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In the light of the last torch on the wall, I watch Temra and Petrik slide through the gap. Temra gets her hands on her sword just as a guard gets the door open.
She runs him through without a moment’s thought. Petrik steps forward, his hand going to the soldier’s open mouth to absorb any sound he might make. He’s dead before he hits the floor.
“Let’s go,” Petrik says to Kellyn.
“I’m stuck,” the mercenary says.
Kellyn has one leg and arm on the side of freedom, but his massive chest is wedged in the gap between the bars.
“Breathe out,” Petrik mutters.
Kellyn does so, and I grab his free arm and yank with all my might.
With a grunt of pain Kellyn flops to the floor.
Then we flee, wending our way through the jail. When we finally find the outer doors, we slip past the guards, preferring stealth to another fight. They talk to each other with their backs to us, and the four of us tiptoe around the building until we find the road.
With the cover of darkness, none of the city dwellers are able to see our faces. No one calls out to us or steps into our path. In fact, the few Briskans out and about don’t even seem startled by the sight of a company sprinting down alleyways at night, which doesn’t speak well for the city.
The exercise warms my previously chilled limbs, and freedom warms my scared heart.
The captain will be very disappointed when he visits the prison tomorrow morning. No retirement for him.
CHAPTER
NINETEEN
Before delivering us to the prison, the captain and his men stole anything of value we had, and they left Petrik’s books lying in the street. We’re now on the road for what feels like the thousandth time with nothing except the clothes on our backs, the weapons at our sides, and the company we keep.
After half the night has passed, when we’re certain no one is following us, we finally stop.
Petrik bends over and puts his hands on his knees. Kellyn promptly slams his own fist into the nearest tree.
“Whoa!” Petrik says, standing and backing away from the other man.
I rush over to the mercenary and grab his hand to inspect it. He’s broken the skin over every knuckle, wells of blood pooling and smearing down his fingers.
“Those posters will be all over Ghadra by next week. Clearly Kymora is sending things faster than we can travel, so she’s using carrier pigeons. We won’t be safe anywhere! I can’t work. I can’tlive.”
The anger isn’t directed at anyone in particular, but an angry Kellyn is a sight to behold.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper as I cradle his hand in mine.
His face softens as he looks at me. “I’m not angry with you.”
“I know, but this is still my fault.”
“Let’s get something straight right now.” He moves his injured hand so it’s now gripping one of mine. The anger from before still laces his words, giving them extra force. “You are not responsible for any of this. You were doing your job. Something you do very well. The sword is not evil in and of itself. In the hands of a just ruler, it could protect a whole kingdom. What’s evil are the intentions of the ones who would use it to do anything other than protect. You do not get to put the fate of the world on your shoulders. You’re not that important.”
I feel my mouth open and close like a fish’s.
“He’s right,” Temra says unhelpfully.
I step away from Kellyn, thinking over his words. Is it truly not my fault? That the world is at stake? That my sister is in danger?
Is it even possible to take the guilt and blame from me?
I don’t know if I can do that, even if it is true. I don’t know how. I stillfeelguilty. I still feel responsible for everything that’s happened, and it’s still up to me to make things right.
