Chapter 10
They hurried through the streets in silence until they reached the outer walls.
When the gate came into view, everyone slowed except for Eddard.
He continued forward, and his gait adjusted to that of someone who had been drinking heavily.
He stumbled up to the two guards and nearly fell into them.
Tal couldn’t hear what he said to them, but disruptive conversation echoed in the night.
His arms waved around frantically, and he fell into one of the guards.
The four onlookers eased their way closer to the gate while Eddard created a boisterous scene.
He pulled something out of his pocket and lifted it to his mouth.
One of the guards gestured for Eddard to move on and was promptly showered from head to toe with spit.
Eddard pointed and roared with laughter, leaning on the other guard for support.
The man aggressively attempted to brush the liquid from his armor until he gave up and stomped away from the gate.
They inched close enough to hear the conversation between Eddard and the remaining man.
“It’s not fair, Jens! You should have joined tonight.” His drunken slur sounded just believable enough. Tal thought they may get away with it.
“Perhaps another time, Ed. Why don’t you go sleep that off?”
“Sure, sure. But a man’s gotta take a piss first. Could you help me out? The walls are spinning.” He fell into the guard again.
Tal could hear the soldier, Jens, sigh heavily. He put an arm around Eddard and nearly carried him away from the gate.
They didn’t need any more of a signal and rushed through. Faron directed them to the left where the buildings cast a shadow. They sprinted through the flat expanse of the bailey, and the great wooden doors to the palace neared for the second time in as many nights.
Tal and Carrick shared a curious glance when they veered away, following a downward slope along the main wall, away from the front entrance.
After several minutes of slinking along, Faron stopped near an enormous drain surrounded by overgrown bushes.
A slow trickle of water came through the grate and trailed a path toward the main gate, searching for a way to the river.
Faron and Waylon stepped into the water, gripped the bars covering the opening, and wrenched sideways. Metal on gravel broke the silence as the bars slid into a hidden pocket within the palace wall.
Tal's jaw dropped. She and Carrick exchanged shocked expressions while Waylon slipped inside.
She only hesitated a moment before passing through the secret entrance.
Carrick nearly filled the space but managed to fit through and stand at full height.
The thick air stank of dirt and stale water.
Tal blinked, encouraging her eyes to adjust in the darkness.
Dripping water echoed off walls carved out of the earth until it was drowned out by the scrape of their shoes on the dirt floor.
Once Faron stepped inside, Waylon helped him replace the metal bars. “It’s this way.” He gestured ahead, stepping in front of them.
Waylon lit a torch on the wall and guided the group forward.
Tal stepped lightly over the uneven ground.
The winding path of the tunnel split into different directions—some sloped further down, burrowing deep into the earth, and others had steps that disappeared as they curved up and around hidden corners.
Still, other paths continued into the darkness with no apparent end.
Occasionally, a rat scurried across their path, or Faron swiped at a cobweb, but they didn’t encounter anyone else in the near darkness.
Unease flipped Tal’s stomach. If Faron wanted to do anything, he would have already, she reminded herself.
Beside her, Carrick held a tight grip on his sword and his eyes darted up and down the tunnel, tracking the movements of the other two men as they walked.
Tal suspected his thoughts mirrored her own.
When the dirt wall transitioned to a masonry of carved stones, moss, and mud, Faron stopped and placed his ear against it.
The soft trickle of water at their feet pierced the silence—not even a breath rose above the quiet stream.
A dark line traced the change in masonry in the shape of a rectangle, revealing a hidden door.
Faron turned then, torchlight flickering across his features. “They’re behind this wall, in a room to the right. They should be alone, but if not, be ready.” He nodded at Carrick’s sword, and Tal took two of her knives from the sheaths at her hip.
Having placed the torch in a sconce above his head, Waylon gripped his own sword, his face devoid of the earlier flirtation. Faron braced himself against the man-made wall and pushed with a grunt.
Slowly, with the grating of stone that echoed back the way they came, the door opened.
It scraped against a large hanging tapestry and opened their view to a dim hallway.
Like the tunnel, it too had been dug out of stone, but with thick wooden doors set in the wall, torches, and a wooden bench at the other end, next to an even larger door. That one appeared to be the entrance.
As soon as he had enough space to slip through, Waylon disappeared. Faron followed, sword in hand. A moment later, Waylon’s voice rang out. “Empty.”
Talwyn went next, Carrick at her back. She searched in each direction despite the reassurance from Waylon. Tal’s heartbeat pounded against her chest.
Faron ushered them down the hall to the second cell on the right where a simple metal latch kept the prisoner inside. Metal bars set high in the wooden door gave little view of the pitch-black interior. Faron wrenched the door open.
Tal grabbed a torch from the wall and shined it into the room, if the tiny space could be called that.
The smell of blood and waste hit them like a punch in the face, and Tal held the torch higher.
In the left corner, a crumpled form lay motionless.
The once cream and brown clothes of the blacksmith’s apprentice were stained with dirt, blood, and gods knew what else.
Faron rushed over to him, gently placing a hand on the boy’s shoulder. He jerked, the first sign that he still lived. “Luan,” Faron whispered, “where’s Nola?”
The boy whimpered, a sound more like an exhale that faded until he gasped in another breath.
“We’re getting you out, but we aren’t leaving without Nola. Where is she?”
Carrick met Tal’s gaze and tilted his head toward the hall. When she nodded her understanding, he disappeared to check the other rooms.
“They took her,” Luan whispered into the back wall. He curled around himself, flinching away from Faron’s hand.
“Who took her?” Faron gentled his voice.
“Cloaks. Dark cloaks.”
Faron turned to Tal, his eyes saying what he couldn’t. It must be mages. They had been in the palace. Why were the boy and girl being held here? How did the mages know about this place? Did they have an ally within the palace?
“Where did they take her?” Tal asked, keeping her voice low.
“North. Silaron.” His voice grew weaker, if that were at all possible. Tal wondered if he had much time left before he succumbed to his injuries.
Faron tensed at the mention of the girl’s location. Tal had never heard the name before.
Carrick’s hulking form filled the doorway. “The rooms are all empty. Waylon’s gone down the hall.”
“Do you have a healing elixir?” she asked her companions.
When both of them shook their heads, Tal pursed her lips.
She wanted to ask more questions. What happened?
What condition would they find the girl—if they found her?
Had he seen their faces? What did these mages want?
What would they find at Silaron? But the poor boy didn’t appear to have much more energy to continue breathing let alone explain everything.
Tal stepped to the side. “Carrick, you carry him. Faron will show us the way out. I’ll keep an eye on our backs. ”
Without a word, Carrick stepped into the room and knelt beside Faron.
He assessed Luan’s injuries before gingerly placing his hands below the boy’s shoulders and knees.
The apprentice let out a pained grunt and began panting as Carrick lifted him into his arms. A dark puddle filled the space where he had been laying, and blood dripped from his ripped tunic.
Talwyn gritted her teeth against the rage that fueled her fury at the sight.
When Carrick turned with him, the boy’s swollen and bloodied face came into view.
He couldn’t have been more than fifteen.
She feared for the girl, Nola, and whatever state she was in.
She stepped aside and allowed the men out of the room, with Carrick holding Luan like a sleeping child.
Waylon appeared by a door at the end of the hall. “Time to go. There’s movement.”
Without a word, Tal replaced the torch she’d been holding and returned to the hanging tapestry and their secret entrance. Faron helped her pull the stones to a secure close with a hooked metal fire poker that he grabbed from the ground just inside the tunnel.
They left twice as fast as before, and Faron didn’t falter at any of the turns.
When they reached the false sewer grate, Tal winced at how loudly the metal scraped along the stones.
They stuck to the shadows through the grounds and reached the main gate.
Without a moment’s pause, Faron instructed them to head into the woods and follow the water, and he and Waylon would catch up.
The two men approached the same two guards, arm in arm, singing a boisterous tune.
Their distraction worked instantly, and the guards left their posts to guide the two men back within the grounds.