Chapter 9: Escape

  Ean woke suddenly, immediately on alert, but not knowing why. Years of training kept him still, eyes closed, relying on his ears to locate any source of danger. He couldn’t hear much. The tavern below him was mostly silent. He could pick out one or two muffled voices, interspersed with a couple of loud, drunken laughs, meaning that most of the villagers had gone home. It was late then, probably past midnight.

  The floorboards gave a soft creak. And then another. Footsteps. Coming from the back wall.

  It wasn’t Leo. Ean could hear him breathing from the pallet at the foot of his bed. He slowly twisted his right wrist, releasing the knife from its sheath. The hilt slipped into his palm.

  “Like I taught you, son,” a voice whispered, pitched so low Ean could barely hear it. “A quick in and out.”

  Ean slit his eyes open. It was dark in the room, nearly pitch black. A sliver of moonlight peeked through the curtained window. A shadowy form approached, a glimmer of steel in hand. Ean didn’t move, not until the knife plunged toward him.

  He snapped out with his left hand, grabbing the assassin’s wrist and yanking it to the side. The assassin’s blade sunk harmlessly into the mattress as Ean’s stabbed up through the soft spot under the assassin’s jaw. The assassin jerked once. A garbled gasp left his lips. Ean shot up, seized his head, and shoved him into the blankets to smother any further noise. The attacker was small; he noted that as he yanked his knife out of the assassin’s throat. Hot blood gushed out, spilling over his hand and soaking into the mattress. The body spasmed beneath him, once, twice, and then went limp.

  “Craven?” came the whisper from the back of the room.

  Ean leapt forward. He had measured four steps from the bed to the back wall. He took two lunges now, a shadow coming into focus. Gervis gave one quick shout and raised a knife. He was too slow. Ean drove his blade into Gervis’ heart, smashing a hand over the innkeeper’s mouth to stifle any further cries.

  Leo stirred on the pallet. “Ean?” His voice was thick with sleep.

  “Quiet!” Ean whispered.

  He guided Gervis’ body to the floor, then took three steps to the table and lit the lantern. Two bodies flickered into view, Gervis on the floor and his son, Craven, lying dead on the bed.

  “By the sun, Ean!” Leo swore, jerking himself off the pallet. “What did you do?”

  “I didn’t do anything!” Ean hissed, anger flaring at the accusation. “Now shut up before anyone else comes!”

  He crossed to the back of the room. The two intruders hadn’t come through the door; his swords were still hanging over the handle. That meant there was another way in. Ean ran a hand over the wall, searching for any seams that would indicate a hidden entrance. It took a moment to find the edges and a couple more to find the clasp. The secret passageway swung open, revealing a narrow staircase leading down to the floor below. The door at the bottom was shut.

  Ean closed the passage and let out a breath. A secret door to the guest room. A town where travelling parties went missing. The innkeeper and his son. That repeated phrase, ‘It’s my turn.’

  His mind swirled with alarming implications, but he stamped them down. There wasn’t time for speculation and wild theories. He needed to focus on getting Leo out.

  He turned to the Prince. “We’re leaving.” He grabbed Leo’s clothes from the chair and threw them at him. “Get dressed. Quick.”

  Ean grabbed his own boots. His fingers fumbled over the laces in his hurry. He stopped and forced himself to take a breath. Haste could be just as dangerous as sluggishness. He exhaled, releasing the fear from his body, and finished tying his boots. He fastened his long knives about his waist, buckled the straps for his thigh knives, and slid his short swords across his back. He turned to Leo. The Prince was moving slower; his eyes kept wandering to the dead bodies.

  Ean threw Leo’s things into his pack and shoved it at him. Leo slung it over his shoulders, and Ean tossed him his own pack as well. He needed his hands free.

  “Keep behind me,” Ean ordered.

  He cautiously peeked out the door and instantly recoiled. The hall was filled with lantern light, far brighter than it had any reason to be at this late hour. Ean quickly shut the door and re-locked it.

  “Change of plans,” he announced. He re-opened the secret passageway and led the way down. The stairs were steep, but silent under his feet—no creaks or groans of the wood. Ean cracked the door at the bottom and peered through. They’d reached the kitchen, currently empty and closed for the night. The fire had burned down to a few glowing coals. The pots and pans had been washed and were hanging from pegs along the wall. He could hear voices carrying in from the open doorway that led out into the tavern.

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  He motioned Leo down. They crouched low and slipped through the door, ducking behind a large preparation table to keep out of sight. There was a back door in the corner. Ean nudged Leo and pointed at the exit.

  Leo shook his head and whispered, “I’m not leaving without the others.”

  Irritation bubbled up, like indigestion after a heavy meal. “We were nearly murdered in our beds,” Ean whispered back. “We’re not staying here. Not when—” he paused, his brain still trying to put into words what his gut was telling him.

  “Not when the whole town is full of murderers,” Leo finished for him.

  Ean blinked, startled, because he had been thinking that, but he hadn’t thought Leo was capable of making such a grim assumption.

  Leo gave him an exasperated look. “I can put the clues together. Parties going missing, a secret passageway into our bedroom, ringing the bell when we arrived. The clothes were the real give away. I should have realized right then that something was odd about this town. I made the same mistake when I tried to sneak out of the castle the first time. Even my plainest shirt was too fine for a local pub. I had to borrow clothes to—are you laughing at me?”

  Ean was, silently, because the idea of Leo sneaking out of the castle was too incongruous. Leo’s eyebrows scrunched low in annoyance.

  Ean quickly sobered himself. “We take the door. I’ll get you out of town and then go back for the others.”

  “Not good enough.”

  “My job is to keep you safe.”

  “Your job is to protect the whole party. You swore that to me.”

  “That was before we came across an entire town of murderers.”

  “I’m not leaving without them. Besides, I can fight. I have a sword and everything.” Leo’s hand dropped to his hilt.

  Ean swore, but he could recognize a losing battle when he saw one. He re-organized the escape strategy in his head. “Okay, we’ll go back up for the others. But you stay behind me, and you let me do all the fighting.”

  Leo took a moment to nod, not pleased with the instructions, but Ean didn’t care about his happiness, just his safety. He led the way back up the secret staircase and through their room. He paused at the door and listened. He could hear footsteps at the end of the hall. He slowly eased the door open. Two men with hatchets were at Chadwick and Roarke’s room. One pulled out a key.

  Their backs were to him, a perfect opportunity. Ean slipped through the door and darted forward, keeping his knees bent and footsteps light. He reached the man in back, wrapped his hand around his mouth, and slit his throat. The villager pitched forward; the other whipped around. Ean stabbed his knife through his neck. The man fell backwards. His hatchet dropped to the floor.

  The door yanked open at the noise and Chadwick appeared, shirtless, but with his trousers and boots still on. He’d been undressing for bed. He looked at Ean, then down at the dead bodies. His mouth dropped open.

  “What the hell?”

  “You’re welcome,” Ean said.

  “We need to leave,” said Leo. “Where’s Asali and Flora?”

  “Upstairs.”

  There was a scream and a clatter on the stairs. Ean spun around as a body tumbled into the hallway. Asali appeared next, her sword out and stained with blood. She wore only a simple shift with a scarf wrapped around her hair. She looked from the body of the man she’d just killed to the two in front of Ean.

  “Apparently this town is full of murderers,” she pronounced, eyes flashing with anger.

  “We should get out of here,” Chadwick said in dawning realization.

  Roarke leaned out the doorway next to him, pulling on his jacket. “Chadwick and I will see about getting us horses.”

  “We’ll get provisions,” Leo said. “There’s a general store next door.”

  “This isn’t the time to go shopping,” Ean argued.

  “We still have our mission and we’re not going to last long without supplies,” Leo countered. “Asali, where’s Flora?”

  “Last I knew she was still downstairs in the tavern.”

  “Ean.” Leo turned to him, face expectant.

  “No,” Ean said, already knowing what he was going to ask.

  “You’re the best man for the job. We’ll meet up at the north exit of town. Go!”

  Leo gave him a push. Ean growled his frustration and spun on his heel. Stupid, annoying, foolhardy Prince. If he got himself killed while Ean was off rescuing the Mage’s apprentice, it wasn’t his fault and he refused to be held responsible for it. He strode back through their room and stopped for a moment. He was angry. A clean battle required a calm and focused mind. He pulled in a breath to steady himself, but then his eyes landed on Craven. The boy was face down on the bed, his legs dangling off the mattress. He looked smaller in death. Ean remembered him running down the stairs when they’d first arrived. ‘It’s my turn,’ he had said, eyes bright and eager. He’d been begging to kill them. Ean turned to Gervis, body crumpled on the floor, and felt his anger swing away from Leo and onto this stars-cursed town.

  “Sick fucks,” he swore and twirled his blades. Calm wasn’t going to be found tonight. Wanton destruction it was.

  Ean took the hidden stairs two at time and barged out into the kitchen. He didn’t bother hiding his entrance into the tavern, just strode through the doorway, his bloody knives clasped in hand.

  There were four villagers still inside. Two in the right corner, one drinking alone, and another sitting with Flora by the fire. He was leaning in toward her, speaking low, no doubt whispering false intimacies all while planning to kill her. He had a sword on his hip.

  The men stiffened when Ean barged in. Flora turned to him and started. Her eyes went to his bloody knives and she half-rose from her chair, her face going pale. Her companion spun around. His sword was in his hand in an instant, a practiced move. He must have been a soldier at some point. He lunged at Ean, a cry on his lips. Flora screamed.

  Ean parried twice, then spun in close and slashed through the man’s underarm. Blood sprayed, enough that he knew it was a fatal blow. He twisted away from the falling body and reached for Flora, intent on getting her behind him, but she pulled away, her hands lighting with flames.

  Ean stopped. She raised her hands, the fire in her palms reflected in her eyes.