Chapter 6 Hannah
Hannah
Iclenched my fists and peered over the edge, my knuckles burning through the leather of the gloves and the dagger heavy in my right hand. The sheer drop over the wall stole the breath from my lungs. It was the kind of height that made my stomach lurch before my mind could catch up.
The courtyard was wide and brutally exposed.
Snow dusted the stone in thin, uneven patches with vague boot prints disappearing in the wind and falling snow.
I could see the spot where I’d landed, but there was no shining portal above it.
The door that led to the dungeon was just over there. But…no portal. No shimmer. Nothing.
Dread pooled in my stomach. It was gone.
My heart sped faster, and my throat tightened.
I couldn’t panic. There had to be another way home.
No one had seemed shocked that a portal existed.
It was clear that it was something that happened here, so I had to find the portal.
It must be one of those moving portals. Which, fine, sure, that made sense.
Maybe I needed to find another mirror—and a dagger like the one I’d cut myself on before.
It had such a distinct blade shape and handle.
A couple dozen leather- and fur-clad guards were clustered in tight groups, some scanning the area while others talked or gestured roughly toward where I’d dropped in.
My breath caught. There were more of them than I'd expected.
At least, I’d been smart enough not to try to get out that way. It wouldn’t have been a question of if I would be captured but when. Probably seconds.
Fortunately, my instincts were guiding me right. I hoped they’d get me home now, but with no portal and no dagger, what could I do next? Obviously, I had to get out of the castle and find a place to regroup, settle in, and make a better plan.
A wave of grief pressed over me. In the past, at times like this, I’d call Aunt Maureen and pour my heart out, and she’d click her tongue while both comforting and scolding me at once. Tears burned my eyes, and the horrible hollow of loneliness opened up once more in my chest.
If she were here right now, she’d tell me to get a grip and put one foot in front of the other because I didn't need to know the whole journey. I just had to take one step at a time.
I could grieve when I was safe.
Beyond the courtyard, the outer walls rose thick and strong, towers punching into them at measured intervals.
Everything connected—walkways, raised platforms, watchpoints—in what looked like a block formation.
I didn’t see many guards on duty up here, but the towers and boxy watchpoints could have other guards out of sight.
I lifted my gaze higher.
Based on where the moon was, I was pretty sure I was looking east. The dark mountains rose sharp and unforgiving against the sky, glinting in the moonlight where the snow and ice gathered.
There were no roads that I could see, just jagged rock and snow.
A natural wall, crueler than the castle’s. No chance of escape there.
I turned west, and my fingers clenched inside the gloves. A faint golden glow reflected off the clouds from a town or city down below. Lanternlight, fires, and movement shifted throughout.
Where there were people, there would be shelter and places to hide.
Hope flared in my chest so sharp it hurt. That was where I’d go.
BAHROOOM! A deep-toned horn sounded a single note through the night.
Shouts followed. The door the guards had dragged me through slammed open. A deep voice called, “The new prisoner has escaped!”
“Cover the gates!”
Along the walls, guards snapped to attention, their heads jerking up and their weapons flashing. The one nearest to me was still over fifty feet away, and he leaned over the wall and viewed the courtyard below.
In the courtyard, the guards broke into smaller groups of four. One set ran toward the main gates, which looked as if they led into the larger enclosed space beyond this inner courtyard. Another four ran toward the entrance to the castle and up the stairs. The rest scattered to various doors.
The heavy tramping of booted footsteps filled the air as the horn sounded again and again. On the tower roofs, more heads appeared, archers and spearmen with at least two per tower.
My throat constricted, and I took a step back. Hopefully, when I stood still, my coat helped me blend in with the dark gray stones. However, my golden hair probably stood out in the darkness.
Two of the guards on the walkway turned and trotted toward the nearest towers. The third, nearest me, straightened with his hand tight around his spear. He looked up at one of the towers to the south.
This was my chance to move. My heart jumped as I ducked behind the waist-high wall, gripping the dagger tighter and shifting the rope against my side. If I were lucky, I could reach one of the towers and then the eastern outer wall. They wouldn’t expect me to be up here.
The muted sound of heavy footsteps moved away from me, but those watchmen on the towers would be looking for anything that didn’t fit. Okay, not good.
I hiked the rope coil higher on my shoulder and started moving, keeping my stance low. There wasn’t anything I could do about my hair. I edged along the walkway, trying to keep my movements smooth, steady, and hidden in the shadows.
My knees ached, and the stone under my sneakers squeaked with each step, but my feet never lost control. Thank goodness, they weren’t as slippery as I’d feared.
Despite wanting to rush, I kept my pace slow, knowing I’d slip otherwise. The dagger rested solid and reassuring in my grip while the rope bumped against my side and hip with each careful step.
The eastern tower loomed ahead, its dark spire rising out of the wall at least another thirty feet in the air. If I could reach the connection point without being seen, I could slip around the bend and—
“Oi! Who’s that?” a voice bellowed from above.
“You down there, lift your head,” another called down.
Electric awareness shot through my veins as I hinged my gaze toward the voice without moving my head. In my periphery, I spotted dark shapes on the tower to my left. Shit. They’d spotted me.
The connecting junction where I'd make the turn to get to the tower was barely twenty feet away, with the eastern tower maybe fifty feet total.
If I moved fast enough, none of the guards on this level were close enough to stop me.
The nearest one was on a walkway junction a couple hundred feet away.
Breath locked in my chest, I bolted.
“Stop!” the first voice shouted.
“Get the ladders. Get up the stairs. Cut her off!” someone shouted from the courtyard below.
“Don’t let her get away!”
An arrow screamed past my shoulder and shattered against the stone ahead, sending sparks skittering across the walkway. I veered hard, and my sneaker caught an icy patch that sent my foot skidding into the wall.
Another arrow whistled close enough to move the air by my cheek.
More shouts exploded around me while boots thundered and metal clanged.
“Don’t kill her!” someone yelled. “The king wants her alive!”
Lucky me. But this luck wasn’t going to hold long.
“Just shoot to injure!”
My lungs burned as I pushed harder, rushing toward the eastern tower.
Pain sliced through my calf, and I cried and stumbled, catching myself on the wall before I could fully fall.
Hot red blood seeped through my ripped jean leg where an arrow had clipped it.
My heart dropped to my stomach. I had to move. Now.
I limped forward, gritting my teeth as each step sent shockwaves of burning pain through me. I clenched my teeth, blood soaking my sock. I had to hurry, or I could bleed out.
I glanced back. Two heavy wooden ladders had been set against the courtyard wall, and four guards had begun climbing up.
The door I’d come through was now open, a guard already in the doorway with his sword lifted.
The one guard who’d been closest in sight was halfway to me now, his boots thundering on the pavestones.
The tower door was ten steps away.
Nine.
Eight.
Another arrow struck the stone inches from my foot.
“If you kill her, he’ll have our heads, Bren!” someone shouted from behind me. "Stop shooting! She's already wounded!"
"We've got to slow her down more. She's fast," someone—possibly Bren—responded.
I slammed into the door, my fingers scrabbling for the latch. The overhang offered some shelter in case Hotshot Archer decided I needed more injuries.
Locked.
Of course it was locked. But I had the keys.
“Surrender, woman! You can’t get away!” the guard nearest me yelled as he reached the corner and charged. His voice echoed off the stones around us.
I dragged the keys free and shoved the first key into the lock. I took a deep breath and turned.
Wrong.
Fuck. I tried the next one. Wrong again.
The third with the squared teeth fit, and the heavy metal gave a satisfying click. I wrenched the door open and threw myself inside.
The guard was almost on me. I turned to look back in time to see him coming at me as he ran through the pool of torchlight, his blue eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched.
I shoved the door shut and locked it, then glanced around. A single torch burned on the wall, which I hoped meant no one was in here.
The watchtower smelled of oil, old smoke, and sweat, and was smaller than my bedroom at Aunt Maureen's.
There was a door on the opposite side from me, and a ladder poked through a trapdoor in the floor.
Another trapdoor was situated above me with a ladder cutting up through that square, too.
I knocked the two ladders out as I heard something rustling from above, possibly a couple of floors away.
They were probably coming down from the tower.