time he had been in a castle under siege. Then, Rossarb had been surrounded by Aloysius’s huge army. This seemed quite a different battle, and yet Edyon had the same tension in his stomach and in his chest.
Another difference was that Byron was with him and not March. Byron stayed quietly by Edyon’s side, looking out across the land. Edyon looked up to the sky and wondered where March was now. Hopefully he was somewhere safe, somewhere away from war and fighting.
The chancellor stood behind Edyon, constantly talking, considering likely outcomes—Thelonius would send troops back to attack the boy army. The boy army would flee back north. This might have been a plan to draw the army from the wall and send the main Brigantine troops through. Edyon must have heard the chancellor come up with a hundred options of what might be happening.
And, just as Edyon was beginning to believe that they might be safe for a while, a guard ran in. “The boys have scaled the walls to the lower level.”
Edyon knew it was over. The boys would be too strong. If they’d scaled one wall, they could scale more. But still he was told to remain in his rooms. Byron stayed with him, as did the chancellor and Talin, who almost died of shame as his bowels couldn’t hold up to the tension.
But it wasn’t long before the guard returned. “They’ve broken through to the upper levels. You must leave, Your Highness. Now. Immediately. There’s no time for hesitation.” And while Edyon was still trying to absorb this, Byron was leading him by the hand, following the guard, picking up speed as they heard shouts and screams, running through Thelonius’s rooms, sliding on the marble floors, Talin panting behind. The guard held up the silk curtain that hid the door and Byron pulled Edyon through. Edyon kept asking who was with them, and Byron was just saying, “Don’t worry about that, Edyon. The guards know what they’re doing. They’ll lock the door behind us. We must concentrate on moving as fast as possible.”
And Edyon did have to concentrate. It was dark, and the stone spiral stairs were narrow and steep. Down and down and down they went. Edyon heard Talin cry out and the guards told him to be silent. As they descended, he heard other noises through the walls—the screams and shouts of fear and war. But then they were down on level ground in the damp darkness of a tunnel. It was silent except for the heavy breathing of the group. Everyone gathered together while torches were lit. There was urgency, but not panic.
Talin was limping, as he’d fallen on the steps, but he took Edyon’s hand. “Thank you for not leaving me, Your High-ness. Thank you.” As if Edyon would leave anyone behind. He squeezed Talin’s hand, which was damp with sweat, and reassured him that they’d soon be on a ship sailing to safety.
And then they were off again, running along the tunnel, the ground underfoot turning from stone to sand. At the end of the tunnel was a heavy wooden door, a key found hanging inside its lock. The door was stiff and it creaked open and they were out of a small building built into the cliff, and onto the sand and into the half-light—it was still well before dawn, but the dark blue sky seemed light after the tunnel.
There was someone ahead—one of the boy army—and he was coming at Edyon. And then it all happened so fast. Byron leaped in front of Edyon to protect him, swinging his sword at the assailant. The other guards drew their swords, surrounding Edyon, expecting more attackers. Edyon couldn’t even see, but he heard a shout. “Edyon! I’m here to help!” It was a familiar voice. A voice Edyon would know anywhere.
March?
“Let me past,” Edyon shouted, forcing his way through his guards as Byron slashed his sword down toward March’s body.