The King's Scrolls

  Liam took another quick look down the alley before he hurried after his brother. At least the other men had gone the opposite direction.

  Kyrin wrinkled her nose. “What’s all the smoke from?”

  Even at the southern end of Dunlow, a thick haze hung over the city, coating the inside of her nostrils and leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. The way it settled heavily in her lungs was almost suffocating. How did people survive here?

  “Ore smelters,” Mick answered. “In a town like this, they run almost constantly.”

  Kyrin tried to take a deep breath, but coughed. “It’s horrible.” She shook her head and looked up at Jace. “You shouldn’t be here.”

  His hesitance to reply told her she was right, but he said, “I’ll be fine.”

  She didn’t believe that for a moment. If they didn’t get any definitive answers quickly, she would leave and he would follow. She wouldn’t risk him becoming seriously ill.

  She turned her eyes to the buildings ahead. Though the town was much larger and more populated, it didn’t appear any more welcoming than those in Keth. She couldn’t spot one establishment that didn’t bear a thick coat of grime or stand in need of repairs. Dunlow’s citizens must not have believed it was even worth an attempt to present a good front.

  “How do people live this way?” she murmured.

  “People come to the Valley hoping to strike it rich,” Mick explained, “but most end up living as little better than slaves in the mines. Only mine owners like my family are wealthy. Everyone else lives day to day on their wages. Just enough to eat, but not enough for a fresh start.”

  “So they’re trapped here?”

  “More or less.”

  Kyrin understood being trapped by circumstances, though living conditions here starkly contrasted with the luxury she’d known at the palace and even Tarvin Hall. These people would probably drop everything for a chance to live as she had.

  When they reached the town, they split into two groups of four to either side of the main road. That way they could stick close together in case trouble arose. They would have to be on their guard for soldiers today.

  Shortly, Kyrin, Jace, Kaden, and Trev came upon the first shop along the street—a cobbler, according to the cracked sign out front. Kyrin pushed open the door, and they all stepped inside, though the men held back. As much as she disliked it, she had agreed to do the talking since it had worked to their advantage in Keth.

  Kyrin put on a sweet smile and approached the man at the service counter. He looked at her over a pair of spectacles, his tilted head revealing a bald spot. A half-finished shoe rested in his hand.

  “Can I help you, miss?”

  “I hope so. I’m looking for a man named Josan Silvar. Do you know if he lives around here?”

  “Sure, I know Josan.”

  Kyrin’s heart skipped a beat.

  “I see Josan once in a while,” the cobbler continued. “Not lately though. He doesn’t get out much.” He peered at her closely. “He a friend of yours?”

  “I don’t know him personally, but I’m trying to get a message to him from his family.” She reclaimed the smile that had slipped in her surprise. The last thing she wanted was to arouse any suspicion.

  “I didn’t know he had any,” the man said in interest. “It’ll be good for him to hear from them. Things get kinda bleak around here.”

  Kyrin could certainly see that. “Could you tell me where he lives?”

  “He has a cottage on the east side of town, a little north of here. It’s off by itself, so you shouldn’t miss it.”

  Kyrin’s smile widened as she thanked him and bid him good day. She turned and exchanged a satisfied look with the men. As long as they avoided the soldiers, they could have Josan and the Scrolls to safety within an hour. Jace opened the door to let her out of the shop. She took a step across the boardwalk. Her gaze immediately caught on a group of men in gold and black, and warning signals fired through her nerves. She froze. Kaden bumped into her, and she spun back toward the shop, grabbing his arm. “Turn around!”

  He frowned, but obeyed.

  “Do not look back,” she whispered. She looked up at Jace. “Do you see those soldiers just up the street?”

  He nodded, his eyes alert and fixed on the men.

  “Tell me when they’re out of sight.”

  Kaden gave her a look that questioned her odd behavior. “What is it?”

  “Marcus.”

  “What?” He started to turn, but Kyrin squeezed his arm.

  “Yes, Marcus, but don’t look or he might see you. He must be the one in charge of finding Josan.”

  Kaden scowled.

  “They’re heading east,” Jace said a moment later.

  Kyrin turned cautiously. Josan wouldn’t be the only one hunted if Marcus happened to see and recognize them. “That’s toward Josan’s place. We better get the others and find him before Marcus does.”

  They stepped into the street, and spotted the others just exiting the shop across from them.

  “We know where Josan is,” Kyrin announced as they met them, “but I just saw my brother Marcus and his men. We have to get Josan and get out of town before Marcus sees me or Kaden.”

  Trask nodded, and Kyrin pointed the group east. None of the roads led in a completely straight path, but they traveled quickly while avoiding untimely intercepts with the soldiers. Kyrin’s stomach tightened with unease. How could she be afraid of her own brother? Would he actually pursue them if he did spot them? She didn’t want to believe so, but . . .

  Two figures caught her attention, and she skidded to a halt. Kaden nearly collided with her again, and everyone else slowed to look back at her.

  “What’s wrong?” Trask asked.

  “Two men just disappeared around that corner.” She nodded down a street toward the south. “One looked like a crete.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Kyrin replayed the scene in her mind. She’d caught only a glimpse, but it was enough to know one of the men had long hair, much like Captain Darq. “Pretty sure. Do you think it could be Josan? If he knows about the soldiers, he could be trying to escape.”

  Trask glanced east, but then nodded. “Let’s find out.”

  They changed directions, heading south. When they came around the corner, they caught sight of the two men farther down the narrow street. Now Kyrin was sure of it. One of them was a crete. They hurried to catch up, and Trask called out, “Josan Silvar!”

  The two men stopped and looked back, their eyes, especially the crete’s, wide and wary.

  Trask held up his hands as the group drew closer. “We’re friends. We came here with Captain Verus Darq. Your father sent him to find you.”

  A great sigh released from the crete’s lips, and his tense expression relaxed. To the young man beside him, he said, “He’s telling the truth. I know the Darq family.” Josan’s eyes settled on Trask. “There are soldiers searching for us.”

  “Don’t worry. Captain Darq and his men are nearby. We’ll help you get to them.”

  The young man at Josan’s side stepped forward. His dark brown hair fell in slight waves almost to his chin, and his handsome, clean-shaven appearance brought out his youth. Yet, Kyrin found that his brown eyes held the greater, deeper experience and wisdom of one more aged. It intrigued her as something beyond the ordinary.

  “Please, can you try to find my brother? He left to distract the soldiers so we could get away.”

  The pained intensity of his plea squeezed Kyrin’s heart. She would want the same if it were Kaden.

  Trask quickly gave this consideration. “Which way did he go?”

  “Last I saw, he headed north.”

  Trask turned to the group. “Rayad, take Kyrin, Kaden, Jace, and Trev, and get them to safety. Holden, Mick, and I will look for his brother.” He faced the young man again. “What is his name and what does he look like?”

  “His name is Aaron Carliss. He’s only a bit taller than me and has
short brown hair and blue eyes. He’ll probably have his pack and bow with him, unless he dropped it somewhere.”

  “We’ll try to find him.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Now, you’d better go before the soldiers show up,” Trask urged.

  Kyrin and the others came forward, and Trev offered to take Josan’s pack so he could move more quickly. The group split and went off in opposite directions, though the young man sent a yearning look after Trask, Holden, and Mick.

  Kyrin paused at his side. “They’ll do everything they can to find him.”

  His eyes, level with her own, switched to her and warmed with gratitude. He nodded and they hurried after the others.

  After a few blocks, they slowed to another stop as Josan struggled with the pace. Winded, he said, “You should go without me. You’ll need to run once we’re in the open.”

  The young man shook his head, but Rayad beat him to a reply.

  “Not happening.”

  Kaden stepped up. “Here, climb on my back. I can carry you the rest of the way.”

  Kyrin watched for Josan’s reaction. Would the fierce crete pride allow acceptance of such an offer? But Josan clearly wasn’t like most cretes. With a brief nod, he handed his crutches to the young man and wrapped his arms around Kaden’s neck when he knelt in front of him. Once he had a secure hold, Kaden pushed back to his feet, and they resumed their pace.

  Moving much more quickly now, they reached the edge of town in a few minutes. They paused to make sure the way was clear and then ran down the road. With this final sprint, they came around a crooked bend, where they met Darq and the other cretes, and slowed to a stop. Josan slid down from Kaden’s back and reclaimed his crutches as the crete captain approached them.

  “Josan Silvar?”

  He nodded, and Darq extended his hand. “Captain Verus Darq.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Captain.” Josan glanced at his shoulder tattoos. “I remember your father well.”

  Darq scanned the group before his gaze rested on Rayad. “Where are Trask and the rest of your men?”

  “They stayed behind to look for his brother.” He nodded at the young man. “He tried to distract the soldiers while they escaped. I may go back once everyone is safely in camp.”

  Captain Darq nodded and led everyone up toward the new camp the cretes had made closer to the valley floor.

  Aaron’s mind raced as fast as his pounding feet. He had drawn the soldiers away, but now they were closing in. He’d meant every word to Timothy about avoiding capture. He had no intention of giving them the opportunity to cart him off to Valcré for execution, but one slip, one miscalculation, would land him right in the soldiers’ hands.

  Weaving through an alleyway congested with junk piles, he slid to a stop at a corner and scanned the area to plot his next move. He’d reached the far northeastern corner of town. If he could just get west, he could skirt around the soldiers before they cut him off.

  “There!”

  His heart crashed against his ribs, and he spun around. A group of soldiers sprinted toward him. He smashed his fist into the wall in frustration and took off running, straight east. Gone was the careful planning. Outrun the soldiers. That was it.

  The mountains loomed before him and gave him a surge of hope. If he could reach the slopes, they’d never keep pace climbing after him. Not if they didn’t want to break their necks risking the treacherous climb. He couldn’t be worth that much to them. Pushing for every bit of speed he could manage, he threw off his heavy pack, every muscle straining in the effort.

  He hit the slopes at a dead run. His feet slipped in the loose gravel and almost threw him off balance, but he found his footing and charged on. Though pain seared through his legs at the incline, the thought of Timothy drove him forward. He would not leave his brother to face the world and take care of Josan on his own. He looked ahead to a sheer cliff rising up about thirty feet. If he made it to the top, he’d secure his escape.

  Footsteps and sliding gravel echoed behind him as he hit the cliff face, only then coming to a stop. He dug his fingers into the highest crevice he could reach and dragged himself upward. The joints in his fingers cramped and burned as he clawed at any hand and foothold he could find. Several times his grip slipped, but he never slowed. The old days of running from the bullies who’d always picked on him for being shorter than the other kids in town were paying off. Before eventually learning how to defend himself, the mountain slopes had been his best escape route. He never would have learned to climb so fast otherwise.

  Over two-thirds of the way up the cliff, he reached a narrow ledge. With this solid footing beneath him, he paused to look up. Only another six feet separated him from freedom. But the rock face was smooth and offered no adequate crevices for him to advance any farther.

  “No!” He searched frantically with his eyes and fingers. He was too close to fail now.

  “Stop! Or we’ll shoot!”

  Aaron froze and looked down. Eight soldiers stood directly below him. Four had their bows nocked and ready. He breathed hard through his nose and scanned the cliff again. Had he the time, he could work his way up, but if any of those men were even half as good a shot as he was, he’d be dead.

  “Come down. I don’t want my men to have to shoot you.”

  Aaron rested his forehead against the cold rock and growled. He never surrendered. Never. Not to bullies, not to circumstances, and definitely not to the emperor’s men. He turned and pressed back against the cliff to look down at the soldiers. “What do you want with me?”

  “What’s your name?” the soldier in a captain’s uniform asked.

  “Aaron. What’s yours?”

  “I’m Captain Marcus Altair.”

  “Well, Captain, I don’t know exactly what’s going on, but I’d really appreciate you calling off your men.” Aaron turned his eyes upward again. There had to be a way out of this.

  “Come down, and we can talk,” Marcus replied.

  “Yeah?” Aaron glanced at him. “Does this talk involve me bound or unbound?”

  “That depends on why you’re running.”

  Aaron snorted. “First you and your men question my little brother, and then you come chasing after us. You’ll have to excuse me for seeing it as hostility toward my family.”

  “We’re only looking for information,” the captain replied in a pacifying voice. “Running would indicate you have something to hide. Do you?”

  “You tell me,” Aaron grumbled. His eyes snagged on a small, jutting rock about waist-high. He looked up at the cliff’s edge. Just maybe, if he jumped, he could grab the edge and use the rock to propel himself up and over. He winced. Risky. He would need more time to think it over. After all, if he missed, he’d fall right into the soldiers’ laps, if it didn’t kill him first. The latter would probably be preferable. He looked back down at Marcus. “What kind of information are you looking for?”

  “We’re searching for a man named Taan. He’s an enemy of His Majesty, Emperor Daican.”

  Aaron turned to face the cliff again, but kept talking. He just had to stall them for a bit. “What’s he guilty of?”

  “Treason. He’s been known to spread lies about the myth of Elôm.”

  Aaron scowled. Did this soldier even think about what he was saying? Or was he just spoon-fed the emperor’s lies to spit out at times like this? “So, just because a man chooses to believe in a God other than the emperor’s, that constitutes treason?”

  “Just come down and we can discuss it.”

  “No. You answer my question. Why is it treason?”

  The gravel beneath Marcus crackled as he shifted. “Because the emperor has forbidden it.”

  “Oh, so it’s right, then, to slaughter people because they have different religious beliefs?”

  Marcus answered in a carefully controlled tone. “The penalty for treason is death. That’s how it has always been.”

  Had they been having this conversation face to fac
e, Aaron would have looked at him in disgust. “But what makes belief in Elôm worthy of death? What harm does it do the emperor?”

  Now emotion did creep into the captain’s voice. “My sister’s misguided beliefs led her to attack the emperor after he bestowed on her a great honor. That’s the kind of radical action these false beliefs lead to. Now, I’m warning you for the last time. Come down or we’ll shoot.”

  Time had run out. Aaron had to make his choice. Surrender, or make his move and risk being shot or falling? Either way, he faced an almost sure chance of death. Yet, in the end, he’d rather take his chances than willingly give his life into their hands.

  He gathered his energy, murmured a prayer, and lunged for the ledge above his head. His heart missed a beat, but his fingertips gripped the rock and held. He scrambled for the foothold, holding his breath in anticipation of an arrowhead slamming into his back. His foot found the rock, and he propelled himself up. But, in the next instant, it gave way beneath him. He slammed against the cliff. The air rushed from his lungs. Taking the full weight of his body, his fingers slipped.

  For a gut-wrenching moment, time stood still, and he knew he was falling. He slid down the rough rock surface, the sharp edges ripping into his skin. Piercing pain shot up through his feet and ankles as he hit the ground, and his knees buckled. Rolling, he landed hard on his right shoulder. A jagged rock gashed into the skin. He groaned through his teeth and lay dazed, but his heart still beat and his lungs still drew breath, even though he wasn’t sure that was the best thing at the moment.

  The soldiers converged on him. They jerked his arms behind his back and hauled him to his feet, where he came face to face with Marcus. He looked the captain in the eyes. They might have caught him, but that didn’t mean they would get what they truly wanted. He’d protect Timothy and Josan straight to his grave.

  Marcus just stared at him for a moment before ordering his men, “Take him to the cottage. We’ll question him there.”

  Jace cradled a warm mug of coffee in his fingers, but his attention focused on the cretes and the others talking around the small fire. From his seat near the edge of camp, he could still listen in on the conversation while having a little space—just how he liked it. Gem sat behind him, and her warm breath drifted across the back of his neck. He glanced at her, and she blinked her inquisitive eyes as if asking him about the two new strangers.