by Tim Paulson
“I don't know what you're asking,” Mia said.
“No matter, we don't have much choice anyway,” the doll remarked as a fuzzing noise erupted before terminating abruptly. “The ward is now gone. It's past time to get going. We go West and we go now.”
Mia picked the obnoxious creature up and placed it under her arm where the doll nuzzled not so innocently against her breast. Henri rolled his eyes, shouldered his pack and cloak and wrapped Adem, still asleep by some miracle, in a blanket before picking him up.
“Let's go then,” he said.
* * *
Aaron didn't want to leave Giselle but saw no choice. His duty was to all of the baron's children and Giselle had her protection. Celia was surely capable, if a bit scary, but Liam had no one. Of greatest import however was that the boy needed to be told they were leaving and how to get out of the castle.
After Celia and Giselle had gone, Aaron donned his technician's garb, as well as the large leather satchel he'd worn during his school days. It was eminently useful.
The technical profession wasn't a showy one, there weren't flared virago sleeves, lace collars, or fringed epaulets, only simple clothes, belt pockets, pouches and fasteners. They were the practical accouterments of men and women who valued function over form and were as likely to be found repairing a mechanical device as in a library or archive. Everything still fit him perfectly. That was good because he had no backup plan.
Lastly he stopped at the vanity where he was supposed to apply powders to his face to even out his complexion, though he rarely did so. Aaron lifted the vanity top, letting all the powders and perfumed oils drop to the floor with a clattering chorus of clicks and thumps and reached inside the hidden compartment underneath. There he retrieved two ornate veil pistols, a gift from the baron two years ago.
He'd fired them just once. Enough to know they were well made and he was a terrible shot. At close enough range though, that didn't matter.
He took out the belt containing the spare balls, wadding and veil powder and put it on. The pistols he placed in his satchel. Better to be inconspicuous. If he was lucky he might be able to walk about the castle completely unnoticed.
The sounds of boots running on stone and men shouting were everywhere as Aaron slipped down a back stair, careful to be seen by as few servants and guards as possible. The invaders had been wearing guard uniforms. It would be difficult to tell who was who. Twice he came upon groups of servants huddled in an anteroom, waiting for it all to be over.
When at last he emerged into the lower courtyard it looked relatively clear, save for two dead guards, throats cut from ear to ear, lying to either side of the entrance. Winding his way around the edge sticking to the shadows would be safest and he would stand the least chance of being noticed.
Unfortunately that would take forever. Giselle and Celia might already be waiting for him in the cellar. It was a bad idea to leave them for long.
No, the only option was to go straight across. He would only be exposed for a minute or two and would walk briskly as if on some errand, which in truth, he was. He'd surely arrive at the entrance to the training rooms without incident. Just another hireling technician, going about his business, entirely uninteresting.
Aaron took a deep breath and stepped out into the sun. It felt warm on his hands and face but it forced him to squint, cutting his vision down to a single thin line. He wished for a hat, even a short brimmed technician's hat, anything to lessen the glare. His glinting spectacles only made it worse.
When he'd made it about a third of the way across a woman cried out to his right. He was sure it wasn't Giselle but turned his head none the less. There was some struggle taking place. Men dressed as guards had thrown a woman to the ground. Her skirt was missing, likely torn away.
Aaron felt hot blood flush his cheeks. Before he could even consider the possibility of thinking about his actions, his mouth opened.
“Hey!”
The men looked up from their prey. Hungry, angry eyes pointed at him like smoking pistol barrels. There were three of them and they looked to be... quite large.
Aaron felt his stomach drop.
“That's one we're looking for!” one of them shouted.
Aaron uttered a yelp and took off running toward the training rooms. Perhaps he could lose them inside. He hoped.
A firearm popped to his right and a slug whirred by his head causing him to duck and gasp. It made him take his eyes off the ground up ahead, a grave mistake. Aaron tripped on a piece of courtyard debris and fell face first into the dirt.
“Yeah that's him!” one of the men said while the other two laughed heartily.
Aaron scrambled back to his feet, face stinging and bolted the last few feet to the threshold of the door marked “training.” The men were right behind him now.
“We just want to talk!” one man bellowed from far too short a distance behind him.
Aaron refused to give up. He had to find Liam and get back to Giselle. There was only one thing to do. He stuck a hand in his satchel, grabbed hold of a pistol and whirled around, leveling it at the closest of the three men.
“Stop!” he said.
The men slowed to a stop. Each held a rapier, except for one who held a smoking pistol.
“We're baron's guards!” the front most said. “Just want to see you're all right is all,” he continued, eyeing the pistol aimed at his head.
“The baron's guards don't rape the women of the castle!”
“He's got you there,” said a second man with a chuckle.
“You shut up eh? How does he know? Does he watch his guards at all hours of the day? I think not!” the first man said.
“That gun's not even loaded, look!” the third said. All three of them trained their eyes on Aaron's pistol.
Aaron looked as well. The pan cover was flipped open, indicating to all that no veil powder had been added for igniting the charge.
Not good.
Just as the grinning men began to renew their approach, the door behind Aaron burst open and throwing knives flew forth. One caught the nearest man in the throat while another embedded itself neatly in the second man's eye. The lead man fell to his knees clutching the knife in his throat as red gushed out onto the dirt of the courtyard while the second screamed in horror, showing off all four of his teeth, before he collapsed.
The third man stopped dead.
Liam sauntered up to Aaron's right, his perfect auburn hair tousled just so, a single red feather curling from the top of his wide brimmed landsknecht hat. He drew a long shining veil rapier with ornate inlays of gold and ivory on the hilt and grinned.
“Hello brother,” he said, his other hand on his hip. “Got yourself in a bit of trouble have you?”
A cough from behind caused Aaron's head to turn yet again, making him feel like an owl. It was Miles Ruger. The baron's friend and currently the man in charge of training the guards and Liam in close quarters combat. The man's scarred face showed no expression even as his left hand clutched his abdomen where a growing flow of crimson stained his navy blue doublet and ran down his thigh all the way to his boot like dark ribbons.
“That last one's going to run!” the trainer said with an accompanying grimace. His free right hand slipped behind his back and with the soft sound of metal whisked from leather produced a cocked and loaded pistol which he tossed to Liam.
The third assailant's eyes widened and he did indeed turn to run rather than face three to one odds. Though to be honest, Aaron noted, as he lowered his own empty pistol, it was most likely Liam's broad shoulders and dead eye the man feared.
Liam caught the veil pistol and in one smooth motion sighted it and fired. The pop of the powder in the pan was followed by a much louder crack as the pistol's charge ignited with a blue flash. A single slug was thrown forth, catching the running man square in the upper back. Feet stumbled and the fake guard fell to the dirt barely a quarter of the way across the courtyard. Dust puffed in a cloud around him.
“I had it under control... Ah... who am I kidding? Thank you Liam,” Aaron said.
“Perhaps consider loading that thing before you point it at someone,” Liam said, nodding toward Aaron's pistol.
“Yes... Right.”
Behind them Mr. Ruger dropped to his knees, leaning against the door frame. Liam's grin broke and Aaron saw his concern for the teacher. Perhaps his brother in law was human after all.
“Old man, are you alright?” Asked Liam.
“The baron, where is he?” Ruger said, dark eyes piercing Aaron like a pair of halberds.
“I fear he's gone. I received a sparrow bearing a message meant only for such a dire circumstance,” Aaron said.
“What? Father's dead? My Father's dead!?” Liam exploded with fury while also fighting back tears as the boy within the man showed through. “I'll kill them all!”
“I know the message,” the old man said, coughing again. Blood ran down from the corner of his lips, soaking the edge of his gray beard. “Liam, your brother is not here to be protected by you, he's here to get you. You must go with him. Find your sister and escape.”
“No! I'll make those bastards pay! I'll cut them apart!”
“Liam!” the old man said, every bit as commanding as ever despite the blood that sprayed from his mouth. “It's not... It's not safe. This is your father's plan. You must get out and regroup. You must survive and get to the king. That's what he would want.”
“Augh!” Liam kicked a rock clear across the courtyard.
Aaron put a hand on his brother's shoulder. “Giselle is what matters Liam. I need your help to get her out of here safely. We'll get our vengeance, I'm sure of it. I know your mother-”
Liam bristled, “What about my mother? She isn't even here, as usual.” He seemed to calm, pausing. “This is father's plan?”
Aaron nodded.
“Alright. Where's my sister?”
“God speed to you. Go while you still can,” said the old man.
Liam nodded sadly, “Die well Mr. Ruger,” he said solemnly, patting the teacher on his shoulder.
“Die with honor, defending those in need,” came the reply. It was the barony's motto: service and sacrifice.
Liam's lip trembled as he saluted his teacher.
“Now get out of here boys!” the old man said with a cough.
Aaron led his brother back across the courtyard toward a different door at the rear of the castle. It was a stout wooden door that should have been barred and manned by at least two guards. Instead it was ajar with no one in sight.
“Where is she?”
“I told them to meet us at the kitchen,” Aaron said, trying to be quiet and hoping Liam would follow suit rather than continue booming every utterance like an actor on a stage.
“Ah, planning to use the passage in the cellar?”
Aaron blinked. “How do you know about that?”
“I, grew up here,” Liam said, his tone dripping with accusation.
Aaron grimaced, reminding himself Liam was still just a boy and this was not the time to mince words. “Please be quiet in here. We want to avoid fighting. We get to the girls and get out.”
“She's with Celia then? Good.”
“I'm glad you approve but please remember we need to be quiet and careful.”
Liam looked him dead in the eye. “If I see any of those men, I'm going to kill them.”
Aaron shook his head. It would be a waste of time trying to explain. Instead he pressed on.
They found the hallway that lead toward the kitchens marked with blood. Two dead guards and a serving girl who'd been stabbed multiple times. Streaks of red stained what had once been a white and blue frilled gown. More dead could be seen ahead.
“The kitchen is just up here,” Aaron said.
“I know this!” Liam said. “Why must you always lecture?”
“Why must you blunder about like a bear in a potter's shop?”
Liam rolled his eyes. “It appears you're wrong,” he added as they entered an expansive room filled with pots, pans, ovens and stoves but eerily, no people. “This is the kitchen and they aren't here!”
“Mmmm,” Aaron said, “I don't like it. Maybe they've already gone to the cellar?”
Then they both heard voices from down the hall. They were the voices of men, a whole lot of them. Aaron put a finger to his lips. Liam responded with a look of determination and moved a hand to his rapier. Aaron grit his teeth and wrapped both arms around his brother's meaty sword arm, pulling him toward a pair of double doors that led to one of the lesser used back banquet halls.
“In here,” he whispered, hoping Liam would see reason.
His brother shot him furious eyes but reluctantly allowed himself to be pulled into the hall where they nearly ran into a gaggle of children. There were all kinds of them, two leothan children, furred lion-like beings, A tall spindly little girl, a very short girl and two boys, one with long hair and a solemn expression and the other pudgy and currently picking his nose while he stared up at one of the gilded paintings on the dining room wall.
Behind the children stood Celia and Giselle.
“Are we bringing the entire castle with us?” Aaron carefully pulled the dining hall doors closed and glared at his wife.
“Their parents begged us to take them Aaron. I couldn't leave them!” Giselle said as she waded through the herd of children and embraced Aaron and her brother.
“I'm glad to see you're safe,” Liam said, sounding again like a little boy when addressing his sister.
“Me too,” she said softly, holding him tight.
“Hi,” Celia said, regarding Liam's biceps with singular intensity. Giselle shot her a hard stare.
“I don't know what to do,” Aaron said. “The passage is in the pantry below the kitchen. There are men in the kitchen now. They're blocking our way and if we stay here, they'll find us!”
“Oh no!” gasped a young lion girl.
“Don't worry children!” Giselle said, “I'm sure we'll think of something.” She cast her gaze toward Celia who shrugged.
“Why don't we use this entrance?” Liam asked as he turned a wall sconce to the right. A suit of armor that had appeared immutably attached to the wall slid aside to reveal a dark passage.
Aaron's jaw dropped open. Liam's formative years had apparently involved a great deal of sneaking about. He wasted no time however, the job had been entrusted to him after all.
“Let's go then, everyone in,” Aaron said His eyes looked to Liam. “This will connect with the one in the cellar?”
“Yes. You can go down into the dungeon or up to the higher floors. We ought to go up, find a place to hide and then strike out, killing the invaders!” Liam said, smacking a fist into his gloved palm.
Aaron shook his head. “Are you insane? I know you're good with a sword but there are too many of them. Your father told me to get you and Giselle out of the castle and to do that we go down!”
“Why? That just leads to the dungeon!” Liam said.
“There's a passage that leads through an old crypt and comes out outside the walls,” Aaron said. “Now let's go.”
Chapter 8
"Shortly after contact Vasili fell to his knees, clawing with rabid fervor at the skin of his own face. Then, the bubbling began..."
-Field medic Misha Shenlweski in the last letter to his wife from the front, 1584
Giselle held on to Aaron's sleeve with one hand and the tiny furry paw of Meera with the other. Her mind couldn't decide whether she was a scared little girl fleeing frightening invaders or a motherly protector shepherding helpless children through a dangerous situation. She wanted to be strong but fear kept rising up like the tide in a storm.
Honestly it was the worry for the safety of the children that kept her focused. There was no time to think about what had become of fath
er. No, instead she kept glancing back at the chain of children behind her, still terminated by Celia tromping along at its end.
“This is where we pass the dungeons, just down the next few flights,” Liam said from up ahead, his veil infused rapier blade lighting their way with its pale blue glow.
“Everyone be extra quiet here!” Giselle said to the children who murmured their assent.
They'd been good so far. She guessed it all felt like a game to them. At least for now.
“She's right,” Aaron said, turning back to address the children. “People are kept down here, bad people and we don't want them to hear us.”
Giselle shook her head. Now the children would be extra anxious or worse, curious. She could hear several of the little ones breathing heavily and quickly.
“It'll be fine really,” she said, glaring at her husband, though she was sure he couldn't see her.
There was a click in the dark behind them. Giselle whirled around to see a doorway open. Light swept in, illuminating a sheepish looking Remmy. He rubbed his hands together. “Sorry,” he said. “I wanted to know what this lever did.”
Aaron sighed. “It's alright, just keep moving. I'll see if I can close it.”
“Who's there?”
It was a voice through the open door. Beyond lay the lower halls of the dungeon. Could it be the voice of a prisoner?
“Nobody!” Remmy yelled.
“Shush!” Aaron said.
Giselle stifled a snicker.
“If you're leaving the castle please take me with you!” called the voice, it had a smooth singsong quality that was oddly familiar.
“Benny Travers?” Giselle yelled back into the gloom beyond the door. The only light came from a few torches on the walls on the far side of the room.
“One and the same! And let me just say I'm glad to hear you know my name!” Benny sang back melodically.
It warmed her heart to hear his voice. Benny had been to the castle three times over the past seasons and brought nothing but laughter and smiles to all. How could he possibly be in the dungeon?
