The Stolen Prince (Blood for Blood Book 1) (16 page)

“Skeet, vanish!” Hakon shouted. Skeet looked up, tears streaming down his face. He closed his eyes, and he was gone. A deep hole in the earth remained where he had stood.

Amidst the chaos, Hakon heard a voice below him. It was smooth, almost familiar. It was an Alem soldier.

“Send a message to the king. We’ve been ambushed!” Hakon followed the voice and saw that at the edge of camp, they had cages of carrier pigeons. He knew he had to stop that message. There would be no chance of making peace with the king if news came that all–out war had broken out on the border. If those carriers reached the king before Hakon did, his tribe will have died in vain.

Just then, a soldier zipped to the roof and swung his sword. Hakon cut down his leg and kicked him off the tent. Dawn was stretching across the horizon, making it easier to see. Hakon had to get to those birds, but another soldier was at his side where the other one fell. Fortunately, he wasn’t a porter, and Hakon cut him down quickly. Finally, he zipped toward the cages at the edge of camp just as they released dozens of birds into the sky.

Hakon followed the birds, running as fast as he could. He picked the farthest distance ahead of him—a bushel of grass. He was there, still running at the same speed. He saw the birds still just ahead of him. These were zipping birds with better eyesight than humans, even an air zipper like Hakon. He caught sight of a bird and zipped to it, high in the air. He grabbed it, breaking its neck, and sighted for another. He zipped ahead to another bird, but just before he could reach it, it had zipped away. He began to fall and zipped again to the farthest point.

He was able to kill five birds, but half a dozen were still zipping ahead of him. Each time they zipped farther out of his reach. It was getting more and more dangerous to zip across the sky—each time, his fall picked up speed, so he was falling faster each time. Soon it would be too dangerous to zip to earth.

Still, he tried in vain, zipping as far as his eye could see but always the bird zipped away. On this went, until he could hardly see the bird in front of him. He ran and zipped and ran until the birds were just distant dots in the sky.

“Nooo!”

He zipped into the sky again—where was he? Across the length of the plains? He knew he couldn’t beat a bird’s zipping. It was too fast, and they could see too far. He zipped closer to the ground, falling with the force of many falls on the hard earth. A swirling of emotions took him then: the pain of his injuries, the destruction of his people, the failure of their mission—all combined into a ball of rage and grief. Hot tears burned his eyes.

There was nothing he could do to stop any of it.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

“We are at war! I don’t have time for your petty concerns!”

Kara had only come to ask her father how much longer Azure would have to remain in the dungeon. It had been a few days, and she hadn’t seen him return to his post. She was worried he had been completely forgotten.

It was not the kind father that stood before her, but the tyrant king that raged inside the throne room. All the generals and advisors were gathered there—clearly discussing the war. King Darr and Prince Sesto were among them. Before she had even said a word, the king came at her, nearly throwing her out of the room.

She dodged out of his way and ran out of the room, fearing his outburst. Rather than run down the hallway toward the gallery, she hid inside an alcove. She waited until her beating heart quieted down. The thumping in her ears dimmed, and she could hear the discussion inside the room—the door was still open.

“Do we know of any casualties yet?” General Iben asked.

“Not yet,” a man, probably a soldier, replied.

“I’ve only just arrived.” It was King Darr. “What has happened besides the king throwing out his daughter?”

“Watch yourself, Darr,” her father growled. “We received word from the border. There was an attack this morning by a Terra army.”

“Finally a carrier bird returned with a complete message, sir,” a soldier was saying. Then he read, “There has been an attack on the border. The Terra struck with an entire army.”

“An army this time, not just a small group raiding a village here or there,” King Arden said to Darr. “This is a full declaration of war.”

“My men will arrive in two weeks,” King Darr said. “They started marching the moment we signed the treaty.”

What treaty?
Kara thought. Her engagement. Of course, there would have been a deal made about armies and all the other things she wasn’t supposed to know.

“We’ll march out ahead of them then. The coastal soldiers can be reinforcements,” General Elik was saying.

“Arden, you’ll want to see this,” General Iben said. Kara heard footsteps, and everything went quiet.

“A winter storm?” King Darr asked.

“Darr’s men will have to wait till the Northern Passage clears,” General Iben said, “and we won’t be marching ourselves for a few weeks. It looks like a fierce one.”

Her father cursed. “A life for a life then. Let’s teach the Terra a lesson. Send a message to the border guard to retreat to the nearest village once they have cleaned up there. Have them kill the livestock.”

“Livestock?” Prince Sesto asked.

“Another word for Terra slaves,” King Arden said. Kara shivered—the air seemed to get colder around her. “You there. Check that my daughter is with her mother or in her room. Come, gentleman. A storm won’t stop this war.”

Kara had to get to her mother quickly. She didn’t want to be in the path of her father’s wrath again. She ran toward the gallery, passing the portraits of the many kings and queens before her. The servants were busily closing all the windows and draping thick curtains over them and lighting fires throughout the citadel. Kara glanced outside. Snow was falling thickly—the thick clouds had turned into a blizzard.

She zipped to the queen’s chambers quickly, far ahead of the servant. She knocked softly, and a servant opened the door for her.

“Mother, are you all right?”

Her mother lay on the bed, looking sickly. “I feel a bit faint today. The weather has shifted, hasn’t it? Oh, I should like for it to be spring.”

Kara helped her mother onto some pillows and asked a servant to go fetch some tea. “There’s a blizzard outside. And… I overheard something I shouldn’t have. There’s also a war.”

Sabola smiled, sitting up and taking the tea. “That’s not a secret, Kara.”

Kara swallowed. “The Terra attacked the border with an army.”

“Hmm,” Sabola said, looking at the window. The panes were already gathering clumps of snow along their borders. “And the storm will stop us from advancing.” She sipped some tea calmly and then turned to Kara, face serene. “How were your morning studies?”

Kara sat in disbelief. This had been, on all accounts, a horrible few days. First Azure, then the prince, her father, and now… now the threat of the enemy feeling incredibly close. She was so frustrated with her mother, who could just sit there drinking tea as if she didn’t care. Her mother had to care, and yet she appeared to fall into the demure and quiet role designed for a queen.

Kara didn’t hide her emotions very well. Sabola looked at her carefully. “Not well, then?” she said.

Kara shook her head.

“Do you have a fondness for that Su guard?” The queen asked suddenly.

“Of course I do, Mother. He was one of my dearest friends growing up. I feel awful for what I did. No, for what Father did,” Kara said, sorrow and shame raking her voice.

“Ah…” the queen started; then Kara looked up, surprised. Did her mother think she had romantic feelings for Azure?

“Oh, not like that! Of course not,” Kara said. She had never even thought of Azure in that way. “But I consider him a good friend. Or, I did. I did before everyone told me it wasn’t proper anymore.”

“And it isn’t. Especially not between a princess and a guard.”

“But surely royalty can still have friends.”

“I do not.” The queen said in a matter of fact tone, without regret. “It isn’t the role of a queen to have friends. Your father is making difficult decisions as we speak—think how much more difficult it would be if he considered everyone to be a friend.”

“But even Father has people he trusts and loves.”

“Yes, to a degree. Still, the more power you have, the lonelier you are.”

“A man who has the power should not be trusted.” Kara quoted from a keeper text. It was talking about the power to port, but Kara thought it applied here.

“How have your lunches been with the prince?” the queen asked. She set down her tea and lay back on her pillows, wincing. Kara was concerned. Her mother wasn’t far into her pregnancy, and she was already in pain. She hoped this pregnancy wouldn’t result in another stillbirth or miscarriage.

“He’s a horrid person,” Kara said finally, thinking of the prince’s cruel words. Her mother sighed a deep long sigh that made Kara feel ashamed of herself. Kara tried again, not wanting to upset her mother. “We… are having trouble getting to know one another,” she said.

“Oh, Kara. You are a practical and kind girl, but you don’t care much for etiquette, do you? You must understand how important it is.”

“Even in a time of war?”

“Especially in a time of war.”

Before Kara could argue, there was a small knock on the door, and in came a messenger carrying a note. He handed it to Kara.

“Well, what is it?” her mother asked.

Kara opened up the letter and read it out loud. “Dear Princess, I apologize for the way I’ve behaved since we met. I wondered if you would accompany me on a stroll through the gallery. Perhaps we can step outside to catch the first snowfall. Yours, Prince Sesto.”

Kara caught the smile on the queen’s face. Kara was too stunned to say anything. The queen turned to the messenger. “The princess will join the prince in the gallery, if someone will fetch her wool cloak.” The messenger nodded, and another servant went to fetch Kara’s cloak.

What did Prince Sesto want with Kara? Did he really want to talk to her and apologize? Kara found herself brimming with distrust, but still, she held on to a hope that he could be a tolerable person after all. His letter had seemed intelligent enough.

“Well,” her mother said, settling back into her bed when Kara’s cloak arrived. “Maybe he’s not so horrid.”

Kara was reluctant to believe her. She would wait till the evidence proved it so. So she put on her cloak and stepped out the door to meet the prince.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

After a moment of indecision, Hakon decided to go north to the Su waters. If anyone had survived, they would follow Tip’s instructions and meet there. The sun was rising in the east, over the Desolate Mountains. He turned left and began to head northeast. Hakon was too tired to zip the entire way back. He ran a little, then would zip a little ways, trying to catch his breath in between.

As he got closer, he saw the smoke and wreckage of the border camp in the east. In the sky rose a giant yellow haze. He gave the camp a wide breach, avoiding the chance of being seen again. He tried not to think about Tip’s and Isis’s bodies or anyone else of the tribe and his family that might have been pulled into the fight with the Alem.

Soon he could see a gentle forest, distinct from the denseness of the Desolate Forest. This forest was thinned out, made up of a grove of beautiful white aspens, whose leaves blew like chimes in the wind. From the forest flowed a river. He decided to follow the river north, hoping it would lead to the Su waters.

The sun was high in the sky by the time Hakon saw the waterfalls up ahead. There were several of them, all twisting in and out of each other, creating a large rush of a river. Hakon looked to the immediate waterfall. No one was there or in the clearing that surrounded it. He moved to another waterfall, another clearing. He paused and crouched.

By the pool of water was a horse, head bent down and drinking. Beside the horse sat a strange–looking girl. She had a sash tied around her eyes. Her clothes seemed to be piled on top of her with several layers and knots, all gathering around her form. She was filling a skin with water, and more skins lay by her side.

“Hello?” he said, holding his dagger just in case. The girl’s head lifted.

“Hello,” she said.

“Hakon?”

Hakon turned toward the other waterfall, heading back toward the voice, keeping his eye on the girl. Tadi emerged from behind a collection of boulders cautiously. He held his bow and arrow. His hood was up, but Hakon could still see his face was covered in fresh cuts. His furs were torn in several places. Following behind him was his ziff, who barked softly.

“Tadi! You’re all right! Why are you hiding?”

“I’m afraid—” Tadi was interrupted when a spear was thrown in his direction. He zipped away immediately. He held up his bow and arrow as Skeet stepped from the forest, hatchet in hand.

“You coward!” Skeet shouted. “Had to attack in the night?”

Hakon’s relief at seeing Skeet alive quickly turned to horror as Skeet picked up his sling and filled it with rocks. “Skeet! Stop this!”

“You traitor!” Skeet shouted again. He ran to pick up his spear just as the strange girl entered the clearing on her horse. Skeet pulled his sling back, and several rocks hurtled toward Tadi, who zipped away in time.

“What is this?” the girl asked.

“Stay out of this, Su,” Skeet shouted.

Tadi still held up the bow and arrow and had it pointed at Skeet. The girl jumped down in front of Skeet’s spear and turned toward them. “I know your code, Terra. Who are you avenging when you kill this boy?”

“Our family!” Skeet shouted. There was murder in his eyes. Hakon prepared to zip, just in case.

“Do you know he betrayed you?” the girl asked. “If you are not sure, then his blood will cry against you.”

“Why do you care, traitor?”

The girl grinned. “I’m sheepish. I faint at the sight of blood.”

“You’re blind.”

“I don’t like hearing blood.”

Tadi stared. “You can hear blood?”

The girl nodded. “It sounds a like a spring, gurgling. Haven’t you heard it, little Terra?”