Haven (War of the Princes) (37 page)

Another creek and the rope lazily turned the battered, lifeless form to face me.

A breath tore from my lungs.

“Dylan!” I choked, desperately wishing that my eyes were lying to me.

His blonde hair was limp and caked with red brown. Blood crusted down from his nose over one cheek, coating his cracked mouth. The trail of dried crimson continued over dirty clothes that were once the finest fashion in Breakwater. Dark circles shadowed his eyes. Dylan Axton, once larger than life, once radiant with charm and beauty, looked as though he had been beaten to death.

My heart broke and I ran to him.

“Dylan,” I whispered, not because I meant to, but because my voice had abandoned me.

I reached up to him. He didn’t move.

“I’m so sorry,” I said, looking up at his battered face. It blurred, obstructed by my tears. Each bruise, each cut I looked upon made me flinch with acute empathy.

An inner voice whispered that Stakes was after me and that he’d catch me here if I didn’t flee.

I didn’t care.

Biting my trembling lip, I looked from Dylan’s bound hands, up to the rope at the ceiling and then followed the length of it to a winch on the wall. I wasn’t going to leave him like this, even if it meant Stakes breaking in the door and draining me where I stood. I would not walk away from Dylan. Losing Rune was still slashing my heart into ribbons.

I tried to operate the winch lever, but of course it was stuck. My dad used to tell me that in times of dire need, all equipment refused to function properly. It was a poor day to discover how right he was. I threw my weight into turning the handle. It took all of my willpower to ignore the searing pain in my arm where Stakes had gouged a thick wound through my flesh. I put every bit of strength I had into the effort and forced the lever to move.

Dylan dropped heavily to the floor and I sank against the wall, clutching my bleeding arm.
 

There came the most pleasant sound to reach my ears. A groan! And it had leaked from his broken lips.

“You’re alive! Dylan!” I gasped, rushing to him, dropping down to my knees to be beside him.

He coughed, pulling his arms forward over his body. From the look on his face, it seemed to be a painful effort. I had no idea how long he had been hanging by his wrists.

“He’s coming back,” Dylan barely croaked the words. I knew he should rest but there was nothing I could do to stop him from stirring. Then again, the longer I stayed, the surer my death would be.

He knitted his brows, tilting his head to one side, and winced as he steadily pushed himself to a sitting position. I helped him as gently as I could. Turning away from me, he spit.

“Katelyn?” he asked, trying to focus on me.

“I can’t believe it, Dylan, you’re alive!” I rejoiced, unable to restrain myself from throwing my good arm around him in a crooked embrace. My spirit soared with that one relief.

Rune.

The pain was back. So was my fear: Stakes.

“Am I?” he wondered soberly.

I searched the room and found a rusty old knife in one of the supply boxes. With it, I began to saw at Dylan’s wrist bindings.

“Dylan, I was so afraid for you. I tried to have a message sent to you but you were gone. I was going to warn you about Stakes. I don’t know what’s happening, but the Dragoons, they’re fighting,” I blurted out while I cut the rope, taking care to avoid hurting him.

Dylan exhaled a ragged breath.

“It’s a coup,” he said.

I had never heard the word before.

“A what?”

“A coup d'état,” Dylan answered, still sounding bleary. “A mutiny. Don’t know that one either? It’s an overthrow. Stakes is going to try to take over the Installment.”

“He already has. I think the Dragoons are still fighting, but he drained
Fallux
. You were right. I thought he was horrible before, but he really is a monster. His face…” I trailed off, reliving a few recent memories I’d rather have forgotten. Seeing the way Stakes’ skin had torn to make way for protruding metal bones would be branded into my mind forever… among other things. Men had died there and it was terrible, but the look Rune had given me before he forced me to leave him would haunt me for all my days.

Dylan’s frown was deep.

“This is it, isn’t it? Funny, I thought I’d live long enough to regret my years of poor conduct,” he said in dark humor.

“No,” I said, releasing his raw, rope carved wrists from their binds. He winced. “We’re leaving.”

“You don’t understand. Stakes said he’d be back for me,” he told me gravely. I did my best to hide my fear.

“Then we’d better hurry,” I told him, stubbornly.

“Did you get tied up too?” he asked me, carefully touching my hand with his.

“No,” I said. Looking at my own wrist, I realized the branch that had constricted around it had left an angry scrape. It had already begun to dry without my notice. As soon as I recognized what it was, I began to feel its throbbing and wished he hadn’t pointed it out.

“Your arm! Katelyn, you’re bleeding!”

That wound was even worse to think about. When I tried to hold out my left hand, it shook uncontrollably. I couldn’t fully extend it.

“I didn’t have time to think about it,” I admitted, praying inwardly that there wasn’t any permanent damage.

Dylan rallied his strength and tore a piece of cloth from the bottom of his shirt, using it to wrap a tight band around my arm. The sudden pressure made me hiss a painful inward breath.

 
“What about you?” I asked raggedly of his many wounds.

“Dried closed, I think,” he said. “We don’t have the time or resources in this dingy hole to do any proper cleanup.”

“Can you walk?”

“One way to find out,” he said, grunting in effort as he clambered to his feet. He had a limp, but it looked like he’d make it. “It might be slow going for me.”

“I don’t care,” I said, slipping my good arm around him the same way I had once done for Rune. “We’re getting out of here.”

Chapter 31: Freedom

           
“You’ve got to be joking,” Dylan grunted bitterly as we surfaced from the kennel’s hatch.

           
I didn’t share his glum outlook. On the contrary, I felt good enough to smile. My escape route had brought us out of the fortress and into the Installment stables themselves. It made sense that a kennel might be connected to the stables if the Dragoons had once used dogs to hunt.

           
“I was a stone’s throw from freedom the entire time,” he frowned, limping out of the maw of the hatch. When he was clear, we threw the doors back down and slid the shaft of a hay rake between the handles.

“Now you know how I’ve felt,” I responded before I could stop myself. Maybe the comparison wasn’t fair. Dylan had nearly been killed. Then again, so had I.

           
Finding myself looking down at the rake locking the hatch, a cold sense of dread welled inside of me. What if Rune made it out somehow and tried to follow me? He’d be locked below with our enemies. It was a stretch, an unrealistic desire to believe that he was alive, but I couldn’t let it go. I couldn’t stomach the thought that Rune, wounded within an inch of his life, might come after me, enemies at his heels, just to reach a dead end. I could be the cause of his death, again. When Dylan turned away, I nudged the rake out with my foot.
 

           
He never approved of my association with Rune. His sympathy would go an even shorter distance considering the danger of our current situation. I was two times the idiot and I knew it. Rune was probably dead and I’d just left an opening for our enemies to reach us all the quicker.

           
I was a fool.

           
Dylan looked ragged. I could see that it labored him to stand, let alone walk. While I looked at him with pity, his return gaze was sympathetic.

           
“I’m sorry,” he said, and I could tell he meant the words honestly.

           
“No, Dylan. I am,” I began, intending to tell him how I blamed myself for his capture and how grateful I was of everything he had done for me. I didn’t get the chance.

           
Sounds of the battle within the fortress were spilling out into the yard. I felt tiny, staring up at the Installment. It was colossal, starkly black against the evening light and alive with malevolence. A burst of orange flames shattered a glass window on the second story, jutting out ten feet before retreating to lick the side of the building. Boulders erupted from the ground around the main entrance, completely altering the terrain. Black warhorses swarmed up from the shadows of the outer fortress and charged within, answering the call of their masters.

           
Dylan wavered and sank to one knee.

           
I rushed to him and slipped my good arm around him to help him to his feet.

           
“Are you okay?” I asked worried, for more than one reason.

           
He was only able to nod and the gesture wasn’t very convincing.

           
“Can you ride?” I asked him. He was focused on remaining conscious and didn’t answer me. “Well, you’re going to have to. Stay here for a minute.”

           
I hurried to search the stables, crossing my fingers on both hands, barely daring to hope. Could I be so lucky? Real life tended not to work that way. Passing two empty stalls, I found the next occupied: a single brown horse was in residence. I tried not to take the good fortune for granted, but I couldn’t help feeling let down. It wasn’t just any horse I wanted to see. I accepted that one was better than none and swiped a bridle from a nearby hook. I was about to lead the horse out by the reins when I saw a silvery muzzle poke out from the last stall.

           
Florian
!

He was still there! I tied the first horse to a post and made a dash to the far end of the stables to retrieve my tall grey gelding. His ears perked and he whickered when he saw me. When I slipped the bridle over his head, he stamped the ground anxiously. Such a good horse should not have been cooped up in a stall for so long.

           
I tacked Dylan’s brown with a light saddle, but left
Florian
bareback. There wasn’t a second more to waste.

           
It was my intention to try and help Dylan up to his saddle but he gave me a flat look. “I may have been tortured for days on end, but I’m not a complete invalid,” he told me and struggled to heft himself up. In the end, he made it up, albeit clumsily.

           
I climbed a shelf to help me get atop
Florian’s
back. It felt slippery to ride without a saddle but I could handle it.

           
Taking in a deep breath I reined
Florian
ahead of Dylan’s mount and felt my concentration settle. We were escaping this place. I’d take him to the only place I was certain he’d be safe: home. Until that profound moment I’d never realized how aptly it was named. Haven Valley… it really was a safe haven.

           
Ever cautious, I allowed
Florian
to stride from the partial shelter of the stables. I’d just wanted to get a look and see if we’d meet any opposition at the gates. They were empty of Dragoons. That was the good news. The bad news was that a troop of militia soldiers was riding in. At point, Lord Brendon Axton was surveying the grounds. His sharp eyes fell upon me. I shrunk back, wishing that I could dissolve into thin air rather than be caught again.

           
The Common Lord of Breakwater stared at me, levelly. I waited for him to call his men to seize me. It would have only taken a single word or gesture, but he made none. Instead, he nodded slowly, just once, and followed the last of his men toward the fighting. He let me go. I hadn’t expected that.

           
Lord Brendon knew for certain that I wasn’t an agent for the other side of the war. He didn’t see me as an enemy. I was infinitely grateful that he’d come to that conclusion. The Commanders would have wanted him to detain me, but he didn’t. His hint of rebellion from them made me respect him all the more.

           
I didn’t waste the gift of freedom he’d given me.

           
We fled the battle ground at a dead gallop and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t feel good.

I turned around to make sure Dylan was handling the speed. Jostled as I was, I could tell he was holding up. Behind him, the silhouette of the Installment fortress was an angry hive of destruction. I wondered how many lives would be lost there.

           
The sunset bled like a wound through a single crack between brooding storm clouds. It was the last time I’d see the coastal sky. It would not be missed. I turned back ahead to focus on finding my way home in the fading light.