Chapter 19
Chance was an orphan, as he had said. But he wasn’t originally from Iridalys. Five years ago, he was a spy for Navinor during the first war. He was poor, and it offered some food, though not nearly enough. But Chance didn’t mind eating scraps; he was used to starving on the street.
However, Chance was a realist. He saw the difference in the fighting abilities between Navinor and Iridalys on a daily basis. He saw how the Navinorian leaders ignored his intelligence and made decisions primarily based on hubris. Chance decided Navinor was going to lose the war. There was no point in fighting anymore. So one day, after being told to infiltrate Iridalys once more, Chance decided he would simply slip away and avoid the war altogether.
There was no moon that night, and Chance had to choose his steps carefully so he didn’t fall. But the crickets chirping around him felt welcoming and soothing somehow, especially when he compared them to the awful clanging noise of weapons that usually rang in his dreams all night. Once he was sure he was far enough away from the camp where he’d received his orders, he even hummed softly to himself. Something about the gentle night breeze and the fireflies buzzing around was so warm and inviting that he finally stopped in his tracks and looked up at the stars in silence.
That was when Chance heard the sound. It was so distant that it took him a full minute to realize what it was: a strange, desperate wail. Chance supposed it was a wild animal, and he instinctively reached for his dagger. But he paused, frowning when the wail dropped off into a harsh sob. “What the-” He crept carefully through the trees towards the noise, wondering all the while why he didn’t walk away from it instead. Perhaps it was because that awful noise stirred some memory that had been buried deep at the back of his brain for years.
Chance came to a little clearing and stopped short, staring in surprise. He had come upon a young man only a few years younger than himself. The young man seemed to be wounded; one side of his face and head was covered in blood, as were his hands. But he was just kneeling there on the forest floor, letting out those horrible, keening wails and intermittent sobs.
Everything in Chance’s body told him to walk away. The person he was looking at seemed like a wounded animal: in agony, and potentially dangerous. But at the same time, Chance didn’t want to turn away. He guessed that the lad was a wounded civilian who had gotten caught in the crossfire of the battles earlier in the day. That assumption seemed to be confirmed by the boy’s ragged cloak and lack of weapons. And if that was the case, Chance felt obligated to help just one of the many people the war had harmed.
He hesitantly stepped a little closer to the young man. “Hello?” he began.
The boy whirled on him and then scrambled backwards, seemingly terrified. “Get away!” he shouted.
“I’m not going to hurt you.” Chance held up his hands as he slowly knelt down so their faces were level. “I just want to talk. And you’re hurt. Just let me-”
“Why would I want help from one of you Navinorian monsters?” The boy snatched up a rock that was half-buried by leaves and raised it threateningly. “Don’t come any closer!” His face was streaked with tears and blood, and his hand shook violently.
Chance sighed. “Let me help you. You look awful.” He glanced down and noticed that one of the boy’s legs had a deep wound and was covered in blood. “You’re going to die if you don’t let me help.”
The boy dropped the rock and covered his face with his hands. “I don’t care,” he mumbled, choking back another sob.
“Take it easy, kid.” The boy was only about 17, and Chance felt it was a friendly term that would put him at ease. Chance approached very slowly and cautiously pulled his hands down from his face so he could assess the damage and get a better look at the boy, but the light was too dim. “Kid, let’s get you away from here. Navinor’s army isn’t far away, and if they find you, there’s no telling what’ll happen.”
The young man suddenly seemed to fall into a daze as Chance pulled him to his feet and helped him limp away. Maybe the blood loss was too much for him, Chance thought.
Chance brought him to a little hollow about a mile away and made a very small fire. As he stirred it up, he glanced over at the still form and sighed. The young man had lost consciousness and was murmuring feverishly. He was very pale, and a bad cut over his left eye made Chance think he might lose his sight entirely on that side.
Once Chance had cleaned up the blood, he noticed that the boy had several shallow slashes on his hands and arms. It looked like he had been attacked with a knife and had desperately warded off every attack, only to be slashed in the face and stabbed in the leg. But the cut on his eye was not as severe as it had looked at first. Chance bound up his wounds with strips of his cloak, telling the cloak magnanimously, “You did well. Now rest in peace.”
Then he sat by the boy to wait for him to wake up.
It was early morning, and the birds were singing loudly when the boy finally opened his good eye and looked around, seemingly bewildered to find himself lying next to a dying fire in a quiet hollow.
Chance heard a calm, intelligent voice say, “Who are you?”
He glanced up from where he was frying up a few eggs he’d looted from a nearby nest and remarked, “You look a lot better than you did last night. I’m Chance, your friendly deserter. Do you remember anything that happened?”
The boy sat up slowly and looked down at his bandaged hands. “I…don’t recall…” He pressed a hand to his head with a distraught look. “Was I…injured?”
“I should say. You’d have died if I didn’t come upon you.” Chance was fascinated by how different the young man seemed from the night before. He wasn’t crying or upset. In fact, he seemed perfectly normal.
He said, “From your uniform, I gather you deserted from Navinor forces.”
“Right. The cooking was bad and the sleeping arrangements were even worse, so I’m looking for a better employer,” Chance explained. “Know anyone who’s hiring?”
The boy smiled. “I don’t know about that. Tell me, when you found me, what was I…doing?”
“Having hysterics,” Chance replied bluntly. “Don’t worry, though; we all have them from time to time. Sometimes you’ve just got to let it out.” He handed him a slightly charred egg wrapped in a leaf. “Eat up. That’s the best I’ve got for breakfast. What’s your name, by the way?”
The boy considered for a moment and then replied, “Liam.”
“Liam, huh? Nice to meet you, kid.” Chance glanced over at him. “You’re a tough guy, aren’t you? You lost way too much blood to be as steady as you are.”
“Liam” shrugged. “Guess I’m not easy to kill,” he muttered. A strange darkness seemed to drop over him like a cloud, and he turned his head away. “How bad is my eye? Is it…gone?”
“No, it’s still there. You’ll be as handsome as ever soon; it’s a shallow cut,” Chance said cheerfully. He paused. “Who did all that to you? It seemed like it must have been someone you knew.”
Liam started violently. “What do you mean? How do you…know that?”
“Well, they didn’t really want to kill you, or they were really bad at knife fighting.” Chance gestured to the wounded man’s bandaged hands. “The cuts are all pretty shallow, except the one in your leg.”
Liam was silent for a moment. At last he said, “I was betrayed.”
“Thought so. Which side are you on, though? You’re dressed like an everyday fellow, but you talk like some nobleman.” Chance wolfed down his egg and dusted the charcoal off of his hands.
Liam was silent for a long moment. At last he said, “I was with the army of Iridalys. I had troops to lead. But I ran away.”
“Hm. Well, I’m not one to talk since I ran away too, but don’t you think your troops might need you?” Chance asked gently. “Maybe you should go back. They’ll probably accept you if you hurry up about it and tell ‘em you got lost or something.”
Liam shook his head. “They want me dead.” His tone hardened. “Even my family wants me dead. That’s why they sent me here.” He put his head in his hands.
“Uh…well, now we’re getting deep.” Chance considered the statement and cocked his head. “Why do you think your family wants you dead? Not trying to say you’re paranoid, but it does sound rather extreme.”
“My uncle told me that they’re training my sister to take my place. My father insisted I be on the front lines, even though my position as a…nobleman’s son would have given me adequate protection to stay as a commander in the tents. What am I supposed to think?” Liam demanded.
Chance thought about that. Then he stood up and kicked dirt on the fire to put it out. A little billow of smoke floated up towards the sky. “I can’t tell you what to think. But if it were me personally, I’d stick it to them by doing my best to live through it. If they want you dead, stay alive. Become a war hero or something. Then no one will have anything to say against you.” Chance flopped back down and looked up at the sky. “I don’t have that kind of opportunity ’cause I’m just a lazy bum who can’t keep a job. But you’re not like that.”
Liam was silent. At last he said, “I have no one I can trust.”
“Well, that’s your first mistake, then. You’ve got to pull people around you that care about you; people you know would give their lives for you.” Chance glanced over at him and grinned. “Then they’ll stand by you when things get tough. At least, so I’ve heard.”
“If only it was that simple.” Liam stood up painfully. “But you’re right about one thing. I may as well go back. I have nowhere to go and no one to get home to. All I can do is fight.”
“Will you be okay? You seem better now, but last night it was like you were losing your mind.”
“I’m not crazy!” Liam’s face had whitened with anger. “How dare you-“
“I’m not saying you’re crazy. But you don’t even remember, do you? You were crying and screaming when I found you. Like you were…broken.” Chance shrugged. “Not that it’s any of my business, but-“
He stopped short. Liam frowned. “What are you-“
Chance held up a hand to stop him. “Someone’s coming,” he whispered. “It’s probably my side, since we’re behind their lines. They’ll kill us both if they find us here. Come on!”
Liam tried to stumble after him, but fell to his knees. “Wait, I can’t keep up!” He panted.
“Oh, for the love of-” Chance glanced anxiously over his shoulder. He could hear voices, but as yet, he couldn’t make out any words. “Sorry, kid; I can’t wait for you!”
With that, he darted away. But he made the mistake of looking back.
Liam was still kneeling there, watching him go with a grim, bitter expression on his face. Something about that look, which was old far beyond his years, made Chance flinch. He stopped short.
Grumbling, he went right back to the smaller boy and pulled him to his feet, supporting his weight. “We’re both going to get caught,” he grumbled.
Liam stared at him in silence, seemingly trying to process what had happened.
Then a voice shouted behind them, “Stop right there!” One look showed Chance that a refusal to stop would mean half a dozen crossbow bolts in the back. He cursed and stopped, calling, “Don’t shoot; we’re unarmed!”
Liam had recognized the accent of the newcomers, however. To Chance’s astonishment, the younger man shouted authoritatively, “Attention!”
The Iridalian soldiers, for that was what they were, instantly complied. “Your highness!” The sergeant leading them stammered.
Chance instinctively released “Liam” and backed away. For perhaps the first time in his life, he was completely speechless.
Prince Illian stood as tall as he could as the sergeant stammered, “Are you all right, sir? You’ve been gone…we thought you were dead.”
“As you can see, I am not,” Illian said icily. “However, I require proper medical treatment.” He paused and glanced over at Chance, who had turned pale and was staring at him in blank disbelief.
A hundred thoughts coursed through his head. The first one was, “I’m going to die.” But on the other hand, he’d saved the prince’s life. Maybe this was an opportunity.
But then cold, hard reality hit him. He’d seen the prince having a mental breakdown. To protect his position, Illian would have to kill anyone who had that kind of knowledge about his weaknesses. And he could see it in the prince’s eyes: his life was hanging in the balance.
The sergeant said, “What about this…deserter, my lord?” The soldiers instinctively drew a little closer. Chance could feel his heart pounding in his chest as he waited for the answer.
Illian said coldly, “Put him under arrest. I want him in isolation. No one is to speak to him.”
“My lord, wait!” Chance began desperately. But they were already grabbing him and wrestling him to the ground. “Blast it, wait a second! Your highness-“
“And keep him quiet while you’re at it,” Illian snapped.
He turned and walked away, shutting out the protests and pleas that were quickly silenced.
The situation was bad, but in theory it could have been worse, Chance reflected. He could already be dead.
As it was, he was simply gagged and tied to a chair in an empty tent. The cords were too tight for him to move more than a centimeter in any given direction. He had been trying for two hours to work them loose with no success, and his wrists were raw and bleeding.
Well, that should teach him to save random crazy people, he decided. Absolutely no good could come from it.
As if to prove his words, the tent flap opened and the young prince, now dressed in his full armor, entered the tent. His face was regal even with the patch that covered his injured eye, and his other eye stared at Chance with a calculating, pitiless expression the prisoner found to be most unpleasant.
Illian removed Chance’s gag. “Let’s talk,” the prince said quietly.
Chance’s mouth was too dry to respond, so he merely nodded.
Illian stood there looking at him for a minute. At last he said, “You saved my life. And even when it could have cost you your own, you went back for me. I can’t disregard that.”
Chance swallowed hard and managed to say, “Well, that’s fantastic. So why am I tied up?”
“Well, put yourself in my shoes for a moment. You hold no further value to me. A poor foot soldier such as yourself can offer little by way of information. And it’s not as though you have ties that would make you a useful hostage, based on what you told me. I have no reason to let you live, especially given the fact that what you saw last night must never be whispered around. So tell me, what do I gain from letting you live?”
Chance hesitated, racking his brain for a response. Finally he gave a grim smile and said, “Well, I can’t think of a good reason. So how about you let me live because I’m such a friendly fellow? And you owe me.”
Illian studied him. Then he drew his sword. Chance flinched and instinctively shrank away. He struggled against the cords as Illian stepped forward slowly. “Wait! I can come up with a better reason!”
He closed his eyes as the sword came towards him. But then he felt the pain in his wrists ease suddenly as the sharp blade sliced through the cord. He opened one eye and peered nervously at the prince, who was coolly cutting the rest of his bonds. “So you’re not going to kill me, your highness?” he managed.
Illian said, “As I told you, I’m alone. I have no one I can trust. I began to think, perhaps you can be an asset to me, if in no other way, simply as…a friend.”
This fellow is crazy, Chance decided, but wisely refrained from saying the words out loud. “A friend?” he remarked. “Not that I don’t want to be your friend, your highness, but I’m a little worried you won’t find me trustworthy.”
“I think gaining trust and friendship is fairly simple.” Illian glanced at him. “You said I owe you. I agree. What do you want?”
“Excuse me?” Chance’s brain was reeling as he tried to keep up with everything that was happening. “What do I…want?”
“Yes. I am a prince. I have ways of getting you whatever you want.” Illian looked down at him calmly.
Chance instantly thought of the one thing he wanted more than anything else; the one thing that had always seemed utterly unattainable to him as well. He said, “My lord, what I would ask for will be a bit too much. Especially when our ‘friendship’ is still so…tenuous, you might say.”
“Not at all. Ask for it.”
Illian’s eyes bored into his, and Chance squirmed uncomfortably. At last he lowered his head and said quietly, “My lord, I once had a sister. As far as I know, she was sold to a slave trader when she was just seven years old. She would be around 10 now. I want to find her, but I know it would be nearly impossible-”
“I’ll see to it that she’s found and returned to you,” Illian interrupted. “If she’s living, that is. And if she’s not, I’ll have the ones responsible for her death tortured to death.” He smiled, which was a bit chilling given his brutal words. “In the meantime, come and eat something.”
“Wha-are you serious? You think you can find her?” Chance struggled to his feet, rubbing his hands to get the circulation back as he said distractedly, “It was so long ago; I’m sure it’s impossible. How will you-”
“I said I would find her.” Illian cocked his head. “You can trust me, Chance. You saved my life. I admit I wasn’t sure what to do with you at first, but I know now.” He put a hand on the older man’s shoulder. “Allies, you said. I intend to have someone, anyone to stand by me when I return home. And I’ll do whatever it takes.” He paused. “By the way. If you could keep quiet about what happened that night…”
“Sure, of course,” Chance said hastily. After all, he wasn’t sure how much it would take for that still-unsheathed sword to aim at his throat. “I won’t tell anyone; I swear.”
“Good. Then let’s dine together.” Chance stumbled after him, feeling bewildered and just very glad to be alive.
“In the end, he did find my sister,” Chance told Kathryn quietly. “She’d gone through hell, and she was mute and had a lot of other…issues. So he let her stay at the castle and hired someone to look after her for me. And he gave me the dagger one day, saying that he wanted me to have it as his…friend. I did some work for him here and there, mostly sneaking into Navinorian territory as a spy. But for the most part, I simply worked around the castle as unobtrusively as possible. Hence why you never noticed me, miss Kathryn,” Chance finished with a smile.
Kathryn was silent for a while. At last she said, “So that’s what happened.”
“Yes. Illian would be very upset if he knew I told you, though.” Chance leaned back in his chair with a sigh. “But what could I do? It seems you’re too smart for either of us. Now tell me your little secret, Miss Kathryn. What are you planning next?”
Kathryn shook her head to clear it from the visual of her brother screaming and crying alone in some deserted forest and replied quickly, “I’m going to Tephraya. I have allies there who may be able to support me for the time being and protect me from Navinor.”
Chance frowned. “But that won’t work,” he said before he could stop himself.
Kathryn was disturbed. He didn’t seem to be lying; if anything, he seemed annoyed that he’d said it out loud. “What do you mean?” she demanded. “Why not?”
“Well…Miss Kathryn…the Wasteland Crossing treaty will have been revoked by now,” Chance admitted. Kathryn’s eyes widened and her heart pounded as he went on, “It was always Illian’s plan. And that means any allies you may have had there are now most likely your mortal enemies.”
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