Allegiance (27 page)

“Miranna,” I breathed, faint with relief, then I rushed forward, all else forgotten, to pull her into my arms. She did not respond or hug me back, but still I held her close. When at last I drew away, she gazed at me with vacant blue eyes. Physically, she seemed well—she bore no scars that I could
see and moved without sign of pain; she was not starved; even her curly strawberry blond hair seemed healthy. It was trauma of another kind that caused her to look so unlike herself.

“She's in shock,” London said to me as he closed the door. “She has been through much.”

I nodded, my eyes pooling with tears. Without thought to status or appropriateness, or for London's undemonstrative nature, I threw my arms around him, and he momentarily returned my embrace.

“Thank you,” I choked. “Thank you for bringing her home.”

I returned to my sister, guiding her into a chair, hugging her once more, wanting never to let her go. Halias stared at us from across the room. As Miranna did not seem to be aware of his presence, I guessed he was resisting the urge to go to her as I had, not wanting to make this harder on himself. At least she was alive.

“London,” Cannan said and, in his signature style, summed up every possible question into one word. “Report.”

“We have about eight hours until the Overlord arrives.”

This blunt statement seemed to ricochet around the room, and the moment it hit each man could be determined by the expression upon his face. Cannan, however, remained as stoic as ever.

“We knew he would come,” he stated.

“Narian released me,” London went on, “so that I could return here and take Alera out the remaining tunnel. He will pull troops from the area to the best of his ability without arousing suspicion—he is under close watch.”

“He knows about the second tunnel?” A note of unease
registered in Cannan's voice, and the muttering that had already begun at the mention of Narian's name increased.

“Yes, but he has told no one and will tell no one, I swear it.” Looking into Cannan's eyes, he added, “I trust him, Captain.”

Whether it was the conviction in London's voice or his rare show of respect for authority, I knew not, but everyone seemed to accept London's opinion, waiting only for the captain's response. Finally Cannan nodded.

“And Miranna?” It was Halias who spoke, still unable to tear his eyes from his charge. “How did she come to be with you?”

“I took her, after Narian let me go,” London answered, urgency punctuating each of his words. “I could not leave her behind. But I had to travel more slowly with her and so have arrived later than I intended. And on that note, we need to get moving.”

The captain stepped around his desk, ready for business.

“We were already preparing to take the royal family out through the tunnel,” he informed London. “Our plan was to move in two groups, ten minutes apart, following different routes to the hideaway. You, with Alera, Miranna and Davan, can go first—both you and he were trained as scouts, so Destari and Halias will stay to assist with matters here. Galen and I will follow with Steldor, and when we've gotten beyond the enemy's reach, I'll return.”

“Sir—” began Destari, ready to argue about Cannan's intention to double back.

“I will not desert my troops,” he said, shutting down all argument.

“You don't have to go anywhere. I told you, I won't leave.” Steldor's gaze was determined, and his posture was tense, ready for a fight.

“Listen to me, boy,” Cannan said, striding over to his son, and there was something in his voice very near to desperation. He put a firm hand on the back of Steldor's head, enmeshing his fingers in his dark hair. “As long as there is a king, there is a Hytanica. As long as you are alive, there is the hope that someday we will be restored.”

“A dead king is of no use to anyone. A live king is dangerous, and your survival will rob the Overlord of some of his victory,” London added. “But we have little time to convince you—just trust those with the experience to make the judgment.”

Steldor stared at his father, resolve failing. Cannan squeezed the back of his son's neck, knowing the decision had been made.

Steldor and I were taken to our quarters to change clothes. My husband gave me a brown shirt and a dark green cloak, which I put on along with the trousers I had worn to the negotiation meeting, tying my hair into a tight bun. When I reentered the parlor, Kitten came skittering out of hiding, and I picked him up, snuggling him close. Sadly I set him on the sofa as Steldor, likewise dressed in dark colors, came from his room, knowing I could not take a pet with me. To my surprise, my husband carried a small dagger which he offered to me. To his surprise, I slid it into the sheath that Narian had strapped on my left forearm, for I had continued to wear it despite its uselessness. Neither of us spoke, however. We left our quarters, in all probability never to return, and I left the door open, giving Kitten, who had grown considerably in the past few months, freedom to find his way however he could.

We reconvened in the captain's office, where our guards awaited us, Galen among them. Everyone was now dressed in brown leather jerkins in the manner of the scouts, with
black cloaks for warmth. Cannan directed that we go out in pairs so as to draw as little attention as possible, for the last thing we needed was for every terrified, stranded citizen to learn there was a tunnel leading outside the city; the ensuing chaos would exceed belief. I went first with Davan, pressing through the crowd gathered in the Hall of Kings until we reached the door to the dungeon, slipping through it onto the landing of the steep, narrow steps. An Elite Guard waited within, ready to bar the door behind us if necessary. He handed Davan a torch, and we waited in tense silence until London and Miranna joined us, knowing that the others would in due course follow.

The staircase was dimly lit, cold, suffocating and sinister. We were going underground, to a place where people were sent for punishment, torture and death. As we started downward, the incessant noise of the palace diminished, but I could not escape the feeling that we were descending into a tomb. When Davan and I reached the bottom, I was glad to see that the stairwell opened into a large room, the place where the dungeon guards normally congregated. Torches had been lit along the walls, but no men were on duty, no doubt at Cannan's decree. I turned to London as he and Miranna emerged from the stairwell, then quickly went to my sister, who was hanging on to the Elite Guard, burying her head against his chest. The reality that she had been in the Overlord's dungeon hit full force, and my heart ached for her and for the fact that, although she was back among us, she was far from safe. I took her into my arms, freeing London, who walked toward one of several heavy wooden doors that opened onto a row of prison cells.

As the second party emerged from the stairwell, Cannan took a torch from its bracket on the wall and joined London. After a brief exchange of words, the two men beckoned us
into the corridor that lay beyond the door. The cells that lined the sides of this aisle looked as though they had not been used in ages, but still my skin crawled as Cannan led us inside one of them. London walked to the center and began to kick away layers of dirt on the floor to reveal a trapdoor, and it was clear why this particular cell had not been put into use. The chance could not be taken that a prisoner would discover the secret.

London pulled up the wooden door, then dropped his torch into the hole so we could see the bottom. Davan jumped down, disappearing from view as he confirmed that the tunnel had not been blocked or discovered.

“All clear,” he called a few minutes later.

“Alera, give me your hands,” London said.

With a sinking feeling, I accepted that I would be going in next. London would lower first me and then my sister, as Miranna needed to be constantly with someone she knew, especially under such conditions. She had to be kept calm, no matter what, for she could alert the enemy to our presence if she became hysterical. As I sat on the edge of the opening, feet dangling in the air, I silently cursed whoever had constructed the entrance of this tunnel for not making access easier. Then I let London take my hands.

He lowered me in carefully, giving me a moment to taste the stale air before my feet touched ground. It was freezing, colder than the dungeon had been, and every breath burned my nose and throat and made me want to gag. I moved down the tight corridor to make room for Miranna, hoping the tunnel would not be this small for its entire stretch, for if it were, we would be traversing single file.

“No,” I heard from above, and I recognized my sister's voice. “Not down there, don't make me go down there.”

“Mira,” I called, stepping back to where she could see me. “It's safe. We're just going into hiding.”

“Alera,” she said, a crack in her voice, then her pale face peered down at me. “I'm—I'm scared. I don't want to…”

“I know,” I replied, and I truly did. I was afraid of leaving behind everything I knew; I was afraid of what we would encounter when we exited the tunnel, for Cannan's scouts had thought there was a good chance we would all be killed. I was afraid of surviving, for I did not know how long we would need to hide, living in shadows; and I was afraid for my future, for I did not know where we would end up, only that there would be no Hytanica to welcome us home.

“I'm going to stay right here,” I said, subduing my own unease. “Just keep looking at me, and you will be beside me in a moment.”

She at last consented, and London dropped her to the ground. I hugged her, then Davan called, urging us to follow him, and I led Miranna forward, listening to the thuds as the rest of the men dropped down behind us.

The tunnel did widen after a bit, so we could walk in pairs, and the ceilings were high enough to allow even Cannan, the tallest of the men, to stand without crouching. London had joined Davan to lead the way, and I was directly behind them with Miranna, whose head was buried in my shoulder. Then came Steldor and Galen, with the captain bringing up the rear.

It remained difficult to breathe as we took step after step, and though Davan carried a torch before us and Cannan one behind, the way was shadowy and dank, and seemingly never-ending. My anxiety was growing, along with my need for fresh air and for the knowledge that the world above us still existed. Though my mind told me I could not
stand another taste of the murkiness of the tunnel, I gulped the air more quickly with every passing moment.

“London, when will we—” I started, but he shushed me, pointing to the ceiling.

“They're above us,” he whispered. “We're almost to the end.”

I listened closely and could indeed hear the distant, muffled pounding of what were probably hoofbeats over our heads.

At last, the light from London's torch fell upon an earthen wall, and I knew it was time to ascend, potentially to our deaths. I took a look around at the men with whom I traveled, realizing that every one of them would be willing to sacrifice himself to protect Miranna and me. If this were to be our demise, I would be dying among Hytanica's best and bravest, a thought that lifted my spirits and fueled my determination.

WHEN THE TUNNEL HAD ORIGINALLY BEEN constructed, a wooden ladder had been left to aid escape. Through the years, the rungs had decayed, and they currently looked none too sturdy. London adjusted the angle of the ladder, then tested the first rung, which gave way before he had even put his full weight upon it.

“This will be interesting,” he murmured, turning back to us with a wry smile. “Someone steady it.”

Davan stepped forward and did as London asked, while the nimble former scout climbed upward, putting as little weight on each of the rungs as possible by moving quickly and keeping his feet on the outer edges. Fortunately, the rung on which he eventually had to balance to press upon the wooden escape hatch was sturdier than the first had been. Unfortunately, the hatch would not budge. No matter where London shoved, there was no give.

“Earth, grass, perhaps even roots must be interfering,” London muttered as he jumped to the floor. He spoke briefly to the captain, then once more scaled the ladder. Davan and Steldor hoisted Galen up so that both he and
London could apply pressure to the wood, but still it would not yield.

“We're going to have to blow it,” London said, voice low. “There's no turning back now.”

“Even if Narian has pulled his troops, the noise will lure the enemy, so we had best move quickly,” Cannan agreed. He then addressed Miranna and me. “Move back into the tunnel until we have it open. But stay in front of the others so we can quickly lift you up and out.”

As Steldor, Galen and Davan moved into the tunnel to stand behind us, London removed a pouch from his pack, climbing yet again. Using two fingers, he removed some explosive powder and packed it carefully around the edges of the wood. He again jumped to the ground, then ducked down low, touching the torch to the ceiling. I covered my ears, but still the sound was deafening in the narrow tunnel. Wood and earth rained down on top of the deputy captain, extinguishing his torch and almost burying him in rubble. When the dust had settled, he straightened, staring at the haze until moonlight filtered through. He glanced at Cannan, who smothered our other torch, then London scrambled up the ladder to hoist himself out the opening.

“Hurry,” he said urgently, peering down at us. “Lift Miranna.”

Cannan put his hands on my sister's waist and boosted her as easily as if she were a doll. London grasped her arms and pulled her above ground.

“Now Alera,” my former bodyguard prompted.

Steldor took my hand and stepped forward, but when he gripped my waist and lifted me high enough for London to reach me, he seemed reluctant to let go.

“I'll see you soon,” I felt the need to say before London hauled me out.

Davan climbed out next, and London spoke one last time to Cannan.

“I hear riders. I suggest you move now.”

He and Davan herded us into the cover of the forest, and we began our dangerous trek to safety.

 

Two hours later, I was exhausted, but we pressed on, through the thick trees and the undergrowth that continually caused me to stumble, going always uphill. At times it was so dark I could hardly see my companions; at other times, the moonlight filtering through the skeletal trees reflected off patches of snow to cast an eerie glow. My cloak was thick, but not thick enough to keep the frigid winter air from numbing my fingers and toes, and my very bones seemed to throb. Miranna was not faring any better than I.

I didn't have any idea where we were going, but London seemed sure of himself, while Davan brought up the rear. We traveled slowly out of necessity, and London left us more than once in the oppressive and terrifying shadow-land to scout out the area ahead.

Several times, our guards tugged us to the forest floor when voices, Cokyrian accents distinct, reached our ears, often accompanied by the tramping of horses' hooves. Every time, my fear was indescribable, and I pictured sharp swords coming down on us, unable to imagine what it must feel like to be run through with a blade—if it would be quick, if I would be aware when the weapon was withdrawn from my flesh. The prospect of a bloody death, which had been almost inconceivable, was now so very real.

When the enemy had passed us by, the Elite Guards would pull Miranna and me to our feet, but I would glance behind us and wonder if the same Cokyrians would pass the King and if our second party would be as lucky. From
London's parting words to Cannan, it seemed they would likely face even greater danger.

When the first rays of the sun glowed on the horizon and dull gray light appeared between the branches of the barren trees, London at last told us to rest. Miranna and I collapsed to the cold ground in the small clearing in which we stood, and he tossed us a pack containing bread and jerky, along with a water flask so we might quench our thirst.

“Eat and sleep while you can,” he said, still standing, scanning our surroundings. “We won't stop for more than an hour. I don't like moving during the day, but in this case, the farther west we travel, the farther we are from harm.”

Davan, whom I was rapidly learning preferred listening to talking, did not comment, but took up position at the edge of our makeshift camp to stand watch.

“Won't the others catch us?” I asked, stuffing food into my mouth and drinking readily. Miranna was eating very little, a fact that troubled me, for I did not think her stamina could last much longer. Still, she drank as thirstily as did I.

“No,” London replied, not giving me his full attention even though Davan was on guard. “They are taking a different route. We won't see them until we reach our destination.”

“What exactly is the safe—”

“You'll know soon enough,” he said, cutting me off, not out of annoyance, but likely because his instincts as a soldier told him to keep us quiet. “We'll be far from any lands the Cokyrians might search. Take the time you have to sleep.”

I nodded, then ripped off one more chunk of the bread before returning the loaf to the pack. Hoping to stop my sister's quivering by sharing my body heat, I curled up close to her and began to doze.

 

“Alera, wake up.”

London's voice was hushed and urgent, and he clamped a hand over my mouth as I forced my eyelids apart. Miranna beside me sat up in confused alarm, only to be likewise dealt with by Davan. He hoisted her to her feet, pulling her into the undergrowth and out of the clearing.

“Go with them,” London ordered. “Now. We have company.”

I scrambled to my feet, heart pounding, as boisterous voices reached me from farther up the forested hill. As they neared, I could hear the sound of horses' hooves rustling through dried leaves. The riders were Cokyrian, but judging from the volume of their voices, they had spent a good part of the night reveling in their victory. I hurried into the trees after my sister, unable to see where Davan had taken her, and was abruptly tugged to the ground by his hand about my ankle. My fall would probably have gone unnoticed by the enemy, but my small cry of surprise caught their attention.

“Silence,” a woman ordered. “Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” A few chuckles from her male companions drifted down to us. “I think you had too much ale.”

“Hush, you mooncalf, there's someone here,” the woman insisted, but the man who had spoken remained unperturbed.

“So we aren't the only ones who stayed behind to celebrate,” he said dismissively. “Are you surprised? The kid just doesn't recognize that this war is
finished.
He's got no business trying to give us a different assignment when we've already won. The only thing that might be left is to kill a few Hytanican stragglers as they try to run away.”

“Exactly.”

The point having penetrated their brains, the men grew
serious to the best of their abilities in their semi-inebriated states. They dismounted to creep erratically down the hill on foot, and the moment they came into view, I heard Davan slide his long knives from their sheaths.

But where was London? I couldn't see him from where I was hiding and had not noted where he'd gone when I'd fled the clearing. The Cokyrians were close now, too close. One, a large, burly man, was leaning over the place Miranna and I had slept, examining the imprints our bodies had made. The second, slightly smaller than the first, lumbered over as well, his eyes following the tracks I had left.

“Looking for me?”

London had snuck partway up the hill and now stepped out from behind a tree, gripping the Cokyrian woman by her hair, a dagger pressed against her throat. The men turned away from us, fists clenched at their sides, disgruntled with their compromised position.

“Keep your heads down,” Davan muttered to Miranna and me as he carefully stood, and we promptly buried our faces in our arms.

Davan moved away, and I cautiously lifted my head, my good sense defeated by my desire to know what was happening. As the Elite Guard approached the two men from behind, I realized that the Cokyrian woman could not see her comrades due to the slope of the land and the angle at which London held her head.

“Let her go,” one of the enemy soldiers growled, but it was the last sentence he would utter. Davan plunged one of his long knives into each man's neck, jerking both blades outward. Their backs were to me, but blood showered the ground in front of them, a spray of thick, dark red. The men coughed and choked, and sank to the earth just before I heard the nauseating snap that could only have been London
breaking the woman's neck, granting her a much cleaner death.

My former bodyguard thrust the Cokyrian's body to the side, where it fell among the trees, and he swiftly descended the slope to the clearing. I scrambled to my feet, fighting the urge to retch, as Davan wiped his blades upon the ground and proceeded, with London's assistance, to heave the bodies of the men out of sight. Miranna still hugged the ground, which meant she had seen nothing, but she was trembling, not totally oblivious to the actions of our guards. London gently coaxed her to her feet, then his manner stiffened.

“We need to leave here, now,” he said.

Davan motioned for us to follow, and I walked after him, arm around Miranna, ignoring my fatigue. London had once more disappeared, only to come into view after a few minutes, leading the mounts of the felled Cokyrians, and I felt extremely fortunate to be in his capable hands.

Davan lifted Miranna into the saddle of the horse he would ride, while London permitted me to take my own. I had never ridden through such rocky terrain, but I said nothing, content to be viewed as competent.

London had been right in his prediction that the farther we went, the fewer Cokyrians we would encounter. When we came into the foothills to the northwest, our going became rougher but less eventful. The Cokyrians had no need to be this far from our kingdom or their own empire.

We were leaving behind the trees that had dropped their leaves, instead coming into pines, and the heretofore rocky ground was now strewn with boulders and patchy with snow. I was grateful the bulky nature of the evergreens was sufficient to block much of the wind that had been picking up during our continual climb.

The land was so steep now that we wound our way back
and forth, traveling many miles to gain a few hundred feet in height. It was late afternoon when we breached the top of a steep incline that had been hard even on the horses, only to find ourselves on a narrow ledge before a red-streaked rock face so immense it cast a shadow over much of the land below. London dismounted, and I felt certain we had lost our direction somewhere along the way. When Davan likewise dismounted, lifting Miranna to the ground, I dubiously did the same.

Massive pine trees, like giant sentinels, guarded the sheer rock in several places, their branches overgrown and sweeping. London passed between two of them, reemerging a few minutes later.

“It's safe to enter,” he said.

He and Davan pulled aside the trees' laden arms to reveal a large vertical fissure in the rock face. It began halfway up the mountainous wall, then ran toward the ground, ever widening in its descent.

Without a word, the two men waved us forward, and I ducked through the trees, Miranna's hand clasped in mine. Brushing against the rough rock, I slipped through the crevice, pulling my sister along behind me. I stopped, waiting for my eyes to adjust, for the only illumination was provided by slim shafts of fading daylight at the far end. My sluggish brain also detected a trickling sound that could be made only by water.

I was jostled by London as he came in behind us, but I dared not move forward until he brought a torch to life with his flint and steel. He walked around, shining the light against the rock walls of a cave, easily thirty feet in depth and twenty feet in width, with a ceiling rising to three times my height. It was considerably warmer in the cavern than it was outside, due to both the lack of wind and the insulating
quality of the earth. Surprisingly, the air was not as dank as had been the air in the tunnel, and I could feel a slight draft flowing through the interior. When Davan joined us, having hidden the horses, London touched the head of another torch to the burning one he held, then passed it to Davan. With a flick of the wrist to indicate we should follow, my former bodyguard led us to the back end of what would be our hiding place, and the flame caught a small cascade of water that tumbled down the right-side wall to form a pool.

“Welcome to your new home,” London said sardonically. Once more he shone his torch around the area, and my eyes took in barrels of grain and alcohol, bundles of dried herbs and fruits, stacks of animal skins and furs, a variety of quilts and various other foodstuffs and supplies along the right side. In a hollow to the left, there were stores of weapons, and a little farther away, a virtual wall of firewood. It was obvious this shelter had been stocked for us, probably gradually over the past six months.

“I won't make a fire tonight,” London said in an unassailable tone, “so you should grab several hides and some quilts to make yourselves a place to lie down. We'll eat the bread and some of the jerky. As you can see, we have plenty of fresh water. Other than that, I suggest sleep. There will be much to do in the morning.”