Dregian Castle grew out of a promontory that jutted into the ocean like an upright sword buried hilt-down in the white chalk cliffs. It was a tall, narrow structure, more tower than keep, its white stone pitted and yellowed by years of being assaulted by the corrosive sea air. Unlike Krakandar, the main city of Dregian Province was some distance away from the castle, crowded around a small bay eight leagues to the east of the keep.
Dranymire landed near the woods that ringed a vast open field of cleared ground surrounding the fortress, just as dawn was feeling its way over the horizon.
R’shiel climbed down stiffly from the dragon, her thighs aching from the effort of keeping her seat. Damin appeared to have fared no better than she as he stumbled to the ground. The two of them hobbled about for a few moments, trying to work out the knots in their muscles. Dranymire seemed highly amused by their plight.
“As I said, Your Highness, riding a dragon is a skill that takes years to acquire.”
“I didn’t fall off. Give me some credit.”
The dragon lowered its head and studied her with his plate-sized eyes. “Yes. You managed that much. Did you want me to wait for you?”
“For me, yes. Damin’s probably going to have to return to Greenharbour by more conventional means once we’ve found Adrina.”
“I shall await your summons, Your Highness.”
Looking rather relieved that he wouldn’t have to repeat the journey, Damin caught up with R’shiel as she stumbled down the small slope to the open ground below.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m off to rescue your wife.”
“What are you going to do? March up to the drawbridge and knock?”
“Pretty much.”
“R’shiel!”
She stopped and turned back to him. “What?”
“You can’t do that!”
“Why not?” She smiled at his expression. “Stop thinking with your sword, Damin. We can’t storm the place, so we have to get them to let us in. Once we’re inside, I can deal with any opposition.”
“You’re not even armed.”
“There you go, thinking with your sword again.” She resumed walking, pleased to discover the exercise was beginning to loosen the stiffness from her thighs. Damin ran to catch up with her.
“So what
are
you planning to do?” he demanded, falling into step beside her.
“Two people walking across a field are no threat to the castle. Even if you’re recognised, they’ll be so
surprised you came alone, that they won’t do anything straight away. At worst they’ll send for Cyrus.”
“And what do you think he’s going to do?”
“Nothing. By the time we’re inside, it won’t make a difference.”
“You’re going to use magic then?” he asked, rather sceptically.
“Of course.”
“But you don’t know what you’re doing. You admitted as much before we left Greenharbour. You might accidentally harm Adrina.”
“I did learn
something
at Sanctuary, Damin.”
“Not nearly enough, from what I’ve seen so far.”
“Trust me.”
“I hate people who say that.”
She grinned at him. “Stop worrying about me and start thinking about how you’re going to apologise to Adrina.”
“Apologise? Why should I apologise?”
“Because she deserves one. And besides, an apology is always a good way to make a woman listen to you.”
“And when did you become such an expert on affairs of the heart? You’re a child. And a spoiled one, at that.”
“I’m the demon child. I’m omnipotent.”
“I hope you never actually begin to believe that, R’shiel.”
She glanced at him, her grin fading. “So do I.”
The castle was just beginning to waken as they reached it. With an ear-piercing squeal, the gates swung open and they hastily stepped back to let a
troop of Raiders thunder past them, heavily armed and armoured. They were too intent on their own business to notice the couple standing in the shadow of the castle wall. Damin watched them leave, his brow furrowed.
“They’re getting ready to fight.”
“What did I tell you? Cyrus has probably got his borders lined five deep in Raiders, waiting for you to attack.”
“I hate people who say, ‘I told you so’, almost as much as people who say ‘trust me’.”
She smiled. “Come on. Let’s get inside before they close the gates again.”
R’shiel carefully opened herself up to the power as they entered the cool dimness of the short tunnel that led to the iron-studded gates. She had seen Brak attempt this once and hoped she remembered how it was done. She wove the glamour clumsily as they moved forward, but somewhat to her astonishment, the guards on duty paid them no attention as they walked boldly into the small yard that surrounded the tall white tower. Damin glanced at her in surprise when they were not challenged, nodding in understanding when he noticed her black eyes.
“So we’re inside,” he whispered. “What now?”
“There’s no need for whispering, Damin. They cannot see us or hear us.”
“Are you sure?”
“Almost.”
Unconvinced, Damin glanced up at the tower. “She’ll be in there, I suppose.”
“Great deductive reasoning, Lord Wolfblade. Where else would she be?” R’shiel ignored the look
he gave her and looked up with a frown. “How much do you want to bet she’s right at the top and we’re going to have to climb about a million steps to get there?”
They let themselves into the tower through the main hall, which was littered with the remnants of the previous evening’s festivities. The slaves were starting to stir from their places near the cooking hearths, rubbing bleary eyes as they yawned themselves into wakefulness. A few of the more alert slaves were already up and about, righting overturned stools and clearing away dishes stained with congealed fat and limp vegetable remains.
“Looks like it was quite a party,” R’shiel remarked.
“Cyrus would have feasted his troops before he sent them out.”
She glanced around the hall, at the low, vaulted ceiling and the rough stone floor. “This place is pretty old, isn’t it?”
“It’s one of the oldest structures in Hythria,” he agreed. “It predates Greenharbour, I think.”
“Then it probably has dungeons.”
“I suppose.”
“Then we’ll check them first.”
“Cyrus wouldn’t dare throw Adrina in a dungeon.”
“No,
you
wouldn’t dare. Cyrus doesn’t care about Adrina, one way or the other. Besides, I’ve spent all night clinging to a dragon with my thighs. My legs are killing me. I really don’t want to climb all the way to the top of this place, just to find out she’s a few steps below us. We check the dungeons first.”
Damin nodded his agreement, probably just as sore and stiff as she was. He pointed to a door that led off the hall by the second hearth. R’shiel followed him, stepping over a number of sleeping bodies along the way. She looked about her, unable to entirely believe that the glamour she had drawn around them was actually working.
They made their way down a narrow corridor that curved around the tower and led to another door at the end, this one reinforced with bands of iron. Damin pushed it open slowly, wincing as the hinges squealed in protest.
“They might not hear
us
,” Damin hissed. “But they’re bound to hear
that
.”
“Keep going. If they come to investigate, they’ll just think the door hadn’t been latched properly.”
Damin obviously didn’t share her confidence, but he led the way forward, down a set of damp, narrow steps that reached into the darkness. R’shiel kept her hand on the wall, making her way by feel more than sight. The stone was slimy under her fingers, and in the distance she could hear the faint rush of the ocean as it pounded against the castle’s foundations.
She bumped into Damin when he stopped abruptly, pointing to a spill of yellow light coming from the bottom of the stairs. She nodded silently, falling victim to Damin’s desire for stealth, even though, protected by the glamour, there was no need for it. They reached the bottom and stepped into another narrow passage, this one lined by barred cells and lit by fitfully sputtering torches. There were guards at the other end of the passage, squatting on the floor, engrossed in their game. The air was
surprisingly fresh, heavy with the smell of the ocean and the waves crashing against the cliffs seemed even louder. A faint breeze whispered past them and R’shiel realised that there must be an opening down here that led to the sea. If they had brought Adrina here by boat, then there was a good chance this was the way she had come. With luck, they hadn’t bothered to take her any further.
“You check the cells on the left,” Damin told her. “I’ll take the right.”
R’shiel nodded and moved to the first cell, which proved empty. The next housed a sleeping man wearing a shirt tattered by the lash. The third cell she checked also contained a sleeping prisoner, but whether male or female, R’shiel could not tell from the rags piled on the damp floor.
“Adrina!”
Damin’s cry made her jump, and she looked at the guards nervously, reminding herself that they could not hear him. She hurried to his side. Adrina was sitting on the floor of the fourth cell on the right, her knees drawn up under her chin, rocking backward and forward on the damp, cold floor, as tears streamed silently down her face. There was a nasty bruise on her jaw and her lip was puffy and split. Her silken gown was muddied and torn, her hair in disarray. Her wounds appeared superficial, though, and the tears were more likely to be for Tamylan than herself. Adrina wasn’t the self-pitying type. But R’shiel had never seen anyone looking quite so miserable.
“Adrina!” Damin called again, grabbing at the bars in anguish.
“She can’t hear you, Damin.”
“Where are the keys?”
“The guards have them, I imagine.”
“I’ll get them,” he announced, reaching for his sword.
“No, you stay here. I’ll get them.”
She walked to the end of the passage and watched the guards for a moment as they wagered on the fall of two crudely carved die. There were three men, all of them lacking the spit and polish of fighting troops. The guard nearest the wall carried a bunch of keys on his belt. She frowned. They may not be able to see her, but they would notice the keys detaching themselves and floating up the hall.
R’shiel didn’t want to kill the guards. Doing so would alert Cyrus to their presence. It was possible that the Lord of Dregian Province would have no need to check on Adrina until he thought Damin was ready to attack. With luck, Adrina’s escape might go unnoticed for the rest of the day, even longer, if the guards paid little attention to their charges. But whatever she did, she would have to let go of the glamour. Strong she might be, but she was not accomplished enough to do two things at once.
“R’shiel! Hurry!”
She ignored Damin’s impatient plea and stepped into the shadows. With infinite care she let the glamour that made them invisible slip from her grasp. As it left her, she concentrated on the gaming soldiers, willing them to sleep. They fell so quickly, she was afraid she had killed them.
Not sure how long unconsciousness would hold the men, she hurriedly removed the keys from the belt
of the snoring guard. She ran back to Damin and began trying the keys in the lock.
Adrina glanced up at the sound, able to see them now the glamour was gone, although it took a moment for her to realise who was standing at the door to her cell.
“
Damin
?”
“Adrina!” he cried anxiously, then turned to R’shiel. “Hurry up!”
“I am hurrying,” she snapped as the lock turned on the fourth key she tried. Damin pushed roughly past her into the cell as soon as the lock snicked open. Adrina flew into his arms, sobbing. He held her so tightly, he lifted her clear off the ground. Then he was kissing her forehead, her neck, her eyes, anywhere he could reach. When he kissed her mouth she cried out in pain and pushed him away.
“Founders, Damin! She’s been punched in the mouth.” R’shiel glared at him as he let Adrina go. She examined the wound for a moment, deciding it could wait before she healed it. That way, Damin might show a little self-control. “Any other injuries we can’t see?”
Adrina shook her head, wiping her eyes.
“What about the baby?” Adrina’s eyes widened and she stared at Damin in horror. “Don’t worry about him. He knows. Is the baby all right?”
The princess nodded mutely.
“Fine, then let’s get out of here.”
R’shiel led the way from the cell then turned impatiently to find they weren’t following her. Instead, they stood in the centre of the dim dungeon, locked in an embrace that was as touching as it was inconvenient.
“We don’t have time for this!” R’shiel warned as one of the guards began to stir.
Damin reluctantly let Adrina go. R’shiel let out an exasperated curse and turned towards the stairs. The sound of footsteps changed her mind and she hurriedly turned the other way, pushing Damin and Adrina ahead of her, past the sleeping guards. An archway on the far side of the guardroom proved to be the source of the chill ocean breeze. R’shiel pointed to it urgently.
“Down there! I’ll follow in a minute.”
They needed no further urging. R’shiel ran back to Adrina’s empty cell and locked the door, then returned the keys to the belt of the sleeping guard, smiling to herself.
Let them figure that one out.
The footsteps drew closer on the stairs and the guard stirred again as she stepped away from him. She glanced around, satisfied that there was no other evidence of their passage and disappeared into the darkness of the archway.
Adrina and Damin were waiting for her. As she suspected, the stairs finished at a small dock, carved into the living rock at the base of the castle. Unfortunately, the dock was empty.
“Now what?” Damin asked, holding Adrina close.
“We need a boat.”
“Great deductive reasoning, demon child.”
She loftily ignored the jibe and turned her attention to the thrashing sea. Even if they had a boat, she didn’t like their chances of navigating their way clear of the rocks.
“What’s the name of the God of the Oceans?”
“Kaelarn,” Damin told her. “Why?”