Carol Berg - Son of Avonar

Kellea crouched in front of the sheriff and slapped his cheek lightly—enough to force his eyes back open. “Don’t you dare go to sleep until I give you more of this.” She took three or four small leaves from her little bag and crushed them in her fingers, telling Paulo to pour a sip of wine into a cup. She stirred the leaves into the wine and made Rowan drink it. He dozed off almost immediately.

“He’s not doing well,” I said. Rowan’s hands were cool and clammy.

“I told him he’d be no help to anybody if he was dead.” Kellea doused a rag with water and blotted Rowan’s brow. “But he thought you might have need of us, and he’ll not keep sensible where you’re concerned. And he believes I have some stupid sentiment about saving my people.”

“Dassine said the consequences would be dreadful if we let the Bridge be destroyed. Do you think that’s true?” I badly needed Kellea’s help.

“I just want to get out of here and be left alone.” The girl stuffed the herb bag back into the pocket of her leather breeches. She nodded her head at Paulo, and the two of them carefully lowered Rowan to the straw. Paulo pushed a rolled-up cloak under the man’s head.

“We’ve got to free him, Kellea. They’re going to kill him. Even if you don’t care about that, he might be able to help Rowan. I don’t know what all his talents are, but he’s a sorcerer who’s growing more powerful by the day. We should—”

“I’ll help you, no matter,” said the girl, standing up and adjusting her sword belt. “We’ve come this far and are like to get no farther if we’re not smart about it. Pardon me if I don’t trust our safety to you.”

“All right, then.” I climbed to my feet, weariness forgotten. “We’ll need to take him some clothes, and whatever weapons we can get together…”

We set out with three knives, two swords, and Rowan’s black cloak. Kellea left her bag of herbs with Paulo and told him what to do if the sheriff woke in pain or fever. “I’ll bet the Prince can fix him,” said the boy.

“We’ll take care of him,” said Kellea, laying her own cloak over the sleeping man. “Douse the light now, until we’re off.”

Once our eyes had adjusted to the darkness, Kellea and I slipped out of the storeroom and up the steps that led back to the cavern.

“Finding the Prince would be easier if I had something of his, you know,” Kellea whispered.

“If no one’s taken it, I’ve got something…” We crept through the dark colonnade until we encountered Baglos’s body. The Dulcé‘s leather pack had been thrown on top of him. I rummaged inside. No one had bothered to retrieve D’Arnath’s silver dagger.

I gave Kellea the weapon, chewing my lip as she worked her magic with it. When she handed the knife back to me and pointed toward the winding stair, I shoved it into my knife sheath, keeping Rowan’s more ordinary knife in my hand. The Zhid had confiscated my own blade.

Kellea glided through the dark cavern and up the stairway. At each landing, she paused for a moment before continuing upward. I followed close. A faint steady light shone from one end of the third-level walkway. Quiet voices came from the nearby shadows. Kellea drew me toward the opposite end of the span, and we approached the light by skirting the cavern wall through the gallery. One man sat on the floor beside the lantern; two darker forms stood on either side of a closed door. We crept close and crouched in a shadowed doorway, a few rooms away from the men.

“… don’t trust nobody won’t show his face,” murmured a man with a gravelly voice.

“Orders is orders,” snapped a second. “We’ve been in stranger company.”

“Don’t know when. This place gives me the cold sweats. Did you look at that priest, the one that does show his face? I thought I was a dead man when he looked at me— or maybe he was.”

“Me, too,” said a third voice, younger, jittery. The soft lantern glow outlined a youthful profile. “And I keep hearing things. Like voices, but nobody’s there. When we come past that lake… all the birds. I never liked birds, specially ones you can’t see. Did you see any birds, Dirk?”

“Just do your duty, both of you,” said the second man. “Mouth shut, eyes open, and opinions to yourself. I don’t trust those animals downstairs any farther than I can spit.”

So these were the newcomers. Not Maceron’s men.

“Who is this prisoner that’s got everybody so wrought up?” asked the gravel-voiced man.

“It’s not ours to know. His lordship says they’ve got him fair trussed. If we keep him tight, we’ll be out of here tomorrow.”

His lordship…

Kellea pulled my ear to her mouth. “He’s in the chamber just past these three. I’ll get the bastards away. If you can’t free him in a quarter of an hour, leave him be, and we’ll think of something else.”

I squeezed her arm in acknowledgment, and she slipped away into the darkness. Whispers and murmurings floated through the air. I flattened myself into the niche. Moments later, a faint green light twirled and streaked through the air above the walkway.

“Cripes, what’s that?” said the gravel-voiced man.

“Go check it out.”

Scarcely had the running footsteps disappeared along with the green light when a new voice rang out in the darkness. “Dirk! Downstairs at once! His lordship’s orders.” The voice was male, but it was impossible to tell from what direction it came. I had underestimated Kellea’s talents.

The leader spewed out curses. “You’ll have to hold here, Rigo. Don’t budge now. Anything happens to this prisoner, we’re maggot fodder.” He hurried across the walkway and galloped unevenly down the stairs.

The edgy young soldier didn’t have a chance. A handful of pebbles bounced across the gallery floor, then his shrouded lantern was snuffed out by a gust of wind.

“Who’s there?” said the shaking voice. He sounded no older than Paulo.

A faint laugh, another shower of pebbles, then light footsteps tripped down the gallery. The young soldier hesitated only briefly before running after them.

The moment he was away, I jumped up and pushed open the heavy door. The walls of the barren chamber gleamed faintly of their own light. Against the far wall hung the Prince, his feet spread apart and fastened with the silver cord to bolts newly set into the stone. His hands were lashed to a wooden beam high above his head, leaving him to support his weight on the balls of his feet. The silver loop about his neck was tethered securely to another hook in the wall. He was very still, scarcely even breathing. Only a slight tremor in his legs hinted he was alive.

Seri…

I could have sworn I heard someone say my name. But the rag was still in place about the Prince’s mouth. “Stay quiet,” I whispered. “I’ve come to get you.” I freed his mouth, untied the blindfold, and slipped the loop at the end of his neck tether from its hook. While he was still blinking and swallowing, I bent to examine the bonds on his ankles.

Stifling a cough, he whispered hoarsely, “Don’t you get tired of riding to my rescue?”

“We’ve come this far. If we can get you away, you’ll have time to think about what you need to do here. You can come back when you’re ready.” I could not look at his face. I told myself that I didn’t want to shame him because of his nakedness, and that it was only fear of someone catching us that made my hands shake so wretchedly as I worked. But there was more. Enchantment was all about him, stronger than I’d ever felt before.

“Can I cut this cord?” I asked. The silver cord had bitten deep into his flesh, leaving oozing blisters and raw, ugly patches. His legs, stretched so awkwardly, were trembling with the strain of his position as he tried not to make things worse by moving.