King Callie: Callie's Saga, Book One (25 page)

She heard footsteps approaching, from the left; she turned to look, and see. A pair of soldiers approached them, spears in hand, provoked more by interest than threat. “Bit late to walk the horses about, isn’t it, Your Majesty?” the first soldier said, addressing Mas.

“On the contrary,” Mas replied. “They have sit still for the day, and I did not have a chance to walk them about, with all of the commotion earlier. As you can see, I am very well protected,” he said, gesturing to his guards. “There is no need to be concerned for my safety.”

“That ain’t what we’re worried about, Your Majesty,” the other soldier replied, his hands high on his spear. Eliya’s eyes looked behind the soldier; he didn’t see the Kersikki guards sneaking up behind him, until it was too late to counter them. The distraction at hand, Mas drove his heels into the horse’s side, and charged for the portcullis; Eliya and Mas’s personal guard followed suit, as the call to lower the gates went out. But it was not quick enough; Mas’s horse galloped through the courtyard, and past the portcullis. Eliya did not look up, but she did look back; soldiers swarmed the guards who had stayed behind as a distraction, and soon, they disappeared in a flood of steel. The sight chilled her. As a child, she’d heard men had lain down their lives for her family, but until that moment, never had she seen it occur in person.

As she rode, she heard the creaking of metal, and the slackening of chains. The portcullis was lowering, faster than she thought it would. She kicked into her horse’s sides, and the mare began to gallop straight ahead, fast as the wind. The guards ahead of her sailed under it; she, too, barely made it, with only a foot to spare. By the time it lowered, she, Mas, and the Kersikki guards were free.

The bells rang out, and she heard words echoing in the night air that didn’t stick in her mind; her heart was pumping, and she could not really hear what they had to say. All she knew was that she and Mas were free, and as long as she had him - as long as he was at her side - nothing else mattered.

CHAPTER
FORTY-EIGHT

Sneaking out of the castle was not hardly so difficult as Caliandra thought it might be; she wore her quietest shoes with soft soles, and the darkest colors she was able to find. Most importantly, though, was the sharp dagger concealed on her person. She had taken it from Valric’s room at the same time that she had taken one of his swords, as a keepsake - the same sword that Kells had returned to Valric’s effects, which were not fully cleared out. It was something that she hadn’t expected her mother to have the heart for, not yet. Nor could she fault her.

With Eliya gone, it was only the two of them to manage the Castle - and within a month, they would be sent to Baernswood, the traditional home of the family members who survived their king. No, they would not be penniless, nor would they be homeless, but they would lose almost everything they had known. The unintentional cruelty would be too much for her mother to bear. Unless Darryn knew something. If he could prove that Marrol was behind it - that Marrol had a hand in Peacebringer’s disappearance - then that would almost be the end of it. Marrol would be imprisoned, and possibly executed… which was sad enough. Caliandra still had trouble thinking that he could have done such a thing; one of her father’s good friends, a man so loyal to Barra and the crown, betraying both for power? It was unheard of. It ran counter to his character, and the very essence of his duty.

But perhaps
, Caliandra thought,
we did not know him as well as we thought.

That, also, was true of Darryn; she knew very little of him, other than
she’d seen him without a tunic on, he’d easily bested her in combat, and he was immoderately attractive. Part of her tingled at the thought of meeting him again - and yet, the wiser, cautious side of her mind forced her to keep the dagger close. Prophecy or no, handsome or not, it was foolish to meet without precautions.

She found him in the woods, leaning against the largest tree - one planted by Orren, the twentieth Barrish king to wield Peacebringer. She knew it well; she played around its massive roots as a child, and climbed its branches until her nurse scolded her. Her brother tripped over a knot once, and chipped one of his front teeth. That memory was bittersweet. But Caliandra drew her dagger, and kept it handy as she approached him, and stepped carefully over the roots.

“Good evening, Lady Caliandra” Darryn said. He glanced downward, at the dagger, and back up into her eyes. “Can’t say I blame you for bein’ cautious.”

She blushed slightly at the sight of his face, and his form, but kept the dagger firmly in hand. “With all that has happened,” Caliandra said, “I felt it necessary.”

“You any better with a dagger?” he asked.

“Markedly,” she replied. She saw the slight of a smile on his face, as he began to undo the belt that held his sword up; he let it fall to the ground, and took a step forward, palms up.

“There,” he said. “You trust me more now?”

“You’ll forgive me if I don’t,” Caliandra replied, more stern than before. The dagger stayed at her side. “There are certain dangers that never vanish, when it comes to a lady’s honor, and strange men in the woods.”

He chuckled. “We meet to talk of traitors, and you’re concerned with virtue… that’s fittin’, don’t you think?” She felt herself blush, and her grip tightened around her dagger’s handle - how dare he insult her like that.

“Do you pride yourself on being so uncouth?” Caliandra asked, her tone harsh and cutting, all but grinding her teeth.

“You misunderstand,” Darryn said, as he took a step forward. “Uncouth would be suggestin’ what we could do in these woods, and still not be heard…” The words shocked her beyond measure. Iaen had said such things in private, but never had Caliandra allowed him - she’d considered, of course, and there were times where she almost felt tempted to give in - but there was too much at stake to simply let him. Darryn took another step forward, but Caliandra pointed the dagger towards him.

“That’s far enough,” Caliandra said. Darryn stopped in his tracks. And smiled.

“Fluster easily, don’t you?” he teased. Caliandra scowled. “And you still think me a threat - even when you hold the dagger, and I have nothing.”

“A fool would think you less dangerous,” she said. “Now, tell me - what do you know about the conspiracy?”

“That Marrol planned it from the beginning,” Darryn said, as his hands lowered; his palms still faced her, but no longer did he hold them at shoulder height. They eased to just above his hips. “We were supposed to hold the guards hostage, until the axe were stolen. None of ‘em were meant to die, the guards,” he said. “But someone had a different order, and passed it down… I didn’t do nothing to stop them, and… I hate myself for that, but if I did, I’d be dead. Like my friends, who had gone the guard’s path instead of the soldier’s.”

Caliandra softened. “I am sorry for your loss,” she said.

“They were good men,” Darryn said. “Close as brothers, we were. We grew up out past the castle, on the farms near Claddag. I wouldn’t expect you to understand what it means to be raised out in the country,” he said, his tone almost apologetic, “Since you grew up behind stone walls, waited on hand and foot.”

“I do not,” Caliandra replied.

“When Marrol had them killed,” Darryn said, “I knew I had to do somethin’. But there’s a few of ‘em - soldiers on his side,” Marrol said. “Forty or so that I know of. They outnumber the guards, for certain.”

“Are there any other leaders?”

“Yes,” he said. “A few lieutenants, but that’s it. Likely he’s of the mind to avoid greater numbers. But the men who he picked are loyal. They’ll be with him to the end.”

Caliandra lowered the dagger, slightly, as she thought on that. If Marrol had such men with him, there might be difficulties if he was captured or sentenced; they would. But how would she know who they were? How would anyone? “Can you name them?” she asked. “Or are there others who would question him, as you do, who might know them?”

“There might,” Darryn said. “A few I know for certain were displeased with the theft of Peacebringer, but were not involved with the acts. Any others would be a great risk. It’s harder to tell who supports the crown and who supports Marrol’s crown than you think, Lady.” His eyes danced to the left, and he held up his hand, as if to quiet her. “Did you hear that?” he whispered.

“What?” she asked. Then, she heard it - the rustle of leaves underfoot, and the orange torchlight breaking the dark light around them. The soldiers, or the guards - whoever it was, Caliandra couldn’t be certain, but they were at a distance. “”This way,” Caliandra said, as she led Darryn down a familiar path, that wound through the woods. He stopped to grab something - his sword, she imagined - and soon, he was running right alongside her. She looked back behind them, as the ground rose; she could see two other torches in the darkness, farther along.

Did they escape?
She wondered. Then, she heard a man yell her name. “Lady Caliandra!”

“How do they know I’m missing?” She wondered to herself.

“Because you’re even worse at deception than you are at swordplay,” he grumbled. “Can we lose them in the wood?”

“I think so,” Caliandra said.

“That’s our only chance,” he said. “We can’t pretend that I found you. They’d know,” he said, as they began to run again. “Lead the way.”

Caliandra thought, and ducked to the left; she saw another torch in the distance that way, but the risk was worth it. “I’ll take you near the barracks side,” she said, as she wove through the trees. “Act as if you went to the woods to defecate, and fell asleep by accident.”

“Can’t even say ‘shit’, can you?” Darryn quietly scoffed, as he kept pace with her. “Nobles. Bet you can’t talk about fucking, either.”

“Mind your damn tongue or I’ll cut it out!” Caliandra shot back, mortified, her voice a loud whisper. “I try to save your hide, and is that how you thank me?”

“I have other ways, if you like,” Darryn said, his voice still suggestive in spite of their panic. She thought about it for longer than she meant to as she ran, and jumped over a small ledge; the feel of his lips, his body close against hers… then, she heard a thump behind her.
Damn the boy
, she thought.
Did he not see me jump?

She rushed back, against her better instincts; she found him in the ditch, clutching at something. “My damn ankle,” he said. “Sprained it, I think.”

“Can you get up?” She asked. Then, she looked ahead of them; the torch they were running away from had gotten closer. “Oh, hell,” she said. She tried to think quickly; she had her cloak, and - “Do not move,” she said. She lay her cloak over him, so that it covered his body, and threw as many leaves atop it as she could grab from the ground around her feet.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice muffled.

“Hiding you,” she whispered. “Be quiet, and be still until I come for you.” Her heart pounded as she piled on the leaves in a frenzy, hoping that would be enough to conceal Darryn from view, but the torch grew closer, and closer, until she could see it in the distance. She scrambled to a hiding spot, not far away - a small outcropping of dirt, bolstered by a nearby tree, that was on the far side of the ditch Darryn fell into - and hoped the noise wouldn’t give her away. Caliandra took long, quiet breaths, and waited. And waited. Each moment was filled with anxious terror as the torch drew nearer, and she could make out the shapes of the men who pursued them. She peeked out from behind the tree, and saw them take careful steps across the ground. The torch lit their bored faces, and she knew all she had to do was wait. They would pass on soon enough.

Then, she noticed it - Darryn’s shoe, just jutting out past the bottom edge of the cloak.
Damn it!
She thought, as her pulse raced.
Why didn’t I tell him to curl himself in a ball?
She pulled back behind the tree, and winced. They’d notice for certain. It was obvious, it was right there, and… she could do nothing. She could do nothing but pray. Caliandra clasped her hands, and thought silent words.
Merciful Yom
,
builder of the Golden Path, please aid us in our time of need - and keep him hidden from their eyes.
She listened for their footsteps, which fell even on the ground They guards drew closer, and closer, an closer - and then, she heard them stop, and the only sound she heard was the roar of the burning torch.

“The men drew closer, and close; their footsteps crunched the leaves beneath their feet, and she could hear the footfall of their boots on the ground. One of them breathed harder than the other, as if he were out of breath. “Why’re you running, anyway?” the out-of-breath man asked.

“I thought I saw someone over here,” the other man said, his voice gruff. “Lady Caliandra! Lady Caliandra,” he shouted, into the night. She did not respond. She heard the tell-tale
woosh
of the torch being moved around in the air. She stayed perfectly still.

“What makes you think she’s over here?” the out of breath man asked.

“Don’t know,” the other replied. “Hasn’t been missing that long. And she’s a proper lady. Probably couldn’t make it out of the forest without winding herself. LIke you.” Caliandra quickly peeked out from behind the tree; they wore guard uniforms, not soldier’s garb. She felt relief; the guards were still loyal to Kells, not to Marrol.