The Lost Swallow

by Jayne Castel

  “Lucky you,” one of the older men spoke up. “I wish my wife was that lusty.”

  “Come on,” another answered. “Let’s leave them to it.”

  Coarse laughter echoed down the walkway before it faded with the clumping of their heavy boots.

  Asher let out a slow breath and pushed himself off the wall, away from the Swallow. He looked down to find her watching him. Her eyes glittered with ire, and two high spots of color stained her cheeks.

  “Was that really necessary?” she rasped. “You didn’t have to go that far.”

  “I had to be convincing,” he replied. “I didn’t want them to look too closely at you.” He kept his voice cool, to mask his physical reaction to her. He’d enjoyed that kiss far too much.

  The Swallow yanked at her restraints, fury lighting in those grey-blue eyes. “No more games or lies, enchanter. Free me.”

  11

  Captive

  THE ENCHANTER GAVE an apologetic shrug. “I can’t do that.”

  Mira glowered at him. “Why not?”

  “Because, you’ll go straight for your knife again.”

  Mira leaned back against the wall, her gaze narrowing. The man was distractingly good looking, and her lips still burned from that brutal kiss. She still couldn’t believe she’d let him catch her. He was quick on his feet, but she was better than that.

  She was still reeling from the impact of their gazes meeting back in the market square. She’d been fighting off questions from the old woman selling her cheeses when she’d felt the weight of his stare. Mira had been shopping for provisions for their journey north—the boatman was due to dock that afternoon, and she wanted to be ready. When she’d looked up and seen the tall, blond man across the square staring at her, all her plans suddenly unraveled.

  “We’re in a difficult position then,” she replied.

  He watched her, the intense look in his silver-grey eyes unnerving. Her heart was still pounding from the show they’d put on for those guards.

  “I mean you no harm,” the enchanter said with a cool smile, “but it’s best I keep you restrained until you take me to the princess.”

  Mira’s gaze narrowed. “I’m not doing that.”

  He stepped away from her and leaned back against the opposite wall, arms folded across his chest. “Then we’ve got a problem.”

  Mira stared at him. “What are you going to do?”

  “Wait here till you change your mind.”

  Silence fell then. It drew out, and with each passing moment Mira grew increasingly frustrated. The muffled rise and fall of voices from nearby walkways reached them, as did the whistle of the seeking wind.

  Eventually, Mira huffed. “Prove to me you’re from the order then.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “I already have.”

  “Humor me,” she replied between gritted teeth.

  Wordlessly, he raised his right hand, revealing the outline of an eight-pointed star. As she stared at it, the symbol glowed silver, before pulsing like a hot coal.

  Mira wasn’t convinced. She didn’t trust this man—didn’t like his handsome, inscrutable face, those cool silver eyes. However, she could see he intended to wait her out.

  “Alright then,” she muttered.

  Once they were moving she might be able to distract him and get free. While he faced her with that predator’s gaze, she was never going to get the chance.

  “Good.” He pushed himself away from the wall, stepped close, and adjusted her cloak so that her arms—and the glowing manacles that pinned them to her sides—were hidden from sight. Then he slung an arm around her shoulders and guided her back toward the swing bridge.

  “Don’t touch me,” Mira ground out.

  He gave a soft laugh and bent close, his breath tickling her ear. “Be nice … we’re married, remember?”

  They made their way out of the alleyway, crossed the swing bridge, and traveled a network of walkways that took them to Broad Walk. Mira then led him north, toward the docks, before cutting right into a grimy walkway that stank of urine.

  This wasn’t anywhere near Pike Walk. She’d taken him in the opposite direction, into the roughest walkways.

  I’ll lose him here.

  They passed a couple arguing outside a brothel, before edging around four men swinging punches at each other. Their drunken curses echoed off the buildings rearing up either side.

  “Nice part of town you’re living in,” the enchanter commented.

  “Best place not to be found,” she replied.

  They had barely gone two yards past the brawl when a thin, cloaked figure hurtled out of a shadowed alleyway toward them. A thin youth with a pock-marked face and mean eyes came at Mira’s captor with a knife.

  “Stinking piece of filth,” the lad snarled. “I’ll get you this time.”

  The enchanter released Mira and leaped to one side, narrowly missing the sharp edge of the blade. He swore, his attention momentarily focused on his attacker.

  Mira took her chance.

  Arms still pinned at her sides, she lurched forward, past where the enchanter had taken hold of the youth’s wrist. The pair were now grappling with the blade.

  Stab him, she silently urged the wiry young man as she took off down the walk. She heard shouting behind her but didn’t look back. This was the best chance she was going to get; she had to take it. It was difficult to run with her arms frozen like this, yet once she distanced herself from her captor, she hoped his enchantment would lose its hold.

  She sprinted along the narrow walk and turned left into an alley littered with rubbish. Leaping over obstacles, she hurried on. To her dismay, the manacles on her wrists seemed as strong as ever.

  Worse still, she could hear the sounds of pursuit behind her. The enchanter had obviously dealt with his attacker and was coming after her.

  Cursing under her breath, she fled down the alley and up another, losing all sense of direction. Her need to escape pushed any other thought from her mind. She couldn’t lead this man back to Ninia.

  The network of narrow walks and swing bridges brought her to the edge of a wharf, with nowhere to go.

  Glancing back over her shoulder, Mira saw the enchanter racing toward her, his long legs covering the ground fast.

  This was it. Unless she jumped he’d have her.

  Mira looked down at the dark cold water. Damn it, I can’t swim.

  Then she leaped.

  The water’s chill hit her like a physical blow. Her breath gusted out of her, and she kicked up, panic surging through her. She broke through the surface and sucked in a lungful of air, before she sank once more. Her arms felt cemented to her sides, and she realized how foolhardy her choice had been.

  She sank down, the freezing lake water pulling her into its embrace. Mira kicked and struggled, but her body would not rise. Her lungs started to burn, and a pressure built in her skull.

  I’m going to drown.

  And then strong hands gripped her, pulling her upward.

  Asher spat out a curse as he hauled himself up onto the edge of the wharf. Then he leaned over the edge and pulled the sodden, choking Swallow up after him.

  He’d had to release the enchantment to get her out of the water, so she could pull herself up the narrow wooden ladder. But as soon as he heaved her up onto the wharf next to him, he gathered the Light once more, replacing the manacles of sunlight.

  “Bastard,” she gasped. “I nearly drowned.”

  “Your own fault,” he muttered, retrieving the cloak he’d shucked off before diving in after her. Asher rose to his feet and threw the mantle about his shoulders, concealing his dripping clothing. “That was foolish.”

  Mira snarled another curse at him, this one far more vicious than the last. Asher shrugged it off and leaned down, grasping her under the armpits. He then hauled her to her feet. This woman was rapidly becoming a bur up his arse. “You’re welcome.”

  She struggled against him, her knee jabbing up toward his groin, but Ashe
r was ready for her. He jerked his lower body back and spun her around so she had her back to him. “You were taking me to the princess, remember?”

  The Swallow continued to struggle, her body bucking against his as she attempted to slam her head back into his chin. “Shadows take you … I’m not.”

  Asher set his mouth into a grim line. When she’d led him into this area he’d suspected the woman had merely been trying to buy herself some time. The moment she’d run, she’d confirmed it.

  “Come on.” He pushed her forward back down the wharf. “I tire of these games. I told you I’m here to help. Take me to the princess.”

  She snorted. “I’m her guardian, not you.”

  “If that’s the case, why are you still here in Thornmere? Why haven’t you gotten her across the border already?”

  He felt the Swallow’s body tense against his. “It’s not as easy as it looks,” she growled. “Anthor has this town patrolled day and night. Getting a boat to take us across the lake has been impossible.”

  “Well luckily for you both, I have one. Take me to the princess, and you can travel back with me.”

  Silence followed, and Asher knew the woman was considering his words.

  He allowed himself a smile. Perhaps now she might cooperate with him.

  They made their way back through the network of foul walkways, past where Asher had fought off that youth. Farther ahead, the men had finished their brawl and gone back inside, and the arguing couple had disappeared too.

  “What did you do to him?” the woman asked, her gaze sweeping the walk for any sign of that lean, cloaked figure from earlier.

  “I stabbed him with his own blade,” Asher replied flatly. “He’s no doubt bleeding to death in an alley somewhere.”

  The Swallow paused. “He knew you?”

  “Aye—tried to steal my purse a few days back. He had no luck then either.”

  They continued on, finally reaching Broad Walk. There, amongst the milling crowd, Asher pulled Mira up short. She was still facing away from him, and he didn’t trust her enough to let her turn so he could meet her eye.

  “No more tricks,” he whispered in her ear. “I can help you both, but you need to take me to her.”

  Tension emanated off his captive in waves, and for a moment Asher felt a pang of remorse. He didn’t like the person he’d become. Lying to Mira, and making her think he could be trusted, made his stomach clench.

  He was starting to hate himself.

  “Very well,” she finally rasped. He sensed her struggle, her caged rage. “But sooner or later you’re going to have to free me, enchanter.”

  12

  Savior

  MIRA AND THE enchanter walked in silence, although with each yard Mira grew steadily more agitated. She didn’t want this man with her. She didn’t trust him at all. His silence now put her more on edge.

  He’d said he meant no harm to her or Ninia, but Mira sensed danger from him. His lips said one thing, yet his eyes told another story.

  Above them the sky had clouded over. There was a heaviness in the air as if a storm approached. They eventually reached Pike Walk and the boarding house. Mira led Asher inside. She mounted the stairs slowly, her mind whirling.

  It’s not too late … if he tries anything upstairs, I’ll be ready. She couldn’t use her fists, but her legs weren’t restrained. She’d deliberately feigned passivity on the way to the boarding house, hoping her captor would let his guard down.

  The wooden stairs creaked under their weight as the pair made their way upstairs. Mira and Ninia’s room was on the fourth floor. However, halfway up, a muffled scream brought Mira to a standstill.

  Ninia.

  Mira twisted in the enchanter’s hold and, surprisingly, he released her. She fled up the stairs. Reaching the fourth floor landing, she saw the door to their room lay wide open. The room inside was empty.

  Ninia was gone.

  “Upstairs,” the enchanter barked from behind her. Mira barreled past him. As she did so, she felt the restraints on her wrists release. He’d freed her.

  Mira didn’t hesitate. She bounded up the spiral stairwell. This building had two more levels above theirs, and at the top she reached an empty landing with an open trap door above it. Mira climbed out onto the roof.

  There, ten yards away, perched on the edge—grasping a struggling Ninia by the arm—was the sharp-featured dark-haired man the princess had befriended days earlier.

  The man glanced back, his gaze fusing with Mira’s. A heartbeat later he grinned. Then he pulled Ninia against him and leaped to the next roof.

  The buildings in Thornmere were all high and packed in close together. Some buildings shared roofs with those next to them, while others had gaps of varying distances between them.

  Mira skidded down the steep roof, her boots slipping on damp slate tiles, before she completed the same jump. Heart pounding, she scrabbled for purchase on the next roof and climbed up after her quarry. Many of the tiles were in a terrible state of repair up here, slick with moss and lichen.

  Ahead, the man quickly widened the gap between them. He moved with the grace and confidence of a spider, even dragging his struggling captive. Ninia fought him, kicking and clawing. Losing patience with her, the man swung round and hit her across the face.

  Her squeal of pain echoed over the rooftops.

  Then they disappeared over the spine of the next roof.

  Mira scrambled after them, vaguely aware of sounds behind her. The enchanter had followed them. However, neither of them was fast enough to catch up with the princess and her abductor. The man up ahead moved as if he’d been training his whole life for this moment.

  He was Reoul of Anthor’s man, and he had known who Mira and Ninia were the moment he’d set eyes on them. After that he’d just bided his time.

  Idiot, Mira cursed herself. You knew that man was trouble. This is what happens when you don’t trust your instincts.

  A sea of rooftops spread out around them, dipping and rising like craggy peaks in every direction. From this height Thornmere lay in the shape of a great tree; Broad Walk formed the huge trunk, with many branches protruding from it. The man of Anthor had fled in the direction of Broad Walk and now made his way north along its spine.

  Mira scrambled up and down, slipping a number of times and only just managing to right herself in time. Meanwhile her quarry, who was clearly half-squirrel, pinned Ninia under one arm as he leaped across a wide gap between two roofs.

  “Fight him, Ninia!” Mira shouted. “Claw his eyes out. Kick him in the cods!”

  To her credit, the princess fought like a cornered vixen, her cries ringing out across the town. Yet her captor didn’t loosen his grip.

  Mira glanced over her shoulder for the first time. She caught a flash of pale blond hair as the enchanter followed around two roofs behind. She then looked back at where her quarry had almost reached the crest of another roof. They were now four roofs ahead of her.

  Despair rose within her. I’ll never catch up with them.

  And then, up ahead, she witnessed a strange thing.

  The princess’s frightened cries had transformed into hysterical screams. Her round face was screwed up, her eyes squeezed shut. She struggled against her captor once more and managed to free an arm.

  Then Ninia reached up. Above, the sun was a pale orb, playing hide and seek with the gathering storm clouds.

  To Mira it appeared as if Ninia gathered something from thin-air—a blinding white-hot dagger. Then she stabbed her assailant with it.

  The man grunted and fell sideways, releasing his captive.

  Mira didn’t hesitate. She’d lost one of her blades when she attacked the enchanter earlier, but she still had more strapped to her body. She drew two swiftly and threw them hard at the man of Anthor.

  Thud. Thud.

  They embedded into his chest, and he let out a strangled wheeze, toppling forward. Clutching at the hilts of the blades, he slid down the roof. Before he disapp
eared over the edge, Mira caught a glimpse of the deep slash wound down his flank. It had sliced through his layers of toughened leather as if they were linen.

  With a shriek, the princess slid down the roof after him. The building had a steep pitched-roof, and Ninia had lost her balance when her captor fell. Mira leaped forward, bruising her knees and grazing her hands, as she attempted to reach the princess in time.

  Mira lunged over the gap between the two buildings and clung to the tiles. The gradient was frighteningly steep here—and just a few feet away, Ninia hung on by her fingers to the guttering. Her feet kicked as she tried to find a toe-hold. The street below, where a crowd now gathered around the fallen man of Anthor, was a long way down.

  “Mira!” Ninia screamed. “Help me!”

  Heart in her throat, Mira swiveled around. Then, the fingers of her right hand gripping onto the edge of the tiles, she reached down with her left arm. “Grab my hand,” she gasped.

  A small hand, damp with sweat, fastened on hers. The muscles in Mira’s left arm screamed as she attempted to pull Ninia up. She felt herself slide further down the roof, her fingers losing their hold on the tiles.

  “Shit,” she grunted, digging her toes in. At this rate they’d both go over the edge.

  “Pull me up,” the princess squealed.

  “I’m trying.”

  Yet she didn’t have a good enough hold on the roof to do so. Sweat slid down her back as she began a slow, inexorable slide toward the edge.

  “I’ve got you.” A strong arm hooked around her chest and pulled her up short. “Grab hold of her with two hands.”

  Mira released her death-grip on the roof and swung her right hand down, grasping Ninia’s slender wrist. Then she pulled. Moments later, the princess scrambled up over the edge and collapsed on top of her guardian. Ninia clutched at Mira, tears streaking her young face.

  Then she went still, her red-rimmed hazel eyes growing wide as she spied the man who still had his arm around Mira as he tethered the three of them to the side of the roof. “Who are you?”