Rise (The Order of the Krigers #1)(54)

The sun started to rise, turning the sky a dull gray. Shouts rang out, and the sound of a horn blasted through the air. The army was getting into formation. Anders started moving at a frantic pace. The sound of hundreds of boots marching on the ground came from somewhere to the right.

At the base of the wall, Anders untied the rope, and I slid to the ground, my legs mush. He dragged me along, and we stumbled down a small slope until we reached the moat surrounding the outside of the castle wall.

His eyes darted around, surveying the area. “Come on.” He lowered himself into the water. “Be careful not to splash. Soldats are probably close by.” Worry flashed in his eyes.

Attempting a smile to reassure him, I crawled into the frigid water. I tried moving my arms and legs, but pain engulfed me, making it difficult to move. It seemed as if I’d been cut in two and my head had been crushed by a rock. I slipped under the water, unable to swim.

Anders wrapped his strong arm around my chest, just under my arms, lifting my head out of the moat. He swam, hauling me along with him. If we were caught, he would die because of me.

“Take a deep breath,” he commanded. I inhaled, and he shoved me under the water, holding me down, my lungs screaming for air. After a few long seconds, he tilted my head back so only the top portion of my face surfaced, allowing me to breathe. Anders did the same, his face right next to mine. Soldats searched alongside the moat looking for me. We stayed in that position, with only our noses and mouths above the water, until they moved far enough away. Anders started swimming again, pulling me along with him.

We reached the other side. He waited a few minutes, observing the area, before climbing out of the water and dragging me out behind him. Remaining on our stomachs, we crawled forward through the tall grass. The city was only fifty feet or so in front of us. Several men held torches, searching the open area. The nearest one was only a short distance away. When Anders froze, I froze. When he moved, I moved.

My arms and legs started violently shaking. A sharp, shooting pain pierced my stomach. Curling into a ball, I tried not to scream. Blood continued to drip down my forehead.

“The medicine is wearing off,” Anders whispered near my ear. “Climb on top of me. I’ll get us to the streets. From there, it will be easy to hide.”

I nodded, unable to speak, and shimmied on top of Anders’s back. Tears streamed down my cheeks. His muscles tensed as he moved, trying to remain quiet and unseen. Dogs barked in the distance, and he started crawling faster. If the castle hounds were searching for us, they’d lead the soldats straight to the moat. From there, it wouldn’t take them long to figure out I’d swum across. My head pounded, and my ribs ached. Anders patted my shoulder and eased me off his back.

He stood, lifting me in his arms. We were next to a building at the edge of the city. “I need to get you to a healer.” He sprinted alongside the building, turning down the next street.

The pain intensified, and my eyes rolled back. I gasped, the sound wheezy. I was going to die.

“It’s not far from here,” Anders whispered. He ran, careful to stay hidden in the shadows of the tall apartment buildings. Occasionally, he would stop or hide in a doorway. I closed my eyes, attempting to use my power to heal myself. I couldn’t focus long enough to force my power to do anything.

Anders opened a door and entered a dark room. We descended a flight of stairs. Metal rattled, and then I heard a door open and close. He descended another flight of stairs, the air turning cool and smelling of damp earth.

“Where are we?” I mumbled.

“We’re in the tunnels below the capital.”

“Tunnels?”

“We have men working in the mines who have dug tunnels under the capital. There are also tunnels from the natural springs that used to flow underground decades ago. We use the tunnels to get in and out of the capital, hide from soldats, and communicate with each other.”

I remembered the first time I met Anders and the tunnel we used from the tailor’s shop to the brothel. “There are others like you?” I asked, trying to distract myself from the pain.

“Well, no, not like me. But there are others who wish to help the Krigers. Your father is one of them. Having him work in the mines has significantly aided our cause.”

He knew my father? Why had Papa kept all of this a secret from me?

Anders pushed open a door, entering a small room. Soft light glowed from oil lamps hanging on the walls. Two men sat on chairs playing a game of cards. One jumped up and opened another door for us. Anders carried me into the second room, this one much larger and filled with over a dozen men talking animatedly with each other. When they saw us, silence fell.

“I need a healer,” Anders said. “Immediately.”

One man nodded and left.

“Over here,” someone said. “Lay her on this cot.”

Anders gently lowered me onto the hay mattress. “Back up and give her room.” He carefully pulled the fabric off my head.

“She’s covered in blood,” one of the men said.

“Get me a basin of water and a washcloth,” Anders said.

“What happened to her?” someone else asked.

The pain became unbearable, and I passed out.

***

Peeling my eyelids open, my father sat on a chair next to me. Was I dreaming? I blinked.

“Oh thank the moons!” Papa cried. “I thought I’d lost you. You’ve been asleep since yesterday.” Tears glistened in his eyes.