Prince Harold cursed.
“We won’t last more than a few hours; the dogs will follow our scent right to us. Not nearly enough time to send for help.”
“So do we fight?” Zacharias said. For all his bravado, the blond noble looked terrified.
But Arcturus could take no satisfaction from it. Not in their predicament.
“There’s a rocky outcrop not too far from here,” Edmund said. “If we run we might be able to make it there, fortify it.”
“With what, sticks and rocks?” Josephine muttered. “That’s suicide. I’d rather surrender and let our parents deal with it.”
“It’s your father’s fault anyway!” Zacharias pointed an accusatory finger at Harold. “So what if he has to give up the throne. That’s what they want, right?”
“I don’t deny it,” Harold said simply.
More silence, broken only by Zacharias’s angry breathing.
“Let me think,” Edmund murmured, gripping the bridge of his nose with his fingers.
It was almost dark now, and Arcturus could see the sun was just a sliver of orange on the horizon. Despair gripped him as the light faded, and his thoughts turned to Crawley’s offer. What if he surrendered … would he have to join the rebel commoners? Should he?
But how could he betray his friends … and who knew if the rebels would succeed? If they did, he would be hanged as a traitor with the rest of the nobles.
“Doesn’t your family have men protecting the mountain pass?” Zacharias asked Edmund, interrupting Arcturus’s thoughts. “Maybe the rebels haven’t gotten to them yet.”
“Even if that was the case, there are barely a score of them, mostly retired soldiers that my father didn’t have the heart to fire,” Edmund replied. “His personal guard went with him on his trade mission. They timed this attack well.”
“Do you have any better ideas?” Zacharias snapped.
Edmund gazed toward the town, his brows furrowed.
“There’s something else. But … no.”
“Tell us,” Alice said. “If there’s even a chance … we should take it.”
Edmund sighed, indecision plain on his face.
“Hurry,” Rotter hissed. “We have to go!”
“There’s a secret passage,” Edmund said. “Beneath a statue opposite the old church in Raleightown. But … it leads into the orc jungles, beyond the mountain pass.”
“You want us to go toward them?” Zacharias snarled. “And then into orc territory? Are you crazy?”
“The dogs aren’t tracking our scent yet,” Edmund said. “If we go back to the town, they won’t have a trail to follow. Maybe we can hide in the passageway until help arrives.”
“The path back is clear,” Rotter said. “I just came from there.”
“So that’s it?” Alice asked, gazing back at the town’s distant lights. “That’s our best plan?”
Edmund turned to Harold, and the prince gave him a grim nod.
“We go back,” Edmund said firmly. “And hope we survive the night.”
CHAPTER
23
THE GROUP CROUCHED IN the long grass outside the town, staring into the glow of torches. The air was filled with the barking of dogs, and the shouts of angry men.
Arcturus tried not to look at the blood that stained the dry soil, or the wide, staring eyes of the men that lay dead around them. And the soldiers were not the only corpses that had been left to the wild jackals.
Sergeant Caulder’s squad had sold their lives dearly, leaving over a score of enemy bodies scattered on the battlefield. The courage to stand against such odds astounded Arcturus, and he felt ashamed that his first instinct had been to turn on his friends.
The dead rebels were clad in different shades and styles of dark, hooded jackets, with scarves across their faces. Their weapons, along with those of the soldiers, had been taken, much to Prince Harold’s dismay. The nobles had but a single sword and a half-dozen crossbows between them.
As they waited, Arcturus wished that Sacharissa could smell the bodies, to see if Crawley was among them. But all their demons had been infused—a precaution in case their scent attracted the rebel hunting dogs. All but one, anyway.
Edmund lay on his back beside Arcturus, his scrying crystal held up to his nose. His demon, a strange hybrid of owl and cat, was gliding over the town, scouting a safe route to the secret passageway. Through the corner of his eye, Arcturus could see the image on the shard of stone, where rooftops and ill-lit streets flitted by.
Arcturus rolled onto his side, to see where Rotter sat with Elaine, his sword drawn. Edmund had tasked the soldier to look after her, and Arcturus was surprised to see that Elaine seemed almost amused, their situation forgotten as Rotter whispered some joke in her ear.
“They’re busy rounding up all the townsfolk into the town square. I think there’s a way,” Edmund hissed, alerting the others. “Quietly now. Make sure your crossbows are loaded.”
Then they were up and running, their bodies crouched as if it would somehow hide them entering the town’s edge and into the cobbled streets.
Lanterns lined the road on either side, and Arcturus could hardly believe that they were heading toward the shouting voices in the near distance. They turned down an alley, then another, and somehow the walls that pressed in on either side gave comfort to Arcturus, as if they were safer here than in the wider streets.
“Wait,” Edmund growled, stopping and staring at his crystal. Above, Arcturus saw a flash of fur and feathers as the demon swooped by.
The young noble knelt and leveled his crossbow down the passageway. The others followed suit, preparing a row of projectiles held back by nothing more than a twitch of their fingers.
“Fire on my command,” Edmund said, and suddenly Arcturus’s vision blurred, his heart pounding in his chest.
Seconds ticked by, and all Arcturus could think of was how much he didn’t want to be there.
“Now!”
Arcturus fired without thinking, his nerveless fingers jerking at the sound. He barely saw the two rebels round the corner, nor did he know which one his bolt had struck. All he saw was the men hurled back against the brick wall. And the blood pooling as they choked their last breaths, their chests pin-cushioned with the broad shafts. It was an ugly, horrible death, and Edmund did not waste precious seconds to end their suffering, urging the group on down the next street.
“Take that, you rebel scum,” Zacharias snarled, and Arcturus heard a thud behind him as the noble kicked one of the dying men.
But Arcturus felt no triumph. Only shame, and horror.
What if he went back, tried to heal them? Edmund’s plan would never work. But it wasn’t too late to join the rebel cause.
“Hellfire, they’ve sent out the hunting parties,” Edmund cursed, looking up from his crystal. “Come on!”
On they went, running faster now, accompanied by the sound of their footsteps and the rattle of the loose crossbow bolts in their quivers. They turned down another street, eerily empty, while the howls of the dogs swirled around them like the baying of wolves.
Then they saw it: the town hall, a round building with a wide set of double doors, set on the corner of a crossroads. Two rebels stood guard outside the entrance, oblivious to the approaching nobles.
They were armed with the most rudimentary of weapons, and now Arcturus understood how Sergeant Caulder’s soldiers had managed to kill so many of them. One held a makeshift spear, constructed from what might have been a rake’s handle and a kitchen knife nailed to its tip. The other held a cleaver in his right hand, the lid of a cooking pot in his left.
The spearman did a double take as they approached, then pressed his back against the wall, terrified. The other seemed frozen to the spot, unable to move even when Edmund’s crossbow pointed directly at him.
“Stand aside, gents,” Rotter said, pushing past Edmund and Prince Harold. “I’ll handle this pair.”