Kathleen Creighton - The Rebel King

To Rhia, it seemed that an eternity passed before the gap in the wall of shelves widened enough for a body to squeeze through. Everything, even her heartbeat. seemed to be moving in slow motion. Beyond the library door she could hear voices and running footsteps, but their rescuers, too, it seemed, were coming at the speed of growing grass. Meanwhile, she needed only a moment to go for her weapon, but it had to be the right moment. She didn't dare risk it as long as Vladimir had his gun to the king's head. She had to wait for her chance. Maybe, once they were in the tunnel, in the darkness…

But her chance didn't come-not then. Vladimir shoved her through the opening first, then Nikolas, then the king, with the gun jammed ruthlessly against the base of his skull. Once they were all crammed into the small dusty space behind the wall, Vladimir activated some sort of mechanism that reversed the door. Then, while there was still light coming through the opening, he took a battery-operated torch from a niche in the stone wall, turned it on and thrust it at Nikolas.

"Here-take this. She's going first-your lady friend. Keep the light pointed at her back. Don't move it, or I shoot her first." He didn't sound mad, now, only terrifyingly purposeful. Efficient. Like a stone-cold killer. "That way. Go on-move."

With a final groan, the panel clicked shut. In a darkness alive with jumping shadows and the sounds of breathing. Rhia moved forward, the Walther like a hot brick against her thigh.

The passageway seemed endless, following a bewildering succession of twists and turns, short ups and downs, until she had lost all sense of direction. Finally, at the end of a short stretch of passageway, she came to a flight of stone steps that seemed to disappear into the darkness beyond the glow of the flashlight. The steps led…not down, but up.

"So that's it." Nikolas's musing voice came from close behind her. "They found all the underground tunnels, but nobody thought to look up."

"Shut up," Vladimir hissed. "Climb."

"Just out of curiosity." Nikolas said in a conversational tone, as Rhia started up the steps, trailing one hand along the wall of ancient stone, "where does this go? To the roof, I assume? What do you do after that-fly?"

"You'll learn soon enough." Vladimir said with a sneer that didn't have to be seen. "Keep moving."

At least it's not a tunnel, Rhia thought with a shudder as she climbed steadily upward into the leaping shadows. The air was close, but reasonably cool, and smelled of ancient dust and rat droppings rather than mildew and damp. But she was worried about the king. How much more stress could he take?

I have to find a way to stop this. I have to get to my gun. Maybe…when we get to the roof…

Nikolas watched the flashlight beam dance across Rhia's slender back, swaying skirt and well-muscled legs. As he followed her up the stairs, he thought he could almost see the gun strapped to her thigh. It was within reach of his hand. Maybe…if they were to pause for a moment…if he could get to it…

I have to find a way to stop this. I don't know how much more my father can take. Maybe…when we get to the roof…

"This seems to be as far as I can go." Rhia's voice came drifting down from the shadows above him. "What now?"

"It's a trapdoor." Vladimir snapped. "There's a latch. Find it. Open it."

Nikolas moved the light higher and heard a grunt. "Ah- I see it. Okay…" There was a loud creak, then a thump, and a rectangle of starlit sky appeared overhead.

"I trust you will remember that I'm holding a gun, and that I will kill Nikolas first if you do anything I don't like." Vladimir said coldly. "With that in mind, please…ladies first. Nikolas, keep the light on her so I can see her clearly, or I will shoot this old man in the leg."

They emerged, one after the other, into the fresh air, like survivors creeping out of a bomb shelter. The night was chilly and clear-and where was the bloody fog when you needed it? Nikolas wondered, as a brisk autumn breeze penetrated the silk fabric of his evening jacket.

They were on a flat surface, stone, from the feel of it, not slate. He could see the lights of the old town, Silverton-upon-Kairn. twinkling festively just across the river, looking almost close enough to touch. He could smell the river, too, and hear the murmur of it as he turned in a slow circle, trying to get his bearings. How could the river be so close-almost beneath his feet, from the sound of it? And the spires of the Renaissance part of the palace so far away?

"Douse the light." Vladimir ordered. "Move on-down there. Go on…"

It came to him, then. This was the old part of the palace, the part built on the ruins of a medieval abbey. He remembered the docent on one of the tours he'd taken telling about the original structure, which had included a stone footbridge connecting the abbey to the market town of Kairn across the river. The bridge had long since crumbled and fallen into the river, leaving only the ruins of an ancient guard tower in one corner of the thick stone walls of the abbey courtyard. They had emerged from the passageway, he realized, not onto the roof, but the top of the six-foot-thick wall itself. Behind them was the king's special refuge, the Bourbon Rose Garden. Straight ahead, the remnants of the old bridge jutted out over the glittering water.

"Looks like a dead end to me." Nikolas said, holding his hands out to his sides. "Come on, give it up. There's no place to go. It's over."

"It's not over!" Vladimir was panting, his voice shrill with fury. "We can still do it-I can kill him for you-right here. It's what you always wanted-Weston dead. The people-they'll know it was me-they'll follow you, Nikolas. I have a boat-"

"It's over." Nikolas said softly. "Let him go."

"No!" It was like the roar of an enraged lion. "I'm taking him with me-he's my way out. If you try and stop me, I'll kill you and the woman. Maybe…" He paused, breathing audibly. "Maybe I will kill you-you betrayed me, boy. I raised you! I taught you! And you went back to this-"

"That's enough, Benton." Weston's quiet voice cut through the shrill babble like a knife. "Kill me. if you wish-I've lived my life. Nikolas, my son…I'm grateful to have had a chance to meet you. My only regret is that we didn't have more time. You will be a good king. Come, Lord Vladimir- leave them, and let's be gone."

"No!" Nikolas shouted, his voice shaking. "Father-"

While Weston had been talking, Vladimir's head had swiveled toward Nikolas; he could see the glitter of hatred in his foster parent's eyes. Now, those eyes flicked at Weston, and his lips pulled back in a smile. When the eyes returned to Nikolas, the barrel of the gun came with them.

"My son…" Vladimir said in a sneering voice, and laughed his whip-crack laugh. "Yes-this is a more fitting revenge, I think. Weston, say good-bye to your precious son. I took him from you once-now I do so again-forever!"

Nikolas never saw it coming. He heard a cry of pure anguish, a bellow of rage…threw up his hands in an instinctive and futile attempt to hold back the inevitable. Instead, something flashed into his line of sight from out of nowhere, hit him hard. He felt himself falling.

Even as his mind was screaming Rhia … No! he heard two shots, one after the other. And then he was lying on his back on the cold stones with Rhia half on top of him. and her gun was slowly drooping, falling from her limp hand.

Dazed, he lifted his head, straining to see beyond her inert body. And his heart stopped. A few yards away, Vladimir was crouched, swaying, blood dripping from one hand. The other still held the gun, which he brought slowly around until it was pointed directly at Rhia. Nikolas could see his teeth gleaming in a grimace of pure malice. And all he could do was fold himself over her body and brace himself once again, waiting to feel the impact of bullets tearing into his flesh.