Chapter 12
The entire Malheim palace was overrun, but none of the men I passed were friendly faces.
They were all consumed with the battle in front of them, with many fighting in groups of two or three.
There was no sign of Otho, Leif, or Derek.
I also didn’t see Friar or Collum, something that sat heavy in my stomach.
I didn’t want to leave them behind, but they hadn’t given me much of a choice.
I wasn’t even sure they were my friends anymore anyway.
Still, I needed to remove myself from the equation if there was any hope of this battle ending peacefully, even though I was reasonably certain it was already too late.
I tried anyway, weaving through the various skirmishes happening within the Keep until I drew near to the wooden doors embedded in the exterior stone walls—the ones that kept Leif’s palace separate from the streets of Malheim—only to find they were already hanging wide open.
One hung at an angle, explaining how this battle had begun.
I tried not to let the shame that laced through me settle as I stepped out into the streets. Because while I would never love Leif again, I still hoped he was okay.
I never wanted to wish ill on anyone.
Unfortunately, the streets of Malheim weren’t any better than the palace, with soldiers engaged in combat directly in front of the gates in the square the market usually occupied.
I tried to maneuver around them when possible, but some of the streets were too small, so I had to double back to try and find another route, or chance getting pricked by a wayward sword as I fought to navigate the twisting streets as the gutters ran red with blood.
Stepping over dead body after dead body was horrifying, and I battled the urge to bend down to check if any remained alive.
I couldn’t save them all.
I could only save myself.
It was even harder to tell friend from foe in the shadow of the keep wall, and I ended up drawing several glances as I tried to move about.
Some men even moved to engage, until their eyes flashed to my unbound hair and they realized I was female.
Then, like a typical male, they would turn and engage the man nearest to them.
I wished I liked violence enough to teach them a lesson for underestimating me, but even the sight of a light-haired soldier holding his bloody bicep and limping into a nearby home pulled at my heart enough to make me nauseous.
It was on one of the side routes, outside of the market square, while avoiding a larger skirmish, that a hand reached out and grabbed my arm, pulling me into an alley.
I prepared to scream as I reached for my knife and took in the empty bins and garbage leaning up against the mud-packed walls. But before I could, the person spoke. “It’s me.”
I relaxed immediately at the feminine tone, breathing easy when I realized it was Ena, dressed in a brown cloak, her hair tied in a knot at the base of her neck. Stress leeched off her as her gaze darted between me, the sword in my hand, the dusty alley, and the noisy street.
I pulled her deeper into the alley and then into a hug, careful to keep my sword out to the side, my biceps burning from carrying it even a short time. “I’m glad to see you.”
“Likewise,” she replied, peering out of the mouth of the alley before turning her attention back to me. “What’s going on? I went to the postmaster to deliver a message and when I came back . . .”
“Chaos,” I finished for her.
“Yep. So, do you know what this is about?” she asked calmly, her shoulders back. I’d always admired how Ena carried herself and now was no exception. While my clothes were smudged, my hair a tangled mess, and my hands shook as I noticed the splatter of blood on them, she remained unfazed.
I opened and closed my mouth without speaking several times, not knowing where to start. “I woke up to this, but I have an inkling.”
She struggled to swallow. “I wasn’t privy to this part, if this was Friar’s plan.”
I nodded, remembering our conversation a few days before. “And I’m ready to remove myself from the equation. I’m not ready to die, but . . .” I motioned my hand in the air, the sound of swords and groans of pain intensifying.
“You were trying to leave.” Her gold-rimmed eyes searched my face, and I wondered again if Ena knew more than she let on.
I bit my lip. “Yes. But the fighting . . .”
Ena peered around the corner again just as two men in navy blue uniforms brushed past, swords aloft. “I can help.”
Here we were again, in a similar situation to the season before, only this time, there would be no swimming. I sighed, my hands still shaking as I tried to brush back the tendrils of hair that had fallen in my face. “If you can show me how to escape the city—”
She spoke at the same time as I did. “I want to come with you.” The words hung in the air between us.
I’d known this was coming, but it still didn’t make the conversation any easier. I respected Ena, but I had no idea if I was on my journey toward a happy ending or a sad one, and I refused to drag anyone else with me. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Ena.”
“Why?” she pressed, one of the tendrils of her dark hair falling in front of her face from the knot at the nape of her neck.
“I don’t think it will be peaceful with me. This”—I motioned above my head—“won’t end well for me. Either Otho or Leif will come for me . . . and then the other . . . until I die—”
“I know,” she agreed, not bothering to try to placate me. “But this plan gives you time. And with two of us, we can hopefully think of a solution, or a way to escape.”
I grimaced. She had a point, but it still caused me aguish to think of her life coming to an early end because of me.
“I’m planning to go see the king, Ena,” I admitted at last. I hadn’t wanted to tell her sooner, since she was the one who had planted the idea in my head in the first place, but I knew he was the only one who could stop the never-ending bloodshed in Heimland.
“Then you definitely need me,” she said with a knowing smirk, her eyes still skimming our surroundings as we spoke in hushed tones. “I know which way to head.”
My eyebrows shot up to my hairline as I pieced everything together. “You’ve been to see the king before.”
“No,” she amended, “but I know which direction to walk. My family is from the mountains, and we have to climb up and over. Shianp, where the king keeps his main residence, is on the other side of the range.”
I hadn’t considered how I would find the king, and Ena did appear to know more than me.
Until about a year ago, I’d never left Ralheim, and still, I’d never been outside of Heimland.
The only knowledge I had of the distant king were the details I’d learned as a young child watching a single parade—rumors in a land torn by war and unrest.
“Alright, but I won’t take you to ruin with me. When we find the king, you should go off on your own.” I tried to make my voice stern, but when I finished speaking, I didn’t even believe me.
“Agreed,” she said with the dip of her chin just as the sound of the battle grew closer, “You ready?” she asked, a gleam flashing in her eyes.
“Yes,” I agreed, preparing to run back out into the street.
Instead, Ena turned toward the wall of the home on the east side of the alley, where I could just make out wooden rungs embedded into the clay. They weren’t thick, and if one wasn’t looking closely, they would look like they’d been planted there by an ill-timed storm. My eyes widened.
“Come on,” she hissed, placing her feet on the bottom two rungs which started around the height of my knees. “Malheim residents use these to check their water tanks on their roof.”
Mouth agape, I stowed the knife back in my breeches and, seeing no other alternative, began to climb after her.
We had nothing similar to this in Ralheim, our homes mostly made of stone with a plaster covering, and it was harder than it looked.
With only one hand available, the other committed to gripping the sword I’d swiped from the guard outside my room.
How I wished that I’d also grabbed his scabbard.
But it was too late to go back. The first floor was easy, but once I was more than my height above the ground, my hands began to shake as I realized how far I would fall if I let go.
And how much it would hurt.
I gazed up, my available hand in a death grip on the wooden rung. I was halfway.
My pace slowed considerably as I would move only a single rung with my hand grip, holding on for dear life as I moved my feet in a separate motion—nothing like the ease of true climbing as Ena had been able to emulate.
Even a childhood of climbing trees hadn’t prepared me for this.
Ena reached the top of the roof, glancing toward the mouth of the alley before reaching back down for my hand. I placed the sword into it.
Once I had use of both my hands, it only took two breaths more for me to reach the top.
I vaulted myself over the clay railing, realizing the roof was lower than the top of the ladder, making a nice barrier for the family that lived here as they walked around the roof.
I could already picture them sitting up here after their evening meal, watching as the sun set behind the towering red mountains.
Ena didn’t even give me a chance to catch my breath before she was moving, grabbing a wooden plank from where it lay against the rim of the roof.
At first, I was confused, but then I saw her lay the board from the edge of the roof we were on, connecting it with the next. I peered over the edge, my mouth dry as I deduced what she intended for us to do.
“Ena,” I gasped. “I can’t—”
“You have to. Come on, it’s a common way to traverse Malheim, especially when the streets are packed with a parade.” The sound of someone shouting for the gods to save him from below brought a grimace to my lips. “. . . or a battle.”