27
Achan's eyes watered as the sled whooshed over the snow-covered sea. He marveled at how fast the sleds went. Faster than a horse, maybe. A much smoother ride, anyway.
He and Sir Caleb were tucked under pelts beside one another in the bed of the dogsled. Behind them, Sir Gavin stood on the runners and navigated the dogs after the other sled, driven by Verdot Amal. Inko rode in Verdot's sled.
Verdot Amal, a short, round man with white hair, had provided two sleds with dogs hitched in tandem and furs to burrow under on the ride. He had also brought two extra horses for his generals in the Prodotez. Verdot had spoken only to Sir Gavin, ignoring Inko and Sir Caleb as much as they ignored him.
The knights' differing opinions over involving Verdot Amal drenched Achan in doubt. Was he wrong to agree to this plan? What if he did get caught? They were about to enter the strongest prison in all Er'Rets-one that had not only marked Achan a wanted man, but believed he'd been captured. They probably had a cell all ready to put him in. What if he had to live on Ice Island forever?
Before they'd left Stormwatch, Sir Caleb had clamped shackles onto Achan's wrists and ankles. Even though Achan wore the key on a string around his neck, and even though Sir Caleb put them on loose, the feel of iron on Achan's limbs reminded him of the other times he'd been captured, tortured, and nearly executed. He tried not to think about them.
Achan's ear twitched. He reached a mittened hand up to scratch, irons clinking, but could find no way into the layers of fur. "I think my furs have fleas."
"It's always a possibility," Sir Caleb said.
Achan groaned. He'd been joking. No matter how many times he had fleas over the years, he never got used to them. Maybe due to Gren. She always refused to be near him until they were gone.
Achan faced Sir Caleb, but the knight was looking at the torchlights of Ice Island. Achan's stomach roiled. The lights were so high up. How could they ever succeed?
He sensed Sir Caleb's fear and again agonized over the situation. He understood Sir Caleb's desire to keep him safe, but Achan couldn't sit around and mope over Lady Tara's marriage to Lord Gershom. This insane mission not only preoccupied his mind, it affirmed him. He had made a choice.
His first royal command, perhaps?
He pulled his knees up. The dagfish hook in his trousers slid from his knee to his thigh. Sir Caleb had insisted they wear their hooks from the start to save time. This way they could fix their belts under their arms and fly.
But Achan didn't want to think about that. Nor the fact that he'd left Eagan's Elk back at the inn, the sword that would no longer belong to him after today. His only weapon was Inko's small, leather-wrapped knife hidden inside his boot.
When the sleds stopped, Inko climbed out and took Sir Gavin's place on their sled.
Sir Gavin helped Achan stand, torch burning strong in his hand. "You've got Inko's knife?"
Standing up made his feet sink into knee-deep snow and invited frigid air up his fur cape. Achan shivered. "Aye."
"Let's go, then."
Inko and Verdot drove the sleds away to their position east of the stronghold. Ice Island stood before them, black but for the torches outlining the massive watchtower and surrounding curtain wall, casting pockets of light onto grey stone. Achan trudged toward the imposing fortress between Sir Gavin and Sir Caleb, dragging his leg chains through the snow. With each step, snow fell over the tops of his boots and melted down to his ankles. The dagfish hook slid back and forth, scratching his kneecap every so often with its barbed hook.
"Keep your shields up to all but us." Sir Gavin's breath spewed from his nose like a cham bear. "The prisoners are given aleh, but there may be guards with the ability."
Achan repeated the instruction to himself. His cheeks stung from the cold, his nose and ears were numb. He should've put up his hood. Too late now.
They stopped before Northgate, twin towers that loomed five levels high, connected by a black iron portcullis. The curtain wall shot away from each tower. All was dark but for the randomly spaced torches along the parapet and the sporadic arrow loops glowing with light from each tower.
A nasal voice called through the gate. "Who are you and what do you want?"
"Markson Will and Vindo Relz with a prisoner for the Prodotez," Sir Gavin yelled.
"Prisoner's name?"
"Achan Cham. Also known as Gidon Hadar."
Achan's stomach swayed. How long might it take for Esek to get word he had arrived? Hopefully, Esek had gone south from Carmine and not north like the duchess suspected.
With a soft clank, an iron gate swung open from within the portcullis. Sweat broke out over Achan despite being half frozen. Two guards, all but their eyes clad in pelts, stepped outside, swords raised, and beckoned them enter. The knights tugged Achan forward and they entered the bailey of the prison.
Achan glanced at the guard on his right. Their eyes met and Achan sensed conflicting emotions. Hope and despair.
Sir Gavin and Sir Caleb pulled Achan along as if they knew exactly where they were going. His chains slid over a slippery stone ground. The snow in the bailey had been piled against the curtain walls in huge mounds. Achan tipped back his head to see the towering Pillar. Icy wind snaked down the neck of his tunic. He hunched down, sniffing his watery nose.
Every guard seemed to stare. Achan opened his mind and a vast array of emotions washed over him. Like the guard at Northgate, the guardsmen seemed conflicted by his presence. Some were a part of tonight's escape plan. Some were not.
Sir Gavin and Sir Caleb led Achan into the northern tower of the Pillar and started up the spiraling staircase, deserted and dark but for torches and a guard or two on the landing of each level. It was just as cold in the tower as it had been outside and smelled oddly like dirt. The stomping of three sets of boots and chain banging on the steps echoed in the stairwell.
Careful to shield his mind, Achan opened to the lone guard on level four.
The man's deer-like eyes never blinked. He's the mirror image of the painting in Lytton Hall.
Achan let go, curious about this painting.
The guard on the fifth level turned his back to Achan. We can't keep him here. We mustn't.
On level six, two guards stood together, necks twisting together like twin owls. Achan tried to peek at both minds but only managed to hear:
Ahh. This one's too young to be…
…live to see the day.
On seven, the guard's mind was closed. Achan glanced over his shoulder to get a better look at the dark-bearded man, but the continually curling staircase swept him away.
Achan's legs ached. He pulled against Sir Gavin's grip. Can we stop a moment? This hook keeps scraping my knee.
Sir Gavin slowed his pace. Sorry. I'm a bit on edge. I expected to have to declare you to more than the men at the gate.
Seems odd, Achan said.
Aye. Keep your eye out. And remember, Eagan and Kurtz will answer to Chion.
The name of Sir Gavin's old wolf dog had apparently been a password amongst the Old Kingsguardsmen.
The eighth floor guardsman leaned on his sword like a cane. He won't last the month.
The ninth floor guard sneered like an angry dog and had an equally comforting thought. Prisoners'll chew him up.
The guard on ten had closed his mind. He spat tobacco juice on the floor as they swept past.
The guard on eleven stared like a starved wolf. Will King Esek give me the bounty if I kill him myself?
The twelfth level hit Achan with a blast of icy wind that blew open his cape and knifed through his tunic. The roof. Sir Gavin barged past the guards standing there and moved along the northeastern wall toward the eastern tower.