“Where is he?” Orrian whispers through gritted teeth as a couple of long minutes go by.
Many pairs of footsteps eventually begin to slap against the steps towards us. We duck inside the warden’s chamber with the door slightly cracked open and ready our blades.
Damion enters the room gesturing for us to follow. Behind him, at least twenty children wait expectedly. They line the stairs; more whispers tell us that even more wait around the corner.
Damion stands in front of his adopted family. Worrisome bruising and deep gashes unite them, my anger flares as I notice a beaten girl who can be no older than six or seven. Has she too been taken from her family? Have all of them?
“There’s too many!” Randall whispers, panicked.
“They’re coming with us,” Damion decides, he opens the door back out into the courtyard.
Damion yelps and stumbles backwards as three soldiers stand in the doorway, clearly not expecting to see us either. Orrian knocks Damion aside and leaps onto the central soldier, knocking him to the ground.
Randall and Horas both dive forwards to protect the forest king from the other two guards. A particularly large girl knocks past me and begins raining blows down on Horas’ opponent until he crumples. By the time Randall manages to thrust his spear through his assailant’s defences, Orrian has managed to deal with his own. There’s no point being quiet anymore, anyone within earshot will already be on their way.
Damion takes off running through an archway leading away from the beautiful garden. This area of the castle is clearly more to be used as grand living quarters than guard outposts. Incredible murals of multicoloured glass catch the morning light around us, every space hosts some new delicately sculpted figure with plaques within their bases. Large windows treat us to glimpses of another more luxurious world. Ancient and carefully pruned trees emerge from specific patches of soil around our feet. They stand as tall as even the highest windows of the houses here, all of which are at least three floors high.
We continue through shallow tunnels beneath ornate bridges connecting homes in the sky and we sprint past many more unsuspecting citizens. Like the unconscious lady in the rose dress, these people are dressed even more extravagantly than those who watched us from the tavern that first night. Their clothes are not simple fabrics of dirtied greens, browns, and whites. Instead, they wear colours very rarely ever seen in nature. They are all so bright and with so many layers. Some even have delicate looking hats and headpieces despite sheltering from our stampede in alcoves at the front of their homes.
We skid to a stop as we reach the edge of the main courtyard. Archers line the walls above and, as expected, the bridge has been raised. The conflict is louder now, our army must be nearing the inner city. Damion ushers the slaves through a small door nearby and tells them to join us only when we come back out of the dungeon. Randall pushes me closer into the wall as a group of guards march out of the main hall and towards the guardhouse.
As soon as the door closes behind them, Orrian moves. If any new groups come out now or any of the archers choose to look inwards, we’ll be at their mercy. Miraculously, as we cling in the shadows of the steps, Orrian manages to get the correct key the first time and we slip inside the dungeon’s entrance without anyone noticing.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
We swing around the stone staircase, descending as quickly as we dare. The familiar stench of the dungeon strengthens with each step. Orrian peers through the low tunnel once we reach the bottom, but he can’t see anyone waiting for us. We sprint towards the cells.
The tribespeople have already stirred to their feet at our commotion and the dungeon is filled with cheers as Orrian leads the rescue. Hands reach out from between the bars in celebration and desperation to be rid of their cages. Orrian starts unlocking the cells nearest the doors, desperately trying to quieten the prisoners to stop them from attracting any attention.
Randall and I have already left the rest of them to continue forwards. I pass the long line of cells and flickering torches, Tharrin and Astera greet me as I pass. Everyone has changed noticeably since we were last down here, the poor conditions and lack of food are visibly taking a toll on them. There are also many more injured and a few more bodies are left against the walls than I remember. The floor has been scrubbed clean since the battle and the bodies removed, but I wonder how many tribespeople later died from their wounds in these cells.
My mother is already clinging to the bars as I reach the far end of the dungeon. Her arms reach out for me and I take both of her hands.
“Dale?! Randy?” she says questioningly, refusing to trust her own eyes so easily. She glances at the spear in Randall’s hand, surely, she must recognise the runes. She doesn’t mention them and returns her attention back to me.
“It’s ok,” I say. “We’re getting you out of here.”
“How are you here?” she asks, tears flowing freely.
“We’re fighting back,” I reveal. I can’t help myself as I begin to cry as well. “The villages, we’re together. There’s an army of us outside. We snuck in.”
“And Alice?” Mother asks.
“She’s ok, they’ve taken her some place safe away from all of the villages. She’s with Ida but it’s alright, Arthur didn’t know about the Damion and the others,” I say.
Mother audibly sighs with relief. Behind us, more of the cells are creaking open. Word has finally gotten around to be quiet and the newly freed tribespeople force themselves to reign in their jubilation. Astera rushes out of her
