David Dalglish - A Dance of Cloaks

Arms wrapped around his waist. When he opened his mouth to scream, a hand rammed over it to stifle the noise.

“Silence, old man,” a deep voice rumbled in his ear. Robert opened his eyes to look, but they were full of tears. Through blurred vision he saw three strangers, cloaked and almost invisible in the darkness.

“This will hurt,” said another voice, this one feminine. Then fire erupted through every joint in his body. His shoulders felt like the center of the inferno. He might have screamed again, but if he did, he wasn’t aware. All he knew was that the giant hand across his mouth pressed tighter. The chains rattled above his head. He heard a click. A sudden lurch followed, and though his whole body flushed with pain, he felt a wonderful, delirious satisfaction in the sudden feel of his weight resting no longer on his dislocated arms but instead the chest of another.

“We don’t have much time,” said a new voice, male and not as deep as the first. “We need to go, and quick.”

“We’ve killed too many,” said the deep voice. “Thren will not be pleased.”

“As long as we’ve got Robert, he’ll keep his displeasure in check. Now hurry!”

The ache in Robert’s shoulders had begun to fade, and a dim part of his mind was aware that they were no longer dislocated. That knowledge was little comfort when he felt himself thrown over the shoulder of what must have been a giant man. The sudden movement churned his stomach, and he vomited all over the man’s back.

“Lovely,” he heard his rescuer say.

Robert clamped his teeth tight as his body bounced up and down with each hurried step. Someone was rescuing him, so screaming was bad, screaming was dangerous. Silence was golden. His muscles were aflame, his joints throbbed, but the only sound he made was a soft, quiet sob.

To take his mind off the pain, he tried to visualize the prison in his mind. He had been there plenty of times, usually accompanying Edwin on some morbid jaunt past all the cells. He was always mistrustful of his commands being carried out, so seeing men he had pronounced worthy of punishment actually being punished always put a smile on his face. Those trips had given Robert ample opportunity to memorize the layout.

From what he remembered, he was on the third floor. Below were two more floors, where the punishment was far more active and brutal. To get out, they’d need to pass upward two floors to the entrance. Each stairway was locked and guarded. But if he was being rescued, perhaps they had killed the guards, or rendered them…

He moaned as the man carrying him skidded to an abrupt halt. The woman cursed. When Robert opened his eyes, his awkward position disorientated his vision, and he closed them to prevent another wave of vomit. The smell of it was still strong from the first time, although compared to the stench of his cell, he figured he could endure it. Sounds of steel and drawn weapons met his ears.

“Who?” he asked. His voice seemed meek compared to the rest of the sounds around him. “Who sent you?”

“Thren,” said the big man. “Now shut your mouth.”

Robert wasn’t sure he could speak even if he wanted to. Steel rang against steel. He heard a man scream. Then they were running, his head bobbing up and down with each step. Stairs, Robert realized. They were going up a flight of stairs.

More sounds of battle. It was so strange hearing the fight without a visual accompaniment. The sound of a sword striking armor could be good or bad. Each cry of death could be one of his rescuers, or a man blocking his exit. He found that his mind was too exhausted to hope one way or another. Honestly, he hoped they failed the attempt, and that he was killed along with the rest. Because if Thren Felhorn wanted him, then the only place safer than the Golden Eternity was back in his cell.

A sound of trumpets flooded the prison. The big man carrying him swore long and loud. Robert was gently placed on the ground, ground which felt beautifully firm underneath his tucked knees. The stone was cold, but he didn’t mind. He shivered, and absently he wondered if he had a fever. No longer upside-down, Robert slowly opened his eyes and watched the battle to save his life raging around him.

A beautiful woman with raven hair twirled by a doorway leading deeper into the prison. Daggers flew from her hands, unable to score killing blows through the thick armor of the guards but stalling them nonetheless. Robert glanced the other way. Down past rows of cells made of thick stone and sealed wooden doors was the final set of stairs. Ten guards pressed their way down, with only four having made it off the steps. Two men held them back, wielding long daggers with such precision that Robert knew they were men of Felhorn. One was a thin, wiry man with blonde hair while the other looked like a dark-skinned giant. All three of his rescuers wore the gray cloaks of the Spider Guild.

Robert closed his eyes as guard after guard died. With the trumpet sound, they would come endlessly. Three against a multitude; Robert didn’t need all his wits to know the likelihood of escape. He waited for rough hands to grab his soiled clothes, or perhaps a blade to pierce his chest. Death after death he heard, their cries a chorus of blood and skill. And then rough hands grabbed him, but instead of hauling him back to his cell they flung him over the shoulder of the giant.

“Run!” boomed the man.

Up the stairs they went. When they reached the top, Robert dared open his eyes. The big man had swung around to check behind him, and as he did, Robert saw ten more soldiers blocking the way. They were not in a frantic hurry, nor did they look overly worried. They were arrayed in a diamond shape, with those at the back wielding long polearms while the front men carried shields and maces.

“Give ‘em up,” one of the macemen shouted.

“Where’s the gate?” the woman asked.

“Follow me,” the smaller man said. “As long as they don’t know…”

The three rushed down the hall toward the defensive formation, then jutted right. Robert was baffled. They approached a dead end of solid stone. The shadows across it were thick. The smaller man jumped at the wall, and just as Robert wondered what gymnastic trick he planned to perform, he slipped right through as if the wall were air. The girl followed next. Hope dared kindle in the old man’s breast.

As the guards shouted behind them, Robert and his giant leapt through the shadows of the wall. Cool fresh air blew across Robert’s skin, and feeling it, he gasped.

“Let’s take him home,” the woman said. Robert tried to smile at her, but the comfort of clean lungs was too much for him.

He fell asleep, still slung across the giant’s shoulder.

G iven the mansion’s numerous closets, secret pathways, gardens and attic space, Aaron couldn’t have been happier with his new home. He’d spent the past few days lurking far more aimlessly than normal. Since the attempt on Aaron’s life, his father had not appointed a new teacher in weaponry, stealth, or politics. With little else to do, Aaron had begun picking random workers and stalking them. He’d watched fat Olivia slaving away at the ovens for nearly four hours before she noticed his presence. Deciding a busy, unskilled person like that was no fun, he moved up in difficulty. Senke had caught him in less than four minutes; Will in less than two.

But Senke and Will were gone, as was Kayla, who he hadn’t worked up the courage to stalk yet. He’d discussed her with Senke plenty, blurting out how beautiful and skilled she was. Senke, the wily woman-lover that he was, had been more than sympathetic, though he’d also said the worst words in the world to Aaron: you’re too young. Worry about that when you’re older.

With the king sending soldiers to kill him, Aaron thought older wasn’t a guarantee. He’d spent the last two hours hiding atop an old wardrobe. Floor planks opened up nearby to one of the many tunnels leading in and out of the mansion. Aaron had watched people come and go, observing their reactions as they stepped into the light. For a few, he’d even scratched the wood with his fingers or let out a quick cough. None had noticed. Aaron found himself missing Senke even more.