Chapter 41 Capture

There is another herd of us in the Northeast mountains. Once in a while, some of them roam here or some of us wander there, but not often, and not safely. When we stand side by side with them the differences in the experiments that made us are extremely obvious. --Prince Eater, undocumented

Colleen glared in horror at her husband.

Most evenings, Holy King Harrison’s ultimatum continued to haunt her, “You have two choices, Colleen O’Reilly. One is to marry Gil so that my son’s baby will be born a Raedwald and be well-cared for, or you can be returned to the magi and the beast who will eat you.” She had to go through with the ceremony despite believing in her heart that Reggie was still alive and she accepted that Gil was a cruel man, but she never imagined that Gil was so merciless that he would destroy a child. She broke off staring at Gil and dropped her eyes to the stones of the castle wall. In her mind, Prince Reginald’s voice replaced Holy King Harrison’s as the prince promised to love her forever.

Before Prince Reginald’s Ritual: the Tara Citadel

Colleen paused in the Great Hall to examine the stone wall below the balcony of the Most Revered’s chambers. She could see the cage imprisoning Prince Reginald, her Reggie, her husband, the father of her unborn child, the man she loved. From where she stood, she could see the contusions and lacerations. His left arm twisted oddly. It was heavily wrapped, but she saw that he used it to hold a small tin cup and still wore his insignia ring, so she didn’t imagine it was broken.

“Reggie,” she hissed loudly to get his attention. “Reggie, it’s me, Colleen.”

Prince Reginald looked around until he identified where Colleen’s voice was hailing him from. “Colleen? What are you doing here?”

“Freeing you,” came the reply. She climbed onto a chair and then leaped up to capture the iron scrolling of a wall sconce.

“No. No, don’t,” Reggie called to her frantically. “She’ll kill you.”

Colleen moved one foot to a small stone that protruded from the others, but her thin-soled shoes slipped from the edge. Hanging on with one hand, she bent her leg up, slid the shoe from the foot, and tossed it away. She repeated the process for the other shoe, and then rested her barefoot on the same stone. After testing it slightly, she put her weight on that foot, reached out to a stone over her head, and then lifted her other foot to a new stone. With each step, she paused until she restored her balance, and then continued scaling the wall from the Great Hall to the balcony.

“Colleen, go back. Go back, please. I’m not…” Reggie shouted in alarm. “No, no, no, no, Colleen, Go back.”

She forged ahead. When her fingers touched a baluster, she wrapped her hand around it, reached up to the top rail, and climbed clumsily onto the balcony. Her breath came heavily as she tried to recover from the exertion, but she knew she couldn’t loiter if she was going to rescue Reggie. She scrambled to her feet and extracted a knife from the belt at her back. As she marched determinedly across the balcony toward Reggie’s jail, the prisoner fell to his knees sobbing, and a single set of applause echoed through the empty Great Hall.

“Well done, First Tier mage, fair play,” Ava Most Revered complimented. Colleen turned and saw not only her but half a dozen magi standing in a half circle holding a cloth hood, rope, and quarterstaffs. The Most Revered laughed as she gestured toward the door to the hallway, and asked, “Shall we?”

Colleen raced to the cage and Prince Reginald embraced her through the bars. As she clung to him, the Most Revered relented, “Well, I guess we could allow them a moment. After all, that was a valiant effort on her part.”

The other magi laughed guardedly but remained where they stood.

“You’re n—” Colleen murmured. Reggie shook his head, twisted the fingers of his right hand in her hair, leaned close to her ear, and whispered.

“Time’s up. Get her out of here,” The Most Revered interrupted.

As they dragged Colleen across the floor and out of his sight, Reggie yelled after her, “Love you forever.”

Present Time: Castle Parapet

Colleen Raedwald drew strength and courage from her memory of Reggie, cleared her throat, and let her voice ring across the Courtyard, “Gil Braeford!”

The self-reinstated commander looked up as his name was shouted out. Colleen posed on the crenelations, her arms stretched out to each side, and bellowed, “Gil! Traitor, Gil Braeford!”

She leaned forward and whispered, “I love you forever, Reggie.” Swung out her arms and plummeted from the top of the castle. Rory slung himself after her and caught one of her ankles. Behind him, Liam McCreesh latched onto Rory’s legs. Screams rose from the crowd of people who had gathered around the Citadel. From the dais, Ava Most Revered mumbled in shock, “Colleen? Harrison, you told me she died!”

Gil stopped his horse as he gaped at his wife dangling from the hands of the two youths he had discounted. He wasn’t prepared for this. It never occurred to him that Colleen would disobey his and Prince Jon’s directive. As he tried to comprehend her action, it dawned on him that behind Rory and Liam, Seán and Jon had joined the youths’ effort, and together they were tugging Colleen to safety. He realized that it would be the ideal time for someone to put a bolt through the princes’ backs. He raised a worried hand to signal the Grays and shouted, “Protect the princes. Protect Seán and Jon.”

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Taking advantage of Gil’s distraction, Grace swung the thin blade of the boning knife at the slits in the visor of Gil’s helmet. He caught her wrist tightly enough that she screamed in pain, but he hurled Grace to the ground with little more than bruises.

More of Annie’s Rebels had reached the Courtyard, and they stormed onto the battlefield, some breaking down gates, others climbing over the perimeter wall. One of them arched an arm back and threw a hand axe toward Gil. The blunt side slammed into Gil’s helmet where Grace had pummeled it with the wooden mallet, knocking the Grays Commander to the ground where he lay dazed and unmoving.

“Grace!” Prince Seán shouted as he sprinted to the traverse cable. Colleen was safely on the roof again, and they had turned back to the fight.

“Seán, no! Alec’s got her. Seán, no!” Jon yelled as his brother tossed the shaft of the flanged mace across the rope, and rode it down. His brother’s words hadn’t registered, and Prince Seán didn’t realize that Alec had already doubled back, snagged Grace in his arms, and was running again toward the protection of the Royal Archers. Before Watcher Logan could slow Seán’s forward momentum, Seán released one hand from the mace, slid it off the rope, and dropped to the ground. He raced toward a large wooden door in a raised mound of dirt marking an entrance to the cavernous cellars of the castle, reasoning that by avoiding the fight he would reach Grace quickly. Glancing around to be certain that he wasn’t observed, he tugged open the door, darted inside, and sealed the door behind him. The corridor was dark, but he moved with the confidence of someone who had grown up in the castle and journeyed through the corridor countless times. He kept one fist on the flanged mace and pressed his other palm against the corridor wall to guide his progress. The corridor emptied into a wider, well-lit hall running perpendicular to the first. He surveyed the hall in both directions until he was satisfied and then turned right. When he reached the next set of wooden doors, he pressed his ear to the small space by the door jamb and listened intently before he opened that door, slipped into the next corridor, and sprinted up a narrow flight of stairs. As he approached the door to the stock room adjacent to the kitchen, voices brought him to a halt. He hurriedly pressed himself into the corner behind the door and held his breath while he listened.

“O’Shaughnessy,” an authoritative voice snapped. “You stay here on watch. We’ll go down to the wine cellar and find ourselves a couple bottles. Stay alert. We don’t want to get discovered.”

As the door swung open, O’Shaughnessy replied, “Yes, Sir.”

Seán flattened himself a little more as two Magi Soldiers strode through the door. They moved boldly down the corridor, unaware of Seán’s presence.

“If I’m going onto that roof to kill a Prince of the Realm, I’m not doing it without garnering my reward first,” the leader remarked.

“We’re supposed to snatch him, not kill him,” the second soldier replied.

“He’ll never let us,” the leader said.

“You’re right,” the second soldier agreed.

“And the first chance she gets Ava Most Figgict Revered will frame us for his death, and feed us to those animals.”“It’s all politics. Either Prince Jon will take us out or the Most Revered will. At least the three of us will have had our reward before that,” the leader commented as the two soldiers disappeared around a corner.

Seán waited until their voices faded in the distance, readied the flanged mace, and then flung open the door. O’Shaughnessy sat with his back to the entryway and his feet plopped on the table in front of him. When he heard the door, he asked mildly, “What’d ya get?”

Seán slammed the flanged mace into O’Shaughnessy’s skull. He swung the mace back as the body fell sideways and then flipped his wrist to twirl the weapon around and up into a ready position. “Grace,” he said to himself. “Hang on, Grace. I’m coming.”

Just as Prince Seán reached for the door, intending to cut through the castle’s ground floor rooms, elderly Archery Master Quinn hobbled into the kitchen. Mistaking loudness for charm, the partially deaf man asked, “Is there any of that stew left? I hoped for something to eat before I’m cornered into fighting.” Surprised at seeing Seán, the old man dropped his stew questions and exclaimed loudly, “Seán? Prince Seán? What are you doing here? They’re looking all over for you and Prince Jon.”

“Be quiet and let me through, Master Quinn,” Prince Seán commanded. He glanced uneasily at the door to the cellars, and added, “They’ll kill me if they find me. I’ve got to get to Grace.”

“Who’s Grace?” Master Quinn asked. His eyes tracked a path across the kitchen until they stopped at the dead Magi Soldier. He turned to Seán and shouted passionately, “You can’t be here, Prince Seán. The Old Hag is after you.”

Prince Seán moved to get past Master Quinn as the door to the cellars banged open and the two Magi Soldiers raced into the room with their swords drawn. Behind them, two shattered bottles bled wine across the stone floor. The Magi Soldiers charged, but Archery Master Quinn stepped in front of the prince, exclaiming indignantly, “Now see here! You can’t treat him that way. He’s –”

Before he could finish his reprimand and even as Prince Seán lunged to intervene, the lead Magi Soldier divided the old man with his long sword, sending the top half of Master Quinn toppling to the left while the bottom crumpled forward. The lead Magi Soldier jumped over the severed body swinging his sword at Seán who slammed the bloody mace against the Magi Soldier’s arm. The flanges of the mace ripped the lower half of the magi’s soldier’s arm off near the elbow. Seán flipped the weapon around to bring it down on the man’s head. Despite the pain and the blood spurting from an artery, the well-trained soldier ducked so that the mace’s second blow missed and gave his companion time to knock Prince Seán unconscious with the hilt of his sword

©2022 Vera S. Scott