Where Serpents Strike (Children of the Falls Vol. 1) (9 page)

“What are you lot doing here?” Clint said,
dislike painted over every inch of his face. “Bring the armies of
the high king right to us, you will.”

“We didn’t know you were out here,” Brayden
said. “If we had we would have come to help a long time ago.”

“Why didn’t your mother send word?” Dana
asked. “Lilyanna is her sister, she would have gladly sent
someone.”

“Can’t trust anyone these days,” Clint said
with sneer. “Word was that the reason my kingdom fell was because
Aberdour sided with the high king.”

“That’s a lie!” Broderick blurted.

“Your father bowed to the high king, they
said. Chose to roll over like a dog instead of stand and fight like
the rest of the realm.”

Broderick flung himself at Clint, but
Brayden restrained him.

“Our father was no traitor,” Dana said. “He
died defending Aberdour.”

Brayden helped his sister wrestle Broderick
away from their cousin. Then he turned back to Clint and said,
“Mind how you talk about our father.” To his surprise his words
looked like they struck a chord of guilt in his cousin, if only for
a moment.

“You need to go,” Clint said. “This is our
spot.”

“We wouldn’t stay even if you gave us an
engraved invitation,” Lia said as she sauntered past Clint on her
way to Khalous.

Brayden followed his sister down into the
camp. At the back of the steep nook he saw a cave that dipped under
a sagging cluster of tangled roots and damp gray rocks. There were
remnants of fish from a recent meal piled near the fire pit and a
freshly skinned fawn strung up in a tree branch along the outer
edge of the camp. It was clear that the people had been here for
some time.

Lady Earline Brackenrig, the queen of
Montrose, was well into her story by the time he was close enough
to hear her words. “With my husband’s health the way it had been,
the city just wasn’t ready when the soldiers came. Clint and I were
already long gone though. I had prepared these supplies weeks in
advance, and we were ready to leave at a moment’s notice. We’d be
on Efferous now, but…” She tapped her leg.

Khalous lifted a corner of the blanket and
peeked underneath. Whatever he saw made him twist his head away,
his nose wrinkling.

Earline noticed Brayden and his siblings and
her eyes filled with tears of relief and sympathy. She beckoned
them over with outstretched arms. “Oh, my darlings,” she said,
kissing Brayden with her thin, pale lips. “I heard about what
happened. I am so, so sorry.” She hugged them all, her limbs
shaking with pain and weakness.

“Why did you not send word to Aberdour?”
Khalous asked. “The king would have sent someone to help
immediately.”

“Word reached us through Clive’s brother
that Kingsley had betrayed the realm, bowed to the high king just
like those cowards in Turnberry and Tranent had done. Fools, the
lot of them. Bloody fools.”

“That’s not true,” Brayden said. “Our father
was faithful to the old kings to the very end.”

“My lady,” Khalous began, taking her hand,
“we don’t have much time. The high king’s army will be swarming
these hills before the day is over. You need to leave this
place.”

She lay back down. “We knew this was coming.
For three years we’ve waited for the Black King’s tide. What can we
do but stand our ground and show them true courage, a courage that
will never bow?” Earline closed her eyes and lay still, so still
that, for a moment, it looked as though she had died. At last her
mouth opened and she spoke in a soft, tearful tone, “Take Clint
with you. Please.”

Khalous stood and addressed the Montrosian
soldier. “Can we move her?”

The soldier wagged his head in despair.
“She’s too weak. And the infection is…” He stopped.

Brayden could see the defeat on Khalous’
face. He put a hand on Brayden’s shoulder and said, “Take your
sisters and your brother and go rest your legs for a moment.”

Brayden would have much rather overheard the
rest of their conversation, but now that the company had stopped he
felt the weariness of their long journey creeping over him. When he
sat down on a stump next to the empty fire pit he wasn’t sure he
would be able to get back up.

His siblings said nothing as they waited
next to him. Lia’s eyes were downcast, devoid of the passion and
proclivity to mischief that usually twinkled behind her hazel gaze.
Dana stared at her lap as she sat on her knees in the dirt, her
pale beauty marred by old tears that had carved paths along her
dusty cheeks.

“He’s not really coming with us, is he?”
asked Broderick as he sulked with his chin in his hands. “Clint.
He’s not coming, right?”

“If we leave him here the black vipers will
get him,” Brayden said.

“So?” said. Lia.

At first, none of them responded, but then
Broderick sniggered. Not long after that Dana giggled, though
Brayden could tell that she was trying her hardest to hide it. The
moment of levity that followed as all four of them broke down into
a fit of snickers felt out of place, almost rude, but Brayden
couldn’t help it.

Their amusement faded almost as quickly as
it had come over them.

“Do you think Brynlee and Scarlett are all
right?” Lia asked.

Dana put her arm around her and rubbed her
shoulder. “I hope so, Little Bit.”

Lia squirmed. “Stop calling me that.”

“Why?” Dana asked, hugging her closer.
“Because you’re such a little bit of charm?”

“Stop.”

“A little bit of pretty cute?”

“Dana!”

Broderick chortled. “Plus you’re about as
tall as the dog.”

“Shut up!”

Broderick pointed to a sheathed knife tucked
into Brayden’s belt. “Hey, why do you have father’s dagger?”

Brayden looked down at the weapon, having
almost forgotten that he slipped it from Kingsley’s corpse back in
Aberdour. His mind went blank as he tried to think of a response to
his brother’s question.

He pulled the sheath out from his belt and
withdrew the blade halfway as Broderick and his sisters
watched.

“I don’t know,” he muttered.

Brayden saw Khalous walking over to them
when Ariella, one of the nun’s from Aberdour’s orphanage, stepped
in front of him. The petite nun had cast aside her linen head
covering, exposing a tousled ponytail of gold, brown, and gray that
hung midway down her back. Her brown and tan robes were covered
with dark stains and muddy smears.

“The boy with the arrow wound,” she said
just loud enough that Brayden could hear. “He has lost too much
blood. I’m afraid we can’t take him any further.”

Khalous frowned. “Are there any other
injured who can’t carry on?”

“Some,” Ariella said. “Most will not survive
the day even if we stopped to tend to them properly. Even then, I
have nothing to care for them with.”

A second nun, an older woman wearing a
simple white coif over her salt and pepper hair, joined Khalous and
Ariella. “I would like to stay with the wounded,” she said.

“Out of the question,” Khalous said. “No one
stays behind.”

“Don’t be a fool. You can’t carry them all.
Someone needs to get these children to safety and it surely won’t
be me and these tired old feet.”

Khalous started to protest again, but
Ariella placed a calming hand on his elbow. “We have no
choice.”

Before Khalous could protest any further,
the old nun ambled over to a group of injured refugees, most of
whom were lying prostrate on the ground, motionless and bleeding.
Others sat slumped against rocks nursing debilitating wounds.

“Are they really going to leave them
behind?” Lia asked in disbelief.

“They have to, Lia,” said Dana.

“They won’t make it anyway,” said Broderick
without a tinge of sympathy in his tone. “They’ll just slow us
down.”

Lia slapped him on the thigh.

“Owe!” he said. “What’d you do that
for?”

Lia glared at him.

“Behave yourselves,” said Khalous as he
approached them. “I want all of you to stick close to me. We’ll be
at the harbor soon, so—”

“Captain!” said Pick as he sprinted into the
camp, his dark blue cloak rolling in the wind behind him. “They’re
coming!”

“How far?”

Pick didn’t have to answer because the
distant echo of barking dogs did it for him.

The collective panic of the people began to
rise. Nervous mutters circulated throughout the crowd. At Khalous’
orders they mustered their strength and hurried out of the alcove,
leaving the tents and carriages behind along with the wounded
few.

Brayden saw a hysterical woman pleading for
her husband to come with her. She tugged on the sleeves of his
shirt as he lay on the ground holding his mangled leg. He ordered
her to leave without him.

Not too far away a nun pried two small
children from their crippled mother. The woman blew them kisses
from shaking fingers as her other hand clutched a broken arrow
shaft protruding from her ribs.

“Goodbye, my darlings,” she said.

The children fought and cried.

“Aren’t you coming mother?” Brayden heard
Clint say. He watched his cousin standing over the paralyzed queen
as she lay on her bed of forest brush.

“Clint, my baby boy, be strong now for me,”
she said.

One of the soldiers tried pulling Clint
away, but he shoved the man back and threw himself down next to
Earline. “No, mother, you’re coming with us! Someone carry her.
Now! I order you to carry her!”

The sounds of the dogs drew closer until the
provoking shouts of their masters could be heard as well.

“Come on,” Dana said, tugging at Brayden’s
sleeve.

Brayden and his siblings took off through
the forest, hot on the heels of the soldiers of the King’s Shield.
In front of them the trees gave way to tall grass where the scent
of sea salt hung heavy in the air.

“We’re almost there,” Brayden said.

“Faster!” someone shouted.

Echoing after them through the trees came
the horrible wails of the wounded citizens they had left behind as
an onslaught of vicious snarling assailed them.

When the sounds of his mother’s agony
reached his ears, Clint loosed a girlish scream that sent shivers
down Brayden’s spine. The boy cursed the gods and kicked against
the Montrosian soldiers fighting to keep him moving toward the
harbor.

Lia tried to look back, but Brayden told her
not to.

“Just keep moving!” he shouted.

He pressed on as fast as he could go.

The ocean appeared between the trees in
front of them, blue and beautiful, its color darkening under the
gray clouds above. The waves were rising and starting to spin off
white tails of spume.

“There it is,” Brayden said. “Come on!”

Behind him a young boy screamed as a mangy
dog plowed into him. The frenzied mastiff, big and hardy, latched
onto the boy’s leg with its powerful jaws and throttled him to the
ground. The mastiff was a common war dog, bred for its aggression
and strong fighting spirit. It tussled along the ground with the
boy until his screaming stopped.

Brayden averted his eyes and forged
ahead.

The harbor sat just up the beach to
Brayden’s left, a long row of simple pinewood shacks and businesses
anchored to the rocks and extending out over the water. A long pier
connected them all where fisherman met daily to barter and trade.
Docked by the pier were two double-masted trade ships bearing the
blue and silver colors of Aberdour. They rocked on the choppy
waters, their ropes bending in the wind.

An increasing number of curious fishermen
were standing on the rugged pier, watching the fleeing refugees
pour from the forest.

Pick perched himself on a dock post with his
bow drawn and ready. He released an arrow that flew over Brayden’s
head and landed in the shoulder of a large brown mutt. The dog
yelped and fell to the ground, disappearing into the tall grass.
More arrows sailed from the harbor as fishermen gathered together
in a brave but futile attempt to stem the tide of black vipers
flowing from the forest.

Brayden sprinted across the sand and up the
steps onto the pier behind Khalous.

There he met a man he had not noticed
before, a dirty man in torn rags with broken shackles on his
feet.

“Give me your bow,” he said to Khalous.

Brayden saw the captain’s hesitation.

“It’s all right,” said Lia. “You can trust
Khile.”

As if her word wasn’t enough, the mysterious
man named Khile added, “For the west.”

It was like he had spoken a secret code that
broke through Khalous’ reservations. To Brayden’s surprise, the
captain handed over his bow and quiver.

Khile spun around into a crouch and had let
fly a single arrow before Brayden even noticed that he had drawn
one back. By the time the arrow hit its mark, right below the
helmet of a black viper, Khile had released another. It struck the
neck of a second viper and sent him crashing into the sand. Khile
loosed his arrows with the speed and agility of a top ranked
archer.

When he had finished, he turned, almost
stumbling into Brayden. He grabbed him and spun him around, shoving
him in the direction of the closest ship, shouting, “Go!”

Brayden raced toward the ship and charged up
onto the gangplank.

He turned to allow Dana and Broderick to
slip past him, and that’s when he noticed that Lia had fallen
behind. She lay on the deck, trapped underneath Khile who was
locked in combat with an enemy soldier.

Using his bow Khile wrestled against the
enemy’s sword. He slammed his shin into the soldier’s crotch, and
smacked him across the face with the bow.

More black vipers stomped onto the pier,
cutting down the refugees as they fled.

“Lia!” Brayden called, but she was held back
by combat.

Pick and Stoneman hurried up the gangplank,
blue cloaks trailing at their backs. Pick grabbed Brayden and
dragged him onto the ship. He protested, reaching for Lia, but
everything was happening too fast. Stoneman kicked the gangplank
away. Two sailors untethered the ship from the dock.