by Zaya Feli
More guards flooded the courtyard, many more than Ren had arrows. Ren counted more than twenty. His gaze drifted, then settled on the dark doorway to the dungeons. He swallowed. He couldn't get around crossing into the open, but the distance to the dungeons was short. If he was quick, he could reach the door in a couple of seconds, and from there, make his way around with less of a chance of being spotted.
He glanced at the guards. One movement was all it would take for them to spot him.
“Report!” A voice barked the order across the courtyard and for a moment, all the guards looked away towards the main castle entrance, where a man in a Skarlan general's gleaming armour stood atop the stairs.
Ren seized his chance and ran.
He bolted across the courtyard, towards the dungeons. He nearly tripped down the stairs into the cool, damp darkness.
Outside, the general's voice was loud and clear. “Find the bastard. He's here somewhere.” The order was followed by the sound of boots against stone as the guards rushed off to search for him. The dungeons wouldn't be the first place they'd look, giving him a precious extra minute of time, but he had lost the element of surprise. With the guards searching high and low for him, there was no way he could slip across to the gardens unseen.
Ren glanced at the rack of keys on the wall above the keeper's empty desk. The keys only opened cells and were of no use inside the castle itself. None of these keys could help him. Unless...
Ren's eyes fell on a key that stood out from the rest, painted with gold leaf that had not yet started flaking from use despite its age. Ren knew why. The guards preferred to feed and water these specific prisoners through the bars and keep their gate locked, letting the rain from the open ceiling take care of cleaning up the mess they made. Ren took the key off its hook and crept deeper into the darkness.
As before, their quiet rumbling growls met Ren's ears before he saw them. His heart skipped like it always did and his breathing quickened, but when he stepped into their line of sight and the light from above fell on their massive forms, Ren paused.
The three lions weren't as Ren had remembered them.
They lay against the wall, the chains connecting them to the ring in the floor stretched as far as they would reach. Their wide eyes focused on him with uncertain defensiveness and their fur was dull and patchy. Their paws and legs were dirty from the lack of proper cleaning. They were well-fed, but not much else. Ren could see the weight of years of isolation in their yellow eyes. He swallowed, slipping the key into the lock without looking at it.
The sound of the gate swinging open made the lions tense. Their growls grew louder.
Ren's hands shook. What was he doing? Lions weren't horses. He was about to get himself killed and eaten like the idiot he was.
Still, he continued forward.
“It's all right. I'm not here to hurt you,” he whispered. He lowered his gaze, not looking them straight in the eyes like a challenger would. He didn't walk towards them, but circled them slowly, calmly.
Confidence and control. No fear.
“I'm your friend. I'm here to help you,” Ren murmured, focusing on the massive ring in the floor. The chains rattled. His knee clicked when he knelt slowly. The scent of predator, of old blood and lion urine were thick on the air. Ren glanced in the direction of the three massive animals. They watched his every move as he reached for the bolts in the floor.
Gripping the first one, he twisted, teeth clenched. It came loose slowly, so slowly. Ren put all his strength into turning it, fingers aching. How long did he have? The second one was easier. Next to him, the lions rumbled. He could feel the intensity of their stares, but he didn't stop. They stayed where they were, as if they could sense his intent.
The large ring was coming loose. One more bolt and he could turn it and slip the chains free. He gripped the last bolt. It didn't move, not even a millimetre. Dirt and rust had cemented it in its grooves. Ren groaned, shifting so he could pull on it with all his weight. One of the lions jumped, startled by his sudden movement, and Ren stared at it, mentally dragging his soul back into his mortal shell before turning his attention back to the task. He could hear voices nearby. Footsteps on the stairs. He was running out of time. He wasn't fast enough.
The final bolt came loose. He heard shouts behind him and he spun around to find the Skarlan guards processing what they saw: a young man kneeling amidst lions.
The powerful animals leapt for the guards before reaching the ends of their chains. The guards stumbled against the wall, but stayed where they were when they realised the lions couldn't reach them.
The nearest guard's eyes shifted to the cell door.
Before the guard could process the thought, Ren stretched out his leg and kicked the ring. No longer bolted in place, it turned with a shriek of metal. He slammed his foot down onto the ends of the chains, slipping them free of the metal ring.
The lions crashed into the guards with a force that rattled the iron bars. Men screamed and dropped their weapons, trying frantically to retrieve them as the teeth of the big cats sank into their calves and necks. The lions shook them like rag dolls.
Ren watched in horror and disbelief as a man trying to flee into the cell towards him fell under the massive weight of a lion. The beast crushed his skull in its jaws in the next second. The five guards in the dungeon hallway were dead in moments, their broken, bleeding bodies strewn in macabre positions against the walls and the bars of the cell.
Ren heard the sound of more men approaching, alarmed by the screams of the guards and the roars of the animals. Before Ren could blink, two of the lions bolted up the stairs, and judging by the screams of terror that followed, right into the unsuspecting guards at the top.
The last lion lingered, turning back to look at Ren. There was something in its gaze, something regal and unreadable that reminded Ren of Anik, and in that moment, Ren wasn't afraid. The lion watched him, then turned towards the dungeon stairs and trotted after its kin to join the bloodbath outside.
Ren swallowed, climbing to his feet. He couldn't waste this chance. He couldn't have asked for a better distraction.
Adjusting the bow across his back, he stepped over the pools of blood in the hallway and climbed the stairs. More fallen soldiers littered the stairwell, not all of them dead. They had been prepared to face a single, armed man, not a trio of vengeful beasts. Ren skirted their torn bodies without looking down. He took in the scene in the courtyard. One of the lions had cornered a group of three men against the stables. The other two had joined forces, facing off against a larger group of soldiers with their raised swords trembling.
Ren darted across the courtyard, the remaining soldiers ignoring him in favour of the bigger threat. No one stopped him as he raced around the side of the castle towards the servants quarters and yanked open the door to the narrow spiral staircase. He scaled the steps two at a time, shouldered through the door to the serving rooms, took the shortcut through the kitchens, and finally slowed outside the main corridor.
Letting himself breathe to calm his racing heart, Ren leaned against the wall. What now? Where would they keep Anik? Ren thought about Halvard, how he was here in the castle, sullying Ren's family's home with his mere presence. Ren shoved the thought aside...then reeled it back. Halvard. If Anik had been brought to the castle, there was only one logical place he could be: with Halvard. That narrowed down the list of places to search. The thief king was a coward, hiding in the castle and letting his captive soldiers fight his war for him. He'd be in the inner throne room, in the belly of the castle, as far from danger as he could get.
Peering out from the kitchen doorway, Ren found the corridor empty. It was strange to be back here, and stranger still to sneak around his own home like an intruder. He ran his fingertips over the smooth walls as he half-ran on his toes around the next corner. He had played here as a boy with Hellic and Niklas, Thais too little to join their fun. He had kissed someone for the first time in the alcove of a study he ran past. It
had been a slave girl with bouncing curls and charming freckles across her face. He hadn't asked her permission; hadn't needed to. At least, back then he hadn't thought he did.
He stopped dead when he heard footsteps around the next corner, squeezing behind a tall statue at the last second. Two guards rounded the corner.
“Guess his plan is working after all,” one guard said.
The other shrugged. “They haven't caught the slippery bastard yet,” the other said, voice growing fainter as he turned the corner in the direction Ren had come.
Ren squirmed out from behind the statue. He didn't go for the main entrance to the throne room, but to the side door that would open into the space behind the throne. Unlike the main throne room, this smaller room was reserved for the king's appointments with his most important guests. A private, more intimate setting, although still large enough that a dozen guards could position themselves inside without seeming too threatening. The king left his meetings through the door in front of Ren.
Ren paused, crouched behind an Isilghan vase, and listened.
He could hear no sounds coming from inside, but that wasn't surprising. The room was designed to be well insulated, after all, protected from the curious ears of guests or servants.
Ren closed his eyes and took a breath. What was his plan? Should he barge in, take advantage of the moment of surprise, and...what? Anik could be anywhere in the room and there might be a dozen guards inside. Ren would end up dead before taking five steps.
Though, he would emerge right behind the throne. If he was quick, he could press his blade against Halvard's throat and demand Anik's freedom, then use Halvard as a hostage to get them safely out of the castle.
Ren nodded to himself. That was his best bet, so long as Halvard sat on the throne. If he didn't... No. Ren had come all this way. He had to make an attempt.
He took one more breath, steeled himself, and left his hiding spot.
The door handle turned as he reached for it.
Ren entire body tensed.
The door swung out, forcing Ren to take a step back to avoid being hit in the face. He reached for his sword.
The honey-brown eyes of Berin, captain of the royal guard, stared down at him first with confusion, then shock. Dark bruises covered his face and his right eye was swollen nearly closed. He looked like he'd seen a ghost, but the two Skarlan guards who flanked him recovered faster.
The dull sound of steel scraping against leather jerked both Ren and Berin from their trance. Ren staggered back as Berin pushed him in the chest, kicking the door shut behind him. With a twist of his sword, Berin slit the throat of the guard on his left, grabbed him by the collar, and used him as a shield to stop the strike of the second guard's sword. Then he buried his sword in the man's side, in the gap of his chest plate. The guard collapsed.
Berin spun and stared at Ren with wide, fearful eyes, a look Ren had never seen on his face before.
“We've freed the hostages,” Ren said, breathless.
Pure relief washed over Berin's face and he squeezed his eyes shut.
Suddenly, there were men at the door, but it swung open only halfway, meeting the resistance of Berin's broad back. Berin lowered his shoulder, keeping it closed with the weight of his body. Someone shouted inside.
“Halvard is in there,” Berin said, jaw clenched tight.
“I know,” Ren replied. He gripped his sword, drawing it from its sheath.
“Your Lowlander, too.”
“I know,” Ren said again.
Berin closed his eyes and swallowed, leaning his head against the door. It jerked, the people on the other side trying and failing to force it open.
“We end this now,” Berin said, and when he opened his eyes again, they were full of emotion. “Do what you have to do, kid.”
Ren's eyes widened. “Berin,” he said, unsure what to do. He stepped forward.
“Tell my family I love them. That I did this for them.”
“Berin, no.” There had to be another way.
“Promise me,” Berin whispered.
“I promise.”
Berin turned and yanked the door open.
The guards on the other side tumbled out and landed in a pile at Berin's feet, unprepared for the brutality of the captain's blade. Berin made swift work of them and stepped over their bodies, meeting their fellows with the unstoppable destruction of a landslide.
For a moment, Ren watched, paralysed by the sight. Then he stepped over the bodies of fallen guards into the throne room.
Everything was chaos. A guard ran towards Ren, blocking his view of the rest of the room. Ren swung his sword, lowering his body to strike at the vulnerable spot at the man's knees. The guard collapsed with a cry of agony and Ren moved back and sank the tip of his blade into the man's exposed throat.
Nearby, Berin gripped a guard by the throat and threw him against the wall like he weighed nothing. Ren flinched when a guard's sword sliced through Berin's upper arm and blood gushed from the wound, down the sleeve of his white uniform. Still more guards swarmed Berin.
Movement in the corner of Ren's eye made him turn. The doors to the small greeting chamber were open. Ren's heart clenched. Halvard staggered backwards into the throne room, panting and gasping from exertion as he held Anik against his chest in an iron grip, pressing a blade with a hilt made of golden antlers against Anik's throat with his other hand. Anik's chest was bare and his arms were bound almost to the elbow. He bled from a cut on his brow. When Ren met his eyes, Anik's expression turned to shock, then to horror.
“Go!” Berin's shout echoed in the throne room.
Ren didn't hesitate. He bolted past Berin, fury igniting his blood as he chased Halvard into the greeting chamber.
“Stop! Not a step closer!” Halvard hissed, yanking Anik with him towards the doors that led to the corridor, but they were locked. Halvard couldn't open them without releasing Anik.
Ren stopped short, shrugged the bow off his shoulder. He nocked an arrow, drew, and aimed. His bow arm shook, not with fear but with anger as he aimed at Halvard's head.
Everything slowed.
A smile spread across Halvard's face. Behind Ren, the sounds of the fight died down. No one came for them. Not Berin. Not the guards. Ren didn't take his eyes off Halvard to look. The blade of Hellic's sword against Anik's throat caught the light of the lamps.
Halvard's laughter filled the silence. “Oh, you weak little boy,” Halvard said, voice dripping with condescension. “How ironic this scene is, don't you think?”
Ren blinked, swallowing hard behind clenched teeth. He adjusted his grip on the bow, hands slick with sweat. He tried not to remember the slave boy pinned to the tree because he had missed his shot, the way the arrow would bury itself in Anik's skull or throat if he made the same mistake again. He'd hardly touched a bow since. He couldn't do this.
“We both know you're not going to take the shot,” Halvard said, voice low, mocking, like he was talking to a child. “I have all the time in the world. It'll only take minutes for my guards to discover something is amiss and then you can stand there and watch me slit your bed boy's throat. By all means, take your time.”
“Don't listen to him.” Anik's voice was strained, his head tilted back to avoid the sharp edge of the blade. “You can do so much more than you think you can, Ren. I believe in you. You can do this.”
“What a load of sugary sweet bullshit,” Halvard spat. “We all know how this is going to go. Did you think I'd harbour some kind fatherly affection for you? You are weak, Ren. You've been weak all your life. You should never have been born. If your mother had aborted you, she'd be alive today.”
“Shut up,” Ren hissed through gritted teeth. He couldn't think. The tip of the arrow trembled in his field of vision. He struggled to steady it, but he couldn't.
“Listen to yourself, Ren,” Anik said, holding Ren's gaze. “Find your focus. Find your calm.”
“I will watch my guards slice you open like a pig.”<
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“Believe in yourself. I trust you, Ren.” Anik jerked in Halvard's grip, the edge of Hellic's sword biting into his skin.
Ren took a breath. The seconds ticked by like minutes. His hand steadied and he lined up his shot. His fingers went still on the bow string. He could do it. Anik believed in him.
In the moment before the release, Ren jerked his wrist, heart leaping into his throat.
The arrow flew. Anik twisted to the side, the blade slicing his flesh.
“Anik!”
The arrow found its target with a dull sound and Halvard staggered backwards. He dropped the sword and reached for the arrow protruding from the soft flesh of his throat.
Ren watched as Halvard sank to the ground, convulsing as he struggled to breathe.
Ren darted forward. Anik crouched on the floor, bound hands pressed against his throat.
“Let me see. Let me see,” Ren gasped, tugging on Anik's wrists.
Anik tilted his head back, breathing shallowly. Lines of blood trickled over his throat.
Ren wiped the blood away with his sleeve and the flow stopped. The cut was shallow, a fine line only skin-deep. “You're okay,” he said, releasing the breath caught in his throat. “You're fine.” He cupped Anik's face. Dried blood from the cut on Anik's brow stained his cheek. A scratch along his cheekbone marked where the fletching of Ren's arrow had grazed him.
Ren drew his sword. “Hold still.” He sliced the tip of the blade through the knot of the rope wrapped around Anik's arms and tugged it loose. Red marks covered Anik's arms where the rope had chafed his skin.
Anik rolled his shoulders and rubbed at his forearms. “I trust you, but next time, I'd prefer a bit less of a close call,” he said shakily.
Ren smiled, but a wet gasp from Halvard made him turn. Blood covered the king's fine robe and pooled on the floor. Ren's eyes locked on Hellic's sword where it lay on the ground, a single drop of Anik's blood clinging to the edge. “I made you a promise,” he said, picking up the weapon and handing it hilt-first to Anik. “Quick, before he suffocates.”
