Roland leaned back in his chair, stretching out his arms. His shadow flickered in the candlelight illuminating the book before him. He let his eyes wander over the room. It was modest by royal standards, something his new mentor had apologised for profusely. Roland could not imagine how this single room could be considered small. It was greater in scale than the home he grew up in by a wide margin.
The bed was soft, the linens pristine. Everything seemed so clean and tidy that it looked as if the room was frozen in time when its construction finished. By the desk was a bookshelf filled with more books than Roland had ever seen in one place, which was not saying much. After penning a letter to his father, Roland grabbed a book and began reading, quickly becoming engrossed. Now darkness had fallen, and his eyes were weary. He stood from the chair and walked into the hall to find the latrine before he went to bed for the evening.
The trip was leisurely, taking in the atmosphere of the castle’s halls at night. Moonlight dimly illuminated the halls just enough to see. Every so often Roland could hear a faint sound, loud enough to tell him he was not alone, but not so loud as to be disturbing. Everything seemed so calm and peaceful here, and Roland basked in it.
The sense shattered when he turned a corner and spotted a figure at the other end of the hall. The figure looked at him for a moment, then began sprinting away. Instinctively Roland gave chase, Moving down the hall at great speed. He rounded the corner just in time to see which way his target went, and continued his pursuit, rapidly closing the distance. Right before they reached the staircase, Roland was within arms reach, grabbing the figure by the shoulder and stopping him dead in his tracks. The figure reluctantly turned to face Roland, and both of their eyes grew wide.
“You!” The figure hissed. “Why are you chasing me?”
“Why are you skulking around the halls?” Roland retorted, matching the quiet tone. “Last I heard you had not woken yet. I worried you might never wake.”
“I woke up this afternoon,” the figure responded. He took Roland’s hand and tried to remove it from his shoulder. “Can you let go of me, please?”
“Not until you tell me what you are doing,” Roland demanded.
“I don’t have to explain myself to you,” the figure insisted. “Why do you care? You have no reason to concern yourself with me.”
“I thought you were dying,” Roland said. His words seemed to give his captive pause. “I drove you too far in our bout. I thought that I had killed you.”
“It was my own choice,” the figure said, the anger and annoyance evaporating from his voice. “If I died, it would have been my fault, not yours.” He took a deep breath. “Do you remember what happened to me after we fought?”
“Yes, I do,” Roland said, nodding. “The Saint intervened, and you collapsed. The High Priestess tried to heal you, but it looked like she would fail. That was the last I saw before I was taken away. I heard later that the Saint came to your aid.”
“Aid is one word for it,” the figure said, frowning. “I need to find her. She… she took something from me, and I need to get it back.”
“Are you intending to break into the church?” Roland asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Yes,” the figure responded matter-of-factly. “I need to talk to her, but the Archmage and High Priestess have refused me. I can’t wait until they allow it. I need to do this.” Roland studied his captive. His eyes burned with a determination that did not match his stature. After a few tense moments, Roland released his grip.
“I am coming with you,” Roland said.
“What? Why?” the figure asked.
“I do not know if you will attempt to hurt the Saint,” Roland responded. “But I can also see this is important to you. I want to help you, and protect her if I have too.”
“Very noble of you,” the figure said sarcastically.
“Thank you,” Roland said, oblivious. He extended his hand again. “We did not have an opportunity to formally introduce ourselves. I am Roland Wainwright.”
“Aldric…” Aldric responded, hesitantly shaking Roland’s hand. He was wholly unsure about Roland’s presence, but it seemed he would not have much of a choice. “We should move before we get caught.” Roland nodded, motioning for Aldric to take the lead. The two moved down the stairs to the second floor, where they snuck along the wall, Aldric scanning the windows as they moved.
“What are you doing?” Roland asked.
“Looking for a window that can open,” Aldric responded.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“Why?” Roland asked again. “We can just walk out of the doors.”
“No, we can’t,” Aldric explained. “You’re here, so the Commander must have asked you to be his apprentice. I don’t think he or the Archmage will just let us out this late.”
“You are too paranoid,” Roland said, rolling his eyes. He tried to insist they leave through the door, but Aldric ignored him, scanning and testing windows as they went. Finally, he found one that creaked open, and with unexpected ease, Aldric vaulted out onto the window sill. “Now what?” Roland asked. “If you jump to the ground from here you will break your legs.”
“I’m not aiming for the ground,” Aldric said, positioning himself for a leap. Roland reached out to stop him, but his hand closed around nothing. He quickly pulled himself up onto the window sill and saw Aldric dangling from a tree branch a few feet away. He watched in awe as the scrawny man expertly manoeuvred the branches, quickly descending to the ground, before hesitantly trying to follow Aldric’s lead. Roland was far more clumsy, and the tree shook as he took hold and slowly descended.
“Where did you learn to do that?” Roland asked, once his feet were back on solid ground.
“I’ve always been able to,” Aldric said, smirking. He led them along the castle wall to the square, where the church loomed on the other side. Even this late a few people milled about by torchlight, more than half stumbling over their feet. Roland tried to stay in the shadows, but he quickly abandoned this idea when he saw Aldric walking with complete confidence across the square.
“What if someone sees us?” Roland asked when he caught up.
“Then they see us,” Aldric responded. “For all they know you and I are just another pair of merry drunks.” Roland did not particularly like that he could be thought of that way, but he did not argue. They paused at the fountain that marked the centre of the square. “Now for the hard part.”
“Again, could we not just use the door?” Roland offered up.
“The High Priestess told me that I could not see the Saint today,” Aldric explained. “And she will likely need to approve of any visitors the Saint could get, especially at this hour.”
“How else would we get in?” Roland pondered. “The church is enormous. Even if we find a way inside, we do not know where the Saint is.”
“She is likely in her quarters,” Aldric said, scanning the church with an analytical eye. “So we just need to find that.”
“She is an important figure,” Roland added, joining Aldric’s analysis. “If the castle is any indication, important people would be on the upper floors.”
“She is too important to expose to the public, however,” Aldric said. “But they can’t lock her in a windowless room.”
“That leaves the rear of the church,” Roland said. “I walked around here on the day of the tournament. If I recall there is a cemetery behind the church. Compared to the square and the streets running alongside the church, it would have a lot fewer people.”
“So that means she is on the top floor of the church, somewhere along the rear wall,” Aldric concluded. “But the High Priestess likely is too. We can’t risk opening the wrong door. We need to be more certain.” He began walking again, Roland quickly falling in step. They walked in silence to the cemetery behind the church. The gates swung open easily. Aldric made his way to a nearby grave and knelt down, placing his hand on the tombstone.
“What are you doing?” Roland asked.
“If someone sees us, they will think we’re paying our respects,” Aldric said, his eyes flitting along the highest row of windows on the church’s wall. His brow furrowed for a moment. “Did you see the Saint when we fought?”
“I did,” Roland said, turning away. “Why do you ask?”
“How old was she?” Aldric asked again.
“I am not sure,” Roland said hesitantly. “I think she is a similar age to me. Again, why do you ask.”
“In the town I lived near all the adults went to bed with the sun,” Aldric explained. “When night fell, those who roamed the streets were either criminals or children seeking mischief.” He pointed up to the window nearest to the corner of the wall. “That room is the only one with light inside. I am guessing if the Saint is as young as we are, she would be the only one important enough to be on the top floor who is still awake.”
Roland looked at the window, processing Aldric’s answer. Try as he might, he could not find a flaw. They could still be wrong, but it seemed like this was as certain as they were likely to be. Aldric stood again, and both of them walked out of the graveyard and back towards the church. They walked close to the wall, staying on the small patch of grass and trees that separated the building from the streets.
“Aldric, over here,” Roland called softly. Aldric quickly moved to look at what Roland had found. A rickety ladder led up to a balcony above. Aldric gave Roland a clap on the shoulder before leading the way up the ladder. The balcony had no doors attached and only seemed to serve as a small landing for a precariously steep set of stairs that climbed along with the angle of the roof. Seeing no alternative, they ascended even farther.
The stairs ended on a thin ledge that ran along the wall of the church. Aldric confidently walked along it, but Roland was a lot more cautious. One small slip would be disastrous, and while he thought he could survive the fall, he did not doubt that Aldric would die. Aldric seemed unbothered by this, running his hands along the windows as he walked.
He stopped around halfway across the length of the church, his fingers curling around a window that was only slightly open. He pushed it further until the gap was just large enough to fit through. He peeked inside to make sure no one would see them, then entered, with Roland on his heels.
“Now we find some stairs and go up,” Aldric whispered. Roland nodded, and the two began skulking through the church corridors, trying to stay quiet and in the shadows. They gave any doors with noise or light emanating from beyond a wide birth, taking long detours as they searched. Eventually, they came to a slim staircase that ascended into darkness.
“Nowhere to hide,” Roland whispered. Aldric nodded and began ascending, straining his ears. One floor, two floors, not a soul in sight. His confidence rose, and he and he took the next set of stairs faster. Roland tried to caution him, but his eagerness was too great. He rounded a blind turn in the stairs and completely lost his footing. This happened, not through a fault of his own, but because of the golden-eyed girl that crashed into him from above.