Young Writers Society

There was much to think about. From his vulnerability on the vacant street in Aryotsk to the apprehension of what came next, the slow beginning to their plan felt eerily like an executioner's blade to a throat. And yet, it was the absence of his sword that Kai felt most prominently.

His hand continued to twitch to his hip as though he would find it there. He had been without his sword before, but this time, he wouldn’t get it back. If all went well, they would be out of the city before sunrise, carrying nothing but the layouts and the weapons and armor Ren and Ambrose had stolen just that afternoon. Kai hadn’t bothered arguing the abandonment of his sword—not when carrying it into the fortress would be near impossible without receiving an onslaught of questions. Not to mention, the blade had always been meant as a laugh in his face. He shouldn’t mourn its loss, but he did all the same.

Kai shoved the thoughts aside, shaking out his hands as though doing so would rid them of the buzz humming beneath his skin. When his hands stilled, the buzz began anew, like an itch that couldn’t be relieved.

Kai had supported every step in the planning, if only because of his trust in Ambrose. Ambrose, for all his lacking experience—a mirror to Kai’s own—was not one to submit to less than perfect. In fact, as children, Kai’s lessons were far fewer, allowing him more time to complete each assignment with precision, and yet, Kai would finish with subpar work and Ambrose would spend sleepless nights perfecting each small task, a single error seemingly detrimental. It was how they had always been: Kai accepting fault and attempting to move past it and Ambrose despising fault and doing anything to amend it.

For that reason, Kai not once argued with Ambrose’s plan. In it, he saw gaps and questions with few answers, yet he knew Ambrose had asked those same questions, prodded those same gaps, and had attempted to patch them the best he could. It was no wonder Ambrose had been abuzz with anxiety as of late—more so than usual, at least. A mind that craved perfection given a task where perfection seemed impossible was bound to stress.

Though, that was only one factor to the stress they were all no doubt experiencing given the situation. All except Ren, it seemed. As he and Kai stood on that dark street, attempting to appear casual, Ren seemed unbothered, bouncing on his toes and his lips twitching with phantom grins.

“How can you be excited?” Kai hissed under his breath, his eyes darting to both ends of the secluded street. They were waiting—waiting to be discovered and arrested.

“You’d be surprised by how similar nerves and excitement feel in the body. It’s this buzzing beneath your skin,” he said, holding up his hands, his fingers twitching. “It’s invigorating.”

“It’s nauseating,” Kai argued, swallowing said nausea down, as though swallowing would quell the churning in his gut.

“This is the easiest part,” Ren told him, brows raised.

Kai swallowed again, though this time to rid himself of the words rising in his throat. Words of doubt and of unease. He couldn’t display such sentiments more than he already had. Doing so felt like a betrayal of Ambrose—a sign of some level of untrust or unsurety. He didn’t feel the need to force false hope—Ren seemed content enough—but he still needed to force some semblance of security.

So he attempted to still his fidgeting fingers and calm the heart in his chest.

Just when he was beginning to ease his body and mind, two guards turned down the street, their steps a steady march. Kai turned away and began to hurry away from them—a way to instill suspicion. Sure enough, before he and Ren made it down the street, the guards shouted something in Styrkish.

Kai and Ren began to run, their footfalls bouncing on each stone wall before echoing back to their ears. They didn’t push their bodies to their limits, instead slowing their pace just enough so they could be caught. Indeed, moments later, Kai was tackled from behind.

He slammed to the ground, the pain a dull throb behind a haze of adrenaline. The guard shoved his face into the cobblestone.

“Osta!” the guard shouted in his ear. Stop. One of the very few Styrkish words Kai knew.

After binding his hands behind his back with tight rope, the guard hefted Kai to his feet and grabbed his wrists roughly. He was nearly a head shorter than Kai, though equally as broad. If the arrest wasn’t intentional, Kai didn’t doubt he could take the single man down. Though, the minute he did, the guard containing Ren would have him subdued.

Ren fought the arrest, thrashing and kicking his legs as though moving them fast enough would set him running once more.

“Osta!” the guard tasked with arresting him ordered, face twisted in irritation. Kai shot Ren a look. They were meant to be arrested. So why was he fighting it?

“Obvisk ivo,” the guard holding Kai ordered the other. He began patting Kai down, poking his hands into empty pockets and feeling along each groove of his coat, pants, and tunic. He even pried Kai’s lips open and searched under his tongue and teeth. The guard holding Ren struggled to do the same, and had to result in slamming Ren to the ground once more and pinning him there. As the guard searched Ren’s hair, a slow grin pulled at Ren’s lips and he winked.

Kai shook his head in exasperation. He couldn’t fathom what thoughts were coursing through Ren’s mind—didn’t want to know—though he knew they were nowhere near the nerves, anxieties, and apprehensions coursing through Kai’s own.

When they were thoroughly searched, the guards wasted no energy in gentleness as they began to drag them towards the fortress. While irritation and anger was written in their protruding brows and tense shoulders, Kai recognized the glimmer of satisfaction in their eyes. He saw it often when guards went to the King with some accomplished deed, expecting reward or recognition of any kind. Only, these guards would receive none of that once the morning sun rose and they found the dungeons empty. That was, if their plan succeeded.

The trek to the fortress was a brief one, with the guards biting out unknown Styrkish words as Ren continued to attempt at escape every few moments. Once at the front entrance of the fortress, Kai gazed up at the looming walls, peppered with the occasional torch. Guards patrolled the top, eyes sharp beyond the city. A few guards were also positioned at the front entrance, and a brief conversation ensued when the guards stopped before them.

Within seconds, the doors were opened and Ren and Kai were shoved inside. Kai held his breath, half expecting them to realize their true intentions. Only, that was ridiculous. If they knew their intentions, they would still take them to the same location.

The main foyer of the fortress was grand with little to no adornment. It was the opposite of Arlan’s palace in many ways. In place of sparkling chandeliers was merely a claw-like iron contraption topped with thick candles. In place of gilded arches and marble floors was smooth stone and sharp, angular walls and ceilings. No art was hung upon the walls. No wealth was displayed.

In truth, wealth was displayed, though not through the architecture, but rather the stacks of weapons, armor, and explosive powders lining the walls: reinforcements should the fortress be attacked. Kai didn’t doubt similar miniature armories were placed all across the city.

Warriors patrolled across the foyer, some moving from one side of the wall to the other, others stopping to chat, thumbs hooked in their chest plates. Kai counted ten in just that foyer, and he didn’t doubt there were more in full daylight.

Several of the warriors paused, tracking Kai and Ren with their eyes as the guards shoved them to the end of the foyer where two separate staircases were placed on both corners. According to Rieka, the staircases wound up tunnels that reached to the top of the tower.

Ren shot the warriors maniacal grins, eyes glimmering with mischief. A few of the guards put hands to weapons on instinct. Kai’s nostrils flared. They shouldn’t have been attracting attention to themselves. They needed to appear hopeless, for otherwise, they would seem threats.

But he said nothing to Ren. Instead, he followed the sharp prods of the guard, a low throb beginning to pulse in his cheek where his face had been shoved into the stone earlier. His jaw tightened on instinct, teeth grinding to the point of discomfort.

They were shoved into one of the staircases, the guards prodding them downward. The walls of the tunnel blocked out the prodding eyes, relieving their bruising presence on his skin. Ren grew quiet as they moved, his hands going slack behind his back.

The dungeons came into view, the space long and dim, lit only by a few dying torches. There were no guards posted there, though Kai assumed that was only due to every vacant cell. If the dungeons of the fortress were anything like the dungeons of Arlan’s palace, they were only used to keep prisoners for a brief spell until they had been tried and sentenced. Then they would be either executed or relocated to another prison.

The guards shoved Kai and Ren down the long chamber. Kai turned to glance into a few of the cells. Inside, they were empty but for a single empty bucket and a pile of hay. No better than a dog kennel.

Kai and Ren were shoved into separate cells, their wrists clamped into the metal manacles bolted to the far walls. The rope bindings were removed once the new chains were secured, and they were checked once more for any goods on their person. Once again, they came up empty-handed. Kai’s sword wasn’t the only thing left behind, but also Ren’s stolen goods and the explosives he had swiped from the armory, which the prince and Rieka kept on their persons.

The barred doors were slammed shut once the guards verified they weren’t a threat. The door seemed to lock on its own, needing no set of keys to secure it. Not that it would be much use, since he and Ren would first have to remove the manacles to even reach the iron bars.

Their two captors stood in the cell, chatting triumphantly as they waited for a reinforcement to watch over the new captives. While protocol was undoubtedly different here, Kai expected they would report immediately to a superior officer to be debriefed. Any trial would occur during the following day when the council could be risen to attend. For now, they had the night. One night where they were presumed to be in the cell throughout.

Kai slowly slid to the stone floor, the wall cool even through his wool coat. He braced his bare hands on the dusty floor, a few strands of hay pricking at his palms. His face and shoulders throbbed with fervor now, each spot where he had been shoved and yanked resounding in his bones. While nerves still buzzed beneath his skin, there was a strange dread that dampened it. He supposed a dank cell could do that to anyone.

After several moments, a guard took up the position within the cell, ordering their captors out. With a few final sneers, the two guards vacated the dungeons, a bounce in their step.

When the door above snapped shut, the new guard fell out of attention, his stance slackening, his hands drooping. He brought his slow, deep-set gaze to scan Ren and Kai, the muscles around his round eyes twitching as though he couldn’t decide whether or not to narrow them.

With the thick stone wall between cells, Kai couldn’t see Ren, but he assumed the thief was making despicable faces to irritate the guard. Indeed, the guard’s lip curled as he stared into Ren’s cell.

“Osta,” he ordered, his voice a low growl. It was the pitch of a boy attempting at masculinity, forcing a deep tone. Kai reassessed. The boy was likely close to sixteen.

“Or what?” Ren drawled, his voice muffled beyond the barrier of the wall. Kai lifted his hands to rub his temples, the chains clanking. Even in serious situations, Ren found ways to be unnecessarily obnoxious.

“Tikhye,” the guard said, stepping forward, his brows furrowing.

“You’ve already arrested me. Is it also a crime to speak?”

“You speak Arlanian,” the guard said, his accent thick—far thicker than Rieka’s. His disguised voice had vanished, now replaced with the boyish tones of an adolescent.

“Observant one,” Ren said. “It is no wonder you were chosen as a warrior of Styrka.”

The boy’s pale cheeks flushed a ruddy red, the hue scattered in blotches over his smooth face. “Is this a trick? Larabos orders you to pretend to be Arlanian?”

Kai’s brows twitched on their own accord. He had not fully considered the repercussions given their allegiance to Arlan was discovered. While the gods ordained this prophecy to retrieve what was rightfully Arlan’s, the other countries might not agree. Rieka’s judgement on the matter was a clear sign of that. And if it was apparent they were sent by Arlan, what possible repercussions could be caused by it? Was it a severe enough crime in the eyes of Styrka to warrant breaking off trade and alliances?

Of course, Kai assumed Ambrose had already considered it. The clergy as well. While the gods had ordained them to retrieve it, politics would still be considered. The clergy assisted the Arlanian government in most ways for it not to be. Besides, Styrka was wrong—the sword belonged to Arlan even if they refused to grant it.

Regardless, a thrum of anxiety pulsed beneath Kai’s skin as he awaited Ren’s response. He silently pleaded to the gods that Ren would not reveal their ties to Arlan more than he already had.

“Perhaps it is a trick,” Ren said. “Or perhaps I am merely a thief with no alliances to either Arlan or Larabos. Or perhaps I am a figment of your imagination, a spirit sent by the stars to remind you of all your wrong-doings. Careful what you say next, or I might report it to the skies and doom you in the afterlife.”

The guard paled, all blotchy red leaching from his skin. Kai found it difficult to believe Ren had intended his words to scare the guard—more likely, the thief had merely been teasing, poking humor where it wasn’t meant to be—yet his words had been the right ones. The guard backed away from the cell, turning his eyes to stare at nothing in particular. Back was his harsh stance all military men learned: straight spine, tense elbows, and feet side-by-side.

A new silence buzzed about the room, echoing as loudly as voices did—louder even. It rang a low tune in Kai’s ears, humming about his skull deafeningly.

Kai wondered where Ambrose and Rieka were. How far along they had gotten in their aspect of the plan. Whether or not they had been discovered or continued to move about without suspicion. He supposed he wouldn’t know until midnight struck. If they didn’t show up, then everything had gone wrong and Ren and Kai would be incriminated for whatever crimes Styrka deemed fit, oblivious to Ambrose and Rieka’s fates. It was a daunting thought.

Kai shook his head as though doing so would leak the thoughts from his mind. Instead, it only seemed to amplify that deafening silence.

That quiet buzz was suddenly disrupted by a loud gong. The gong repeated itself, vibrating against the stone.

It was midnight.

Kai shifted where he sat, his legs stiff and uncomfortable. As the bell rang out its tones—eight, nine—he watched the door, waiting—ten, eleven.

Finally, the clock chimed out its final toll and that door remained shut. The guard didn’t bother shifting from his stance in the center of the dungeons. Rieka’s information was faulty. There was no longer a guard shift at midnight.

- continued without break in next part -