The Lost Swallow Read online

  Mira watched the king’s men clamber up onto the walls of the outer bailey below, clutching longbows and hauling cauldrons of boiling oil. They were brave—only it wouldn’t be enough.

  Ninia’s gasp yanked Mira back to the present. She glanced down at the young woman’s stricken face and reminded herself that the princess had led a sheltered life.

  The horror in Ninia’s eyes was a reminder of the task the queen had given her.

  Get my daughter to safety.

  It had been a trial preparing the princess for departure. She had questioned Mira the whole time, demanding answers her guardian couldn’t give. Rena had made it clear that Mira was to keep her explanations till later, once they were out of the city. Finally, Ninia had done as bid. She now wore a belted tunic, leggings, a blue traveling cloak, and a bag slung across her front. Likewise, Mira had dressed for travel, exchanging her Swallow uniform for hunting leathers and a black, woolen mantle. She carried Foebane at her hip and wore a number of blades strapped to her body. On her back she carried a heavy leather pack.

  “Come on.” Mira tugged the princess after her and set out across the swaying bridge. “We can’t linger here.”

  Ninia didn’t fight Mira now, although her face was pale, her hazel eyes glassy with shock. She suddenly looked much younger than fourteen.

  Within the keep once more, Mira released Ninia’s arm and led the way along the network of hallways, before they descended into the bowels of the fortress.

  The heavy weight in her jerkin pocket, the dull rattle with every stride, brought Mira back to that brief meeting with the queen and the task she had given her.

  Ninia didn’t speak during the journey down to the lowest levels of the keep. It seemed the scene that had greeted her from the bridge had sent her into shock. That suited Mira—this would be much easier if the princess remained biddable.

  They passed the kitchens and the store rooms before continuing to a small, damp stairwell that led down to the cellar. This was where the king kept his best wine, ale, and spirits.

  Mira led the princess down the steps, entering a low-ceilinged space lined with racks of clay bottles and stacks of oak barrels.

  “Why are we down here?” Ninia asked, an edge to her voice.

  Ignoring the question, Mira strode to the far end of the cellar where a high wooden shelf, filled with clay flagons of ale, rose. She needed to concentrate.

  Remembering the queen’s instructions, she went to the left of the shelves and pushed against the side. At first there was no movement, and she wondered if she’d misunderstood Rena. But after a moment she tried again—and with a heavy grating of stone against stone, the shelving shifted right.

  Damp, stale air wafted out of the space beyond.

  Mira gave a grim smile and glanced over at where Ninia watched, her eyes huge. “This way … and bring a torch … hurry.”

  Ninia did as bid, taking a torch from the bracket next to her, and the pair of them slipped inside. Mira pulled the shelving closed behind them, just as the queen had instructed. There could be no trace of them here—or of this secret exit.

  Taking the torch from Ninia, Mira led them down a narrow stone hall. It was close and airless in here, the sounds of the battle beyond the keep completely muted. At the end of the hall, they took a set of stairs leading down to a small stone chamber. The air grew wet and chill. The walls here were encrusted with lichen, and the floor was slippery with moss.

  And there, its iron bars glinting in the torchlight, was the first gate.

  Mira dug into her pocket and withdrew the heavy tangle of iron keys. There were seven of them, all splotched with rust.

  “What is this place?” Ninia whispered.

  “It’s a tunnel,” Mira replied, picking a key at random and inserting it into the lock. “Your grandfather built it, many years ago, to provide an escape route should he ever need it.”

  “Mother never told me of this place,” Ninia murmured.

  “She had her reasons, I’m sure.”

  The first key didn’t fit, and so Mira tried the next. That one didn’t work either, and she silently cursed the paranoid old king who’d come up with the idea of placing a series of locked iron gates along his secret tunnel—just in case he needed to delay his pursuers. Seven iron gates, each with a different key.

  Mira didn’t understand it. Surely one gate would have been enough? And as for all the keys—what was the point?

  Daft old sod.

  The fourth key slid into the lock, and Mira wiggled it gently. You couldn’t be rough with old locks; they liked to be treated gently.

  With a dull clunk, the lock released and the iron gate swung inward, letting out a loud screech. They were through. Mira pushed the gate shut behind them and listened for the click of the lock. Rena had been insistent that she close each gate behind her.

  Only six more to go.

  The tunnel was low and cramped. Ninia could stand easily, but even though Mira wasn’t a tall woman, she had to bow her head to avoid cracking her skull on the curved roof. The smell of damp deepened, mingling with the brine scent of the sea. Dug into the soft soil of a tidal estuary, the tunnel appeared to leak sea-water. Outdoors it was noon, and the second of the two high-tides would soon creep in. It wasn’t long before the two of them were sloshing, ankle deep in water.

  Ninia made a soft choked sound.

  Irritated, Mira turned to her. They didn’t have time for this. “What is it?”

  “They’re not coming … the others … are they? We’re abandoning them.” The whispered question was so broken that Mira’s irritation ebbed.

  After a few moments she answered. “No … they aren’t.”

  Two nights earlier Mira had asked Rena why she wasn’t going to join them, and the queen had just given her a cold look before answering. “The rest of us will remain here.”

  A beat of silence had followed, before Mira had spoken up once more. She had been shocked that Rena would sacrifice her two sons without hesitation.

  “But … the princes will die.”

  “Aye, as will I and their father.”

  “You will leave your daughter an orphan?”

  Although she wasn’t fond of Ninia, Mira knew what it was like to be parentless.

  The queen had shaken her head, showing the steel that lay just beneath the surface. “Ninia is old enough to survive without me.” Her gaze had speared Mira then. “You will protect her. Take her north to The Royal City of Rithmar. I sent a goshawk that way this morning … they will know you’re coming. Do not fail me.”

  Ninia plucked at her sleeve. “Why aren’t they coming?” she asked hoarsely.

  Mira huffed out a breath. “This is what your mother wants. I’m just following orders. She wants you kept safe.” She moved off, holding the torch aloft. “Come on … we need to hurry.”

  They splashed down the tunnel. Ahead, the second iron gate loomed out of the darkness, its pitted bars dripping with moisture.

  Mira pulled forth the ring of keys and handed the torch to Ninia, trying to ignore the girl’s tear-streaked, puffy face and swollen, red-rimmed eyes. “Here, hold this,” she ordered. Ever since leaving the tower she hadn’t used ‘Your Highness’ once. Out there in the wilderness, their relationship would be different. Ninia would need to get used to it. “Don’t drop it.”

  They spent a long while in that tunnel.

  Time ceased to have any meaning. Outside, Mira guessed that the afternoon was dragging on and they were heading toward dusk. The siege of The Swallow Keep would likely still be raging. Yet here in this wet, dark space, accompanied by the rhythmic dripping of seawater from overhead, there was just one endless night.

  The gates lay at long intervals apart, warning Mira that the tunnel was longer than she’d thought. They’d just passed the fifth one when the torch started to gutter, and by the time they stumbled into the sixth, she was forced to fumble for the lock and keys in darkness.

  Ninia learned a number of new colorf
ul curses during that journey.

  Eventually, they passed the seventh gate and squelched over wet earth for a while longer. Mira’s back ached from bending over for so long. The muscles in the back of her neck felt like planks of wood, causing a throbbing head-ache. The ground started to rise then, and the ceiling became so low that even Ninia had to bend over.

  All of a sudden, the hand that Mira held out before her, probing the darkness, scraped against stone.

  They’d reached the end of the tunnel.

  Mira pushed against it, but the slab of rock didn’t budge. Letting out a low curse, she inclined her head toward the princess. “Help me.”

  The two of them pushed and shoved against the cold, slick rock, yet it didn’t give an inch.

  Mira let out a string of the filthiest words she knew, the ones she’d heard gutter whores use when she’d lived on the streets. Ninia gasped but said nothing in response.

  Rena hadn’t mentioned the end of the tunnel. She’d left out a small but important detail: how to get out.

  “So we’re trapped in here?” Ninia asked finally, a note of accusation in her voice.

  “I hope not,” Mira ground out, “or it’ll be a long, dark walk back.”

  Silence settled then, broken only by the rasp of their breathing, and the incessant dripping of water from the roof.

  “Perhaps this door is like the first one in the cellar,” the princess said finally. “Maybe, we have to slide it sideways, not push it?”

  Mira considered Ninia’s words. The suggestion had merit.

  Why didn’t I think of that?

  She stepped forward to the slab of rock once more and slid her hands over the stone, before tracing the edges. She was looking for any handles or latches. The left side was smooth—the rock lay flush against the tunnel’s stone wall—but the right side had a small gap, just big enough for Mira to slide her fingers inside. She curved them inward, clutching the lip of stone, and then pulled to the left, using her weight as a lever.

  The slab of rock rolled back.

  Mira exhaled sharply. “Good thinking, Princess.”

  The pair of them stepped out, into what felt—and smelled—like a cave. Mira breathed in the sharp odor of bird droppings and smiled at the faint breeze on her face. She twisted around, slid the slab back into place, and thanked the shadows they were free of that oppressive tunnel.

  She walked to the front of the cave, Ninia a few steps behind her, to where the darkness wasn’t so oppressive. Night had fallen, but after the total blackness of the tunnel, Mira’s eyes could pick out her surroundings: the curve of the cave walls and roof above them.

  Stepping outside she craned her neck up, her gaze sweeping across the night sky. As always these days, a heavy mantle of cloud covered the heavens, although she could see the silver glow of the moon attempting to break through overhead. It had risen high, signaling that they’d been in the tunnel even longer than she’d thought.

  “Do you know where we are?” Ninia asked. Mira could just make out the outline of the princess’s small form next to her, the pale round disc of her face.

  “North of the city,” Mira replied. “Judging by the land rising behind us, I’d say we’re on the far side of the Marsh Hills.”

  She heard the princess’s sharp intake of breath. “But that’s leagues from Veldoras.”

  Mira allowed herself a humorless smile. “Aye, your grandfather wasn’t taking any risks it seems.”

  5

  Journey to Deeping

  MIRA’S EYES STRAINED in the darkness as she tried to make out her surroundings. Behind them, she could just make out the dark bulk of the spine of high country that formed a natural barrier between the marshes surrounding Veldoras and the woodland to the north. Ahead, she spied the shadowy outlines of trees.

  Caution feathered across her skin. Night wasn’t the best time to be journeying.

  Turning her attention back to the sleeping world around her, Mira inhaled deeply. She turned to Ninia, who stood silently beside her. After a shaky start, the princess had done well. If she grieved for her family, she kept it hidden for the moment.

  “Is it safe to travel?” Ninia asked. “Maybe we should stay in the cave overnight.”

  “We need to keep moving,” Mira replied. They were still too close to Veldoras for her liking. She remembered the rumors she’d heard of the shadow creatures that stalked the night these days, but dismissed them. She was more worried about men bearing cold steel than mystical creatures no one in Veldoras had ever seen. “There’s a village not far from here: Deeping. We should reach it by midnight if we hurry.”

  “But how will we find it in the dark?” Ninia replied, the tremor in her voice the only sign she was struggling. “There’s no path.”

  “There’s a road leading through the woods,” Mira assured her. “If we head directly north, we’ll reach it soon enough. Then all we need to do is follow it east.”

  The two of them set off without another word, their boots whispering over the dew-laden grass as they headed toward the line of trees. Ninia stuck close to Mira, so close that she accidently stepped on her heel once or twice—only to receive a warning hiss from her guardian.

  Mira entered the trees, inhaling the smell of rich vegetation, and led the way through coppicing lime trees and birch. It was very dark in here, the watery light of the full moon barely penetrated the canopy, and Mira slowed her pace, cautious of walking into a tree or tripping over an exposed root.

  The silence unnerved her. Mira had spent most of her life in the city and felt her most comfortable listening to the murmur of voices, the clatter of wheels and hooves on cobbles, and the calls of vendors at market. She found the countryside too quiet.

  Yet she’d never known a wood to be this silent.

  There were no hoots of night birds; or sounds of foxes, rabbits, and badgers rustling in the undergrowth. Even the breeze that had fanned her face outside the cave didn’t seem to reach here.

  Mira’s right hand instinctively went to the pommel of Foebane at her side. If there was anyone lurking out there in the darkness, she’d gladly cut them down.

  It didn’t take them long to stumble across the road. The trees drew back here, revealing a wide ribbon of sky overhead. The faint glow of the moon through the cloud illuminated a thin unpaved way, badly rutted and pot-holed.

  Mira huffed out a breath of relief, pleased to see the map she carried was accurate. Before leaving The Swallow Keep, she had studied it carefully.

  “Come,” she said to the princess. “We shouldn’t dawdle.”

  “Why?” Ninia asked, falling into step next to her. “Will someone have followed us from Veldoras?”

  “That’s unlikely.”

  “Then why are you so nervous?”

  Mira bit back her irritation. Ninia’s shock was wearing off, her abrasive character resurfacing once more. “I’m not,” she replied curtly.

  She set a fast pace along the road, making up for the time they’d lost picking their way through the woods. Mira traveled easily; she was used to strenuous exercise, although beside her Ninia started to puff.

  “Can’t we rest for a while?” Ninia finally panted. “I’ve got a stitch in my side.”

  Annoyance flared within Mira. “Not unless you want a Nightgenga to find you.” Ninia’s shocked silence made Mira press on. She hadn’t wanted to bring up the shadow creatures, but if it silenced Ninia she’d do so. “Or perhaps one of the Hiriel can wrap you in its net of shadows and carry you off to its lair.”

  Mira was enjoying herself now. Ninia didn’t reply although Mira noted she quickened her pace.

  As they walked Mira noticed the silence deepening further. A fine, milky mist wreathed through the trees, drifting out onto the road. Mira’s pulse quickened. The faint breeze earlier in the evening had died, and yet this strange mist moved as if pushed by a brisk wind.

  Farther down the road, a ramshackle structure loomed out of the mist. Mira peered at the outline of the
thatched roof, collapsed in places; the heavy oaken door that hung off its hinges; and the gaping windows where the shutters had been ripped away. As they approached, she realized that the building had once been an inn; a sign bearing a painting of a woodman’s axe still hung from above the door. Tonight there was not a soul about. The faint smell of iron lingered in the air.

  “What happened here?” Ninia whispered, her voice catching. “The damage looks recent.”

  Mira ran her eye over the façade of the inn, her gaze narrowing. “I don’t know … but we won’t hang around to find out.”

  “Maybe it was shadow creatures?”

  Mira gave the girl a sidewise glance. Ninia’s face was a pale disc in the darkness. The princess sniffed then. “What’s that stink?”

  Mira inhaled, noting that the faint odor of hot iron had grown stronger—as if they stood near a smith’s forge. The fine hairs on the back of her neck prickled, and she glanced around, peering into the mist, which curled across the road like questing fingers.

  Impatient after not getting an answer from her companion, Ninia continued. “It smells like—”

  “Quiet.” Mira cut her off, her voice low and sharp. “Listen.”

  The two of them stopped in the middle of the road, holding their breaths and listening.

  A faint cry echoed through the surrounding trees. It was a high-pitched yipping sound, coming from the south. A moment later another cry responded, this one coming from the north.

  Mira tensed. That sounded like a call—as if something had noted their passage and was alerting its friends.

  Shit. Mira cursed her arrogance; she’d been too quick to dismiss the rumors. Suddenly, armed men seemed preferable to whatever hunted the night. We should have stayed in the cave.

  Beside her Ninia was frantically looking around to see if anyone crept up on them. Mira turned, her gaze sweeping over the twisted boughs of trees that lined the road.

  An eerie howl echoed through the woods then.