The King's Scrolls

by Jaye L. Knight

  At the back gate, she and Marcus passed through the wall. Liam waited on the other side. He sighed in relief when they joined him. Kyrin wanted to ask him if he was all right since the confrontation with their grandfather, but she was afraid to speak aloud. She couldn’t see much of his face in the dark, but the shade of his skin seemed pale.

  “See anyone?” Marcus whispered.

  Liam shook his head, and Marcus took two objects from the bundle he had in his arms. Turning to Kyrin, he handed over her quiver and staff. She strapped them on and followed her brothers toward the edge of camp.

  They kept low, passing stealthily between darkened tents. Kyrin thanked Elôm that the grass was wet and wouldn’t crunch with their footsteps and awaken any sleeping soldiers. Most fires had burned out by now, providing them plenty of cover. Still, her whole body drew tense in high alert. If even one person spotted them, it would be disastrous.

  They took the long way around near the perimeter of camp and carefully avoided sentries. The nearness to which they had to pass one set Kyrin’s heart to drumming, but she finally spotted the stocks in the darkness and Jace and Kaden’s still forms. Her grandfather had made Jace sit out here with his wounds?

  Marcus reached them first and was greeted by Kaden’s sharp whisper. “What are you doing here?”

  “Getting you out.”

  Kyrin came up behind Marcus and her eyes fell on Jace. The dark, battered look of his face drew a gasp from her chest, and she rushed to his side. “Are you all right?” She lightly touched the side of his face. Sticky blood met her fingertips.

  “Yeah,” he ground out.

  He struggled to draw a full breath. Clearly, he wasn’t all right. The fact that he hadn’t simply told her he was fine spoke volumes about his condition. Her fingers trembling, she pulled out the pegs that secured the stocks. As soon as Kaden was free, he joined her, stumbling as his stiff limbs received circulation again.

  “What happened?” Tears clogged her voice as he helped her free the final pegs.

  “Grandfather’s men beat him up,” Kaden ground out.

  Kyrin’s stomach reacted. How cruel did a man have to be to have someone whipped and then beaten again? Moisture gushed into her eyes, but she blinked it away. Now wasn’t the time to dissolve into tears. They had to get away—had to help Jace. She and Kaden removed the planks, and Kaden grasped one of Jace’s arms.

  “We’ll help you up,” he said, “as soon as you’re ready.”

  Kyrin took his other arm. Jace bent his knees up and prepared to get to his feet. Already breathing hard, he set his jaw and nodded. Both Kyrin and Kaden pulled up as Jace struggled to get his feet underneath himself but, once standing, he bent over and wrapped his arm around his chest. He hissed out a breath and groaned. Kyrin tightened her grip as he swayed and was frightened by what she saw. She’d never seen Jace in so much pain.

  “Is anything broken?” Kaden asked.

  “I don’t know,” Jace said between each labored breath.

  Panic threatened to claw its way into Kyrin’s mind. Could Jace even move in this condition? How would they get away? What if his ribs were severely broken and punctured his lungs? He’d die. Elôm, no. She glanced at Marcus. The shock in his eyes told her he hadn’t known about this, thankfully, or she didn’t know what she would have said to him. He cast an uncertain look at the fort before asking Jace the one question they all needed to know.

  “Can you walk?”

  Jace looked at him, forcing himself up straight. “I don’t have a choice.” His voice was painfully raw.

  “We’ll help you,” Kaden told him.

  Jace nodded again. “Let’s go.”

  He sounded determined, but Kyrin felt the tremors passing through the taut muscles in his arm. How could he ever fight the pain long enough to reach the dragons? His eyes caught hers, and immediately he shuttered the uncertainty she glimpsed in their pained glint. A nearly suffocating dread descended on her at what the next hours would bring, yet they had no choice but to press forward.

  Her feet and legs aching, Kyrin stumbled to a halt where the road branched north and south—the point where this had all begun. But instead of rejoicing over the escape, and that both Liam and Marcus had seen the truth, it had turned into a nightmare to be added to the list of most miserable nights she had ever experienced—a list that had grown awfully long in the last few months.

  Beside her, Jace sagged to the ground, his arms wrapped around his chest as he struggled for more than short, wheezing breaths. His eyes shut tightly; his face contorted in pain. Kyrin’s vision wavered, and she covered her mouth with her hands. She couldn’t bear to see him in such agony. He’d given it his all, fighting through the pain of the last hours, but he still hadn’t been able to maintain a steady pace for more than a few yards at a time before having to stop just to try to breathe. He couldn’t go on.

  Kyrin turned her head away as a couple of tears rolled down her cheeks. Elôm, what do we do? Please help us, please.

  “How much farther?” Marcus asked. Even in excellent shape, the trek had him slightly winded. Though he never said anything, Kyrin had seen Liam, too, struggle with the pain of his wounds. It was a miracle Jace had made it this far.

  “At least another seven or eight miles.” Despair lurked in Kaden’s voice.

  Now that someone had said it, reality settled in. Marcus winced and glanced at the sky. Kyrin prayed it was just her imagination, but the deep darkness of night had brightened. Dawn was near.

  “You won’t make it.” They all focused on Jace. He had that look in his eyes that scared Kyrin so much. “Not with me.”

  “There must be something we can do.” Kyrin refused to consider the alternative.

  Jace shook his head and ground out his words. “You have to go . . . now. I won’t let you be taken prisoner again because of me.”

  “And I won’t just let you give yourself up.”

  Jace’s gaze warred with hers, both of them determined. He hadn’t walked away from her when facing the ryriks, and under no circumstances would she ever walk away and leave him here. She’d rather face her grandfather again.

  His gaze shifted to the right of her. “Kaden, you take her and go.”

  “No!” Panic shot through Kyrin. “I’m not leaving you.”

  Jace gritted his teeth, fighting for breath. A fierce light lit up his eyes as he seemed to gather strength. “Kaden, do it now before you lose any more time.”

  Kaden looked from him to Marcus and Liam. They all bore the same grim look. Then, Kaden turned to Kyrin and took her by the arm.

  “No!” She tried to pull away. To leave Jace behind would be like ripping her heart out. Already it tore apart within her. Kaden’s hold didn’t loosen. She turned to face him and grabbed the front of his coat. “Kaden, please, please, we can’t do this. There has to be another way. We have to think of something. Please.”

  “There’s no time,” Jace urged them. “Go, now.”

  Kaden stared down at Kyrin, a deep sadness in his eyes. Underneath his resolution, he didn’t want to do this anymore than she did. His jaw twitched. Finally, his gaze shifted to Marcus. “Home is only another two miles, right?”

  Marcus nodded.

  Kaden looked back at Kyrin, who hardly breathed. Did she dare hope he was thinking what she was? Still looking at her, he said, “Marcus, take them home and get Jace taken care of. I’ll continue on and leave a trail for Grandfather to follow. Home is probably the last place he’ll expect you to go. I’ll get the dragons and come for you as quickly as I can.”

  Kyrin let out a huge sigh, and her knees wobbled. Thank You, Elôm.

  Kaden looked down at Jace. “Can you make it another two miles?”

  Despite the struggle it was sure to be, Jace nodded.

  Kaden looked back toward the fort and then up the road before focusing on Marcus. The two stared at each other a moment before Kaden spoke. “Take care of them.”

  “I will.”

 
“Go then. I’ll cover your trail.”

  Wasting no time, Marcus walked over to Jace and helped him up. Supporting him as best he could without causing more pain, he guided him south in the direction of Mernin, keeping to the edge of the road where they wouldn’t leave as many tracks. Kyrin and Liam followed, but after a few steps, Kyrin looked back and locked eyes with Kaden.

  “Be careful and . . . don’t get caught.”

  “I won’t,” he promised.

  The pale light of the cold morning grew steadily to illuminate the frozen gray world. A few snowflakes floated down from the clouds, but little sparkles of sunlight shone low in the trees. Kyrin shivered and pulled her collar tighter to her throat, but kept her other hand around Jace’s arm. It was more emotional support than physical. Marcus was the one who kept him moving—one painful step at a time.

  Consumed by prayers for his recovery and relief from the pain, she didn’t pay much attention to the surroundings, but when her eyes lifted from the path, her feet halted. Her breath hitched as memories and familiarity rushed in.

  Tucked in a clearing just off the main road leading to the nearest town of Mernin, a large house sat against a backdrop of bare trees. Nine white-framed windows stared out from the two-story, gray brick dwelling, and snow dusted the dark shingles. Smoke curled from each of the two chimneys. Most of the windows were dark except for a faint glow on the lower level. Kyrin’s heart thumped. Home.

  “Kyrin?”

  She started and looked at Marcus, not realizing they had stopped too. They moved on, but Kyrin’s legs trembled as they took the cobbled walkway to the front door. She hadn’t walked this path in ten years. Nausea bubbled up inside. Her mother lived inside this house. In just moments, they would come face to face, but instead of filling her with joy and anticipation, the urge to run away gripped her. Kaden should be here. He was her support in situations like this. He knew her uncertainties and the struggles she harbored concerning their mother. She needed him as the buffer between them—as an ally. But he wasn’t here. She would have to face it herself.

  Kyrin pulled in a hard breath of cold air that stung her lungs as they came to the door, and Marcus took a key from his pocket. Beside her, Jace let out a soft groan that immediately corralled her wandering thoughts. She wasn’t here to see her mother—she was here to help Jace. He was her number one concern above all else, including her mother.

  The door opened to a darkened entry. Marcus helped Jace inside, and Kyrin and Liam walked in behind them. Another wash of memories overwhelmed Kyrin and transported her back to the days when she and her brothers had raced into this room to meet their father every time he came home from the fort. She closed her eyes, recalling it so vividly—hearing their delighted shouts and giggles, seeing their father’s smile, and feeling the warmth of his hug. Tears built up to sting her nose, and she tried to rub it away. She risked losing the battle until a surprised but familiar voice came from down the hall.

  “Marcus?”

  Kyrin’s eyes snapped open and flitted to the woman in the nearby doorway—her mother, Lydia. Questions and concern filled the woman’s brown eyes as they took in her son and an injured Jace, but then they fell on Kyrin, and her entire countenance changed. Her eyes widened as her expression morphed into open shock and disbelief.

  “Kyrin?”

  Kyrin couldn’t breathe. The emotions rushed back, but so convoluted, she couldn’t respond. Part of her ached to rush into her mother’s arms for the first time in a decade, but all the many hurts that had built up in her heart restrained her. More than she’d even realized until this moment. Just like the memories of her father, memories of her mother replayed with stunning clarity—the criticisms toward her father’s way of doing things, the way her mother just stood by or even agreed with the General’s harsh criticisms, the way she had not tried to keep Kyrin and Kaden . . . They fought and clambered their way to the forefront to warn her of all the future hurts that could come if she left her heart open.

  Her mother took a step toward her, and Kyrin stuffed the emotions back down, deep into the recesses of her heart, and raised a protective barrier around it. Keeping her face straight and expressionless, she said, “My friend is badly injured. He needs help.”

  Lydia stared at her as if not comprehending, but then nodded slowly. Her gaze lingered, and Kyrin caught a glimmer of moisture before her eyes shifted to Marcus in uncertainty. “Bring him into the dining room. I’ll tell Ethel to heat some water.”

  With one final look at Kyrin, she pulled her eyes away. Marcus moved off with Jace, but Kyrin stood paralyzed and shaken. She hadn’t known what to expect, but the ache intensified in her chest—a mix of both longing and regret. Then Liam touched her shoulder, and she snapped out of her daze. Jace. She fixed her thoughts firmly on him and hurried after Marcus.

  “Kyrin, grab that stool.” Her brother motioned to a low, backless stool in the corner when she entered the dining room. “He can’t lie on his ribs, so he’ll have to sit.”

  Kyrin set the stool at the table and helped Marcus ease Jace down. Once sitting, Jace leaned against the table, struggling for full breaths. Please don’t let him die. It was the first time Kyrin let the thought fully form. What if he was even more seriously injured than they thought? No. She wouldn’t let herself think it. Keep fighting, Jace.

  “Liam, we need light.” Marcus cast his coat aside and rolled up his sleeves. He looked at Kyrin. “We’ll need to get his coat and shirt off to assess the damage.”

  He spoke calmly, but what they would find underneath sent waves of dread rolling through Kyrin. Even so, she pulled off her coat and moved closer to help him. While Liam gathered and lit all the candles and lamps, Kyrin and Marcus helped Jace slip his arms out of his coat. When they pulled away his jerkin, it revealed Jace’s blood-soaked shirt.

  Moisture bit Kyrin’s eyes, but she needed to stay strong and focused. She cleared her throat. Steady me, Lord.

  Lydia entered the room then with a bowl of steaming water. She paused at the table and stared at Jace in the light. Hesitation and suspicion grew in her eyes. “He’s a . . .”

  She didn’t finish, but Kyrin knew what she’d intended to say. Indignation flushed through her. If her mother’s first thoughts upon seeing Jace sitting there so terribly wounded were that he was some kind of monster, then perhaps Kyrin’s earlier longings were ill-founded. She walked around the table to take the bowl.

  “No, he’s not.” Her voice came out harsh and stung her conscience as she turned away.

  An elderly woman entered the dining room after Lydia with an armful of clean cloths. She and Kyrin exchanged glances. Ethel had been the housekeeper since before Kyrin was born, but she was too stiff and proper for Kyrin to have any fond memories of her. She set the cloths on the table near the basin and backed away as she regarded Jace with a pinched expression.

  Marcus picked up two cloths and wet them in the basin as he looked at their mother. “We’ll need more water and bandages. Also a pair of shears and some wine.”

  She nodded and turned for the kitchen. Kyrin hesitated, but then stopped her. “Do you have anything for the pain?” She couldn’t stand to continue seeing Jace suffer so.

  Lydia looked back and nodded again. “I’ll make something up.”

  Kyrin swallowed as words stuck in her mouth, feeling difficult and awkward, but she forced them out. “Thank you.”

  Her attention returned to Marcus, who handed Jace one of the folded cloths.

  “You’ll probably want to bite down on this while we clean your back. We’ll have to clean away most of the blood with water first and then wine.” He paused with a wince. “It won’t be pleasant.”

  Jace took the cloth and squeezed it in his fist as he gave a short nod. Kyrin couldn’t imagine the pain he had yet to endure once they started. Would it ever end? She was truly thankful when her mother returned with a small cup. A strong herbal scent lingered in the air as she brought it to Jace.

  “This tastes v
ery bitter, but it’s potent and will dull the pain quickly. It’ll last a few hours.”

  “What is it?” Kyrin wanted to know.

  “Willow, nettlewood, and fassar root,” her mother answered. “It’s slightly toxic, so it shouldn’t be taken regularly or the toxins will build up, but it’s good for emergencies.”

  As soon as she finished this explanation, Jace downed the cup. Kyrin prayed it would indeed take effect quickly, especially as she and Marcus tended his wounds. Her mother also set a pair of sharp shears and a full bottle of wine on the table.

  Marcus reached for the shears and used it to cut open the back of Jace’s shirt. Kyrin then helped him slowly peel the saturated fabric away from Jace’s skin. Jace groaned deep in his throat, and Kyrin gritted her teeth as her stomach threatened to empty at the sight of the wounds. About half the lashes had broken skin. To see them up close destroyed her resolve.

  “I don’t know if I can do this,” she gasped, putting the back of her hand to her mouth. She’d assisted Lenae with minor injuries at camp, but nothing like this. This was serious. This was Jace. Her vision wavered, and her head grew airy.

  “Yes, you can.”

  She met Marcus’s eyes, and the quiet, yet firm, tone of his voice stilled her panic. She pulled in a deep breath to clear her head and nodded. Her stomach still convulsed, but she held it down and took a wet cloth from the basin. Working to keep her hands from shaking, she joined Marcus in cleaning away as much of the blood from the numerous lacerations as they could. She didn’t want to cause Jace more pain, but this was impossible. He bit down on the cloth, but couldn’t hold back the deep groans that broke free.

  When at last they had cleaned away most of the blood, besides that which was fresh and still oozed from the wounds, Marcus rinsed his hands in the basin and reached for the bottle of wine. He hesitated and looked down at Jace. “I’m sorry, but we have to use this to fight any infection.”