The Brigadier crossed to the window and looked out across the palace grounds. The view was tinted green because of the thickness of the windows, at least four inches as far as he could judge. “Those windows don't open,” said the Princess. “I've tried...”

The Brigadier reached into a pocket and produced a small grenade, the item he’d taken from Blake's arsenal. He thumped it hard against the stone wall to depress the firing pin, then sat it on the windowsill. Darniss and the Princess were already backing away into the bathroom and he joined them there, gesturing for them to move another couple of paces further back so he could shield them with his body. “Hands over ears, mouth open!” He commanded, doing it himself, and the two women obeyed without question.

The explosion was louder than she’d expected and filled the room with clouds of smoke. The Brigadier leapt out and went to see what effect it had had. The window had broken, but the hole was too small even for the Princess to squeeze through. The rest of the window was riddled with cracks, though, and a couple of stout blows with a marble ornament knocked out a large chunk that fell into the flower bed below, crushing a lavender bush.

The Brigadier jumped through, then helped the Princess as she followed him. He then pulled her into a run away from the building, leaving Darniss to chase after them. “The whole palace will have heard the explosion,” he said as they ran, hand in hand. “They'll know what we're doing...” Even as he spoke, the Radiant rose into view above the palace, and a breeze blew up that moved it in their direction. At the same time, guards poured out of the palace, pausing as they looked around. Then one of them saw them, pointed, and they all started running towards them, some of them firing their weapons. It was broad daylight, there was no cover and the walls of the palace grounds were fifty yards away. Even if they made it that far, the walls were unclimbable and the gates, the nearest of which was two hundred yards away, all had guardposts. The Brigadier simply grimaced and ran harder.

Bullets whizzed past them, one of them tugging at his sleeve as it tore through. They became aware of the piping of the Radiant as it approached, and the wind it was generating to propel itself also pushed at the three fugitives, their clothes billowing like sails and the Princess’ hair streaming ahead of her except where it was gummed down by drying blood where Darniss’ bullet had creased her scalp. More gunshots rang out, but this time the Brigadier wasn't aware of them passing him by. Their aim was apparently getting worse, which was strange. There was no time to puzzle it out, though. His mind was full of the knowledge that he no longer had his own gun. He had no way of shooting back, of holding the guards back. He only had his sword now, and the Radiant would probably curse them before it was close enough for him to use it. He thought about dropping the sword so he could run faster, but every fibre of his being rebelled against leaving himself totally weaponless. He gripped the sword tighter therefore, while he felt the Princess’ hand go slippery with sweat. He heard her panting with exertion beside him, but she was having no trouble keeping up.

The piping diminished, as if they were putting distance between themselves and the Radiant, which was impossible, unless... On an impulse, he slackened his pace enough to glance behind him. He felt the Princess tugging at his hand for a moment, until she also slowed down, her face creased with puzzlement. The Radiant was no longer pursuing them, they saw! The wind was slackening, the air growing calm, and then it started blowing in the other direction, towards the approaching guardsmen who were... They were shooting at the Radiant! The Brigadier was so surprised that he came to a complete halt and stared as their adversaries started fighting amongst themselves.

“They figured it out!” gasped the Princess with delight. “The Radiants can control the wind, they can control the weather, which means they caused the draught that’s killing their country! This is what we came for, to make them realise this!”

“Go!” called one of the guards. “Get out of here!” The man then fell as another guard shot him. The Guard Captain, whose loyalty to the King was apparently stronger than his love of his country. Some of the other guards also felt the same way, because a battle was breaking out between them, guard against guard, and then the Radiant was among them, tearing the rebel guards apart. Soon the battle would be over and the pursuit would begin again.

Determined not to waste the chance they'd been given, the Brigadier and the Princess began running towards the wall again, Darniss still following them. “We should head for the gate!” panted the Princess. “The guards might be on our side!”

“And they might not!”

“What have we got to lose?” She had a point, the Brigadier realised, and so they angled towards the nearest gate, whose guards were already aware of them and had emerged from their guardpost to stare at them, their weapons in their hands. The Brigadier dropped his sword as he ran and held up his hands to make himself look less threatening. There would be no fighting here, he knew. The guards had guns, the fugitives didn’t. Either the guards would join with them, or they would capture or kill them as they approached. Though he hated it, the Princess’s fate was now out of his hands.

He became aware of a strong wind tugging at his clothes from behind. The Radiant was pursuing them again. He saw the guards ahead also bracing themselves against the strengthening gale and hoped they came to the same realisation that the ones behind had. They must have been suspecting it for months, he thought. The idea that the Radiants could control the weather was long established in folklore. The idea that it was nothing but folklore, with no basis in reality, that the drought was a purely natural phenomenon, nothing to do with the Radiants, must have taken the King and his ministry of propaganda a long time to establish, but now the guards could feel the truth billowing out their clothing and streaming through their hair, so obviously conjured up by the Radiant so that it could pursue the fleeing fugitives that no-one could possibly deny it any more. So much for the Radiants having superior intellects, thought the Brigadier. They'd made a serious mistake revealing this ability so publicly, unless they were so confident of victory that they just didn't care any more.

As they drew close, the guards aimed their guns at them and shouted words they couldn’t hear but whose meaning was clear. The Brigadier, still holding the Princess’ hand tightly, slowed to a stop and forced her to stop as well. “We are not your enemies!” He shouted, hoping the wind would blow his words to their ears. “That is your enemy!” He pointed back at the Radiant, now almost close enough to curse them. “That is your enemy!” he repeated. “Helberion is working on a weapon against them! King Leothan will share it with you if you give us back to him!”

“He speaks the truth!” added the Princess, her voice breaking as she shouted. Princesses didn't shout, she had never spoken at this volume before. Her throat ached with the effort. “We will help you fight the Radiants! We will help you drive them away so that the rains will return! Your country will bloom again! We will help you!”

The guards were arguing among themselves, the Brigadier saw. The continuation of an argument they'd had many times before, by the look of it. The Guard Captain was shouting at the others angrily. One of his men pointed his gun at his head and shot him. The man then gestured for the Brigadier and the two women to come forward, while the other guards began shooting. The Brigadier tensed up, expecting to feel bullets tearing into his body, but they were aiming past them, at the Radiant. He reached out, grabbed the Princess’ hand again and pulled her on, towards the gate.

The piping of the Radiant was growing louder behind them, but the creature was being hit by a tremendous number of bullets, many of which were punching holes in its buoyancy sacks, releasing hydrogen. The creature would be finding it harder to remain airborne. They were willing to sacrifice themselves if it benefited their race, he knew, but their secret was out now. Too many people had seen the Radiant using a wind it had conjured up itself to propel itself around the palace grounds. Members of the Royal family enjoying the morning sun, gardeners and other servants going about their duties, even members of the public watching the whole thing through the railings. Catching the three fugitives had become irrelevant, and so the Radiant rose into the sky and the wind changed direction, blowing it away from the fusillade.

“Someone has to tell the King!” They heard one of the guards say as they reached the gate.

“The King knows,” said the Princess. “He's always known.”

“That's a lie!” The same man protested. “Why would the King be party to the death of his own kingdom?”

“He's been adopted! He's going to become a Radiant himself!”

“It's true,” said Darniss, puffing as she tried to get her breath back. She was neither young, like the Princess, nor did she have military training. She was an elderly woman and she didn't have the energy for these exertions. “You have to believe it.”

“It's impossible! It's ridiculous! It can't be true!”

“What about Bostel?” someone else demanded. “You killed Bostel!”

“He had it coming for a long time!” said the guard who'd killed the Captain. “I shoulda done it weeks ago!”

“Don't you get it, you idiot?” added the first man. “You killed the Captain! That's a hanging offence! And we're all in on it!”

“Not if we arrest him, and them.” Another man pointed at the Princess and the Brigadier. “We tell ‘em Briggs acted alone.”

“We all shot at the Radiant! We're all in the shit!”

“We gotta decide quick,” said another man. “They're here.” He pointed at the first group of guards that had followed them from the palace. They were pulling up, aiming their weapons at the fugitives. “Listen, we tell ‘em Briggs acted alone. The Radiant can't tell anyone what really happened...”

“The King already knows,” said the Princess. “He's an adoptee, He’s in constant telepathic communication with the Radiant. He already knows what you did.”

“You're lying!”

“No, she's not,” said the Brigadier. “The King knows what you did. Your only hope is to run while you can. Disappear into the city!”

“You're trying to turn us against our own people...”

Then there was no more time for words, though, as the first group of guards closed in around them, and they were pointing their weapons at the gate guards as much as at the fugitives. “All of you, put down your weapons!”

“It was him!” said one of the gate guards, pointing at Briggs. “It was him who shot Bostel...”

“I said put down your weapons!”

The Brigadier saw the moment the gate guards made their decision and he threw himself at the Princess, throwing her to the ground just in time as the shooting started. Bullets flew above their heads and men fell on both sides, one just a few feet away from the Brigadier. He leapt over and snatched up his gun, then used It to shoot the three palace guards closest to him. Someone else was shooting close behind him, and he looked to see that Darniss and the Princess had also snatched up guns, both of them using them confidently and accurately. All royals, all across the human world, were trained in combat, of course, in case an assassin made it past their protection details, and Princess Ardria had proven a better student than most. Seeing Darniss with a gun in her hand filled him with grave concern, though. He toyed with the idea of killing her. She couldn't be trusted, and cold blooded murder was justified in defence of the royal family of Helberion, but she'd saved the Princess’s life back in the palace. She seemed to have thrown her lot in with them, for the time being at least, and having another gun on their side might be the difference between life and death. He would watch her, though, and he would gun her down without hesitation and without regret the first time she did something he didn't like.

The surviving palace guards were running for the fence, where the massive granite columns of the gate posts would give them some cover. Darniss, the Princess and the Brigadier ran for the gate, and the gate guards made room for them. “Guess we're traitors now,” one of them said unhappily.

“You're rebels, fighting to overthrow a corrupt regime,” said the Princess.

“Hell, yes! I like the sound of that!”

More people were running from the palace. Guards and messengers on their way to the other guard posts to send reinforcements. “We've got to move,” said the Brigadier.

“How? They've got us pinned down!”

“We've got to rush them. Once they’re down we'll have a clear run out into the city.”

“You don’t decide what to do! You’re the enemy! We're at war with you!”

“We're all at war with the Radiants. We have to fight them together.”

“Those aren't Radiants out there! They're our own men! Toman and Garner and Phil...”

“Those men are trying to kill you. Appealing to their friendship won't save you.”

“This is all your fault! Everything was fine until you came!” He swung his gun around to aim it at the Brigadier. The Brigadier grabbed his wrist and twisted it, making the man yell and drop it.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

“He's right!” said another man, though. “It's all your fault!” Before the Brigadier could stop him, he ran towards the palace guards, his hands over his head. “I surrender! I'm with you! I'm...” There was a shot and the man fell dead.

All the other gate guards were staring at the Brigadier in shock and horror, waiting for him to tell them what to do. “We do the same,” he said, “but we go shooting.” They nodded nervously. The Brigadier turned to the Princess. ”You stay here.” A look of anger flashed across her face, but then she nodded. In a combat situation, only the reigning monarch had the authority to override the ranking military commander, but the Princess wouldn’t have argued with him in any case. Lives were lost when the chain of command was unclear. There had to be no doubt in anyone's mind who was giving the orders.

The Brigadier examined his gun, found it was almost empty. One of the gate guards handed him a box of ammunition. He nodded his thanks as he reloaded his gun, then shoved a handful of bullets into his pocket. Beside him, Darniss and the Princess were doing the same, shoving spare bullets into the tops of their stockings. The palace guardsmen were still shouting at them to surrender, they both ignored them.

When he’d finished, the Brigadier turned to Darniss. “You stay close beside me,” he told her. “If you acquit yourself well, I will appeal to the King to have your death sentence commuted. At the first sign of treachery, though, I will kill you. Do you understand?” She nodded, swallowing nervously.

The Brigadier turned back to the gate guards. “Ready?” They nodded again. “Okay. Let's go!” He led the way, running out from the cover of the guard post, already firing before be had a target in his sight. The sound of the gunshots made the palace guardsmen shrink back in fear, gave him the time he needed to move to a place where he could see them without getting shot. He used up the last two bullets in his gun shooting two of them, then ran into them, throwing a group of them bodily to the ground. He heard knives being pulled from their sheaths as they struggled to throw him off, felt a pain in his side as one of them was thrust into his flesh.

He half expected to be fighting alone, half expected the gate guards to hang back from attacking their own colleagues. Men they knew, men they had joked with and fought alongside for years beforehand. Friends, battle brothers. People they might have given their lives for under other circumstances. If that had been the case he would have died there as the palace guards stabbed and shot him repeatedly. The Princess might have come after him, defying his command rather than suffering recapture and cursing, and he might have lived long enough to see her being shot down, her beautiful face contorted with pain and fury even as her gun roared in her hand with the determination to sell her life dearly. It would have been a glorious end to both their lives and he would have died without regret, but it wasn't to be as the gate guards, understanding that their King had betrayed them and that their only chance for survival lay with the Brigadier, followed him into combat.

The palace guards, thrown into disarray by the Brigadier's bodily attack and unable to mount a proper defence, died as Darniss and the gate guards fired their weapons at them. One bullet grazed the Brigadier's arm, but it went on to kill the man beneath him, who'd been about to thrust a dagger into his side. He took the knife from the man's dead hand and stabbed it into another of the men he was lying on, then rolled to the side, onto an empty patch of ground where he was safe from the bullets flying in both directions above him. The whole battle only lasted a few moments, and then silence fell, but the Brigadier waited another few seconds before climbing back to his feet, just in case. “We did It!” he heard someone saying. “They're dead!”

“There's more coming!” someone else said. The Brigadier scrambled upright and saw another group of palace guards running towards them. Guards who hadn't seen the Radiant controlling the weather and so had no idea what all the fighting was about. All they knew was that the Princess was escaping and that some of their own men had turned traitor. Some of them might have come over to their side if they'd had the chance to explain things to them, but there would be no time for that. All the fugitives could do was run.

“Let's go!” he said, leading the way out through the gate and into the city. The two women and the gate guards followed him. The Brigadier saw that Darniss had taken a bullet to the arm and was squeezing it with her other hand to try to stop the bleeding. The last gate guard to come through had the presence of mind to close the gates behind him. He put a huge key into the lock and turned it, making a loud series of clunks as the mechanism turned. Bullets were already flying, though, and sparks flew from the railings as they bounced off, screaming as they ricocheted into the air. The man ducked as he ran to catch up with the others, hurrying across the plaza to the nearest of the narrow streets.

“Anyone know where we’re going?” asked the Brigadier as they ran.

“I know a, a place,” said Briggs, struggling to find the breath to speak while running. “There's a, a place with a secret, a secret basement, used by opium, smugglers. We can hide there, for now while we think, think of something more, permanent.”

“Won't the city guard know about it?” asked the Brigadier, but the look on the guard’s face was all the answer he needed. He struggled to contain his disgust. This wasn't his country, he told himself. Corruption in the guard wasn't his concern. He should just be grateful that it gave them this bolt hole, no matter how unsatisfactory it might be. “Very well,” he said. “Lead on.”

Briggs led them through what passed for the city's upper class districts as fast as possible. People stared in surprise as they passed, the Brigadier heard someone say “Princess!” while pointing at them. That was bad, their pursuers could follow the trail of witnesses they were leaving behind. Why didn't I wait until nightfall? he asked himself. This would be so much easier with the cover of darkness. The sense of urgency bad been so strong, though, and their only intention at first had been to make contact with the Princess and receive orders from her. Even so, he should have anticipated that this might happen. He would have some serious explaining to do when he had time to have a proper conversation with the Princess.

After they'd gone a mile or two, the streets became darker and narrower and the buildings were shabbier, with graffiti, litter and signs of damage that had clearly been done some time ago and that no-one could be bothered to repair. Homeless people were sitting in dark corners, wrapped in filthy blankets, and rats scurried along the gutters. The guard who was leading them took them around another corner, looked back to make sure they were out of sight of their pursuers, and slowed to a walk. He doubled over, resting his hands on his knees while he gasped for breath, and the other guards were little better off. Out of shape, thought the Brigadier with disgust. Poorly disciplined and corrupt. And these men had been trusted with guarding the residence of the Royal family! And yet Carrow had good soldiers. He'd met many of them during a lifetime of border skirmishes and diplomatic incidents. Honest, decent, worthy enemies. He’d met more good people during the travel across the country he’d just undertaken, and even these men whose corruption and unfitness was currently outraging him were helping him because of a loyalty to their own country, their own people, that outweighed their loyalty to their traitor king. Perhaps I shouldn’t judge them so harshly, he thought. No matter how unworthy they are for the duty with which they'd been trusted, their hearts are in the right place. They just lacked the right training, the right leadership. He made up his mind to be patient with them, therefore. It wasn't as if he had any choice anyway.

“Where now?” he asked.

“It's on the other side of the city,” said the guard. “I just wanted to get us away from the other guards first. We've got a bit of a lead on them now, they'll have to search half the city to find us. We should be safe so long as we keep moving. If we keep to the back streets and alleyways we should be able to work our way around to it before nightfall.”

“Lead the way then.” The Brigadier pulled up his clothing to examine the knife wound as they walked, and the Princess came closer to examine it as well. “Could be worse,” he grunted. “I'll get my needle and thread out when we stop for the night.” In the meantime, he used his knife to cut a strip of cloth from the bottom of his vest, which he did without removing his outer clothing. He then cut it thinner to double its length and tied them together to make one long strip which the Princess helped him wrap around his waist as a makeshift bandage. The bullet wound to his arm was trivial, and he just tied a handkerchief around it until he had time to attend to it properly.

He then examined the Princess’ head injury. The blood had dried, he was relieved to see, but when he parted the blood encrusted hair he saw that the bullet had gone under the skin and skidded along the surface of her skull, leaving a shallow groove in its wake. He gave Darniss a stern glare.

“That maid was about to curse me,” pointed out the Princess. “If she hadn’t taken the shot, I’d be a completely unharmed kestrel right now.” She gave Darniss a grateful smile and the former Matron smiled nervously back. Ardria noticed for the first time that Darniss was hurt and cut a strip from her housekeeper’s dress to bandage her arm with. “Well, this is awkward,” she said, smiling. “Of all the people I thought I might owe my life to...”

“There was a time when I never thought I'd risk my life for you,” replied Darniss.

“Don't mistake her actions for altruism,” said the Brigadier, though. “She is with us because she has no choice. She has nowhere else to go. She protects you because you are her last hope. She may be useful to us, but never turn your back on her.” Darniss glared at him but said nothing.

“Even so,” said the Princess. “What the two of you did... Sneaking into the King's palace and rescuing me from right under the noses of his best men...”

“There were four of us, and I failed to get the others out alive,” replied the Brigadier. “One of them was Private Grey, the last member of your escort. The other was our most important asset in Carrow. It was worth their lives, and mine too, to get you out, but losing men never gets any easier.”

“I know,’ replied Ardria. “I lost my whole escort. I lost my beloved maid Teena, and some good friends I met in the country. The Radiants have a lot to answer for.”

“And answer for it they will,” said the Brigadier earnestly. “With interest!” The Princess nodded, and they walked side by side through the narrow, rat infested alleyway with a convicted traitor and four enemy soldiers who would have shot them dead if they'd met them in the street yesterday, and everywhere they met curious, calculating eyes that stared at them from darkened windows. Word of what was happening would soon be all across the city, they knew, but that might be no bad thing. The people of Carrow were evidently fond of the Princess. They might find a lot of people willing to help them.

The sun was setting when they finally reached the den of the opium smugglers. Briggs went in first, to explain to anyone who might have been in there, but it was empty and he emerged to lead the others in. The whole place reeked of opium resin, making the Brigadier wonder how they could possibly have hoped to keep it secret from the city guard. By bribing the guardsmen, of course, he realised. Cutting them in for a share of the profits. They’d probably enlisted the aid of a few guardsmen before ever moving a single ounce of opium into the city.

The Princess’ nose wrinkled at the unfamiliar odour. “This is what opium smells like?” she said. “It's horrible!”

“You should try it,” said one of the guardsmen. “You might like it.” Another guardsmen snickered until he saw the Brigadier glaring at him. The snigger died in his throat and he hurriedly looked away, suddenly fearful. As Briggs and the fourth guard went into another room to check the place out, though, he heard one of them say “I'd like to see a Princess high on drugs!” The other man chuckled, the sound cut off as a door closed behind them. It caused the Brigadier to reflect that he had seen the Princess high on drugs, and an uncharacteristic smile creased the corners of his mouth.

The basement below them contained hundreds of packets of opium resin stacked up against the wall. The smugglers had left no-one behind to guard it, which struck the Brigadier as strange until he remembered all the eyes in the windows of the buildings around them. The smugglers wouldn’t leave anyone actually on the premises, to be arrested if the guards raised the place, he realised. The guards would be in the surrounding buildings where they could deny any knowledge of the opium if they were questioned. Even now, someone was probably on their way to inform the smugglers that someone was interfering with their stash, and the Brigadier just hoped they'd be away from here before any trouble broke out.

They settled down to sleep on the side of the room opposite the opium, making themselves comfortable on the pile of empty sacking that Briggs said was used to hide the drug while in transit. The Brigadier remained awake and on guard. In case the opium smugglers came back, he said, but in fact he was more worried that one of the guards might try to get back into the King's good books by turning the rest of them in. One or two of them did stir in the night and stared at him before lying back down, but whether they’d been thinking of betraying him he never found out.

The opium smugglers never turned up, either during that night or the next morning. They were prepared to suffer the loss of this small hoard, it seemed, rather than risk capture by the city guard. They never had to spend another night there, though, because a small crowd of other people gathered to see them as the sun rose again. An elderly woman was the first to arrive. Braver than the rest, perhaps because she was already approaching the end of her life and so had less to lose. Her skin was beginning to acquire the transparency of a creature whose flesh was preparing to return to the ground as a million tiny globs, and her fingers were short and lacked nails, as if the flesh there had already done so. “Is it true?” she asked, her rheumy eyes shining with hope as the Brigadier dragged her in by the elbow before she attracted attention. “Are you the Brigadier, come to lead the country in revolt against the King? Is it true that the Princess is here?”

“I am here,” said Ardria, coming forward. She looked nothing like a Princess any more. Her once fine clothes were torn and dirty, and her face and hands were covered with grime, and yet majesty and authority still shone from her. Something in the way she stood there, perhaps. Tall, regal and unafraid, or in the expression on her face which showed the strength to impose her will while, at the same time, compassion for the less fortunate people of the world. Whatever it was, the woman immediately fell to her knees before her and gave a great cry of gratitude.

“Your Highness! You have come, as they said you would! You have come to save us, to deliver us from King Nilon and his gang of villains!” She look sideways at the guards as she said this, suddenly looking unsure.

“They have joined the fight against King Nilon,” the Brigadier reassured her. “You have nothing to fear from them.”

The woman nodded, but looked only partly reassured. She returned her attention to the Princess. “There is a place we can go,” she said. “A better place than this. A place where you can hide and meet the people. As word spreads, they will come from all across the city to see you! From all across the country!”

“That's good,” replied Ardria, “because I have a great deal to tell them. King Nilon is not the true enemy, the Radiants are the real enemy. Nilon is just their puppet...”

“Perhaps the sermon can wait until we’re in more secure surroundings,” said the Brigadier, who was still afraid that a gang of drug runners might suddenly turn up, guns blazing, to take back their stash. He was also made nervous by the crowd of people who were gathering in the street outside, a gathering that was sure to be noticed by the King's men. He turned to the old woman. “Can you take us to this safe place you mentioned? And tell the crowd not to follow us there. There’ll be time for them to meet the Princess later, when we can arrange a gathering somewhere safe and secret.”

“Leave it to me!” she said, a single tooth visible in her mouth as she grinned. “Leave it to Old Abby! I'll tell the crowd to scatter, then take you to your new lodgings!” She then tottered back out into the street and they heard her talking to the crowd in her thin, scratchy voice. Meanwhile, the Brigadier edged closer to the Princess so he could talk quietly without being overheard. “We have to give some thought to how we're going to get you out of the city,” he said.

“I'm not going anywhere,” she whispered back, though. “I came here for a reason, to tell these people that the Radiants are their real enemy. I can't leave now that I'm finally making progress!”

“Your safety is the first priority!”

“Helberion is the first priority! Mankind is the first priority! Removing the Radiant threat is the first priority. Our best hope for accomplishing that is for me to stay here and talk to these people.”

“Your father, the King...”

“My father agreed that I should come here! I have a job to do and I intend to do it to the best of my ability.”

“Your Highness...”

“That's an order, Brigadier!” She glared at him, her eyes full of determination, and the Brigadier saw that there was no point in trying to change her mind. He simply bowed, therefore, and turned his mind to how he would keep her safe as a fugitive in the enemy's capital city.