Chapter 9
Ian slipped his saddle over Rowena’s back.
It had been nearly dawn when they’d finished laying out their plan in the cave. Robin had left Meena and Sol at one of the cottages on the cliffside, then returned with Ian to the inn to see him off. After, she would smuggle Meena and Sol out of the city and take them back to Lockwood.
While Ian tightened Rowena’s saddle, he looked up to see Robin standing at the entrance to the stall. She was holding the reins of a brown horse he had never seen before. “You should take my horse,” she said. “Rowena deserves her rest, and you will need to ride hard.”
“Your horse?” Ian asked, confused. “Why is your horse here?”
“I have three more horses at two other inns in this city,” Robin replied, as though her answer should be obvious. “How do you think I am getting Meena and Sol back to Lockwood?”
“Aren’t Lane and Ulli arriving any moment now with horses from Lockwood?
” Ian asked, using the question to show he had not assumed they would all be walking back to Lockwood.
However, he had not considered that Robin’s connection to River’s Talon likely gave her access to horses in every major city between here and Etrar.
Just how large was this secret organization?
“What will happen to Rowena?” Ian asked.
“I will take her back to Lockwood,” Robin said. “Where I can assure you that she will receive excellent care.”
Ian patted Rowena’s side. It was a good idea. The horse had done significant work with only a few hours of rest. “I will retrieve her in a few days,” he said.
“You will not come anywhere near Lockwood,” Robin said quickly. “We already discussed this.”
Ian was taken aback by the harsh tone behind her words. “Yes, but . . .”
“It is not safe,” she said, not backing down. “For you. For me. Or for Meena.”
Ian knew that she was using his sister’s name to get him to agree, but he also could not fight that. “Then how will I get my horse back?”
“She will be safely in your stables within seven days,” Robin said. “I promise you.”
Ian wanted to threaten that if she was not, he would be knocking at the door of Lockwood Manor on the eighth day, but he was not sure if such a statement would be a jest or a serious threat.
Robin probably would not appreciate the comment either way.
When she had lived at the castle all those years ago, she had taken great pains to ensure that her donkey was happy and healthy.
And despite her current penchant for breaking the law, he at least trusted her to look after Rowena well.
“Seven days from now,” he said, acknowledging her words. “In my stable.”
Robin nodded. She took a step back to create room for him to leave the stall. “You can leave Rowena saddled,” she said. “I will take her with me immediately.”
Ian gave his favorite horse a gentle slap as he walked past her and took the reins of Robin’s horse.
“Take the west road back,” Robin suggested. “It is longer, but less likely to be crawling with Gareth’s soldiers as they watch for Meena.”
“Or you,” Ian said. “If they are patrolling the main road watching for Meena, they will also be looking for you.”
“How foolish of them to think I would be caught traveling the main road,” Robin said.
Ian led the horse to the stable door. “Did they not find you on the main road just a few hours ago?” He stood on his toes to see her over the back of the horse. Now he was jesting, and he wanted to make sure she knew it.
“That was different,” Robin said, a small smile flickering across her face. Then it disappeared. “Though I do not know how they got the rumor of the traveling nobleman all the way to me. That is concerning, if they know where to plant information to reach me.”
Ian stepped on the mounting block outside the stable door.
He did not relish the thought of getting back in the saddle having endured yesterday’s ride, as he had not yet slept.
But he could survive a few more hours. He swung his leg up over the horse and settled into the saddle.
“Gareth has proven far more clever than I would have given him credit for.”
“I knew better than to underestimate him,” Robin said, looking up at Ian. “I will not let it happen again.” She stepped back a pace, giving him space to ride away.
Ian tensed the muscles in his legs, ready to urge the horse forward.
But instead, he sat there, looking down at her upturned face.
Her hood had slipped down, revealing a fluffy halo of fuzzy, light hair that floated on top of her tied-back braid.
He wanted to tell her it was good to see her again, but he hesitated, falling into his usual habit of keeping the majority of his thoughts to himself.
But then he remembered that moment, years ago, watching her walk away while he kept silent.
“It is good to see you again,” he said. His throat felt raw and constricted, but his voice sounded fine. He hoped.
She nodded, her lips softening into a thoughtful smile. “And you,” she replied.
Ian nodded, urging the horse forward.
“Safe travels,” Robin called after him.
“And to you as well,” Ian responded, turning back and lifting his hand in farewell as he guided the horse onto the still-muddy road outside the inn.
With the tide flowing out, the streets at dawn were quieter than they had been only a few hours prior. Thankful for the emptiness, Ian made his way to the edge of the city and set his course—the long way—for home.
He rode without incident, avoiding all other travelers and relying on his nondescript horse and simple clothing to keep him from notice. The lack of sleep was catching up to him, however, and he was grateful that the unfamiliar gait of Robin’s horse kept his muscles working to stay upright.
The sun was almost directly overhead by the time he emerged from the densest part of the woods onto a shepherd’s track that would lead him to the outskirts of the capital city.
He urged the horse forward, toward the familiar white castle in the distance. It sat atop a grassy hill that separated it from the sprawling city below. The horse seemed to sense that their journey was at an end as he happily picked up the pace.
While they rode through the farms just outside the city itself, a loud clap of thunder tore through the air.
Ian looked up in alarm. After last night’s constant rain, the sky was completely clear.
But then he saw it. A bright light flashed from the castle itself, brighter than anything he had ever seen.
Ian instinctively threw up his arm to cover his eyes as he stared ahead at the castle, trying to see what had happened.
A deafening boom followed a second later. The horse under him attempted to rear in panic.
Ian held his seat, urging the frightened horse to stay the course. He needed to get to the castle as soon as possible.
Moments later, smoke billowed from the western tower of the castle, just to the right of the main gate. Ian could see no flame, but other plumes of smoke began to appear along the castle ramparts.
Despite the panic, Robin’s horse followed Ian’s guidance and tore through the city streets, racing past market stalls and lines of hanging laundry.
Doors slammed open and people poured into the streets, looking up at the castle to ascertain the source of the sound.
Shouts echoed off the stone buildings around him, but Ian was too intent on his destination to make out the words over the pounding of the hooves below him.
As he neared the castle, he could see a large chunk of stone missing from the western tower, as though a ballista had fired a heavy boulder against it. But there was no sign of enemy equipment on the hill leading up to the castle.
There were, however, a dozen or so men in unrecognizable armor pouring into the always-open front gate of the castle.
The armor was dark, almost black, as though it had been burnt with oil.
The dark steel contrasted with the bright blue livery that shone underneath.
These were not the colors of any kingdom or lord that Ian knew of.
Ian wanted to race Robin’s horse directly up the hill behind them, but he knew it would be foolish to throw himself alone against so many.
He redirected the horse to take the side path through the forest, winding around to the back entrance of the castle.
The gate to the back entrance had been closed, a defensive measure that the castle guard had executed well. Ian dismounted just outside the gate and pounded on the door. The guard recognized him instantly and opened the gate enough to let him and the horse inside.
“The guards have gathered at the front to face the attackers,” the man informed Ian.
Guards poured out of the barracks at the far end of the courtyard, racing toward the front of the castle. Ian wordlessly handed the reins of Robin’s horse to the guard at the gate and ran to the castle through the crowd of rushing people.
Somehow, he knew this attack was meant for his father.
Instead of going around the keep with the guards to the front courtyard, Ian bounded up the stairs directly into the castle, his sore muscles and tired body completely forgotten.
After racing down the hall of the family wing, he rushed to his parents’ room at the end of the hall and threw open the door.
The room was empty.
He instantly felt a wave of relief. If his father had been injured, they would have taken him here.
Ian turned around and ran back down the stone hall, heading directly toward the attack itself.
The large main hall was chaos. Castle guards poured through it, heading in the same direction as Ian—while servants and nobles in various states of sleeping attire ran in the opposite direction, attempting to get deeper into the safer parts of the castle.
“The Majis have attacked!” screamed a page boy, running straight into Ian and then pushing him out of the way as he moved past.
Ian caught himself and continued forward. He knew that their attackers were not Majis. All of the Majis he knew of were enslaved on Istroya or in hiding somewhere. These attackers were men sent by Gareth, possibly pretending to be Majis.
He ran through the open front doors of the great hall.
The courtyard was a battlefield.
The men in dark armor and blue livery were spread out near the castle gate. Two dozen of the castle guard were directly engaged with them in hand-to-hand combat.
Every one of the attackers stood taller than the Iseldan men, which was alarming to see, but none of them were wielding magic.
There.
From his vantage point on the steps that led up into the great hall, Ian could see a hooded figure protected by the rest of the attackers.
The man was holding his hands in front of him, clutching a familiar glowing orb of purple light. The same kind of orb that had been launched at Ian during the silverreign ball. It was chaos magic, wielded by one of Gareth’s men.
The hooded man launched the orb over his fellow attackers and into the formation of castle guard that stood on the stone steps below Ian.
The guards around him attempted to block the incoming orb with their round wooden shields.
In a moment of surprising clarity, Ian remembered that these were the very shields that Gareth had recently sent to them, claiming that they would hold up against the attacking Majis spells.
While the claim had been dubious even then, Ian knew it was absolutely false now.
The purple orb struck a shield, and Ian heard the loud sound of its impact over the general din around him. The shield bearer appeared unharmed, but the shield itself went up in flames.
Ian stepped down. He needed to reach the magic user.
The castle guard recognized him, breaking formation to let him pass through.
Standing at the head of the formation, sword drawn as he watched the active fight in front of him, stood Onric. Blood dripped from a cut above his eye, but he appeared otherwise unharmed.
Ian stepped forward to his brother’s side, standing shoulder to shoulder with Onric as he drew his own short sword. He should have switched his traveling sword for a better weapon.
“Where is Meena?” Onric asked.
“Safe,” Ian replied. “Not here. Where is Father?”
In the pause that followed, Ian risked a glance at Onric’s face. His expression was bleak. “Unconscious. We can’t wake him. The attack hit the council room, an explosion—”
As if on cue, another purple orb sailed just above their heads and hit the wall behind them with a thunderous crash.
“There is only one magic user, near the back,” Ian said, stepping forward. “If we target him, we can easily overpower the others.”
“I go.” Onric said, grabbing Ian’s shoulder from behind. “You stay.”
Ian threw off his brother’s hand, angry at being told what to do, but he quickly saw the wisdom in his brother’s words. If their father was already incapacitated, Ian had to remain standing or Gareth could take over the kingdom.
Ian seethed as Onric ran forward, leaving him behind.