Disclaimer: Ok...plot and a few characters are mine. But the overall universe is unfortunately not mine, but Tamora Pierce's.
Title: Ghost of the Past
Author: winky-wink
Genre: Romance/Humor/Drama
Rating: T (Just to be safe)
Pairing: A/J...it fits with the time setting.
Musical Affection: 'La Maladie' by Malajube.
Author's Note: Ok, well this is an escape chapter. I'm sorrry my updates are getting fewer and fewer between lol. School work, you know and if I must choose between homework and fanfiction, I got to do the homework unfortunately. Haha, ok, well this chapter is another ending chapter. I think the story will be ending in the next two or three chapters so come prepared to read the ending sooners.
Oh and how about I answer some questions and comments that I was asked a lot in your reviews so that I don't have to personally reply to every single review, how about that? Ok, first things first...
People who want an A/J moment: It'll come eventually! I swear it. But I'm not one to over dramatize romance so it won't be like Alanna and Jonathan jumping into bed or something every chapter like some other stories I know. ((coughs)) And for Hikari-chan, yes Winfred, Abby, and Lincoln would probably get a kick out of them getting together.
Why doesn't Thom just pretend to be Alanna and go in her place: Ok, well like half my reviewers told me that instead of sending the actual Alanna away to the Shang, I should just send Thom away as Alanna and she can go back to being Alan whilst Thom returns to the City of the Gods. Well, the reason I didn't do that is clear in this chapter as you shall see. It actually raises a few problems. Oh and a side-note, I had another reason for not doing that as well but I forgot it...smaarrt, hey? LOL...sorry.
Trial: This is more specifically to eridani mostly. Well the real reason I didn't do a trial is because I already did one for Abigail's rape and didn't really feel like doing another one. Sorry if you really wanted it! Anyways, the scene that I really want to all you see will probably come up next chapter.
Is Alanna really going to join the Shang: Well, you'll just find to read to find out, won't you?
Other than that, I just want to thank the super cool reviewers: iluvsinging333, Hikari-chan, silfaeyn, charlie and lola, Dom's Angel, Queen Alanna of conte, lutefa, Confusedknight, epobbp, WitchyMage, FanFictionFanthom, Kokari, Fluffy, and eridani.
You rock.
'You think you're escaping and run into yourself. The longest way around is the shortest way home'-James Joyce
Step. Step. Knock. Knock.
"Alan, are you awake?" Douglass asked, turning the door knob to his friend's chambers and sticking his head in a quarter of an inch.
"Of course he's not awake," Geoffery joked, "Alan? Up when he could be sleeping? Please."
"Come in the both of you," Thom called from where he sat at Alanna's table.
Squire Alan as played by Alanna of Trebond would most certainly not be up at this time of morning. However, Squire Alan as played by Thom of Trebond was already alert and reading a very fascinating and acclaimed book called Sorccery on the Battlefield. Recently, Thom had been devouring books faster than most squires could down their dinner-which was done at a shockingly fast speed. But for Thom, his reading had nothing to do with being ravenous all the time, it had to do with the arrest of his sister which had happed naught but a day and a half ago. Already, rumours were rampant about why this Alanna of Trebond had been imprisoned. Some said it was because she had kidnapped Abigail and pretended to be the royal Niece in her place. Others said she was forcing Jonathan to marry her. But, some, some that were whispered very, very, quietly behind cupped hands said that Alanna of Trebond was a socceress, strong enough to outsmart even Duke Roger. This particular went on to say that she had magicked the entire royal family into believing she was the royal Niece. Why had she done this, the foolish girl, people asked. She was in love with the Prince, others answered. And so it went until the whispers grew louder and louder. By now, this story, the other Alanna had originally told in the forest had reached the ears of even the youngest stable hand.
Now, when your sister is a convicted felon, people aren't exactly peachy keen with you either. Before he could say Trebond, Thom was shunned by everyone around. Or, perhaps, shunned was too strong a word. What really happened was his fellow squires and pages kept giving him suspicious looks as if expecting him to jump up and paralyse their minds with his Gift. This teachers were a bit more civil, but barely. Nobility dodged his path in the corridors, not wanting to be seen with the social outcast. In fact, only Raoul, Gary, Douglass and Geoffery had stayed by this side, although they didn't quite understand what had happened. In all truth, none of them had had the courage to ask Alan what had happened with his sister.
So, to avoid all the hostility that awaited him outside of his quarters, Thom chose to stay in and read a good book on more than one occasion. This exactly the thing that Douglass and Geoffery found him doing.
"Mithros he's up!" Geoffery exclaimed, looking awestruck, "And, is that-is that a book?"
'No, I believe it's a ball. Throw it at him, Thom,' Faithful suggested, evilly, glaring at Geoffery through his slits of eyes.
The Trebond smiled to himself, marking his place in Sorccery on the Battlefield and shutting it. He immediately turned around in his chair so he faced both other boys, who were currently settling onto Alanna's bed.
"How may I be of service?" Thom questioned as politely and scholarly as possible.
Douglass and Geoffery exchanged looks. Polite and scholarly were not exactly words one would use to describe Alan of Trebond. Could it be that his sister's scandalous arrest was the cause of him losing his mind?
"We need nothing from you, Alan," Douglass replied, shrewdly, "Another than answers to our questions that is."
"Yeah, like why you've been acting all strange," Geoffery demanded, his blonde eyebrows furrowed.
"Strange?" Thom blinked, straightening, "Whatever are you implying?"
"What we're talking about is, 'Whatever are you implying' and 'How may I be of service?'" Geoffery scowled, raising his voice by three pitches each time he quoted off something Thom had said before.
Before the mage had a chance to answer this question, Douglass interrupted, "What we really came here to ask you is, are you alright?"
The young Trebond was surprised. It was odd; though Douglass had asked just a simple question, it warmed Thom's heart. It was pleasant to know he cared. That they both cared. For someone who had spent much of his past years stuck up in the City of the Gods with next to zero friends, it was nice to finally have some. Even if he had borrowed them from his sister.
"I'm...fine, I suppose," Thom shrugged, letting Faithful jump into his lap.
"I mean with your sister and all...we just-we just wanted to know-," Douglass seemed to be struggling to say something.
"Dougy, hush will you? Let me do it. We just wanted to know why your sister is locked up in the dungeons," Geoffery inquired, his bluntness not hurting Thom the least bit. Actually, he, himself, was rather famous for his own bluntness.
Douglass looked terribly embarrassed that his friend of Meron had spoken so far out of line, but Thom merely smiled, "Haven't you heard? She's a socceress. She bewitched the royal family and myself into believing she was the royal Niece."
"But...why?" Goeffery scrunched up his face in confusion.
"She's in love with the Prince," Thom fibbed, wondering whether or not the Black God would have his soul for lying.
'There's more truth in that than you think,' Faithful snickered, making Thom glance at him, unnerved. He stored that statement away in his memory to ponder over on a rainy day.
Geoffery let out a low whistle and Douglass implored, "Wasn't it horrible to find out that whole time that your escort to all your balls was your sister?"
"Simply revolting," Thom responded but he couldn't help but grin to himself. It was rather horrible having to go all the balls with his sister, but he had known exactly what he was doing all along.
"Are you upset about her sentence?" Geoffery asked, eyebrows flyaways into his bangs.
Thom tried his hardest to look like someone who held the knowledge that his sister was going to be hung the next day at noon (about thirty-two hours away) and was trying to be strong and masculin by not crying or something that most would view as a 'sissy' act.
"I'm not very close to her," Thom barely kept from smiling as his voice came out broken and hoarse.
The ironic thing was how he knew that Alanna would never be hung. Already, preparations were being made to break the Lioness out of prison. And tonight; tonight they were going to break her out and send her along with the Shang Dragon, who was waiting for her in the outskirts of Corus as requested by Lincoln.
Douglass gulped and glanced at the clock fixed onto Alan's wall, "Great Mother! We missed breakfast and if we don't hurry we'll miss our Gift lessons too, Alan!"
"Not breakfast!" Geoffery cried out, jumping up, "Perhaps if I'm quick..."
He ran out of the room. The squire was not one who could last very long without a good three whole meals. Douglass sighed as he left, "Duke Gareth will have his hind for being late. And Duke Roger'll have ours if we don't hurry. Come along, Alan."
Thom gathered together his books and shoved them into his bag before following Douglass to Gift lessons. The two of them walked fast, arriving in the classroom just as clock struck seven. The whole class was already there, sitting attentively. As Thom and Douglass entered, everyone's eyes fell on the redhaired squire, watching his every move. Unfortunately, since they were late, the only seats that were left were at the very front of the class.
"Try to make haste next time, boys," Roger instructed, kindly, although Thom saw the ice in his eyes. It had been there ever since Alanna's arrest. The day that he had found out that he had been undermined by yet another Trebond. Although the Trebond saw no reason in him to be truely upset, he was still engaged to the royal Niece. Cobalt and him had arranged it all yesterday.
"Yes, Duke Roger," Douglass and Thom chorused like good squires.
"Now today we will be talking about similicrums. Can anyone tell me what a similicrum is?" the Conte Duke demanded, eyes searching the crowd.
No one raised their hand. Thom fought internally with his natural instinct which told him to answer the question and his reason side that told him not to attract attention to himself in Roger's class. Luckily for him, another boy raised his hand, ending his struggle.
"Yes, Sacherell?" the Duke of Conte nodded, putting his hands together behind his back. Though he ought to be looking at the student speaking, his gaze only found Alan of Trebond.
"A similicrum is like...another of someone you make with magic," the squire answered, his nose wrinkled in thought.
Roger laughed, politely, "Close, but not quite. A similicrum is better known as a clone of someone created by the way of the Gift. But do not mistake it with another you, for it is naught but an empty shell dressed up to look like you. It has no brain. It has no heart. It had barely stammer out ten words. Now, does anyone know what a similicrum might be used for?"
Another squire offered his ideas, "Maybe, in war, we could..."
Thom felt a searing pain in his head, as if something was slicing his brain from the inside out. As it came further and further out, he began to make it out. It was talk. Actual human talk.
'Alan. Poor Alan. You look so confused.'
The young sorcerror in training almost gasped, but that would only make him seem crazy. Instead, he tried his best to cope with the pain as more words came to him. Who could possibly be talking to him in his own mind?
'Can't you guess who it is? I'm right here. Standing near your desk.'
Thom froze, understanding. He glanced up and for a brief moment, caught Roger's eye. He instantly looked away, feeling a film of sweat rise on the back of his neck. The Conte Duke kept on presuming the action of listening to his students theories and correcting them as required. However, he also kept on sending messages to Thom.
'I'll be watching you like a hawk, Trebond. I know where you sleep and what you do when you think no one is watching. One step out of line and you'll be joining your sister at the gallows.'
Thom rubbed the corner of his forehead, the pain almost unbearable. But, when Roger's warning was over, the intensity of it lessened. Soon it was just a dull gnawing at his head. He decided the pain he could live with, but could he handle the fact that he was being spied on? And what could this mean for his part in Alanna's escape? Could he even have a part in her escape anymore without jeopardizing the entire situation?
"So, you see, Gary, Raoul and I have concluded that there most certainly are bandits conferencing in Fort Serlain," Jonathan explained, ending his short ramble.
The King and his councillors clapped, pleased with the heir to the throne for actually conducting such an indept research. Roald smiled as well, not being able to help but be proud that his little boy was suddenly to grown up. And what a fine King Roald thought he would make.
The council room was near freezing in the late winter in Tortall so most everyone there were wearing fur-lined cloaks except for Jon, Raoul and Gary who had chosen to dawn just simple velvet ones. However, one man was as alert in the chill as he would've been had the weather been lovely and warm.
"What would you suggest we do with this information, Your Highness?" Lord Provost asked, briskly. Most would have thought 'brisk' an impolite way to speak to the Crown Prince, but Lord Provost was brisk with about everyone he met whatever their rank, blood or upbringing.
Raoul cleared this throat, "If I may answer?-Jonathan nodded-Well, my Lord, we would like it very much if you would send knights, warriors, or even simple foot soldiers to Fort Serlain to infiltrate this conference of bandits. It would be a gold mine if it were successful. More than half of the most wanted criminals in the kingdom would be there and if this is all executed right, they could all be caught."
"Impressive," Duke Gareth nodded, rubbing his chin, "But when would we send out our troops?"
"Well," Gary looked hesistant, "The best time would be this afternoon, really."
The council howled with laughter. Gary blushed and even Jon went a little pink. Raoul, on the other hand, seemed to find not a funny thing in the matter. His jaw was set and his eyes were on fire.
"This afternoon?" Lord Tyrant, one of the traditionalists, gasped, "This afternoon? Mithros, it'd take at least a week for us to commission for all the neccessary supplies and money needed to buy equipment! Listen, young men, you have the hearts of dragons, but unfortunately the sense of a hyena. You let your emotions guide you, not your head. You hunt for glory."
"And justice!" Raoul cried, his cheeks red with rage, not with humiliation.
"I beg your pardon!" another councillor breathed in shock, dumbfounded that this Knight would talk back.
Raoul calmed himself but taking a deep breath. Behind him he heard Jon whisper, "Raoul, don't get yourself into trouble. Keep your head on your shoulders."
"I apologize if I may seem to be speaking out of my station, Your Graces, Your Majesty, but I must tell you the truth as I know it. Tortall has a rising level of bandits. These bandits are pillaging our villages and sucking our cities dry. Now, when we finally have them all in one place, you are so quick to let them all go! It frustrates me!-the Goldenlake Knight slammed his fist on the table for effect-I do not want to see more criminals go free. And frankly, that is exactly what you are doing. I beg you, send a group of Knights to Fort Serlain to cease this conference," Raoul bargained, then added, "And do not send Lord Issac and his Own. They, frankly, do about as much about bandits as my great aunt."
For a second, there was dead quiet. No one could quite believe this young man had actually dared to say what they all would not. He had actually declared the King's Own as nothing but a show piece in this own way. King Roald did not look displeased, more so surprised. Lord Provost actually smiled, "I say we decree every Knight in Corus to accompany Lord Raoul on his mission."
"But what of the costs?" Tyrant questioned, his eyes wide and his lips pursed with disapproval.
"I will shoulder the costs," Sir Myles offered, graciously, sneaking a wink at his former students.
Raoul, however, was asking questions about something else, "My mission? My Lord Provost, what do you mean?"
"Why, with the King's permission, I am assigning you Commander of this troop of Knights to Fort Serlain," Lord Provost grinned, clasping his wrinkled hands together.
"My Lord, I cannot-," Raoul started but was caught across.
"I think that is a capital idea. I shall have my nephew, Sir Gareth accompany you," King Roald approved, "You will do good in this, Knight of Goldenlake. May the Gods bless your journey."
The three young Knights bowed and rose. Raoul and Gary stayed behind in the council room, making preparations for their leave this afternoon. Jonathan beamed as he headed out the stone door into the dimly lit hallway. He had come, done, and left, just as he'd wanted to. While saving Tortall from bandits was a noble cause, the real reason the Crown Prince had been so admant to sent all the Palace Knights away to Fort Serlain was that tonight was the night that Jon and his friends had planned to break Alanna out of prison. It felt good to know that while he couldn't physically be there, he had helped get every single Knight, save for about ten out of the Palace and out of the Lady Squire's hair. In a few moments, his happiness disolved. He was still not quite pleased with the turn of events. His squire was running away and he would never see her again, that's what would happen. In fact, he hadn't seen her since her mini-trial.
Turning the corner, he stopped and stiffened. The strangest idea had just struck him. Why were they sending Alanna away when she could just as easily stay here? Great Mother Goddess, the answer was right under his nose all along! Alanna and Thom would switch places, then Thom would break out of prison and finally make his return to the City of Gods and Alanna would go back to being Alan of Trebond. Why! It was his best idea, even if he did think it himself!
Almost running now, he went off to find Thom. He didn't have to look far, Alanna's twin brother was just dismissed for lunch and was heading up to his rooms to find the Prince. He looked awfully tired and kept grabbing his head, as he had a massive migraine.
"Thom!" Jon yelped, seeing him and getting excited. His plan was foolproof.
"Please, don't yell," the young mage moaned, "I have the worst-"
"I need to tell you something in our rooms," Jonathan cut across him, dragging him into his chambers.
Thom followed, groggily, and dumped all his belongings on the heir's tabletop. Jon opened his mouth to speak and reveal his master plan when Thom shushed him. He eyed the room, suddenly suspicious. He gathered his Gift and flooded the area with it, seemlingly searching for something. He did this for about three minutes when, out of no where, he exploded a ball of orange with his Gift.
"By the Black God!" Jonathan shouted, incredulous of the ball till now, "What in the world was that?"
"Spy ball," Thom mumbled, "It's a rather sneaky magical trick when hidden right. Now that that is destroyed we may talk."
"Right," the Lioness' Knightmaster eyed the corner where the ball had been hidden, "Well, I've got a plan to save Alanna."
"We already have a plan to save Alanna," Thom arched an eyebrow.
"No, in this one she doesn't have to leave," Jonathan clarified, "She just needs to break out of prison and switch places with you. Then you can be Thom of Trebond again and return to the City of the Gods and Alanna can be Squire Alan and no one is the wiser."
"It sounds like a good plan...," Thom began, collasping on Jon's bed.
"I knew you would agree," The Crown Prince's face split into a broad smile.
"...in theory. In action, it won't work at all," the mage interjected, frowning sternly.
"And why not?" Jonathan demanded, scowling with annoyance. He didn't like it very much when people disagreed with him.
"Well, for a while it may work. But when Alanna is knighted, she'll have to reveal herself eventually. And when she does, she'll be convicted. I don't know if you realize it, but her Ordeal is only about a year away. She'll still be a wanted felon by then. They'll imprison her before she can live out her dreams of adventure. Or, she could just not reveal herself and go on her whole life as a man," Thom wrinkled his nose in distaste, "I don't see that happening. Someone will find out sometime. And Alanna couldn't go on lying forever. And, lastly, I cannot trade places with her because I am being 'watched like a hawk' as I've been told."
"But-," Jonathan protested, then shut his mouth. What was there to say? He was royally troubled.
"You know what will be the best thing for us to do?" Thom inquired, gesturing for the Crown Prince to sit beside him.
"What?" Jon implored, eyes glazing over a bit as he plomped down on the bed beside Alanna's twin.
"As we were instructed. Sit in our rooms and act as if nothing is up. As if nothing is wrong," Thom replied.
"Tanner?"
"Right 'ere, Yer Majesty."
"No Nose Jack?"
"Over 'ere."
"Helios?"
"My Lord."
"Well, that's everyone," George noted and nodded, happily, scanning the scene of the Dancing Dove.
Even for the court of the Rogue, it was a sight unseen. Every single thief in Corus had been called forth, armed with daggers and speciality Yamani glaives lended to them from Lincoln, and were currently being instructed on their stations. Most of them did not even truely understand why they had been summoned until yesterday. Upon hearing George's lucrid idea about sneaking past the Palace gates just to save one unknown lass from the headman's axe. But, though near everyone thought they wouldn't survive this prison break mission, they all stayed for loyalty to their true King.
"Helios, you'll be into th'Palace wif Tanner, Jaws, n' Damion, alright?" George told a group of men who were dressed in white suits of the King's Own thanks to a little ingenuity on Jon, Abigail and Lincoln's behalf.
"Yes, Yer Majesty," Helios gave a mock bow, grinning.
"An' don' even think of stealin' nuthin'!" the Rogue symballed in, knowing his friend too well.
Helios grumbled but did not retort. George went on to 'hawk eye', "Hawk eye, yeh'll be leadin' a third of th'men around th'west side of th'Palace by Crow's Peak, Quinn to th'east side with your men, alright? An' Fred'll be takin' th'other third through to th'forest an' keeping watch. Th'rest of y'll have th'pleasure of infiltratin' th'prison with me."
"We're gunna die," one of the youngest thieves choked out, his face pale, "If not th'King's Own, then th'other knights 'bout will slaughter us come they slaughter cattle!"
"Didn'ya 'ear His Majesty?" Tanner demanded, one of the more patriotic of the lot, "He told us he's got some things arranged up at th'Palace."
Just then a knock came at the door of the Dove. All rumbling of chatter that had been growing steadily was instantly snuffed. 'Hawk eye' looked to George and the King of Thieves nodded, permitting him to let the visitor in. Lincoln, cloaked in pitch black, stepped over the threshold. He pulled back his hood, letting his shaggy black hair loose on his shoulders. Though he was far from the most scarred in the room, no one looked fiercer than him and his scar.
"This is quite the army you've gathered together, George," the royal Nephew nodded, appreciatively, "Ever thought of starting a rebellion and making yourself the real King of Tortall?"
"An' have t'sign papers an' discipline all my life? I think not," George smiled with pearly whites gleaming, "So, what are y'doin' 'ere? Yer supposed t'be up at th'Palace actin' as if everythin' is normal."
"And miss the fight?" Lincoln raised a skeptical eyebrow, "Because there will be a fight. Even after Jonathan's gotten those wretched Knights out of the way, there are a few left and all the body of squires. I've seen them at duelling practice and they're a talented lot."
"We dun need ya. We have just th'right number o'men," the Rogue replied, shrugging, knowing it was a messy business to get royalty involved in an infiltration of the Palace.
"How about if one of your men were to fall ill?" the determined Conte asked, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Then we'd take yeh. But let me say that my men are not known t'miss out on a battle cause of a simple sickness," George responded, not at all expecting what was going to happen next, although later he decided he should've.
Lincoln nodded, "Alright then."
Unfolding his arms, he instantly punched the person nearest to him, Fred. The thief screamed, clutching his bleeding nose.
"He seems ill, does he not? I'm afraid I'll have to take his place," Lincoln sighed, his grin apparent.
"I shoulda seen that comin'," George shook his head, not helping but being impressed by this man even if he was noble, "Alright. This means you can lead Fred's boys into th'forest t'keep watch."
"Fabulous," the Scanran Conte remarked, his pleasure obvious.
"Right, men. Off we go. March swift an' quiet. We want t'get in an'out before those stinkin' nobles even realize what's happened to 'em!" George hollered and the men cheered in turn, then the thief King added in hushed tones, "Sorry 'bout th'insult. But upsettin' nobles is a real motivation for 'em."
"Hmm," Lincoln noted, having a feeling that might possibly come in useful some day.
The men gathered in rows and streamed out of the Dancing Dove, looking like haunting spirals of cloaks from a bird's eye point of view. They took few horses, knowing that steads often made noise and were needed to be stored somewhere when not used. Anyway, running as fast as a stallion was a quality most thieves had. George and Lincoln, however, rode atop two twin auburn mares, staring ahead at the hill not too far in the distance. The lights in the window of the Palace shone, brightly, against the ebony night.
They encountered nobody on the path to the Palace save for a single cloaked rider who practically blended in with the night. He rode rapidly, rushing into the city from the outskirts. George and Lincoln watched him go, weary.
"Where do you suppose he's off to?" Lincoln inquired, shooting a sidelong glance at the Rogue.
"Who knows? How 'bout we save that'un fer another day when we ain't tryin' t'rescue 'Lanna," George offered, feeling a change in the air.
"Did y'see 'ow he took down Fred?" one of George's men whispered to the other.
"Lucky shot. What c'n a pretty noble boy do anyways?" the other smirked, sounding haughty.
"I can very well punch your face in too, that's what I can do," Lincoln spun around on his horse and warned, the moonlight falling onto his face and illuminating his scar. Instantly, the thieves were put to silence.
"Twasn't very nice of y'to knock out my best man an'threaten another," George commented after a while, they were almost at the Palace by now.
"What can I say? I like to punch," Lincoln's grin was devilish.
"Roger?"
The Duke of Conte looked up from his paper work. Delia of Eldorne was lying, comfortably, on his fur-lined bed, propping herself on her right elbow. She was possibly the most beautiful woman in all of Tortall and yet all he saw when he looked at her was a tool. A tool that was extremely easy to manipulate.
"What is it?" he snapped, his whole being tired from making arrangements for Alanna of Trebond's beheading tomorrow.
"Now that Alanna is out of the way, I thought that instead of you marrying Abigail of Conte, you could just marry me," Delia started, her voice hopeful, wishful.
"I'm sticking to my original plan, I told you that," the Conte Duke replied, irritably, "And if you don't like it, as you well know, you are free to leave."
"NO! No...that's not what I meant at all," Delia breathed, panicking. He smiled. She was just like a trained dog. "I meant-oh poppycock what I meant. All that matters is that I have you now."
With that she got up from bed and joined him at his desk. He let her kiss him for a few moments. After all, he couldn't abuse her to the point where she might leave him with no thought of returning. He had need of her yet. Breaking away, he said, "I think you ought to return to your chambers now."
"What?" she blinked, "I was actually hoping that I could stay here tonight."
"I don't think that's appropriate, do you?" Roger stretched his neck, trying to avoid her gaze.
She looked like she wanted to spit back but didn't. Shaking her head, slightly, she left the room. The door was closed a little bit louder than usual, but Roger was not perturbed. He and Delia had miniature spats all the time but that didn't mean that they stopped always ending up together again. In a strange sort of way he needed each other. He needed to be another step on his stairway to the throne and she needed him to love her.
Rising from the chair, Roger went to the window to practice exercising his Gift. First, he would shoot little his magic out in orange stones, shattering his window. Then, using his Gift once again, he would repair it to good as new.
Down below, in the courtyard outside of the Duke of Conte's windows, the group of thieves being led by Quinn Ferrence were stretching their bodies against the wall, trying to prevent themselves from being seen. The east side of the Palace was probably one of the most dangerous because it was here that most of the noble's windows faced. Including Roger, although Quinn and the boys didn't know that.
"Mithros, it's cold!" Toby, the newest member of the court of the Rogue, whimpered.
"Shut yer mouth!" Quinn whispered, harshly.
Toby flushed, reprimanded. Since he was the newest member, he was also the least experienced. He fumbled rather often, unfortunately, and many grumbled about him. In fact, he was getting nicknamed Toby the Tumbler for being so damned clumsy.
"Now, on th'count o'three, we run north to th'eastern stables where we'll be hidden an' on watch. Ready? One, two, three!" Quinn cried as above them Roger's window stimutaneously broke. In their surprise at the sound, Quinn's men ran even faster, proud of themselves for not scattering like chickens. Or at least most of them could be proud. Unfortunately, Toby the Tumbler had been terrified out of his skin and ran any which way.
"I said north not east you fool!" Quinn slapped a hand to his forehead in frustration.
Embarrassed, Toby quickly followed these new instructions. However, that didn't stop Roger from seeing him. The Conte Duke didn't see any of the rest of them but one man was enough to make him suspicious. The young man had not been dressed as a royal Knight, a member of the Own or even a recruited soldier of simpleton blood. Who could he have been?
Roger decided to go pay a late night visit to Alanna of Trebond.
Alanna of Trebond lied down on the cold stone floor that had been her bed for the past two nights and counting. She couldn't stop her teeth from clattering. It was a frigid night and the sun had not shone all day. Cupping her hands in to her mouth, she breathed into them as a last attempt to warm them. She finally stopped. What was the point? The Lioness was going to die and she had accepted it.
At first, she was sure that possibly Jonathan or George or even Thom would come to rescue her, but nothing had been done thus far and nothing probably would be. She had about thirteen hours of life to go. The only option to live was the crazy idea to fight her guardsmen as soon as they opened the gate to take her to Traitor's Hill to be beheaded.
The worst part of it all was not even dying. It was the fact that she hadn't even been given the chance to truely live.
Tomorrow she'd die with never having been a Knight, never having had adventures, never having loved or at least never having told the one whom she loved just how much she cared. Tomorrow she'd die an empty shell.
'I'm not going to cry,' she told herself, 'I'm not going to cry in the face of death. I'm going to die smiling and brave as a Knight would.'
Upon hearing a creak, Alanna sat bolt upright in her 'bed.' She had no idea as to who could be coming to see her. No one was allowed to unless...Great Mother Goddess! It was the executioner come to take her away! They wanted to kill her before they should so that they wouldn't have to deal with a whole big scene. Standing, she flexed her arms and legs. One last wrestle wouldn't hurt. However her stretching quickly turned to running as she rushed to the bars of her cell, staring at George and about five of his men in awe.
"George!" the Lady Squire gasped, her lips blue from the icy temperature.
"Alanna, y'look fit t'freeze fire!" George gave a low whistle.
Alanna managed to smile, "What are you doing here?"
"We've come t'rescue you. What else?" George grinned, dangling keys in front of her nose which stuck through between bars.
"George...I should've known not to doubt you. I should've known you would come," the Lioness felt like she was going to break into sobs she was so happy.
"Ain't just me. Jon, Thom, Lincoln, Abigail an' Winfred 'elped too," George clarified, going through keys finding the right one. The Crown Prince had said it would be the smallest, bronze one, "Twas really a team effort..."
"Yes, yes, get me out of here!" Alanna spluttered out, getting impatient with his calm demeanour. She felt as if Roger could burst in on them at any moment.
"Alright, hold yer horses," George replied, sticking the smallest, bronze key into the keyhole and turning it.
Immediately the door to Alanna's prison cell came open. The Lioness stepped out of cage, free once again. With a single cry of "Oh George!" she threw herself into his arms, hugging him for all that mattered.
"We were worried 'bout you," George murmured into her hair, blinking away the tears in his eyes. His men stood around, watching awkwardly, "Especially Jon. He really doesn't want t'send y'away to th'Shang."
"The Shang?" the Trebond blanched, reeling back a bit, "Send me away?"
"It's th'only way," George muttered, now unable to hold back some of his tears. One or two seeped down his cheek, "Yeh'll be leavin' tonight."
"But what about Jon? And my brother? I want to say good-bye at the very least!" Alanna's cheeks went red, "How could I just leave? How could-?"
"If you don't mind me asking; how could you think you would even be escaping at all?" Roger questioned, standing at the bottom of the stairwell that led down into the dungeons with two knights flanking his left and right.
Author's Note: Cliffie! I think the story will be over all two more chapters after this one. So up to twenty-four. That's a lot for me. It'll be my second longest story by chapters but my first longest my word-count by far. This one is over 130 000 words and the only thing that even comes close is only 93 223 words. So wow, good on me! This story also has my longest chapters. Anyways, I hope you review because it means so much to me.
winky-wink
Review&enjoythelove.