Finnikin of the Rock

better, sink deeper. Kill with precision.

By the time Sir Topher and Evanjalin returned the horse to the ravine, it was late in the day. They continued down the path to the ruined cottage, where Evanjalin immediately took up her post at the gate, her body slumping with exhaustion. Nothing Sir Topher said could convince her to move. Sometimes her faith disarmed him and he truly believed that Finnikin and his father would come walking down the path toward them. Other times, he would lose his temper with her.

'The captain of the King's Guard was the mightiest warrior in our kingdom,' he told her sharply when she would not return to the loft for sleep that night. 'If he could not escape from the mines of Sorel, what makes you think he will be able to set both of them free?'

'Because the mightiest warrior of our kingdom has been missing one major incentive to escape, sir. Necessity,' she said firmly. 'It is a powerful motivator, and no one in this land will be more desperate than Trevanion to have his son free. But most important, he has a weapon now, more powerful than these,' she said, clenching her fists. 'A sharp mind, full of knowledge and skill. Do not underestimate the value of what Finnikin has learned from you, Sir Topher. He is not merely the son of the captain of the King's Guard. He is the ward of the king's First Man, who many say is the smartest man in Lumatere.'

That night, Sir Topher prayed to his goddess for a sign, but in the morning there was still no Finnikin and Trevanion. But there was the novice Evanjalin. Waiting at the broken gate in the same place Sir Topher had left her the night before.

And this time when he reached her side, he stayed and waited.

In the middle of the second week, they took their chance. The sun was high overhead when Trevanion gave the signal.

'Why now?' Finnikin asked. 'They'll have the daylight to track us down. Should we not wait until later?'

'We won't be leaving anyone behind to search for us,' Trevanion said in a low voice. 'And by the time the party fails to return at the end of the day, we will hopefully be on horseback.'

Finnikin threw the first punch, taking Trevanion by surprise.

'You enjoyed doing that, didn't you?' Trevanion muttered from the ground, rubbing his jaw as the rest of the men chained to them joined the tussle. 'Squeamish?' he asked Finnikin as the guards approached.

'No. Why?' Finnikin asked.

The first guard was dead before he hit the ground. Trevanion grabbed the guard's sword and threw it to Finnikin before tossing the keys over the heads of the others to the Yut. The Yut was vicious in his attack, and the guard standing closest to him did not stand a chance. Finnikin understood why they were considered the savages of the land.

Finnikin felt weighed down fighting with one hand while chained, but thankfully the guards were not soldiers and knew little of swordplay. He watched Trevanion work the sword in his hand as if it had been a part of his body all his life. Trevanion's speed and endurance had always put him a class above everyone else, and ten years in prison had not changed that.

'Lead with the point of your sword, Finn,' his father shouted above the clashing of swords and the bellows and grunts. 'And you bend your elbow at an awkward angle.'

'Because it's half-broken,' Finnikin shouted back, irritated, ducking as the blade of the guard's sword swung across his head.

'You're throwing your whole body in,' Trevanion said critically as he plunged the sword into the third guard's gut.

'Stop watching me!' Finnikin yelled.

'You're fighting like a Charynite!'

Finnikin hissed in reaction to the insult. Charynites fought with no skill and pure adrenaline, and Trevanion had always been scathing about their methods when he taught Finnikin as a child. Finnikin thrust the sword to the hilt into his guard, muttering furiously. It wasn't his fault that his education in swordsmanship had been conducted in at least five different royal courts.

'Why aren't these chains unlocked?' Trevanion shouted, pummeling the last guard in the head.

'Yut!' Finnikin yelled, looking over to the man whose chains were wrapped around a guard's head. 'Dead is when their heads are half off and their eyes are wide open, so let go, you halfwit. He's dead!'

The Yut let go of the mangled body and unlocked the leg shackles of the six men before leaping over the dead guards and disappearing beyond the quarry. One by one the others followed him. There would be no bond among the prisoners, and Finnikin wondered how they would fare without horses or language, but the moment his father was free, the fate of the foreigners was swiftly forgotten.

'Take the chain,' Trevanion instructed as he dislodged a pickax from the ground.

'Won't swords be enough?' Finnikin protested.

'Not for what we want to do.'

Finnikin stared at the bodies of the guards that littered the road. Hardly recognizable. Despite everything he'd witnessed, he felt sick to know that so much damage could be done with swords and a chain.

'Let's go.'

There were two paths open to them, one that led to Bateaux and the other west to the coast. Trevanion took neither, but instead pointed back toward the mine caves. Finnikin bit his tongue to stop himself from asking what in the goddess's name Trevanion was thinking. Surely his father knew that all the caves were connected and they'd end up back in the prison mines.

'The road to Bateaux will be the obvious route taken by the others,' Trevanion said as they raced toward the caves. 'The soldiers and prison guards will search there first.'

'But to go through the mines?'

'Not through.' Trevanion pointed up. 'Over. We climb, and then walk over the caves. The shrine to Sagrami is past the last cave before the mountains. We climb back down again into the ravine and there we find the horse.'

The rock face before them looked almost impossible to climb. Its surface was smooth, with no jagged ruts to provide footholds. Trevanion took a step back, then grabbed the chain from Finnikin. He secured the pickax to the chain, once, twice, three times, and then swung the pickax over his head and launched it toward the top of the cave with a grunt. It missed, and they both jumped back as it landed with a clunk at their feet. Trevanion tried again, but his throw had less power this time and he yanked the pickax back before it became lodged too low. Finnikin tried, but each time, the pickax would flatten against the rock and come clanking down.

Suddenly they heard a sound from the direction of the town of Bateaux, one that chilled them. Dogs barking. Someone had raised the alarm.

'So soon,' Finnikin cursed.

'Probably the brainless Charynite,' Trevanion muttered.

'We can take one of the river caves,' Finnikin said. 'Our scent will end where the water begins.'

But Trevanion was shaking his head. 'I would be leading you to your tomb, Finn. It's too soon after the rains.'

The hounds were closer, their barks growing louder and more ferocious. Trevanion turned toward the sound and then back to Finnikin. There was sorrow and resolution in his eyes.

'No. Absolutely not,' Finnikin said.

'Listen to me—'

'No!' Finnikin shouted. 'If you use yourself as bait, I will follow you and both of us will end up torn to pieces or back in that cesspit.'

'Finn, listen!' Trevanion said, his voice raw. 'I prayed to see you one more time. It's all I prayed for. Nothing more. And my prayers were answered. Go east, I'll lead them west.'

'We have a dilemma, then,' Finnikin said fiercely. 'Because I prayed that you would grow old and hold my children in your arms as you held me. My prayers have not been answered yet, Trevanion. So whose prayer is more worthy? Yours or mine?'

Trevanion stared at him with frustration and then grabbed the pickax and swung again. It took three more attempts, but finally its sharp tip lodged in the stone. With a tug on the chain to check it was secure, he pushed Finnikin forward to begin the climb. Finnikin scrambled up the cave wall, his eyes on the pickax above him, willing it