Midnight Quest Page 3

  The officer gave Rialt a thorough look. He played his part beautifully, hunching around his stomach as if he were coddling injured ribs, glaring through sullen eyes. They’d taken the time to muss up his hair and clothes earlier, making it look like he’d been taken in a fight, so on first inspection the story looked plausible. “Shouldn’t we just put him in one of the holding cells?”

  “Only if you want to take responsibility for it when he breaks out later, sir,” Sarvell stated neutrally. It was exactly the tone someone would use when their superior officer had just made a stupid suggestion.

  A brief expression of panic crossed his face. “There’s room in the dungeons for him. Tell Nihan Bos that I authorized it.”

  Sarvell put his fist against his chest in sharp salute. “Yes, sir.”

  Still a little uneasy, the officer turned on his heel and went back to dealing with the drunks. Sarvell waited until he was gone to undo the “locked” cage door and pull Rialt out of it. They kept up the act of being “guard” and “prisoner” as they made their way across the courtyard and to the side entrance that would lead down into the dungeons.

  At this time of night, the narrow stairs leading down were deserted. Two men abreast could make their way down, barely, which made the area a little claustrophobic. With each step down, the air grew colder, with that distinct smell of dampness and mold that all dungeons had.

  “You play the part of guard quite well,” Rialt muttered to him, voice pitched to where it was barely louder than their footsteps. “Did you learn how during one of your ‘scrapes?’”

  “It’s a long story,” Sarvell responded quietly. “I’ll tell you all about it some other time.”

  They reached the bottom.

  The stairs branched out into an open area that doubled as a processing station for prisoners and a break room for the guards. Only one guard was there at this point, sitting behind a desk mounded over with paper, reports, and several empty mugs. The guard looked as if he were one step away from falling asleep right there in his chair. He became more alert at their entrance, and sat up completely when he spied Rialt.

  “Nihan Bos?” Sarvell asked, as if he already half-knew the answer. “I’m Nihan Manalo, Third Division. The watch officer has authorized that this Ramathan be placed down here for holding.”

  Bos shifted a stack of papers, pulled out a new sheet, and scribbled the names and time down on it. “Understood, Nihan. Place him in Cell 16.”

  “Yes, sir.” Sarvell put a hand on Rialt’s shoulder and pushed him forward.

  Rialt made a show of turning to glare at him while reluctantly moving.

  They went through the first set of iron doors, passing out of sight of Bos. From the quick sketch that the ambushed guard had given him, he knew that the dungeons split off into two different directions at the end of this short hallway, both angles perfectly visible to each other. What they didn’t know was how many guards were down there.

  Sarvell paused at the cross section, looking both ways. No one to the left. Two guards were to the right, sitting on the floor outside of a cell door, playing some game of chance. “Bet she’s in there,” he murmured to Rialt as they turned and started walking that direction.

  “Odds be good,” he agreed.

  “Those manacles still loose?”

  “I have no let them close,” Rialt assured him.

  One of the sitting guards looked up. On seeing a Ramathan heading his direction, he heaved himself to his feet. “Hey, you can’t bring him down here.”

  “I was told to put him in Cell 16,” Sarvell answered, still walking forward.

  “Cell 16 is the other way,” the man responded in exasperation. “He can’t be down here, we have a political prisoner on this end.”

  “Oh, sorry,” Sarvell apologized with a contrite smile. “I’ve never been down here before.” The words had carried them to within a few feet of the guards. Sarvell tried to think of something else to say to get them a little closer when Rialt abruptly shed the manacles and darted forward. Before the guards could do more than blink, he’d clopped one hard on the back of the head, knocking him forward and buried his fist in the other’s chest, knocking the breath out of him.

  Sarvell himself was a bit taken aback at the man’s speed. I think I see why the goddess chose him. Shaking the thought aside, he bent and rummaged through the guard’s pockets until he found the key. Slipping it into the lock, he turned it and shoved the door inside. “Priestess?”

  The hallway lamps shed enough light that he could see her. She stood near the center of the room, hands clenched in her skirts. He felt a new wave of anger wash through him. Bad enough they had locked away the High Priestess of Elahandra, but this girl looked barely out of her teens. She was small, scarcely hitting his chest in height, dressed in the sensible white gown of her Order that only emphasized her diminutive size. Judging from the snarled state of her dark braided hair and the smudges against her pale skin, she had been down here for several days already. How could anyone lock away someone so incredibly young and frail?

  Her head tilted slightly and she took a cautious step forward. “I don’t know you.”

  “No, I’m—” his words died as he realized that she was not looking directly at him. Her eyes were instead fixed on a point a foot over his shoulder. She could not see him. He swallowed and forced himself to remain coherent. “I’m Sarvell Sorpan. Elahandra sent me to rescue you.”

  Her worried frown disappeared instantly, relief streaking over her face. “Thank the goddess! I am Jewel Jomadd.”

  “What be the gravel, Sarvell?” Rialt demanded impatiently, pulling the door further open.

  Sarvell turned to him, mind whirling at this unexpected kink to their plans. “Rialt, she’s—” blind.

  Rialt hardly needed him to say anything. He stared inside the cell, at the girl standing there so patiently, the girl who did not turn her head to look at him. “You be blind.”

  “Yes,” she answered as if this remark wasn’t a tad rude. “Did she not tell you?”

  “No,” Rialt growled darkly, “and herself should have. Sarvell, the escape plan we made will no work.”

  Sarvell nodded in unhappy agreement. “No, it won’t. We need to come up with another, quickly.”

  “Only one option, as I can see it.”

  Sarvell knew what he was suggesting. “A diversion? While the other gets her out?”

  “While you get her out,” Rialt corrected. “I can keep them hopping for a long time.”

  Sarvell had seen for himself how nimble and quick the man was. He certainly could keep a castle full of guards scrambling for a while. “Alright. Do you know Sondack? It’s a town about an hour from here.”

  “Eh, I know it.”

  “Meet us near the old mill to the north of town.”

  Rialt nodded in confirmation. “Do you know a way out?”

  “I think so. This castle is built like the one in Hawleywood.” A rapid plan formed in his head, his mind turning it over at every angle, listing what was needed. “Those coils of rope you have, I’ll need one.”

  Rialt doffed his cloak and opened his coat, undoing one of the coils of rope he had wrapped around him.

  While he did that, Sarvell caught one of the priestess’s hands. “Priestess, we’re going up after Rialt draws the guards away. Can you keep up with me if we have to run?”

  “As long as we’re within the castle, yes,” she responded gripping his hand with both of hers. “I have this place memorized.”

  Her skin was like ice. Sarvell shook off the concern. Later. He could worry about that later. “Good.” Turning, he accepted the long coil of rope from Rialt. “Do you know of a way out?” he asked the Ramath in worry.

  “I have a notion or two,” Rialt assured him with a feral grin. “Do no worry about me, you have the tougher job. I will see you later, mayhap early tomorrow.” With a casual salute, he turned and sped down the hallway.

  Sarvell couldn’t see how taking on the
entire castle guard and leading them on a merry chase could possibly be easier. “Good luck,” he called after the man.

  “Will he truly be alright alone?” the priestess asked in concern.

  I certainly hope so. “I’m sure he will be. He’s very quick.” Sarvell retrieved his hand from her grip long enough to doff the uniform he wore. He had no desire to wear two layers of clothing if he didn’t need to. He nearly left them there, but on a spur of the moment decision, slung the jacket around her. “Wear this. That white dress of yours will be too noticeable at night. The dark jacket will help you blend in better.” It would also keep her warmer.

  Her brows quirked in dry amusement. “If you say so.”

  Right, colors meant nothing to her…he’d have to be careful of that in the future. He helped roll the cuffs up so that her hands were free. The coat made her look like a five-year-old playing dress up with her father’s uniform. It hung on her dreadfully, but he didn’t care about fashion right now. “We need to go.”

  Taking her hand, he led her around the unconscious guards still on the floor and started jogging toward the door.

  “Wait, wait, you’re pulling me off balance.” She pulled her hand free, felt up his arm, and then grabbed him around the elbow. “There, now go.”

  He couldn’t see how this was better than holding onto her hand, but he had no time to ask for an explanation. Trusting her judgment call he started forward again. This time she kept up with him admirably.

  When they reached the entrance to the dungeons, it was vacant. Sarvell slowed to a quick walk as they approached the stairs up. “Stairs are here.”

  “Yes, I remember,” she responded simply. Without slowing her pace, she kept going, navigating the stairs with relative ease.

  Sarvell’s admiration of her grew. If he was robbed of sight, he certainly wouldn’t be moving around as she did. The amount of courage she needed to just walk about was unfathomable to him.

  He kept his sword out in front of him as they went up the stairs. Rialt should have everyone thoroughly distracted upstairs, but you never knew. Fortunately, they reached the top without encountering anyone. When they regained the main courtyard, they were met with a scene of complete chaos.

  Rialt had done his job well. Every guard was up in arms and running in different directions, trying to block him. Several officers were rousting even more men out of bed, yelling out orders. The main doors were already closed and barred, blocking the only easy route out. In the split second that Sarvell paused in the stair’s doorway, he saw Rialt running at full speed along the battlement walls, knocking soldiers aside as he went, a feral smile of delight on his face.

  Going anywhere near the main courtyard would get them nowhere. Sarvell instead turned to the right, heading deeper into the main part of the castle. Few people were stationed inside the castle at this hour of the night, so the doorways were relatively clear. Sarvell went to the first unguarded door that he saw, a small, plain one made of simple wood.

  “Not that door!” the priestess warned him sharply, instinctively pulling him back by the grip she had on his elbow. “That door leads straight to the kitchens, there’s no way out from there.”

  He regarded her with stunned amazement for a moment. How had she known…? I have this place memorized, she’d said. He obviously could take that statement at face value. “We need to get to a window, any window that will let us out the outer wall. Where should we go?”

  Her forehead furrowed a bit with intense concentration before she nodded sharply to a spot further ahead. “There. We need to go through the main hall and into one of the interior offices.”

  Sarvell couldn’t believe he was about to say this to a blind woman. “Lead the way.”

  A smile flicked over her face. “I bet that left a funny taste in your mouth.” With a small shake of her head, she shifted her grip to his wrist so that she could pull him along with her.

  He half-trotted behind her, keeping an eye on their surroundings as they moved. Everyone was still so preoccupied with Rialt that they took no notice of two people moving about in the shadows. They reached a larger, fancier door with brass workings without anyone raising an alarm. His guide pulled it open without hesitation and led him through. Sarvell kicked it closed behind them.

  There was very little light in the main room. Sarvell gathered the impression of an immense, open space just from the feel of the air and the way their footsteps echoed. The only light came from the narrow windows above their heads and with the way the windows were designed, little moonlight could get through. It was barely more than lighter patches against pitch darkness. His sword being absolutely useless in this empty space, he let it slide back into the scabbard at his waist with a soft hiss of metal on metal.

  Now he truly was dependent on her to guide him. He couldn’t see a thing. Only the firm grip that she had on his wrist told him where she was and which direction she headed. Stumbling along in her wake, he also realized just why she had wanted to grip his elbow instead of holding hands with him earlier. “Being pulled along like this is unbalancing, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, it is,” she responded, her footsteps slowing. “Here, let’s change up. If you hold my elbow like I did with you earlier, you’re able to sense what direction I’m heading much better.”

  She took his hand and guided it around until he could feel the pointed edge of her elbow. Cautiously, because she felt very frail to him, he wrapped his hand around her arm, just above the elbow. His fingers overlapped without any difficulty.

  “Good,” she said simply and then started walking rapidly forward again.

  He followed along, half-smiling when he realized she was right—this was much better than being dragged about by the hand. He could sense her movements, each change in direction as she made it, and he found he could follow with relative ease. I must remember to never grab her hand again, but to escort her like this.

  Her quick pace slowed before she stopped. There was a quiet snick of a door latch being pressed, and then the soft sound of air being displaced as a door opened. She went through without pause, Sarvell once again hesitating long enough to kick the door closed behind them.

  “Now where…?” he asked, almost redundantly as his eyes caught the faint source of light in that moment. “Ah, I see it. That’s a nice sized window.”

  “It will be large enough for us to escape through?” she asked. It was still too dark to see more than a faint body outline but her worry was clear in her voice.

  “Judging from the amount of light seeping through, I think so. Where’re the stairs?”

  “This way.”

  He followed her trustingly as she traversed in what felt like random circles. No doubt she was navigating their way around furniture, which was why he didn’t ask questions, even though he felt completely disoriented as they moved across the room. With the thick carpets under their feet, he could not hear her footsteps, which was probably why he stubbed his foot directly against something hard and unyielding. “Ow!” he gritted out.

  “Oh. Sorry. Um, stairs?”

  Part of him was upset because of his smarting toes, but her voice was so contrite that he had to bite back a groan of laughter. “We need to work on your guiding abilities, Priestess.”

  “Sorry,” she apologized again on a sigh. “Here, I’ll go slowly.”

  Sarvell tested each stair cautiously as he went up, one hand firmly gripping the railing that he’d found. He tried to hurry as Rialt could only buy them so much time, but he was cautious about going too quickly. If he went down, he probably wouldn’t be hurt much, but he was very afraid that he would take the priestess down with him if he lost his footing. He in no way, shape or form wanted to explain to an angry goddess how he managed to get her favorite priestess killed out of sheer impatience.

  “I have a whole new respect for you, Priestess, for running up the stairs earlier,” he remarked to her as he gained his sixth step.

  “Why?” she asked him, tone vibrating
with amusement. “Stairs are easy. They’re very uniform, so I know exactly how far apart they are, and no one ever puts things on them so I don’t have to worry about tripping over something.”

  “Then why am I having such a hard time with them?”

  “You’re too afraid to trust your instincts.”

  She had a point. Several of them, in fact.

  Fortunately for his nerves they reached the top a few moments later. Here on the second level of the office he had enough light to see by. An elaborate and large desk parked right in front of the window could easily support their weight. Better, it had thick, open legs that he could tie a knot around without anything hampering the line.

  Sarvell unslung the line of rope from around his shoulder and quickly set to work. He knelt in front of the desk and wound the rope around it in a sturdy, retrievable knot. It was a bit risky using a retrievable knot in any circumstance while climbing (after all, if only a few shakes would free it, what happened if he jerked it too much while rappelling down?) but in this circumstance, he had no choice. They couldn’t leave clear evidence of how they escaped and he might need the rope later while navigating that rock face below. Sarvell cast a quick prayer that the knot would not come loose until he needed it to.

  Standing, he reached for the priestess and guided her to his back. “Climb onto my back and hold as tightly as you can. We’re climbing down.”

  She put both arms tight around his shoulders, gripping so that she wouldn’t choke him, and then wrapped both legs around his waist. “Like this?”

  With her in this position, she wouldn’t hamper any of his leg or arm movements. “Perfect. Can you hold on?”

  “Of course.”

  She’d have to, as he wouldn’t have the spare strength to hold her and climb. Taking the next section of rope, he wrapped it quickly around their waists, between the legs, and around again, forming a moving harness. With a deep breath, for courage or in preparation, he wasn’t sure which, he climbed onto the windowsill.