Page 72 of Boundless
Kevothaen clapped the elf captain on the back, smiling broadly. "Good man," he rumbled, his other hand briefly cupping the back of Aevel's head affectionately. The two of them were used to their warlord by now, taking his kind touches in stride. "And there won't be guards there?"
Rodrick shook his head, scrubbing a hand over the closely-shorn kinky curls of his hair. "No, they'll have guards further along, near the main hall and the cells, but this south entrance is by an old armory that hasn't been used in ages. No one sees any use in patrolling it. No one but me, at least."
His eyes lifted, meeting hers. "If he's in the dungeons, then the five of us might be able to slip in and spirit him away without alerting the rest of the castle."
She nodded, feeling grim. "And we'll try and avoid killing, if we can."
Rodrick lifted his lips in a half smile. "My thanks, my lady. Most of the guards are good men. I've personally trained many of them, and I'd hate to see them come to harm."
"But the priority is getting Len out safely," Tesse added before Daega could, taking her sister’s hand and squeezing it. "I know you understand, Roddy."
He snorted, rolling his eyes at the nickname. But he was somber when he nodded, meeting their eyes. "I understand."
They went over some more details, elaborating on the entrance to the catacombs and how they'd approach it, and then Daega was insisting on first watch, full of far too much nervous energy to sleep. She paced the perimeter restlessly, her thoughts swirling around Len and what she wanted to say to him.
I miss you so much, love,she thought.Drokas misses you. So you need to be alright. Just...just hold on, dear heart. I'm coming.
THE CATACOMBS WERE, if anything, in worse condition than Rodrick had said they’d be, ancient masonry crumbling to dust and rubble from roofs collapsing and pillars tumbling blocking off huge swaths of it. Daega was fairly certain she'd swallowed at least one spider during the careful slog, the air was so thick with them and their webs, but she tried to shove it from her mind, her focus on making their way to the south entryway.
In the end, the brickwork came apart stunningly easily, several near the top already missing and broken on the ground. Between the three Istarii Drakan it was a matter of an hour before the way was clear and they were creeping cautiously into the dungeon, hooves muffled by special leather slippers that had special grommets along the bottom to let them maintain their traction silently.
Daega's heart thudded loudly in her ears, the rush of her own blood dampening all other sounds. They were soclosenow, her every nerve alight and straining to balance her impatience with caution.
After long minutes they came to an intersection, and Rodrick led them down the leftmost path, towards the cells and interrogation rooms, if she was remembering the map correctly. The cells were small and damp, reeking of rot and waste. It was freezing cold down here, with no light to see by outside of a handful of weakly flickering torches set far apart. The cells they passed were all empty, Daega's heart sinking more and more with every empty cage.
They were almost to the end of the corridor and at another intersection when Aevel sucked in a breath, bringing the rest of the group to converge on his location. Daega's heart was in her throat as she peered through the bars at the huddled figure tucked into the corner of the cell, but she could tell right away it wasn't her Len. However, when the prisoner lifted his head from where it had been pressed against his knees, it was a face she was glad to see nonetheless.
"Fenris!" she hissed, clutching at the bars while Aevel crouched to pick the lock. "Thank the gods you're alive!"
His brow furrowed, squinting in the dim light. He was filthy and painfully thin, fading bruises and dirt marring his pale skin. "My desta," he breathed, his dark eyes going glassy. "They have him," he added, crawling closer to the doors. "They—they took him."
Daega froze, even her chest stilling as she held a breath. "Where?" Kevothaen asked, his voice a menacing growl.
"Interrogation rooms. They've been gone a while..." Daega was already moving, sprinting the rest of the way down the corridor and into the hall that held the two interrogation rooms.
Two guards stood outside one of the doors, relaxed and chatting loudly, letting her reach them and grab them before they could make a sound. She knocked one out with a blow to the head—well,hopefullyall she did was knock him out—and clapped her hand over the mouth of the other one, stifling his shout. Tesse came up behind her, pulling a length of rope from her belt and using it to bind the wriggling guard. Her hand replaced Daega's, and then Daega was wrenching open the door, praying like mad that she wasn't about to see her sweet starlight snuffed out.
It was a bit better lit in here than in the rest of the dungeon, and she blinked rapidly to clear her vision. There were two figures crumpled on the floor, and she couldn't stop the whimper that wrenched from her. She lunged for the first body, turning it over to see the flat, unseeing eyes of the king—dead, then. She couldn't see any injuries, but that didn't matter now, anyway.
She spun to the other body, sinking to her knees when she recognized soft golden curls. He was crumpled on his side, facing away from her, and her hand shook wildly as she reached out to him. She shuffled around to his other side, tears burning at the backs of her eyes and making her throat ache fiercely. But he was breathing, his eyes flickering under his bruised-looking lids. He was unconscious, but by the grace of all the gods, he was still alive.
She wanted to sob in relief, to pull him into her arms and never let him go again, but their work was only half done, now.
He whined softly when she picked him up, cradling him against her chest, but stayed unconscious.
From behind her, she heard her father sigh. "So the bastard's already dead, then? How?"
Daega turned, her mouth aching from how hard she was smiling. "He was already dead when I got here," she said, her chest relaxing from its panicked clench slowly. "And Len's alive. Unconscious, but alive."
"Thank the gods," Kevothaen rasped in Draka, voice thick with tears.
"So what now, then?" Tesse murmured from the doorway, eyeing the king's corpse with disdain. The three Istarii Drakan turned as one to Rodrick and Aevel, a weak and injured Fenris supported between them.
"We wait for Len to wake," Fenris croaked, licking dry, cracked lips. "He is the heir, and my people will respond best to hearing the news from him."
The restrained guard looked down at the king's still form with wide, disbelieving eyes, face pale. His eyes darted to Len, narrowing, and Daega growled, snarling when the guard still wouldn't avert his gaze.
The sound made Len stir in her arms, and she sucked in a breath before calling his name softly.
