okay, Ryland thought. That’s progress. His cousin had never let him down before, and he wouldn’t let him down now. His army surged forward some paces, only to be stopped when the drawbridge didn’t descend.
“It’s now or never, Dev!” Ryland pressed, wincing as an arrow rammed into his shield. The fewer lives lost for me, the better. Thanks to their shields and Devin’s magic, no one had been hurt so far, but that could change at any moment.
Devin glanced at him, his expression tinged with annoyance. “It’s already done!” Devin replied. Ryland was a bit surprised at the glare, but he understood he was being impatient.
The creaking of metal and shouts of surprise on the other side of the wall drew Ryland’s attention. The downpour of arrows lessened but didn’t stop entirely.
Ryland watched the drawbridge slowly slide down until it thudded onto the ground in front of him. He smiled grimly at Devin. Ryland didn’t know how his cousin had done it, but he had, and that was all that mattered.
Calm down. Battles don’t happen in two minutes, Ryland told himself, taking a deep breath to steady his nerves.
“The other gates are already open as well. The attack has begun,” Devin said, drawing closer to Ryland with his words.
Ryland glanced at him in surprise but bit back his question of how he knew that, or how he had done it. Now wasn’t the time, and Devin wouldn’t have told him anyway.
“Good work. Now we take what is rightfully mine.” Ryland tried to say it with confidence, but he knew his conviction was lacking.
Devin tilted his head a bit and looked deep into Ryland’s eyes. “Are you having doubts again?”
Ryland paused, wondering whether or not he should lie. Then he shook the thought off. He had no reason to lie to his best friend. He nodded shortly.
Devin’s eyes blazed. “Think about that pompous prince and what he did. He sentenced the love of your life, Fayre, to die. She’s inside your manor even now, dying!” Devin gestured vaguely in the direction of the castle. “That boy in there is no king, and he must be removed from the throne.”
Ryland nodded, taking a deep breath as the strong emotions of hate and revenge welled up inside him, all directed at Caspian. “You’re right. The prince needs to pay for what he did.” He said the words and believed them, but images of the kindness Caspian had shown him at his parents’ deaths and Fayre’s illness flashed through his mind. But if he was so kind, why had the prince been willing to let Fayre die? If he’d accepted Ryland’s offer, none of this would have happened, and they all would have been better off.
Confusion clouded his mind. Why had the prince rejected his offer? Was there a reason?
Is any reason good enough to justify Fayre’s life? some part of his mind cut in viciously.
No, Ryland answered. I would do anything for Fayre.
Confusion still muddled around the edges of his brain, but now Ryland had a clear goal, a beacon shining through the darkness. I do this for Fayre. All other reasons aren’t important. For Fayre.
“. . . anger will get you through anything, my friend,” Devin was saying as Ryland became aware of the world around him once more.
Ryland shook his head but didn’t respond. Anger didn’t get you through everything—love did. That was why he was doing this. Love.
“I’m ready now,” he told Devin. “Let’s win this fight.”
Chapter Twelve
Ryland spun around to deflect a blow from an enemy, then kicked the man over the wheelbarrow that happened to be behind him.
Devin had told him that subduing the castle itself, once they pushed past the gate, would take, at most, thirty minutes. They had assumed the forces in the castle would mostly consist of the prince’s main army, as they had seen no one go in or out of the castle. The prince hadn’t seemed to call on the nobles who supported him, enforcing Devin’s belief that Caspian would not prepare for a battle he did not want to fight. The possibility of Caspian moving men through the tunnels had occurred to Devin and Ryland, but in all their explorations of the tunnel, Ryland’s men had been unable to find an outside entrance besides the one in Devin’s basement, which Caspian had destroyed after Ryland left the castle, forcing Devin to create a new entrance for their attack. The men who had investigated the tunnels were loyal to Ryland, and the maps he’d created were stored in his private chests, which the prince sent to Ryland’s manor after his parents’ death. In short, there was no possible way Caspian could have used the tunnels to sneak troops into the castle.
Besides all this, the takeover wasn’t going as well as they had expected. Already an hour had passed, and they weren’t even through the courtyard yet. Where had all these soldiers come from?
Ryland took a moment to let his sword drop as he wiped away the sweat dripping into his eyes, blinding him. He allowed his gaze to rove around the chaos around him, surprised no other men had come to attack him yet. The past grueling hour had been full of dodging blows and giving some in return, fighting inch by excruciating inch for ground inside the castle walls.
“Tell me again what went wrong?” Ryland growled at Devin, who was standing next to him with an irritated expression on his face.
Devin brushed dark hair away from his eyes, his brows furrowed with anger. “We . . . underestimated them. They must have made copies of your maps to the tunnels or explored the system themselves.” His jaw clenched, and he stopped speaking for a moment. “I believe they managed to find an outside entrance to smuggle reinforcements inside, and they have caught several of our troops inside the tunnels.”
Ryland nodded slowly. “That would explain how all these men got here.” He waved his hand to encompass the fighting around them. Ryland wasn’t sure how Caspian and his men had managed to find an entrance, especially without magic on their side, but the prince must have sent for reinforcements from his supporting lords. Many traps had been laid for the invaders, above the gates, around the courtyard, and other places. Their side might still be winning, but at a much higher cost than expected.
They really had underestimated their opponents, and Ryland feared the mistake would cost them their lives. So many dead. Guilt ate at him, and he scowled.
Devin’s jaw clenched even harder, but he didn’t respond.
“Why aren’t you casting spells or something?” Ryland shot at him. “We could sure use the help.”
Devin shook his head. “Out here we still have the advantage. But in there . . .” He nodded toward the palace. “That will be a death trap, and my skills will be needed.”
Ryland nodded. He didn’t like it, but he knew it was true. “Enough. I’m going back in.” Ryland hefted his sword.
Devin watched dispassionately as Ryland plunged back into the fight, his bodyguards following close behind. As soon as the young man faded from view, another person appeared at Devin’s elbow.
“We could be of service, Neri-shna, if you let us transform,” the Tja-maq said quietly, his voice hissing slightly.
Devin almost refused again, but he paused, looking up at the palace. If anyone realized the shadows existed and were helping Ryland, no one would follow him, and mass panic would ensue, a panic even greater than the chaos they had already caused. Even in their panic, Devin guessed the people would unite against the shadows as they had in the past. A nation ruled by terror was a difficult one to take over, especially if that terror was because of you.
However, Devin knew that once they reached the palace walls, Ryland’s army would be defeated. He had no doubt the prince had more traps set inside that would mean death or capture in no time. Unless Devin acted, this whole thing would go awry.
“Gather the others,” Devin said finally to the Tja at his side. “You will go in there and disable the traps that have been set. If possible, spring them on the enemy. Stay out of sight.”
T
he Tja grinned widely before disappearing into the shadows with a hiss.
Devin turned back to the battle, watching as shadows moved unnaturally across the ground to the palace, unnoticed by anyone else.
We will win, Devin thought to himself, even if I have to destroy this castle and everyone in it.
Ryland ducked as a sword came whistling toward his head, then dodged to the left as another one tried to stab him in the side. He brought his sword up to deflect another blade and used his shield to ram into another soldier, toppling him. Sweat dripped into his eyes, stinging, but he blinked it away, hardly noticing. He was completely focused.
Searing pain abruptly pierced his concentration, and he cried out, dropping to the ground in response. His shield hit the ground hard, jarring his shoulder, which now had a gaping wound in it that was bleeding at an alarming rate, the chainmail links of his armor bent and broken. He had received many bruises and a few cuts during the battle so far, but this wound was different. He could tell by the way it had already drenched his entire arm with his blood. It would kill him if they didn’t win soon. If he didn’t get medical help soon.
Ryland gritted his teeth against the pain, envisioning the soldier who had stabbed him already pulling back his sword, readying himself for the final blow.
Come on. If you don’t get up, they’ll kill you! Ryland yelled at himself, but his legs merely twitched in response.
In the background of his mind, he heard swords clanging as his soldiers rushed to his defense, pushing back his attacker. No time for relief. He had to get up. Ryland lurched to his feet, the pain and blood loss making him dizzy, and the whole world seemed to tilt. Blackness crowded into the corners of his vision, but he fought it off. He had to keep moving or else he would fall asleep and never wake up.
Ryland retreated from the battle quickly. Taking a moment to steady himself behind the front lines, he examined his arm where the enemy’s sword had pierced his flesh.
His arm hung down limply at his side, the weight of the shield causing excruciating pain. Ryland reached down with his good hand and unbuckled the shield, letting it fall to the ground with a clatter that was lost in the noise of the battle. The pain lessened, but his arm still hung as limp as a rag. He sheathed his sword and curled his good hand into a fist.
Taking a deep breath, he moved his hurt shoulder. His eyesight dimmed, and he almost passed out from the pain. He gritted his teeth so hard he thought his jaw might break. Fighting the urge to throw up, he took a deep breath, bit his lip, and tried to get his agony under control. He put his right hand over the wound to stem the bleeding, and it was instantly covered in red liquid. Studying the arm, he shook his head, which made him feel woozier. The arm was totally useless. Looking around, he saw that his forces were almost inside the palace gates. The sun was setting now, and darkness fell across the land.
Getting inside the palace was a good thing and a bad thing. Everything is about to get a lot harder. Ryland told himself tiredly.
Hearing a cry of joy, he looked to see the massive doors that led into the palace falling over with a squeal as wood scraped across stone, then finally a large crash as the enormous doors hit the ground and splintered. His men ducked backward to avoid a few stray pieces of wood, but as far as Ryland could tell, no one was hit by the deadly projectiles. Wondering how in the world they had managed to knock down both doors, he rushed forward to address one of his captains.
“What’s going on?” Ryland winced as his arm moved again. The pain was becoming more bearable, but it was still horrid. Maybe he wasn’t going to pass out after all. He surveyed the wreckage in front of him. The doors were totally destroyed and would have to be completely rebuilt once this was over.
“Milord, we managed to kick down that door, and now . . .” The man’s voice trailed off as he glanced at Ryland. “What happened to your arm, sire?” The man moved forward to help him, concern creasing his features.
Ryland waved the man away, swaying a bit at the pain the movement caused. The rush of pain caused him to pause, and he swallowed before nodding in consent, letting the man help him remove his chainmail and bind the wound with a strip of cloth the man ripped from his pants.
“I’ll be fine,” Ryland told him once it was finished. “How did you do that?” Ryland shook his head, trying to clear it. “Kick down the door, I mean.”
The captain pursed his lips and looked Ryland up and down in disbelief. “We did nothing,” the soldier said. “It just came off like it didn’t have any hinges.”
Ryland nodded and unsheathed his sword, hefting it. “That’s a little discomforting, but it worked to our advantage, and we have other things to worry about. Now we have to clear the castle and get to the prince.”
The captain looked alarmed. “Your Majesty, you are in no condition to fight! You must stay back here, where you’ll be safe.”
Ryland opened his mouth to protest, but the captain interrupted him. “Normally, I wouldn’t speak against my superiors, but on this I must insist. You are the reason these men are fighting.” He gestured to the front of the lines, where the army was already filing into the palace. “If you die, all of this will be for nothing!”
Ryland paused, gazing at those men who fought bravely for him and his cause. The man was right, of course, but how could he let them die for him without even standing by their sides?
Who will help Fayre if you die? The thought upset him.
“Fine.” Ryland nodded to the captain. “They need you up there.”
The man looked relieved, and he saluted before turning and rushing into the palace.
Ryland sighed and waited for a moment, watching his men disappear into the palace as well. Suddenly, the courtyard seemed vast and empty, despite the bodies lying all around and the tortured groans of the wounded.
Putting away his sword, Ryland pressed his hand over his shoulder and waited for a few more seconds before starting forward, following his troops from a safe distance.
Devin stared out into the lit corridor from a side room in the palace. The space around him was dark, and his cloak seemed to eat it up, swelling and rising as if it belonged in the darkness.
Hearing a noise behind him, Devin turned away from the empty hall and looked at the Tja who had appeared there. In his shadow form, he was difficult for humans to focus on, but Devin, with his enhanced eyesight, could see him clearly.
“Is it done?” Devin asked, his voice sounding hollow in the empty room.
“Yes,” the shadow hissed. “The traps have been deactivated, and many of the enemy dealt with.” He paused, grinning, showing his surprisingly white teeth.
Devin nodded. “Did you manage to release our prisoners?”
The shadow nodded. “Yes. They didn’t expect an attack from the dungeon.”
“So now our troops from the tunnels are able to fight?” Devin felt a hesitant smile tug at the corner of his lips. Perhaps this day wouldn’t end up being a disaster after all, and he would be king by this time tomorrow. Or Ryland would be king, and Devin through him.
“Yes.” The shadow’s eyes glinted. “We will have all the power we desire.”
“It is a beginning,” Devin agreed. He turned back to look into the corridor. “Are Ryland’s troops within the castle?”
“Yes, and they will succeed now that we have paved the way. It wasn’t easy.”
“You will be rewarded soon enough,” Devin snarled, then composed himself.
“What now?” the Tja asked.
“Now we wait.”
As Ryland followed the troops, he glanced around in surprise. There was no one in the hallway to stop them, which he found rather odd. He had almost lost sight of his army since they were moving at such a feverish pace with barely any opposition. The physical traps and soldiers Devin had predicted were nowhere in sight.
Ryland glanced up sharply when he heard the sounds of a skirmish ahead, and he picked up his pace a little. By the time he got there, however, his troops had already dealt w
ith the enemy. Somewhere deep inside the castle, he could hear the echoes of a battle.
Where are we going? he asked himself. And why don’t I know? I’m supposed to be leading this charge. He frowned, then had an idea.
“Stop!” he called after his troops. A few soldiers turned, swords raised, then lowered them when he approached. Soon everyone had stopped and looked at him as he caught up and stood in front of them.
“I may not be able to fight, but I can still lead,” he told them, and himself. He counted fifty men total. “You will all go with me. We will leave the rest of the brave men fighting our enemies here in the palace to do their duties while we find the false prince. The sooner we remove him from power, the sooner this battle will end, and fewer lives will be lost.”
Murmurs ran through the men, and a few people fidgeted, but no one contradicted him. It hurt Ryland’s heart to leave the others that had gone ahead or who had come through the tunnels, but they had to find Caspian.
Ryland paused to catch his breath before continuing. “Tell me your name,” Ryland commanded the officer who had talked to him earlier.
“Rei,” the surprised man answered.
“Rei. You are now my second-in-command for this group. Where do you think the prince would be?”
“Well, if he died, the battle would be over, so he’s probably somewhere safe. I’d say in the middle of the palace so he can be protected on all sides and still be able to retreat.” The officer paused. “You know the palace better than I do, sire.”
Ryland nodded and glanced at his shoulder, where the bleeding had lessened but was still flowing. He had to get medical help, and soon.
“I will lead you to the center of the castle. We’ll go that way first.” He raised his good arm and pointed down a side hall. Rei nodded, and Ryland set off down the corridor, listening to the sound of the men marching behind him.
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