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THE GREAT ESCAPE

O nce we developed a plan, we had to wait until night before we could attempt our escape from the castle, and hopefully leave The Soundless and its strange occupants behind. In the meantime, we took turns sleeping and discussed our individual strengths.

I learned that neither Lennon nor Griffon suffered from the cold the way the rest of us did. And that fire they’d had in the cave had been started not by Kivi, but by Lennon, who could summon a blaze if she merely concentrated. They had needed those flames only for light, but we were all grateful, for Minkin’s sake.

Lennon could also walk through a conflagration and bend it to her will. We assumed this talent was due to her DeNoy blood, however, and therefore, any DeNoy she might be pitted against would have the same abilities. But when she was in danger, her gold armband turned to liquid, and instead of morphing into saddles along her dragon’s back, it covered her in golden armor.

A neat trick no matter what she faced.

Griffon could wield a sword, but there was little need when the feathers of his bronze wings could do the work of a hundred blades. He admitted that his friends once got the upper hand when they got him good and intoxicated before pinning his wings to his sides. Other than that instance, he’d never been bested…yet.

We moved the furniture back so that Morrow, Lears, and Poole could take on Bain, Dower, and Tearloch. Though they fought with sticks of wood from the fireplace, they all seemed equally matched. Lady Edeen’s men did a great deal of fighting on her behalf.

I also learned for the first time that Tearloch and his friends were Law Wardens, and as such, they did their fair share of fighting as well.

That left Nogel and I.

Tearloch pointed to the bedchamber I’d used briefly. “You. Get some sleep.”

I scoffed. “You mean I’ll be armed with a lecture and a good cry and that’s all?”

“And a good sleep. Now go.”

Though I grumbled, I did as I was told, privately grateful. Poor Nogel wouldn’t be allowed to rest until each of the other men gave him their best advice and cleverest moves to use on a battlefield. I fell asleep with a pillow over my head, trying not to hear the grunts, instructions, and clamor of wood striking wood, over and over and over again.

When I got up, Lennon looked as if she’d slept too. Her waterfall-like hair was no longer perfectly arranged, and her eyes were slightly puffy. She kept muttering something about coffee, whatever that was, and how could she be expected to function without it.

There were two welcomed faces at the table. Sweetie and Minkin had just joined them. We must have cleaned her wounds well because she claimed she was already feeling much better. She was also dressed in a clean green gown that had a ragged hem due to someone removing the extra fabric to suit her height.

“Caught them trying to drug her,” Sweetie said. “I told them she’d recover better among friends. Insisted they bring us to you, though they said they couldn’t do it without Lord Ciro’s permission. Then they made us wait all day. I had to threaten to tear the place apart unless they produced him.”

Tearloch explained why it was a lucky thing that he hadn’t, and what our penalty will be if we break any rules. “Tearing the place apart would easily qualify. I’m surprised they didn’t push you to do it.”

“Odd, nervous folks out there, by their giant amphitheater. They called it the Recovery. The place is well stocked for an infirmary. Though the workers were supposedly healers, they acted like they didn’t know what they were doing. I think—as odd as it sounds—I think they were only pretending. If Minkin had fevered, they might have fallen to pieces. I’m sure they were relieved when Ciro allowed us to quit the place.”

“Did you learn anything about the dome?”

“Only that we need to get through it and soon.”

“We’ve learned the same. But why do you say so?”

“To this nose, the whole place reeks.”

“Of what?”

“Unmistakable. It’s blood.”

Those senses, those horns, combined with his powerful body—the curse from the sorcerer might have been a blessing in disguise if the man was forced to fight. As for Minkin, we knew what her talent was. If she had others, she didn’t disclose them before Sweetie sent her off to bed. Then Tearloch left it to the rest of us to share the plan with his big friend so he could get some sleep himself. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

I had fallen asleep in a chair when Tearloch shook me awake. "It's time."

Everyone gathered in the main space. Minkin looked terrified until Sweetie took her hand and squeezed it. "Together. At least we'll be together."

Due to his keen sight and hearing, he went first. We had decided not to use our glow stones if possible, but my eyes adjusted quickly, and I was able to make out the big man’s figure ahead, watching his horns move back and forth as he scanned the hall. But it would be much better after we reached the center of the castle and split into three groups. We would make less noise that way. No matter how hard we tried, it was impossible for a party of eleven to creep down a large echoing hallway in complete silence.

Though the men had their blades ready to dispatch any guards we came across, we encountered no one. We braced ourselves at each opening, sure that someone would be posted to guarantee we stayed in our rooms, but we reached the center of the castle without seeing a soul.

My chest tightened as Tearloch, Morrow, and Nogel separated from us and headed to the center staircase. If one staircase led to the upper floor of the north wing, and the other to the south, where they were going to house Griffon and Lennon, then it was logical to believe the middle staircase would lead the men to the center tower where the horns were kept.

If they were able to remove those instruments, they would meet us outside in the courtyard. If they could not remove them, two of them would stay behind and wait to sound the horns, and the third would come let the rest of us know they wouldn't be joining us.

I prayed the things weren't permanently attached to the tower. The thought of Tearloch staying behind hurt my heart. But if Morrow stayed, the plan to see Moire was destroyed. He was the only one who could get me an audience with her.

Across from the staircases, an elaborately decorated foyer lay between us and an exterior door—the exit Lennon, Griffon, and Dower would use to locate Kivi. Full-sized statues of beheaded figures could have been the shadows of guards lying in wait to catch us. But they weren't.

All the rest of us had to do was make it to the courtyard and wait for everyone to reassemble in the northeast corner of the wall.

Lennon assured us that Kivi had carried as many passengers before. If we clung tightly to each other and if Tearloch and Morrow could hit the right notes with the horns, our hope was that the dome would open long enough for our escape.

Even while planning, though, our enthusiasm was artificial. It sounded too easy. Too simple. But we had to try. If any of us were locked up for breaking rules, we could never escape together, and the longer we stayed, the more those chances increased.

We had entertained the idea of staying and playing along with Ciro's delusions, and wait for opportunities to sneak away in pairs. But none of us liked the idea of leaving others behind, subject to the whim of a madman.

And there was no mistake. Ciro was mad.

Demius had told me of such people before. Men and women who had lived too long and had found twisted ways to entertain themselves. Cruel creatures who created their own factions and ruled by fear. Or those who had created industries where they would relieve others of their pain or suffering or ennui by chopping patron’s heads off or placing them in gevri.

Some monsters would supply a cell and happily store you away with the promise of waking you at an agreed upon day. Then you'd be forgotten, stored until someone stumbled upon you, hundreds or thousands of years later.

When this practice got out of hand, the King announced that a royal commission would be the only ones allowed to put someone into hibernation. And from that point on, one had to travel to the capital city to apply for relief. Few could afford the trip.

The idea of hibernation never appealed to me, but I was young and living the first years of my life. If I had to choose between hibernation and The Soundless, however, sleeping the years away without aging and hoping to wake in a better world didn't sound so bad.

We started down the north corridor, retracing our original steps. At the sound of a distant door closing, we all froze. As close as we still were to the barrel-shaped foyer, it was impossible to tell from which direction the noise had come. Though we waited a few minutes, no other noises followed. No footsteps. No hue and cry. It was as if the entire castle had been abandoned.

Step by quiet step, we pushed along the corridor, praying everyone else was having success.

We couldn't quite believe our luck when we reached the doors. Sweetie pressed on one. It wasn't locked, but the hinges screamed, and he froze.

Dower took a glow stone from his pocket, and shielding most of the light, we took a quick look around us. No immediate solution presented itself. Then I had a thought.

I tapped Sweetie on the shoulder. "Just a minute." I reached into my bag, found the dragon spice, and threw a handful of it at the hinges. Not much reached the highest targets, but I was able to press some of the precious sand into the lower two. When I nodded, Sweetie tried again. A tiny screech, and the wood swung open.

Thank goodness I hadn’t sold my precious supply!

We filed out quickly, and when Sweetie closed the door behind us, there was no sound at all. If Tearloch and the others took this route, it was ready for them.

No, not if, but when . When the others took this route, the door was ready.

Sweetie, Minkin, Lears, Poole, and myself. A manageable group. All we had to do was make it to the north wall.

I looked at the expanse of solid white ground before us and the shadows of the wall to our right. If I stayed along the curtain wall, my white clothes would stand out against the dark stone. The others would blend in just fine.

The only way I could blend was to cut across the snow.

I explained to Sweetie. The others nodded in agreement, and I wasted no time striking out for the northern boundary. The others moved silently to the right. I was on my own.

The problem was…snow was new to me. I had no idea it made noise when you stepped on it! I took three steps and stopped, waiting for some reaction.

Someone shouted from near the middle of the east wall. Too far to have heard me.

A second man shouted back, and their distant laughter echoed across the white courtyard. Encouraged, I started moving again, making my steps random. One step here, two steps together. A long pause and another two.

Anyone watching would think my mind was turning…

I was now used to the sound of dragon wings and heard the whoosh and draw of a beast headed my way. I spread myself across the snow and hoped my white hair would blend in half as well as the rest of me.

If the dragon had decent hearing, I was sure it would hear my heart pounding against the icy stuff, pounding in my neck, in my head, in rhythm with its wings.

At least I was alone. If they caught me now, it wouldn't be so sad to leave just one of us behind.

But I wasn't caught. The dragon passed over. Its wings never skipped a beat. Never paused as it passed. And when I looked up, it was already gone.

No trumpets. No alarm. No shouts. And thankfully, no Ciro.

My stuttered steps finally took me to the north wall. Human figures congregated there. Just four of them. Just the right number. Just my people. I stopped short of joining them, however, and sat in the snow to keep my robes from standing out. And waited…