The Prince of Exiles (The Exile Series) (43 page)

“What is Autmaran doing? What was that noise?”

“The Black Powder sir,” the woman said quickly. “He organized us to carry as much of the Black Powder stored in the castle as possible, roll it down the main street, and throw it at the south wall. We’d already pulled it from the castle and stationed it nearby to make sure it didn’t blow.”

“Where did you get it?” He asked, shocked.

“We captured it when the city fell,” she said. “It’s been stored in the castle warehouse ever since – we had no use of it until now.”

Raven glanced at Leah and her smile was grim.

“If you can’t find a way out – make one.”

“Move you three!”

They turned to see the familiar form of the silver-haired Rogue twins, Autmaran’s under-officers, moving through the smoke and haze with a huge group of citizens, nearly fifty in all. The two Rogues were wearing little more than strips of cloth, no doubt allowing them to operate more efficiently in the burning city. Raven realized that at any other time this would have been something that would have embarrassed him, but here, now, having gone through the last few hours, it seemed like only a matter of course and practicality. Their bodies were pure, coiled muscle, and they were quickly followed by a crowd of men and women dressed in the fashion of Roarke.

“Toward the wall!” Raven said, motioning quickly. “Let’s go!”

He and Leah began to make their way forward then, skirting the crowd at a sprint, heading quickly to the front of the pack and making sure that they were all heading in the right direction.

BOOM!

Another huge percussion rocked the city, and Raven winced as his eardrums were pressed uncomfortably inward.

“I thought he’d already blown it!” He called to Leah.

“He’s probably trying to set them off in a series!” She shouted back. “That way he can widen any cracks that open up!”

They passed between buildings that had begun to catch fire; the heat was so intense now that sweat had begun to roll down Raven’s face and he felt as though he might actually be starting to cook around the edges.

They reached the wall and saw it was indeed cracked. A huge, final pile of barrels had just been rolled into place – but the Governor and his men, all baring swords, had raced out of the crowd to block it.

“If the city of Roarke dies,” he called out, “so do the Exiles! You were meant to be purified by this flame, to be saved from your sins against the Empress –”

“Goddamn Imperials,” Leah growled.

Before Raven could say or do anything, she had pushed through the crowd and pulled a burning piece of wood from a nearby building. She shouted a warning, and people ducked out of her way as she took a running start and hurled the burning brand, end over end, onto the heap of barrels.

BOOM!

The Governor and his men were immolated in the blink of an eye, as the weakened walls were rent asunder, powdered stone rising into the air, mixing with the smoke, revealing snow-covered wilderness beyond the walls.

“GO!”

Raven found himself forced back by the force of the blast, kneeling on the ground, looking on as Autmaran motioned for them all to move forward to the other side of the walls.

“
GO!”

Autmaran’s men came up then and grabbed him, pulling him forward, until he himself was beyond the wall and safe from the flames. The Kindred and Roarkemen all raced for the opening, carrying with them all they could carry, all that they had left in the world.

Raven ran to Leah and grabbed her hand, pulling her with him – it looked as though she had been dazed by the blast and didn’t seem to be walking right. There was a trickle of blood running from her ear and her eyes wouldn’t focus.

They made it through, crossing the threshold from burning heat to freezing cold. Raven turned and looked back one last time as they made their way into the hills.

The entire city was on fire now, consumed through and through. The castle glowed like heated metal, hot and searing against the night sky. No star shone and no moon overlooked the scene; smoke and storm clouds blocked out all light, and even seemed to dim the burning fury of the flames.

The last thought Raven had before turning away was both angry and sad, both desperate and vindictive, and he felt sick and powerless as it came to him:

I told them.

“Autmaran!” Raven called out. “Autmaran! Where’s Autmaran?!”

Soldiers heard him shouting and pointed off to the treeline above Roarke where they had stopped for the moment, and Raven ran for it, the Rogue twins and Leah close behind him.

When they found the Major he was surrounded by a group of Scouts, Infantry Captains, Rangers, Rogues, and even the big bear-like man with the cudgel, no doubt the de facto leader of the Roarkemen.
 

“Did anyone see Commander Scipio at any point during the fire?”

“I saw him,” one of the Eshendai said, a tall woman with short hair. “I saw him burning when the castle caught fire. He … he jumped from his bedroom window and fell. I didn’t look for the body.”

There was a brief period of silence, and then Autmaran took a deep breath and seemed to stand taller, knowing the responsibility of all these people now lay with him.

“As second in command, I place myself forward as Commander until such time as we can receive new orders. Are there objections?”

One by one they shook their heads, and the matter was settled.

“Soloman,” Autmaran snapped out quickly, “get out there now and get me a count. We need to know how many of the people we saved. Julith – organize the citizens into groups, four or five big ones based on something like occupation, with smaller denominations going down, say a hundred in a group, twenty in a cell, and maybe five in a family. Make everyone in each family responsible for someone else, each family responsible for another family, each group responsible for another group, and so on. We need to make sure we don’t lose anyone. Get fires going if we can, this cold will sap everyone’s strength if we let it, we can’t –“

“Autmaran,” Raven said quickly, breaking into the group. The Major looked up at him, the dark skin of his face made darker by soot stains from the smoke of the fires.

“Everyone give us a minute, you have your orders.”

They all left, running off into the night calling to people, organizing the survivors. The two Rogues captains, Autmaran’s under-officers, stayed behind, pulling on their clothing – the male twin took the time to start sewing up a wound on his sister’s back. She didn’t even grimace as the man tugged and pulled at her skin with a needle.

“What is it Raven?”

“Leah and I know of a way back to Vale – one that isn’t through the Pass. It’s a tunnel, the opening is small and well hidden. I doubt many people know about it. I doubt
anyone
knows about it.”

Autmaran watched him for a long moment, and Raven began to fear the man hadn’t understood him.

“Show me,” he said abruptly, pulling out a map from a pocket inside his cloak and handing it to Raven. He took it and unfolded it, looking it over quickly. Time was important – these people were not dressed for the cold, and this weather would soon begin to sap their strength.

“I can’t be sure exactly,” Raven said. “But the entrance should be somewhere here.”

He pointed to a spot on the map, an area that was nearly inaccessible, only reachable by a road that led nowhere.

“Are you sure?” Autmaran asked, watching him carefully. “If we take these people there and you can’t find this tunnel, we’ll be dead. The storm will claim us, there will be no coming back.”

“It’s there,” Leah said, stepping up beside him.

“You’re sure?” The male Rogue asked, looking up from stitching his sister’s back. His voice was deep and gravely.

“Yes,” Raven and Leah said at the same time.

“How did we miss it?” The woman asked.

“It’s
very
well hidden,” Raven said. “If we hadn’t been coming out of it, I doubt we’d have known it was there. But it goes directly under the mountains – it took us here in a matter of hours. On foot.”

They all looked to Leah, who nodded in confirmation.

“And it’s big enough for all of the people?” The woman asked.

“Perhaps not, but do we have any other choice?”

“It’ll have to do,” Autmaran said. “We head that way, and once we’re back in Vale I can report directly to Elder Goldwyn himself. He will know what to do, will know the proper response to all of this.”

Raven felt Leah tense beside him, and suddenly he felt everything that had happened before Roarke come crashing back in on him. The change must have been evident in his face, because Autmaran looked suddenly concerned.

“What is it?” He asked quickly. “Have you been hurt?”

“No,” Raven said, shaking his head. “No, I’m fine, I … the reason we’re here, the reason we know about the tunnel … Tiffenal, the Prince of Foxes, was in Vale.”

The twins both looked up and made noises of shock and denial, but Raven held up a hand.

“Leah and I are here because we chased him through the tunnel,” Raven continued. “We ended up here, outside Roarke, where he escaped. We couldn’t follow him anymore.”

“Why was he in Vale?” Autmaran asked.

“To steal a
sambolin,
” Raven said. “And we found him when … after he had … “

He couldn’t say it. Saying it out loud, telling someone who didn’t know, made it real.

I wish it had been me. The world could go on without me, but him … he was the best among all the Kindred. He was the soul of an entire nation.

“What did he do?” Autmaran insisted.

“He killed my father,” Leah said. “He killed him and took the
sambolin.
”

For a long moment no one spoke. And then the male Rogue stood.

“If this is a joke it isn’t funny,” he said to her, almost growling out the words. His face was pinched and drawn, as if he were trying to keep the knowledge from registering in his mind.

“It’s not a joke,” she said, her face stony, blank, and unnaturally pale. “We found him, knifed to death, in the Council building.”

“YOU’RE LYING!” The man roared.

Kindred and Roarkemen turned and looked at them in shock.

“It’s true,” Raven said, stepping between Leah and the man, worried about what he would do in his rage. “I saw it too. Tiffenal killed him, and when he ran we went after him – he’d found a way through the mountains using that tunnel. We tried to catch him, but we couldn’t, there were traps, we tried – ”

“No!” The man shouted. He stood and threw himself down the hill, turning and running to the east – toward where Raven had pointed to on the map. Toward the tunnel.

“I’m sorry,” said the woman. Raven looked up at her and saw her face was wracked with grief as well. “He was our teacher. Don’t let word of this get out yet … there’s too many of us that … the Kindred don’t need to know until we’re safe.”

And then she left as well, running after her brother.

“We have to go with them,” Raven said quickly to Autmaran. “We have to make sure they get to the tunnel safely, otherwise they could get lost in the mountains.”

He turned to Leah, and thought once more that she looked oddly pale – and then she collapsed.

Raven didn’t remember going to her, only remembered holding her in his arms, picking her up off the ground. He held her close to him, and when he did he felt something warm and sticky on his hand. She’d been bleeding since their fight with Tiffenal. How long had it been? How much blood had she lost?

“A doctor, a Healer, we need someone, right now!”

Shouts went up and down the hill, and figures moved around him.

“Raven,” Autmaran said, breathing into his face, drawing his attention momentarily away from Leah –
she looks so pale, she can’t die, not her! –
and forcing him to focus. “Are you sure Tiffenal took the
sambolin?
”

Raven nodded.

“The illusions,” the man said numbly, almost mumbling the words. “The illusions are gone. They’re broken.”

Raven nodded again.

Autmaran backed away, looking stunned and unable to comprehend what was going on. A man came, wrapped in many layers of clothing that included a huge overcoat, carrying with him a stiff leather bag. He pulled off a glove with his teeth and knelt by Leah, putting a hand to her neck.

“How long has she been losing blood?” He asked quickly in the slower, rounded tones of Roarke. He was an Imperial. Would he let Leah die? Raven would have to watch him closely.

I don’t trust anyone who isn’t an Exile anymore. When did that happen?

“Since right before the city caught fire.”

“Damn,” the doctor hissed. “Cut her sleeve at the shoulder and remove it, the fabric is too thick to work around – slit the dress along the side. Do it now.”

The man’s tone brooked no argument, and Raven found himself obeying despite his misgivings. He pulled out his dagger, the one Leah had given him, and slit the side of her heavy winter dress, revealing her side and part of her scarred chest. He saw that the harsh scratch from Tiffenal’s filed nails had cut her, but it was superficial. The wound in her side, the one from the sword, was deep, dangerously so. Raven cut the dress farther, and saw the whole left side had been filled with blood. He felt, actually
felt
, his face go pale as the blood drained out of it, looking at her mangled side.

“Hold her,” the doctor said, and again Raven heard the voice of an Imperial. Could he trust this man to fix her?

Do you have a choice?

He moved to the side, exposing the wound to the doctor, cradling her head. The man had pulled a sewing kit as well as a number of metal implements from his bag. He went to work quickly, using alcohol, painfully strong in Raven’s nose, to sterilize the metal before swabbing some on the wound. He pulled out a waterskin and washed the blood away, revealing the cut itself, and then threaded a needle, and pushed it into her skin.

She woke to semi-consciousness and cried out, breath coming harsh and short.

“Hold her!” The man roared to Raven. “I think the cut nicked her kidney. This will take time.”

The next hour was the longest of Raven’s life. Multiple times Leah cried out and even seemed close to waking, but each time she drifted back into unconsciousness. The doctor continued to work – he stopped the bleeding, his hands moving so quickly Raven could barely understand all the things he was doing. He didn’t care – all that mattered to him was that the spark of Leah’s life was slowing fading … slowly going from a roaring flame to the flicker of a dying candle.

She cried out again, and Raven held her arms, forcing her to the ground where they had placed her down on his cloak, trying to keep her warm. Blankets were brought to cover her; men and women passed around them as the group began to move – it looked like Autmaran had organized them to head for the tunnel.

And with every moment that passed, Raven spiraled deeper and deeper into a haze of hatred.

His thoughts were murderous. He saw Tiffenal’s face, gloating at him, lit by the flames of Roarke, disappearing into the night. He saw Goldwyn’s body, stabbed to death. And now Leah, bleeding, close to following her father.

He should never have touched her.

She moved and cried again, and his vision hazed over and his impotent rage consumed him, burning his insides until he felt hollowed out. He wanted to run after Tiffenal, to find him, but knew there was no point.