by B. T. Narro
Not wanting to give away her rescuer’s presence, she didn’t look at the door behind Jimmin but into his raging eyes.
“Well fought,” Jimmin said through clenched teeth. “But it’s time to end this.”
A vial rolled along the floor toward them.
Jimmin didn’t seem to hear as he stomped toward her, his energy strengthening like steel. Her grip slipped, and she backed away as he rushed her.
The vial shattered, startling Jimmin into spinning around as a cloud of smoke rose toward them like a crashing wave. He spun back to Beatrix, but she was already rushing past him. She drove her dagger into his thigh, producing a scream, and left it there as she ran into the expanding cloud.
Smoke filled her lungs. Taking a breath felt like trying to breathe underwater. She coughed and put out her hands to brace herself as she hit the unseen wall. She knew how the smoke potion worked. The cloud was most dense at this point. It would spread for hundreds of feet, thinning out until it no longer blocked sight. For now, however, she might as well be blind. She couldn’t tell in which direction the door was. She chose to go left, feeling the stone along the way.
“I’m going to find you,” Jimmin said, his voice malicious. “I don’t know who or how someone fit a smoke bomb under the door, but you’re not getting out without my key.”
She would get out without his key…if she could find the damn door. She went back the other way. Jimmin’s energy said he was right behind her. She dashed as she felt movement across her back. His knife clanked against the wall. He cursed just beside her, yet she couldn’t see him.
“Find me.” It was Desil’s voice. He was within the chamber and as close to her as Jimmin. He started coughing right after he spoke.
“Who is that?” Jimmin demanded. “Kill her or you will be at fault for her escape.”
Beatrix found that she was able to take quick, shallow breaths, bringing in some air without coughing. Smoke burned her throat to no end, though. Jimmin let out a hacking cough as he cursed.
“Who are you?” Jimmin called out. “How did a smoke potion get in here?”
Why hadn’t he pained Desil? Maybe he would wait until he found the two of them.
Beatrix bumped into Desil. Their arms entangled. Soon their hands found each other. She felt him, but she couldn’t see him. He pulled her down. She heard Jimmin sliding his hand over the floor in search of his blade, or perhaps for her.
She felt Jimmin attempting to pain her, but her resistance was too strong.
“Grab my leg,” Desil said quietly.
His footwear broke through the smoke and booted her square on her forehead. She reeled back and lost track of everything for a moment, but then found his leg near her stomach. She grabbed hold with both hands.
The little light from the torch in the chamber went out, leaving them in complete darkness. She felt the floor depress as she crawled after Desil. Her hair pressed against the underside of the door, then her back slid along it, a tight fit even for her slim body.
“I got her,” Desil said to someone.
“Find me. I’ll lose my sense of direction if I have to turn.” It was Kirnich’s voice! Beatrix had never been so relieved to hear it. Bless him and Desil.
She mustn’t get ahead of herself. They still had to get out of the castle, and then where could they go? Beatrix couldn’t run far in this condition.
It seemed hopeless. No, it didn’t just seem so. It was.
“It’s madness to run,” she said as Desil helped her to her feet. “Jimmin cut me in more places than he didn’t. I have no hope of escaping. Leave me and go.”
“We won’t,” Kirnich said. “We’re getting out of here even if I have to carry you.” He swept her up with his arms beneath her legs and back. He was off with her before she could object.
She feared he would run into a wall and crush her between it and his rocklike muscle she felt against her, but he really did seem to know where he was. She’d experienced a smoke bomb like this before, while playing with her siblings and father. They’d gone to the courtyard and mixed two potions into one vial, put a lid on, and then let it break. Allephon had received the honor of mixing them and rolling the vial away, while Beatrix had wanted to and whined about it like the child she was. Fernan promised she could do it next time, but there never was a next time.
She regretted caring more about the smoke than she did her father in that moment. In fact, she regretted every moment she’d spent near her father without hugging him or showing how much she loved him. She hoped he’d known how much he’d meant to her. Her world had become empty without him.
Kirnich slowed. “Desil?”
“I’m ahead.”
“How!”
Beatrix hadn’t noticed him pass, either.
“See my light?” Desil asked.
“There,” Beatrix pointed to the side.
“This is the turn we need,” Desil said.
Kirnich raced toward him. Beatrix felt blood pooling where Kirnich had his arm behind her legs. She forced herself to calm through psyche, for a rushing heart would only kill her faster.
She was hit with a spell of drowsiness, her head falling back.
Jimmin?
No, she’d done this to herself. Without her worry and adrenaline, exhaustion and blood loss was all there was. She tried to undo the psychic spell but it was too late. She passed out, her last thought wondering whether she would wake again.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
The smoke didn’t seem to have an end to it. Desil led the way with a glow of bright bastial energy in front of him that did little to show him any walls they might encounter. Kirnich kept up with Beatrix in his arms.
“Hey, Beatrix? Beatrix!” His voice rose in alarm as he sounded to be slowing.
“We have to keep up the pace,” Desil urged.
“She might be dead already!”
“Might be. That doesn’t mean we should stop. Come on!”
Kirnich huffed for breath, growling in fury like some sort of man-bear. He and Desil hadn’t seen anyone guarding the torture chambers. It didn’t make sense to either of them, but now was not the time to question it.
Desil looked for a turn to his right that would lead them back the way they’d come, but now he was feeling he’d missed it. He couldn’t believe this much smoke could come from a vial just longer than his hand. It had to end soon if he just kept going through it.
It thinned somewhat as he came to a wall, allowing him to see that both left and right were available to him. “Turn right here.” At hearing nothing, he asked, “Are you still with me?”
“Yes.” But the warrior’s voice came from far behind.
Desil stopped as he heard someone shout in front of him. “There’s smoke here!”
“Fire?” asked another.
“Seems more like one of those potions.”
“What potions?”
“Never mind. Run off and have troops guard the gate to the dungeon. This might be an attempt to escape.”
That didn’t give Desil much of an opportunity to get to the gate before they did. Kirnich caught up, both he and Desil wheezing from the smoke. “I’ll take her from here,” Desil suggested.
“Bastial hell you will. Just give us more light so I can see better.”
Desil gathered bastial energy into another cluster and told it to remain an arm’s length ahead of his outstretched hand. Maintaining it put the same strain on his body as jogging. With his breath shallow from the smoke, he felt as if he’d sprinted a mile from just his short journey here from the torture chambers.
“We’re going to need Beatrix,” he realized.
“I won’t be able to tell if she’s breathing until we stop.”
The smoke came to a sudden end. Desil dreaded the site ahead of him: Ionrad shocked to see him.
“Ben? How did you…? Is that…? Stop!” He took out his weapon and pointed it as Desil and Kirnich approached. It must’ve been Ionrad’s voice that Desil heard o
rdering the other man to guard the gate.
“I’m not Ben. I’m Desil Fogg.”
Ionrad grumbled a curse. “I had a feeling, but I wanted to believe you weren’t the one wanted for treason. You’re too young to be caught up in that.”
“Bastial hell, look at all her blood!” Kirnich exclaimed. Desil hadn’t noticed the extent of Beatrix’s injuries yet, either. She looked as if she’d come out of a pool of blood as it ran down her limbs and stained every inch of her pants.
“We have to get her out of the castle now!” Desil said. “Or she will die.”
“It’s not that I want to stop you…” Ionrad seemed to have skill with his sword as he held it up confidently. “But I can’t let you go. She killed the king, Desil.”
“She didn’t.” Kirnich passed Beatrix into Desil’s arms and took out his blade. “I know your son. He wouldn’t want you standing in our way. Think of him.”
“I think of the king first.”
“Then you are an idiot. I will kill you if you do not move.”
Desil couldn’t bear it. The feeling of piercing Girgis in the heart was still too fresh in his mind. “Kirnich don’t—”
The warrior came at Ionrad. In an impressive display of skill, Kirnich deflected Ionrad’s jabbing sword and grabbed Ionrad’s hilt, with one massive hand still holding the hilt of his own sword. With his free arm, he pushed Ionrad away to separate him from his weapon.
Ionrad put up his hands to block their passage. “I have to attempt to stop you, or I’m dead anyway.”
“Think about what that says of the man you’re serving,” Desil told him, managing to get in front of Kirnich.
“It shows he’s determined to stop her from getting out.”
Kirnich easily pushed Desil out of the way. “There’s no reason for you to die here, Ionrad.”
Desil put down Beatrix as he feared he might have to act.
Kirnich gave Ionrad’s weapon to Desil. He already had Girgis’ sword, but he gladly rid himself of the reminder of what he’d done as he threw it behind him to take this one instead.
He would do everything in his power to make sure his new weapon belonged to someone living rather than dead, someone he respected.
“You’ll have to kill me if you want to get past,” Ionrad insisted.
“You did this to yourself.” Kirnich raised his weapon, but Desil ran in first and slashed Ionrad high on his leg.
“Get Beatrix,” he told Kirnich.
Ionrad stumbled into the wall, then slid down as he gripped his thigh. To Desil’s surprise, he reached out to grab Desil’s foot as he tried to pass. The yank sent shooting pain throughout his already scorching wound, Desil yelping as he fell.
Kirnich stepped on the top of Ionrad’s wrist until he let go. Ionrad screamed. His next breath was used to shout a warning. “Two of them are coming out this way with the princess!”
“I knew we should’ve killed him,” Kirnich complained as Desil hobbled after him.
The pain didn’t abate as they went on, but Desil found a way to use his leg without too much of a limp. Kirnich led them from the dungeon, as he knew it well. They ran past cells filled with prisoners hollering one thing or another. Some seemed to be remarking about Beatrix. Others wanted to be freed themselves and offered rewards that were impossible to be true. Desil didn’t catch the rest.
It didn’t take long before Kirnich slowed, the warrior drenched with sweat. Beatrix lay supple across his arms. Desil’s shin felt as if a knife was stuck within it, the pain shooting up his leg in waves every step he took.
“We’re almost to the stairs,” Kirnich said.
“Beatrix?” Desil said as he came up on Kirnich’s side. “Beatrix can you hear me? We’re going to need you.”
“You have something in mind?” Kirnich asked.
“Yes, but only if she’s with us. Otherwise we have no hope.”
“Beatrix.” Kirnich gave her a little shake.
“Mmm.” Her head rose.
“Thank the stars! I thought you were dead.”
“Set me down. I think I can run.”
“We need more than you being able to run,” Desil told her as Kirnich set her on her feet. “Is your psyche strong in this moment?”
The three of them ran side by side. Beatrix stumbled as she asked Desil, “What for?” He caught her bloody arm to keep her from falling, but she hissed and flinched away. Kirnich got his arms around her before she toppled.
“I’m picking you up again,” the warrior said as he swept her up.
He started off slow with Beatrix back in his arms, but he seemed to find his strength as he quickly caught up with Desil.
“We’ll need you to pain someone,” Desil told Beatrix. “But it has to be at just the right time.”
They continued to pass by cells of prisoners hollering to them, some cheering but more requesting to be broken out. Desil described his simple plan to Beatrix. Jailers carrying various items from buckets to rusted trays of food skirted out of their way, most too shocked to say anything. Others screamed that the princess was escaping. It made every prisoner aware, their enthusiasm deafening.
It was a mystery as to why no guards stood in their way yet. At least a hundred had accompanied Allephon during the escort from Tenred’s wall to this castle. Where were they now?
Kirnich wheezed like a sick dog as he somehow kept up his speed. He led them down each corridor, around each turn.
“The stairs to the keep are close,” he managed to get out between breaths.
They still hadn’t seen the man sent off by Ionrad to alert the others of this escape.
“We have to pick up our pace. This is over if we don’t catch up to that guard.” Desil couldn’t ignore his guilt for pushing Kirnich beyond his limits, but it had to be said. “I’ll take Beatrix.”
“I’ve got her.”
Desil was about to insist when Beatrix spoke up. “Let me down now.”
Kirnich plopped her on her feet. She groaned as she showed her teeth in a grimace, but despite her pain she set a decent pace and soon took the lead.
Desil recognized the last long hall as they entered it after a turn. He saw someone running ahead of them. “That must be him!”
It was a thin man who turned to check behind him as he gasped for breath. He seemed to be about Ionrad’s age, but there was nothing kind about his long face shadowed by the torch he carried. He took out his sword and stopped as if to face them, but his cowardice won over when they charged without hesitating. He dropped the weapon and fled up the stairs.
He didn’t yell about the escape, no doubt aware he would be locked down here with them. He was nearly halfway up the stairs by the time Beatrix reached the first step. She slowed as she started to climb, holding onto Kirnich for support.
The man ahead tossed his torch down at them. It bounced against the step at the level of Kirnich’s head and spiraled over him as he ducked.
“Are you in range?” Desil asked Beatrix.
She didn’t answer, putting everything she had into climbing these steps. She slowed again as they reached the halfway mark. She nearly tripped, but Kirnich caught her. Desil got around her and grabbed her hand to help her along the way. She needed as much support as he could give her, for it seemed as if she would collapse if he let go.
He was beginning to lose hope she had the necessary strength for a psychic spell as the man ahead got to the bars that marked the end of the dungeon. He already had a key ready, but he fumbled as he tried to insert it into the slot.
“What’s wrong?” someone asked him from the other side. Desil couldn’t see who it was or how many were with him.
“Nothing,” said the one trying to get out. He unlocked the grille, removed his key, and pulled the gate open.
Beatrix was about ten steps behind. She let go of Desil’s hand to aim her arm upward. The man screamed, his arms flailing as he fell. He grabbed the bars but lacked the strength to hold himself up as he puddled.
&n
bsp; “What’s the matter with you?” asked another, but this man soon found out himself as he came through to look down the stairs. He ignored his fallen comrade as he turned and shouted, “Escape—!”
Beatrix took him down with pain before he could utter another word. He collapsed on top of the other guard, both squirming in agony. A third yelled out in what also sounded to be pain. Desil couldn’t see him even as they neared the top. The sound of his scream moved away from them and transitioned into words. “The princess is escaping!”
“I can’t stop that one,” Beatrix said as she continued to pain the other two.
She stepped around their coiled bodies and limbs sticking through the open gate, Desil and Kirnich right behind her. She fell to her knees just after they passed into the keep.
“Kirnich.” Her voice was weak.
He knelt down with his back in front of her. “Get her on, Desil.”
He put Beatrix’s arms over Kirnich’s shoulders. She found some strength as she climbed the rest of the way onto his back while he stood. The groaning men behind them showed no indication of wanting to fight as Desil glared at each of them. They crawled backward into the shadows of the dungeon.
The teeth gnawing Desil’s shin, where Girgis had cut him, felt sharper with each step. But whatever distance he was limited to, it had to be farther than Beatrix. Part of him never thought they would make it this far. He needed a plan if they somehow managed to get out of the keep.
The three of them didn’t speak as they crossed through the halls. It seemed to be night outside, for the castle was mostly quiet besides the man in front of them still screaming about the escape.
A woman in a simple servant’s robe shrieked upon seeing them. She fled into one of the rooms and slammed the door behind her. It wouldn’t be long after this, no matter what happened, that everyone in the castle would think of the three of them as enemies to the king.
“Beatrix, how thick is the back wall of the keep?” Desil asked.
“What do you mean how thick?”
