The Gold in the Dark

Chapter Thirty-Six

Even in the shifting shadows, Thurie saw the man clearly now for who he was. Yes, a creative use of cosmetics could shape that flat, plain countenance into a different face altogether. A clever ploy to fill a kingdom with fear and convince it for good of its one true enemy—all accomplished only at the expense of some innocent dancers.

"Run!" his father barked as the guard—Arik—advanced. Thurie shrank behind him. No, his father couldn't really be suggesting—

"WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?!" Dunna shouted. "RUN, THURIE!" Dunna stood his ground as Arik came forward with his sword at the ready. He kept his arms outspread, a clear signal for his son to stay back.

Thurie cast a desperate look between his father and the way back to the courtyard. He couldn't leave him. They had to go together. But Thurie saw the guard's muscles rippling beneath his shirt and breeches, the nimble way he moved. This man was poised as a leopard ready to strike, and his father—well, it had been years since Dunna had last trained with the city guard.

In a split second, Thurie ran through all the options, crossing each one off the list.

Together, there was no outrunning this honed weapon of a man.

A man with useless, wooden hands had no hope of winning this fight.

But such a man could offer others a few precious seconds to escape.

Thurie felt a wrenching pain in his heart as he looked at his father standing tall, proud, and helpless before the guard. He memorized his father's silhouette, and then with a sob he turned away.

~

Tia surged up from her chair as the king's words bounced around the room, her crutch clattering from her lap onto the ground. She gasped in pain as she shifted too much of her weight onto her injured ankle, and her knee buckled. Natlin grabbed her arm just as Tia began to fall, hauling her back up to standing.

Meanwhile, the royal guard seemed unconcerned with Tia, Natlin, and the boy. To a trained warrior, cutting them down would be like swatting at flies. He concentrated first on Dunna Jore, moving towards him like a cat stalking a mouse. Tia's heart sank as she registered that Dunna wasn't holding a weapon.

This was to be a slaughter.

"WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?!" Dunna roared. "RUN, THURIE!"

His shout jolted them to action. "Lean on me!" Natlin said as she gripped Tia's right arm; there was no time to grab the crutch. At an awkward, hopping jog, they fled back in the direction of the courtyard, as if playing a sick version of a children's sack race.

Had Dunna already been slain? As they hobbled their way away from the throne room, Tia didn't look back. If she were about to die, each further step was a gift, each extra second one more heartbeat spent in this mortal world. She would rather cross over into death facing possibility than have her last moment be spent staring at the wrong side of a sword.

Death did not come.

Step by step they crossed the room. Though each step was an eternity at their hobbled pace, it took them less than thirty seconds to get to the end of the throne room.

Tia hadn't dared look behind her.

What she hadn't been counting on was what lay before them as they turned the corner. Ten royal guards funneled through the courtyard door on the opposite wall. They pointed and yelled at Natlin and Tia, barreling straight towards them with swords drawn. Her legs turned to lead and the blood in her veins to ice.

~

Dunna didn't need to look back to check that Thurie had run; the sound of quick, disappearing footsteps behind him was enough reassurance. From his peripheral vision he registered that the Inkman girls, too, had fled. A rush of relief flooded his body.