Page 35 of Light Locked #1

The Price of the Past

R YSON MOVED WITH such urgency from the tired fold of his body that Clea thought the doors to the carriage were about to be ripped from their hinges.

Clea said Ryson’s name in the silence as he untangled himself from her. His eyes searched back and forth like he could see sound. He moved to the other side of the carriage and peered through a gap in the boards opposite her.

“Ryson, what is it?” asked Clea, but it didn’t take her long to notice the bustling sounds outside. She stood.

“It’s crowded,” he said. A moment later, he was yanking the hood of his cloak over her head.

“They only get like this a few days before an auction. Hopefully, he deems that you’re in no condition to be sold, and allows you to skip this week.

If you get any indication otherwise, you run, understand?

The medallion is protecting you now more than anything else.

You run, and you use its cover to get you through the woods without any other Venennin noticing.

We will just have to hope with all the other dark presences around that they won’t pay too much attention to you.

You don’t wait to recover here. You hold fast to the medallion and you run. ”

The carriage stopped with a jolt, Clea stumbling against him but holding on, determined to get an answer as she repeated, “Ryson, what’s going to happen to you?”

“There is a road not far north from the castle. After a day or so, it will take you to a trade route that many Kalex use. Veilin pass through it. Go there and hide among the travelers that have congregated there. In time, you should run into other Veilin and find a way to return to Loda.”

“Ryson,” she pushed. “What’s going to happen to you?”

“Don’t forget what I said, Clea,” he said, hands touching her arms in a natural way, and then flinching back.

He looked into her eyes intently, lowering his voice as he added, “There isn’t any room for you to think about me right now.

They’ve taken us to King Kartheen. He can’t be reasoned with.

Any inklings of resistance, even a question without his permission could put you at risk.

Be the picture of kindness. Be that symbol your family made you to be.

Don’t try and reason with him. Don’t wait for me. You’ll be on your own.”

She held his eyes, poised like a soldier as he seemed to try and to read her.

Clea heard the clank of armor and the shouting of soldiers outside.

“And don’t look for me,” he reminded sternly as if he could still see the notion nestled in the determination on her face. “Princess,” he pushed.

She didn’t relent and he couldn’t make her.

He seemed to sense this as he shook his head and whispered, “You don’t understand.

There was a time where I could have gotten you to Loda in seconds,” he explained.

“I could have stopped all this and everything after it with a word. If you only knew what a fragment I am of who I once was, you’d understand that in so many ways, I’m already dead.

Leave me behind. Even with this request, I’m at your mercy. ”

“Ryson,” she replied simply. “You keep referencing this past version of yourself, and the power you had, the choices you would have made. Maybe you could have done all those things, but would you?”

Ryson hesitated, and in his hesitation, realized something about herself.

She’d always thought herself unwilling to sacrifice her own life. She’d risked it to heal him and was willing to risk it again to ensure his escape. Doing the same for the sake of the medallion had been a challenging obligation, but doing this felt almost natural.

Maybe it wasn’t her life that she was so unwilling to sacrifice after all.

Maybe it was something else.

The carriage door flew open, and afternoon light poured into the enclosure.

Clea didn’t flinch. Instead, she said to him, “You said you don’t remember why you kept your heart.

” She remained poised as they came for her from the intensity of the light, silhouettes grabbing her roughly by the arm and hoisting her away as she said, “I think it’s because you knew it was the best of you. ”

Ryson’s expression faltered and for the first, and perhaps the last time, she saw surprise on his face.

Clea braced herself as she was yanked off the carriage and shoved in the small of her back by the guard.

Other hands reached from the light. Her feet landed hard against the dry earth.

The sun was bright, the air hot, and she tripped forward blindly as another soldier led her.

They’d traveled from the snow back into baking weather that felt deceptively like Virday.

Myken stood back against the carriage, his arms folded as he watched them take her up a forested path and then stirred away from the carriage to catch up with them.

Ralth remained behind restlessly, rubbing his wrist over and over where Clea had cut him.

She caught the grin plastered across Myken’s face, and she looked away as he walked beside her. She didn’t acknowledge his presence.

“Should I give you the tour?” He purred in her ear.

Her stomach turned, but she was determined to show him nothing.

A fortress of many layers towered beyond the trees, ingrown with vines and foliage. Towers climbed high into the sky and marked the four corners of the walls.

“They said this castle belonged to one of the acolytes of the Warlord of Shambelin. He was such a devoted follower that he cut the stones from robbed Veilin tombs, and made brick from dirt and Veilin blood. You can feel the doom of it, can’t you?”

Even in her current state, she could.

The fortress cast a gigantic afternoon shadow like a silent mountain in the woods.

Having passed the encampments in the surrounding woods, Clea realized the castle itself was devoid of the hustle and bustle of civilians that characterized most fortresses.

The stone and brick walls and towers looked ancient, making Clea wonder if the horrid fact Myken shared with her had any truth.

He seemed to admire the question in her eyes as she surveyed the coming fortress.

A canopy of trees and vines shrouded Clea’s view as they progressed toward it. She tried to avoid thinking of any impending hints of her and Ryson’s fate.

Leave me behind. His words lingered. She still didn’t know if she had the strength to comply. Regardless, she started looking for methods of escape.

Myken continued beside her. “They call him King Kartheen, but he is King in title only. We oblige him because he puts on the most spectacular, indulgent shows. Veilin are so proud and stubborn, but somehow he makes them dance and sing for us, perform before they are sold. What dance will you dance, Princess ?” He purred the words and she shuddered away but he only followed.

“What song will you sing? And sing so well to earn the highest price?” He chimed playfully and she turned to reply, but he was gone in an instant.

The castle gate lowered over a moat when they arrived, thick with the scent of swamp mud.

Clea ignored the stares of strangers as they approached the castle entrance.

Beggars cried out beside their sick and dead near the base.

Passing soldiers ignored them, eyes set on Clea as they dragged a row of dirtied, chained Kalex by her to a long line near the corner of the castle.

This world was the gravest picture of the The Decline she’d witnessed yet.

Virday had been hit hard by its effects, but every face she saw here was marked by suffering or cruelty.

Her fists gripped behind her as if to hold fast to the last threads of light that still dared to shine here.

She focused on her mission to avoid slipping into the mire of all the brokenness around her, brokenness she could not heal.

She wasn’t saved from the sights of poverty and pestilence until she was led through the castle doors.

The doors locked behind them and sealed them off from the sunlight.

Five maids approached her, dressed from head to toe in maroon, with torches in hand.

They grabbed her hands and led her forward, each of their bodies completely wrapped so that their small, pinched faces and black eyes were all Clea could see.

Clea could only guess they were all from a specific Kalex tribe, noting their similar statures.

She scanned the doors and hallways, noting plenty of hiding places. They were all dark and not heavily guarded. Ryson said they would try and take care of her, to restore her strength. Her heart throbbed in anticipation at the realization that she could do this after all.

She’d escaped her own castle and hidden in her mother’s carriage for days.

She’d escaped the castle in Virday and stolen the Deadlock Medallion from a sleeping king.

For all she had to learn, she did have to credit herself for escaping castles.

She’d been locked inside them long enough to know that even in the basics of their architecture, they were fortresses built to keep people out, not in.

She would escape. She would find Ryson. As payment, she’d commit him to telling her everything he knew about the forest that she had yet to learn.

He had promised not to lie for what remained of his life.

To date, he’d been the only one to even authentically suggest something as bold as honesty.

She wouldn’t lose that now. He couldn’t just make such a promise when she needed it most and then die or disappear.

She assigned the castle paths to memory as she walked with the women through the maze, up several floors until they came to a large, ornate room.

Her presence ignited a frenzy among the Kalex maids within.

Her busy mind ran in hurried circles as two women grabbed the chains that bound her and pulled Myken’s key from a pouch they had with them.

Another unbraided her hair as more led her over to a chair.