Rise (5 page)

Shouts rose behind us. The bodies must have been discovered. My heartbeat quickened, and I frantically looked around for a hiding place.

The assassin cursed and pulled me against the nearby building. “Wait here,” he instructed.

“What are you going to do?” I demanded, fearing he’d murder more people. Instead of answering, he sprinted away, leaving me all alone in the dark.

I needed to know if Papa was in our apartment or if the man from the brothel had taken him to his home. Pressing against the building, I moved to the other end of the street and glanced around the corner. Not a soul lingered and no lights shone. Most people put fabric over their apartment windows to prevent others from seeing inside. Taking a deep breath, I steeled my resolve. Staying close to the towering apartment buildings, I jogged several blocks, eventually passing the familiar blacksmith and bakery.

When I reached my street, a group of men from the King’s Army exited my building. Ducking into a nearby doorway, my breathing became unsteady. Had they discovered my identity already? Thankfully, my father wasn’t being dragged out as they left. When all of them had passed, I ran inside, sprinting up the dark stairs and throwing open the door to my apartment.

“Papa?” I frantically whispered. He didn’t respond. His bedchamber was empty. Relief and dread filled me. If the man from the brothel had him, that meant he was an honest man who truly wanted to help me. However, what if the
soldats
had already taken Papa and the ones I saw leaving the building were simply the tail end of the raid? The only way to know for certain was to question the apothecary to see if someone had come for my father’s medication.

Ripping off the scratchy dress, I pulled on a pair of trousers, a long-sleeved shirt, and a leather vest. My father’s jacket hung on a peg near the door, so I grabbed it, along with a knit hat. The apothecary probably wasn’t at his shop. I’d have to wait nearby until he opened in the morning. After lacing up my boots, I slipped out of the apartment building, surveying the street. Not seeing any movement, I ran. The temperature continued to drop rapidly, and my breath came out in white puffs. I pulled my sleeves down under the jacket and over my fingers, trying to stay warm.

When I reached the apothecary’s street, three
soldats
were dragging a girl about my age northward, away from me. Sprinting to the nearest doorway, I pressed my body flat against it, hoping they didn’t see me. A whistle sounded from somewhere above, and footsteps pounded on the ground as someone neared.

“You there,” a man shouted, pointing at me.

Stepping away from the door, I raised my hands in surrender.

“You’re out past curfew,” he stated. “We’re taking you in for insubordination.”

He had a sword strapped to his waist, no other weapons visible. He was at least a foot taller than I was, but his red uniform was loose, his cheeks sunken in. The two others stood a good thirty feet away, holding the girl. There was no way they were going to imprison me. Spinning around, I kicked high, hitting the man’s
head and easily knocking him over. My father’s instructions to “finish him” came back to me. Yet, I couldn’t viciously kill like the assassin, so I took off running.

A moment later, boots stomped on the ground behind me. I sprinted faster, hoping to put enough distance between us to afford me the opportunity to hide. Nearing the next street, the man
shoved me and I fell forward. He jumped on top of me, pinning me to the ground. He forcefully yanked my hands back, tying my wrists together.

“You stupid idiot,” he said, seething with rage. “You’re going to the executioner for this.” He grabbed my arms and hoisted me to my feet, dragging me to where the other
soldats
stood waiting.

The men
pushed me and the girl forward, and we started walking down the street. The girl cried and pleaded with them to release her while I fumbled with the rope around my wrists, trying to untie it. There was no way I was going down without a fight.

A body suddenly fell from the rooftop, landing in front of us with a bone-chilling
thud
. The girl screamed and tried running away, but the men held her in place while they withdrew their swords. The man who had fallen was dressed in a red
soldat
uniform. He held a bow in one hand and wore a quiver filled with arrows on his back. Blood pooled around his head, seeping onto the street.

The three
soldats
looked at the rooftops of the surrounding buildings. One of the men grabbed his neck and then crumbled to the ground. Another did the same. The last man took off running and then he, too, collapsed to the ground, a small dart protruding from his neck.

Anders rounded the corner and strode toward me, as if stalking an animal. The girl screamed and ran away. I stumbled backward. With my hands still bound behind my back, I sprinted awkwardly down the street. A moment later, strong arms snaked around my waist, and Anders pulled me into a narrow alleyway between two buildings.

“Why are you running away?” He slid a knife from his boot and cut my bindings.

“Why?” I shrieked, shoving him away from me. “You’ve killed at least six men tonight. Six. You’re crazy.”

His eyes narrowed. “I saved you.”

“By killing people. You’re no better than the king.”

Anders growled and took a step toward me, making my back hit the wall. “We need to get out of here.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“You need to meet Vidar. He can protect you, and he’ll explain what’s going on.”

I crossed my arms, wishing he’d back up.

He leaned forward, invading my space even more. “Would it make you feel better if I told you Vidar wasn’t an assassin?”

My eyes narrowed. “What makes him so special?” Vidar obviously wasn’t a Kriger since eleven of the twelve sat in prison. So who was he and how was he connected to all of this? Why did Anders claim Vidar could protect me—especially if I was a Kriger endowed with powers?

His eyes flickered, but his face remained blank, unreadable. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”

He was hiding something from me. “Why are you helping me? What’s in it for you?”

“Vidar and I have been helping Krigers for years.” He put his hands on either side of me, pinning me against the wall, our faces only inches apart. “We need you,” Anders whispered, his penetrating eyes staring into mine.

“Why?” I demanded, feeling vulnerable. He could whip out a dagger and slice me open from navel to throat, or kiss me. His hardened features revealed nothing.

His intense eyes remained focused on me. “We want to train you so you can join the other Krigers and save the kingdom of Nelebek.”

Right now, I needed to save my father; I’d worry about the kingdom later.

“We don’t have time to discuss this,” he said. “Every moment we stand here, Morlet is strengthening his ability to sense your location.” Cold fear slithered down my spine, and my hands tingled. “I’m not sure how far his reach extends, but I believe it’s two or three miles.” His hands dropped to his sides. “We need to hurry.”

“But my father—”

“Is safe and taken care of.”

“How can I be certain Morlet doesn’t have him?”

“The men from the brothel are part of a secret organization whose sole purpose is to aid the Krigers. They will make sure your father is safe.”

I hoped all he said was true. Looking again into his brown eyes, an odd sensation filled my body, and something inside me whispered to trust this man. A fierce strength radiated from within him.

“Let me get you to safety,” Anders gently said, his face softening. “Afterward, I’ll come back here and check on your father. I will ensure his well-being and bring you proof.” He closed his fist and placed it over his heart, sealing his promise.

That odd feeling washed over me again—urging me to trust him. “Fine. I’ll go with you.”

Anders’s shoulders relaxed, and he gave a curt nod. “Stay right behind me.”

Moving to the end of the building, he observed the street before waving me forward. We took several smaller streets, careful to avoid areas heavily populated with
soldats
. At one point, we saw a few men exiting a building two blocks away. Anders flattened his body against the wall and froze. I did the same, trying not to make a sound. Luckily, they didn’t notice us and moved on to another street.

We made it to the wall surrounding the capital without incident. I had an eerie sensation someone was watching me. My body tingled as Morlet’s power reached out, penetrating into me.

Anders felt along the wall, pushing several stones in a particular area until he found one that wiggled loose. Thrusting it forward, it fell to the other side. He did the same to the surrounding blocks, opening a space large enough to crawl through.

“You go first,” he said, pointing at the hole.

My hands throbbed with pain. I expected to see something wrong with them, but they appeared normal. My vision blurred, my head felt like it was floating in water, and I swayed on my feet.

“Hurry,” Anders urged. “Morlet probably knows where you are and has
soldats
on their way.”

I heaved my body through the opening, tumbling down the other side. My head cleared, and the pain in my hands vanished.

The assassin came through the gap and picked up the blocks, jostling them back into place. “We need to make it to the cover of the trees before Morlet sends archers to the wall to shoot us.”

In the darkness, I could just make out the land before me. About a mile away, the Forest of a Thousand Lakes ominously stood. Anders started running, and I took off after him, trying to comprehend that for the first time in my life, I was on the other side of the capital’s wall. When we reached the edge of the foreboding forest, I stopped to observe the thick trees, taller than any building I’d ever seen. The heady smell of pine filled the air.

“Keep moving,” Anders insisted.

I followed him into the forest. We traveled single file, our pace only slightly slower than before. “I can barely see,” I said, but he ignored me.

An owl hooted, and something howled in the distance. I’d heard stories growing up about travelers who strayed from the road never to be seen again. The forest was said to crawl with
brunbjorn
—large, bear-like creatures that fed on human flesh. There were also rumors of
fugls
—enormous birds that could eat a person in one gulp. I shivered, trying to convince myself that was all they were—stories.

“Do you think the King’s Army
will come into the forest searching for me?”

“Morlet will send them to hunt you down.”

“Why do you think you can keep me safe? Because of the medallion?”

The assassin stopped, and I almost smashed into him. He spun around to face me. “I have been assisting Krigers for years. In all my time, not
one
has questioned me like you.” Fury simmered in his low voice. “If you don’t keep your mouth shut and do as I say, I’ll leave you here to be eaten by a
fugl
.”

He turned and jogged away, heading deeper into the woods.

I hurried after him, not wanting to be alone in this strange place. Leaves crunched under my feet, yet Anders managed to move silently, gliding over the land. After an hour of traveling, my breathing became labored and my legs grew heavy. The events of the day started to crush me and tears threatened. I refused to let Anders see me cry. I couldn’t think about my father, Morlet, or being a Kriger. All my focus was on staying upright—one foot in front of the other.
Never give up.

“Just a little farther,” the assassin whispered. “There’s a place ahead where we can rest for a bit.”

My foot connected with something hard, and I flew forward onto my stomach, my head smashing against a rock. Warm liquid oozed down the side of my face. My head collapsed onto the forest floor. Everything went black.

***

My forehead throbbed as if someone had smashed a hammer against it. I sat up and found myself on the rocky floor of a small cave, a low-burning fire next to me. The assassin sat on the other side of the fire, staring at me.

“What happened?” I asked, my voice raspy.

“You tripped and knocked yourself out,” he replied, his tone condescending. “I suggest you sleep some more. As soon as the sun rises and you’re able to see the ground, we’ll be on our way.”

We had been traveling at night through a forest littered with fallen branches and rocks. Of course it would be difficult to see—especially considering I’d never even been in a forest before. He was lucky that I hadn’t fallen to my death.

Gently touching my forehead, I felt some sort of thick paste that smelled of bracken fern covering it. A horrible thought occurred to me. “How did I get here?”

“I carried you. Now stop talking and go back to sleep.” Anders shifted his body, his back to me, so he had a view of the cave’s opening.

Lying down, I faced away from him. He must have thought I was an incompetent fool who had to be taken care of. Not that it mattered what he thought of me. My eyes grew heavy and I drifted off to sleep.

I stood in the middle of the deserted Town Square next to the execution platform. A thick fog coated the area, making it hard to see the nearby shops and buildings in the early morning light. A harsh wind blew through the square, tossing my hair in my face. The fog parted around the platform, revealing a lone figure wearing a black cape.

Morlet.

“Come here,” he commanded, his voice smooth and seductive.

Where did Anders go, and how did I get here? The fog swirled around my feet, sliding up my legs.

“I won’t hurt you,” Morlet purred. “I just want to talk.”

The fog reached my shoulders, slinking around my neck. A sense of calm spread through me and, without thinking, I climbed the stairs and stood before the king.

“You cut your hair,” he mused, his voice friendly. “And hurt your head.” I touched my forehead, feeling the gooey substance still there. “You’re different from the others.” Cocking his head, his face remained hidden beneath the cover of the black hood. “Where are you hiding?”