The King's Scrolls

by Jaye L. Knight

  “I’m sorry, my lord, but only security and the emperor are permitted in the dungeon.”

  Daniel raised his brows. His father was really taking precautions. He drew his shoulders back, accentuating the couple of inches he had on Collin. He would come across as the arrogant spoiled brat most people probably believed him to be, but a man’s life was at stake. “I’m the prince.”

  “Again, I apologize, my lord, but those are my orders.”

  Daniel shifted his jaw. He’d expected a newer recruit to back down more easily. He hated to take it further, but he’d come too far to back out now. “What authority do you have to refuse your prince?”

  “My authority.”

  Daniel stiffened at his father’s voice, and the curse jumped back to his tongue. The only thing that stopped him from using it was the thought of how his mother would scold him if she were here. She hated foul language. He turned slowly to face his father’s narrow-eyed suspicion.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” His father glanced at the dagger in his belt, and anger hardened his face. “Were you going to give him a weapon?”

  Maybe. “I just wanted to go down and talk to him.”

  “No. You will return to your room and stay there until morning.”

  Daniel snorted. “Seriously? You’re confining me to my room like a child?”

  “You’re lucky I don’t have a guard posted there as well. Now, go.”

  Daniel clenched his fists, refusing to move for a moment. But the standoff wouldn’t result in Captain Altair’s release, no matter what he tried. Muttering, he stormed past his father and back to his room. Who cared if he woke everyone in the palace with his stomping? He certainly wouldn’t sleep tonight.

  Talas pressed into a corner as soldiers jogged past. He leaned his head back and breathed hard, squeezing his eyes shut in a grimace. It was bad. He could feel it. Looking down, he found blood had saturated his jerkin and was working its way its way down his pant leg. He needed to stop the bleeding, but didn’t have the time or supplies. Staunching the flow as best he could with his hand, he sucked in his breath, dizzied by the searing pain, and pushed on.

  Each step sent burning waves pulsating through his nerves. He ground his teeth, his heartbeat pounding in his skull, and willed away the nausea and lightheadedness that threatened to overtake him.

  “Elôm,” he gasped, bracing himself against another building to look around and get his bearings. Weakness crept through his body, but he only had another couple of blocks to go. With a cross between a groan and growl, he set his jaw and pushed away from the building. He was going to make it. He had to. Forcing away the pain, he jogged at first but, after a short distance, his legs almost buckled, and he had to slow down. His head pounded harder, blurring his vision. The surroundings grew even darker and started to fade, but a flare of panic cleared his senses.

  Willpower kept him moving, one step at a time, until he reached a door. He raised his fist, though it suddenly weighed a hundred pounds, and managed a weak knock. Please let this be the right house. At this point, he couldn’t be sure. He tried to pull his arm up for a second knock, but his strength gave out, and he collapsed against the door. His heart beat sluggishly now. I failed.

  But the door gave way, and he fell forward, squinting up at the blurry figure before him.

  “Talas!”

  The voice was hollow and far away. A dark-skinned hand grabbed his arm. Talas fought to rally his voice, but he could no longer resist the overwhelming force drawing him into oblivion.

  William blew on his icy hands and stuck them back under his arms. Had more light reached the cell, he might have seen his breath. The guards hadn’t left him with much when they took his coat and uniform. Only the linen shirt he’d worn underneath it, and his woolen pants, shielded him from the cold. At this rate, he’d be hypothermic by morning.

  He leaned against the cell bars and glanced down the hall. It wasn’t entirely dark. Far off, a torch flickered and illuminated two guards stationed there. They’d brought him straight here without questioning. Either the emperor had learned enough from Falcor, and was content to kill him, or he knew he had no chance of breaking him in the few short hours before dawn.

  And those hours seemed to slip away quickly, just like sand in an hourglass. The desperate urge to hold back time lurked inside him, along with the crushing knowledge he was powerless to do so. Alone in this dark cell, his mind cycled through the faces of his beloved family—his wife, Lydia, their sons, and Kyrin. He had no misgivings about dying for his faith, but thinking of their pain was the one thing capable of gnawing at his resolve. The death of his own father had nearly crippled him for over a year. Even after that, it colored everything for a very long time. If only his children didn’t have to endure the same experience.

  His thoughts also turned to Liam and their conversation back in Dunlow. Unless a miracle happened, they would never talk now, and he questioned his decision to wait. Had he been right, or had he made a huge mistake? Holding his head in his hands, he prayed for peace for both himself and his family.

  In the midst of these prayers, footsteps approached. He looked up as Aric reached the cell, and pushed to his feet. The other man placed a torch in the holder on the wall before turning to face him.

  “William, I only just heard.” Regret etched his face. He glanced at the guards. “The emperor thinks I’m here to ask questions. He thinks you might be more open with me, being that we’re friends.” He shook his head, his expression one of quiet distress. “What happened?”

  “Falcor, one of the cretes, is a traitor. He must have met with Daican and told him everything.”

  “That would explain why the emperor has been planning for your execution all day.”

  William frowned. “All day?”

  “Yes. Ever since this morning, word has spread through the city that there will be a significant execution at dawn, but I’m afraid he kept me out of this one. Only Richard and his men knew it was you. I’m still one of the few people who know you’re down here.”

  A small spark of hope ignited in William. “Kyrin, Kaden, and the others are camped north of here. If you can get word to them . . .”

  He let his voice die as Aric hung his head and shook it. “The emperor has all entrances guarded and has forbidden anyone to leave the palace grounds until tomorrow. Anyone who does will be arrested and charged with treason. After what happened with Kyrin, he’s not taking any chances.”

  William squeezed his hands around the cell bars, the cold metal pressing into them as Aric’s words sank in. He gave a short nod of acceptance. His fate would rest in Elôm’s hands alone.

  “We won’t give up,” Aric assured him. “If there’s a way, I’ll find it.”

  William looked into his eyes. “No, don’t risk it. It’s too important for you to remain here and maintain your cover.”

  “I can’t just let him kill you.”

  “You have to.” The words slipped out quietly, but he held to them. “The information you gather can save countless lives. You can’t sacrifice that just to save me.” Aric grimaced in response, and William witnessed the hesitation in his friend’s eyes. “You wouldn’t want that, either, if you were in my position. I’m not the only one who will die in this struggle. We must do what we can to save the most people.”

  Aric said nothing, but William took it as his reluctant agreement.

  Drawing a deep breath, he reached up to unclasp the leather cord around his neck. He let it rest in his hand and stared for a long moment at the dusty blue stone hanging from it. Tears gathered in his eyes as he brushed a finger over it and relived the memories of where it had come from. For over ten years he had worn it, close to his heart. He held it out to Aric.

  “I need you to make sure this gets to Kyrin.” His voice cracked at the end, and he tried to clear the pressure in his throat.

  Aric didn’t reach for the necklace. “We’ll think of something . . . find some way . . .”

 
; “Then you can give it back to me.” This time he managed his words with more strength. “But if this ends the way I think it will, then I want to know Kyrin will have it.”

  His expression still taut, Aric glanced at the guards again, tucking the necklace safely in his pocket.

  “Let her know it’s so she will always remember me.”

  William smiled faintly with thoughts of his precious daughter. How he hated having missed so much of her life, but he praised Elôm that, by His grace, she’d grown into the most beautiful young woman—both inside and out. He couldn’t be more proud, especially knowing she had so bravely faced this very same situation.

  “Also, make sure she and Kaden know I love them, their brothers, and their mother more than anything in this world. They’re the greatest blessings and treasure Elôm has given me, and they need to tell their brothers and mother that, if they ever have the chance.”

  Aric cleared his throat. “I’ll make sure of it.”

  William let out a soft sigh as a small burden inside him lifted. He ached to tell them himself, but at least they would hear it from someone. “And tell them that, even though they might not be able to see Him in this, Elôm is at work. He has a plan, and this isn’t happening against His will. It’s not the end. We will see each other again and, once we all reach eternity, the wait won’t seem long at all.”

  Though he was usually so strong and composed, tears swam in Aric’s eyes. “They’ll be told. You have my word.”

  “Thank you,” William breathed.

  Aric peered down the hall again. “I wish I could stay, but the emperor might grow suspicious.”

  “Go,” William urged him. He’d taken a great risk already.

  With a heavy sigh, Aric turned.

  “What time is it?”

  Aric glanced back. “A little after eleven.”

  William remained where he stood until his friend disappeared. He had only a few more hours, and he would not let them go to waste. Dropping to his knees in the middle of the cell, he closed his eyes. He could think of nothing more important than using these last hours to pray for his family.

  The echo of footsteps signaled that the time had come. William released a weighty breath as dread clenched his stomach in a savage grip and peace battled it from his heart. For a moment, he did not move, his soul reaching out for all the serenity and strength Elôm had to offer.

  “I accept Your will, Lord.”

  The conflict inside him quieted at these murmured words, and he pushed to his feet with a grimace as his cold limbs straightened after hours of prayer. Confident in his faith and choices, he turned to face the guards. Aric marched with them. Though his face remained expressionless, deep pain and regret filled his eyes. No one should have to assist in the execution of a friend.

  Aric unlocked the cell to let the guards in, and they fitted a pair of icy shackles around William’s wrists. Gripping his arms, they guided him out of the cell. Aric took the lead of the procession through the dungeon, and William listened to the steady, slowly-climbing rhythm of his own heart that would soon be silenced. A will to fight jolted his nerves, but he kept it at bay.

  When they climbed the staircase and stepped out into the courtyard, a frigid gust of air struck his face and bit through his shirt. He squinted, even in the low light. A layer of bright white snow blanketed the area. Large flakes still fell, gathering in his hair and melting against his skin. He glanced up at the dark clouds once before he focused on the group waiting ahead of him.

  Wrapped in a thick fur-lined cloak, Daican stood at the head of the group with his family, but William’s eyes went to Daniel’s rigid posture. The prince shot his father a glare to rival the coldness in the air. His gaze then met William’s, softening with remorse. William knew the emperor would never change his mind, even at the request of his own son. If only Daican shared more of his son’s good qualities, Arcacia would be so different.

  Richard waited to the side with a dozen palace guards. William locked eyes with the emperor as the distance between them shortened—one belief against another, and neither one would give in. One of the guards pulled William to a halt, and the rest surrounded him.

  Following Daican and Richard’s lead, they passed through the wintery courtyard. Snow swirled about them as they marched through the empty streets. The hard, icy flakes stung William’s face, and he started to shiver, but his steps never faltered. He walked as tall and steady as the soldier he’d been most of his life.

  At the end of the freezing march, the central square opened up before them to reveal the sea of people waiting. The sight hit William like a physical blow to the chest. Not even Kyrin’s retelling of her experience here had prepared him for the sheer numbers so willing to gather to see the termination of a life. Like a wave, an audible murmur swept ahead of them. The people parted as they drew near and let them pass to the center, where the execution platform rose up from their midst. William’s eyes settled on it, and he forced down a hard swallow.

  One by one, they climbed the stairs, their boots squeaking against the snow. The execution block immediately drew his eyes. How many other children of Elôm had and would die here and add their blood to the stains already present? He pried his gaze away and scanned the crowd, whose voices had grown in volume. But they immediately hushed when Daican stepped forward.

  “Citizens of Arcacia.” His voice echoed out through the frigid air. “Here stands a man guilty of the most detestable of crimes. Just like his father, his daughter, and his son before him, he has betrayed his emperor and our gods. I give you the traitor, William Altair.”

  As one, the crowd raised their voices and fists in an uproar of outrage. William closed his eyes and shut out the emperor’s following words of condemnation. He knew the truth of why he stood here and was willing to pay the price, as others had before him. Silently, he whispered, “Save these people, Lord. Let true faith return to Ilyon. Don’t let our struggles be in vain. Make Yourself known again.”

  Hands grabbed him, and he opened his eyes. Daican faced him with a hard, twisted expression of anger, hatred, and betrayal. “Have you any defense for yourself?”

  “You know what I said last night, and I stand by it.”

  Scowling, Daican jerked his head at the guards, and they forced William to his knees. His heart hammered the inside of his ribs. He glanced to his right, catching a glimpse of Aric. His friend had a hand on his sword, desperation growing in his eyes, but William gave the slightest shake of his head. He would not let his friend do this. It would only lead to both their deaths.

  Again, a hand gripped his shoulder and pushed him forward. He tried to breathe steadily, but struggled as every nerve in his body screamed to fight. Strengthen me, Lord, and let this bring You glory. They pressed his neck down against the block, and he closed his eyes. Tears gathered behind his eyelids as he slowly breathed out one of his last breaths. However, from the fear grew anticipation for the new and perfect life he would soon experience. Even so, his heart broke for those he would leave behind to struggle on in their broken world. His duty as a husband and father called for him to be there to protect them, but he had to leave them in Elôm’s capable hands.

  In a trembling whisper, he prayed, “It will be my heart’s greatest joy to see Your face, my King. Please take my last prayer here in this world and carry my family through this.”

  A drop of ice water splattered against Kyrin’s neck. She shivered and wiped it away. Parting her eyelids a slit, the gray light of early morning greeted her. Snow still fell, as it had when she’d finally lain down to sleep sometime around midnight. It caked her blanket in a clinging shell. Regardless, she pulled the wool material up to her ear to trap all possible warmth and closed her eyes again.

  Floating on the edge of sleep, a sound penetrated her consciousness. Her eyes popped open. What was it? It had been subtle. Had she dreamed it? She pushed back her blanket, shivering as the icy breeze hit her exposed neck, and looked over her shoulder to peer down the
line of sleeping bodies next to her.

  Her eyes landed on Falcor, who bent over a still form. She frowned and pushed herself up a little farther to see that it was Josan he crouched over. The older crete let out a soft groan as Falcor raised a fist. Beneath it, metal glinted and drops of scarlet fell from the sharp point. A jolt shot through Kyrin’s nerves and stalled her heart. She gasped, and Falcor’s head turned, his eyes locking with hers in a moment that was no more than an instant, but felt like full minutes.

  Then he broke eye contact, and the world spun back into motion. With the dagger still in one hand and the leather satchel containing the Scrolls in the other, he jumped up.

  “No!” Kyrin’s voice rang in the clearing. “Wake up! Everyone, wake up!”

  The men scrambled from their bedrolls as Falcor bolted. Darq, who stood watch, spun around and reached for one of his swords, but Falcor’s dagger slashed across his chest before he could fully draw the weapon. The captain doubled over, and Falcor ran past him to the dragons. Glynn pursued him but, for a frozen moment, the rest of them just watched the two dragons and riders disappear into the snowy sky. Kyrin’s heart pounded a chaotic beat. What had just happened?

  Leetra moved first, rushing to Darq, who clutched his left side, but Timothy’s cry captured their attention.

  “Josan!”

  He and his brother knelt beside the crete, whose labored breaths shuddered through camp. Deep red stained half the man’s jerkin. Timothy pressed his hand over the wound, but blood oozed around it at an alarming rate. Kyrin covered her mouth. Please, Elôm, let him be all right.

  “Help him,” Darq ground out through his teeth. He grasped Leetra’s shoulder and turned her toward Josan.

  Grabbing her medical bag, Leetra dashed across camp and dropped down next to the wounded crete. Timothy moved his hand away as she pulled open Josan’s jerkin and used a small knife to cut open his shirt. When she peeled away the saturated material, blood welled on his chest. She quickly covered the source again.