Chapter Text
“I know what you did,” Callum said.
So often in his life, Callum had been unable to find his voice. He stumbled as clumsily over the important moments of his life as he did over the sparring ring. He was always either without the words to articulate his thoughts… or without the bravery to let them loose when he did have them. He knew his words were always too ignorant, too harsh, too arrogant, or too out-of-line for the likes of him.
Callum knew he wasn’t a real prince. He knew he didn’t belong here. People talked like he didn’t, but he did. He knew he didn’t deserve any of this and he never stopped knowing it.
How could he? No one would ever let him forget it. Even if they weren’t saying it outright to his face, then he could still always see it clearly in theirs. Oh, that’s Callum, said their disdainful expressions, the one that’s not like the others. The thing that doesn’t belong.
Lord Viren was one of the worst for this, even when he was being polite. The man was so sleek, so well-spoken, and so greatly accomplished, and Callum knew Viren’s accomplished children and the king held his High Mage in higher esteem. Callum always felt so lacking next to Viren and that made it all so much worse when he only saw dismissal in the man’s gaze for King Harrow’s adopted son.
Lord Viren was making no pretence at politeness now, as he towered over Callum, frowning like Callum was some worthless bug that Viren wanted nothing more than to crush under his heel.
And yet now, somehow against all odds, Callum’s voice didn’t desert him. The words were sure. They spilled out with all the strength clenched in Callum’s fists, freely loud and harsh in this darkened hallway before the king’s doors.
“You stole the egg of the Dragon Prince,” Callum continued vehemently. He lifted his chin with the victory of his next words. “We found it, and we’re keeping it safe.”
From you.
Now my father doesn’t have to die.
Callum’s heart was pounding in his chest, because really, how dare Viren? How dare he? The only reason the Moonshadow elves were coming for the king was because of the death of the Dragon King and the Dragon Prince! It was why they were fighting this terrible war, wasn’t it? And the tool for peace had been in Viren’s hands all along? How dare he?
Yet in the face of Callum’s fury, Lord Viren’s frowning expression had turned almost placid… unimpressed… like he simply didn’t know what this silly boy was talking about. He even drew his head back slightly, as though avoiding spittle or the smell of Callum’s breath.
“‘We’?” Lord Viren repeated.
“The king will have you in shackles when he finds out about this!” Callum pushed.
Callum’s stepfather would be furious with the High Mage! Callum was certain of it, because how could the king not be? Lord Viren had committed nothing short of treason! He’d lied to all of them!
And yet Lord Viren’s brows only furrowed slightly, his lips turning back down into that unimpressed frown.
“What makes you so sure he doesn’t already know?” Viren said coolly.
The words struck at the heart of Callum.
Because suddenly Callum wasn’t so sure. Callum had never… fully… believed that his stepfather had done supposedly regrettable things, because his stepfather was a good man. Harrow was the man to whom Callum compared all others. How could Callum’s stepfather have done unforgiveable things? Harrow didn’t even want to be at war. It made no sense.
And yet King Harrow had admitted freely to his stepson – several times, although rarely and only in the quieter moments – that the horrors on both sides was what made the war so complicated. That it was the crimes on both sides that made peace so untenable. Callum had always wished the war would just end partly so some of that sorrowful weight would lift from the king’s shoulders and smile, so that his stepfather would no longer have to do things that kept him awake long into the night.
Could King Harrow have done this? Did he know what Viren had done?
Lord Viren stared down at Callum’s disbelief calmly. If it had been a lie, Callum couldn’t tell, because the question had slipped off Viren’s tongue as easily as any statement of fact.
And there had been no outrage, no change of expression or stance, from the guards stationed at Viren’s back on either side of the king’s doors. Callum looked around him, but the pair of guards behind him on either side of the stairwell entrance hadn’t moved either and looked back at him with neutral expressions. There were two more pairs of guards at either end of this hallway, but none of them had moved to arrest the High Mage for treason or to tell the king.
Even Soren’s concerned, faintly confused expression hadn’t shifted through Callum’s fantastic revelations. He stood behind his father and looked worriedly down at Callum.
As though everyone had already known about the egg except for Callum.
Lord Viren’s head turned sharply to his left, to his son.
“Grab him,” he ordered.
This elicited clear surprise from the guard on Viren’s right and uncertainty from Soren. Callum looked between all of them again, stunned and furious beyond words at their lacklustre reactions. Had they all known?
Lord Viren turned back to Callum, looking coldly down on him, and Callum felt fear down his spine as he realized what Viren had said now.
They wouldn’t… would they?
“But… he’s the prince,” Soren pointed out, like he thought his father might have forgotten.
“Do it,” Lord Viren commanded.
Soren didn’t move, but the two guards behind Viren immediately obeyed. They loomed over Callum, their heavy armour clinking as they advanced, and Callum’s fear shot back up his spine. Oh, no, they would. He spun on his feel and turned to run.
For once, he didn’t lose his balance. His feet hit the floor hard, but he stayed upright… and he got no more than two steps before hands closed on his upper arms and yanked him back. It felt like his arms were being pulled out of their sockets and his neck snapped forward painfully.
“Ah!”
Not that he would have gotten much farther with the two guards at the stairwell entrance, who had both been prepared to block his way at the order of the High Mage. Even if they hadn’t been there, there were guards all the way down the stairs. Running had been… and still was… a fool’s hope.
Callum struggled, as hard as he had ever struggled against anything, but he only hurt himself against the guards’ hard vambraces and harder plate. Their fingers only dug in tighter as they pulled his arms apart and pushed him down at the shoulder. Callum was useless in a fight with a sword and a single opponent; there was nothing he could do with a fully trained guard each holding one arm, as they easily dragged him, the adopted prince, back around to face Lord Viren.
Callum couldn’t even do anything as they brought his arms behind his back. The grip on his wrists and shoulders tightened further still, and the position was awkward and left Callum unbalanced as they held him before the High Mage, the king’s most trusted advisor.
Soren’s expression looked sorry as well as uncertain now, but he still didn’t move.
Callum glared at him, before he glared up at the man looming over him. His heart was thrumming in his chest, the fear had spread all over him, and the pain of this made it all worse. This wasn’t going anything like he had hoped or imagined it would.
“Now, tell me…” Lord Viren slammed his staff down and it echoed through the dark hall, as he raised his voice to demand, “Where is the egg?”
He sounded almost angry now, and Callum might have flinched back if he had been any less furious. There was no way that King Harrow was going to let the man get away with this! No matter what the truth of the egg’s survival was, Callum’s stepfather would never let Lord Viren treat his sons this way.
“I’ll call out!” Callum threatened. “I’ll scream!”
Lord Viren lifted his chin and scowled down his nose at Callum.
“Go ahead,” he said.
He sounded so unaffected, Callum had no idea how to react, especially as Lord Viren reached smoothly down to the pouch at his right hip and withdrew something… bizarre. Another magical and macabre creature? Callum didn’t have time to see exactly what it was before Viren’s long fingers closed around the thing in his left palm… before Viren he inhaled deeply, closing his eyes.
When the High Mage opened his eyes again, they shone a searing purple-white. Callum almost flinched again, as the man spoke in a deep and unfamiliar language, his strange words somehow double-toned.
When Lord Viren opened his hand again, the dead creature in his palm was glowing with green mist, and a small, ghostly green hand sprung out from within. The hand had thin fingers and sharp nails, and it trailed more green mist in its wake as it rose quickly into the air. It flew over Viren’s left shoulder and behind his head, then Viren narrowed those searing eyes as it curled around his other shoulder, and the hand sprang forward. It moved with the echo of a distant scream as it reached for Callum.
The guards’ grip tightened on Callum before he even realized he was trying to get away. They even pushed him slightly forward. Callum still arched his back away, ignoring the pain of that, and lifted his chin to get away from this Dark magic. He opened his mouth to scream…
…and the hand reached down his throat.
Callum couldn’t close his mouth against the magic, against this green hand that crawled over his tongue and down his throat like a solid, living thing. He couldn’t even breathe through the mist. It tasted foul and Callum shuddered, retching with the desperate need to spit it all out, but the magic was thick and immoveable. He choked, as the hand seemed to hook around something at the base of his throat.
It pulled.
The hand crawled back up his throat, Callum could feel it, and he wanted to retch and swallow all at once. Callum moved up and forward with the magic, but the guards held him fast, and suddenly Callum could breathe again as the hand pulled free of his mouth. Callum coughed, as the hand drew away with that lost and distant scream echoing, a brilliant and golden sphere now in its grip.
Callum panted, feeling like he was about to throw up, but immediately tried to scream for his stepfather instead.
Nothing came out.
Lord Viren’s lips twitched in an almost smirk. It looked terrifying when his eyes were still that searing purple-white and Callum breathed in deeply, then tried to scream again for the king to stop Viren. But again, nothing came out but a wheeze. Callum gasped air in desperately, but no matter how he tried, he couldn’t form a single breath of it into sound. It was all just air.
The green hand and golden sphere pulled back into Viren left palm, and the High Mage’s hand closed around it in a fist. The purple-white light faded from his eyes. He looked down at Callum, panicking and struggling in front of him, and for some reason the almost smirk faded from him too.
“You impudent little mongrel,” Lord Viren accused in turn, suddenly furious. “You were spoiled and given everything… and that has left you weak and helpless. Tonight, your world is changing, and there is nothing you or anyone-!”
He stopped, as a sudden wind seemed to overtake the hall. It sounded like the sort that rattled and howled at the windows on stormy nights… only caught into the castle walls and getting closer. Callum could feel the impossible breeze on the back of his neck, growing louder… growing stronger, but he was unable to turn around and look toward the source like the guards holding him fast.
The torches of the hall snuffed out around them.
“They’re here!” Soren said.
The guards finally released Callum and shoved him toward Soren, who grabbed Callum’s shoulder to steady him and pull him back. Callum grasped at Soren’s hand like a lifeline. He could hear the slide of weapons being drawn from their sheaths all around him in the dark.
Lord Viren walked away, forward to face the stairwell, as though he hadn’t just stolen Callum’s voice. As though Callum didn’t matter now.
They were here.
Callum stared wide-eyed at the entrance to the stairwell, desperate to see something through the dark archway, but his eyes hadn’t adjusted. The moonlight from the windows to his left only seemed to outline pieces of the guards, gleaming off their armour and weapons, as they readied themselves for whatever was on the other end of this wind.
Suddenly Callum was being thrown aside and Soren cried out in pain.
“Augh!”
Callum hit the floor hard, caught flat-footed, his back and behind protesting the pain. When he sat up, his eyes went wide again, as he saw Soren above him with an arrow sticking out of his shoulder. The arrow was close to where Callum’s head would have been, if Soren’s hadn’t pushed him out of the way.
Soren reached up and pulled the arrow out of his armour. He glanced at it for less than a second, like he hadn’t just been shot and pulled an arrow out of his shoulder, before he dropped it and drew his sword.
Callum watched the arrow clatter to the floor in disbelief. It hadn’t killed him. It hadn’t even drawn Soren’s blood for Soren’s saving him, but…
They were here.
“Defend the doors!” Soren ordered.
The guards stepped forward, readying themselves. The two beside Soren flanked him, the four at the ends of the hallway were advancing cautiously, and the two nearest to the stairwell peered down into the darkness.
Callum had passed dozens of guards on his way to speak to his stepfather. Now, if he listened carefully, as that strange wind faded away, he thought he could hear the muted clatter of armour against stone… the scrape of metal against metal… the faint cries of pain and surprise.
But perhaps it was only his imagination, because soon he could hear only silence.
Suddenly, the guard nearest to the stairs stumbled back with a shout that died on a gurgle, and Callum saw what looked like a living shadow leap from the darkness of the stairwell for the guard nearest to him, the one to Soren’s left. The living shadow and guard collided with a crash. The guard struck the wall with a yell and the living shadow danced away from Soren’s sword, its own sharp blades flashing.
Callum scrabbled back across the floor thoughtlessly, toward the windows and away from the doors, away from that monstrous thing.
But suddenly the hallway was full of them. More living shadows sprang from the stairwell, outlined only by a greenish and silvery light, their eyes matching pinpricks in the dark. They were no easier to see even when they struck into full moonlight.
The other guard by the stairwell had already fallen to their knees and slumped to the floor. Callum had missed that attack, he couldn’t see what was wrong, but past them he could see the first guard who had been attacked. He could see their unmoving sprawl… their wide, unseeing eyes… their throat cut open and spilling gleaming dark blood over the carpet.
They were dead. They were both dead.
Lord Viren’s staff struck the floor and, at a word, the large hallway was flooded with light again, interrupting the clash of metal. The High Mage had moved away to the far side of the hall, on the opposite side of the combat from Callum. His eyes were that searing purple-white again as he set a ball of similar light into the air above them all with his staff.
The living shadows all flinched away from the High Mage’s spell of light, giving Soren and the guards still flanking him time to recover themselves, and the guards who had been stationed at the ends of the hallway time to join the fray. Two guards rushed past the High Mage and two more rushed past Callum, their armour clanking and swords flashing, while Callum scrambled farther away and took his first true look at all the other Moonshadow elves come to kill his stepfather.
They all looked like Rayla. They were all taller and broader, but still white-haired and horned and sharp in their movements, armours, and blades, if not sharper.
Viren’s purple-white light still didn’t fully counter their magic. Callum couldn’t tell if they were camouflaged or truly translucent, but the background seemed to slide lightly over their skin. They were most visible where it warped over their curves and where they were outlined by faint green-silver light. Callum revised his description of them as living shadows. Now they looked like living tricks of light.
The elves flickered up to meet the new guards joining the battle, and metal clashed against metal again in this purple-lit hall. It was six guards against four assassins, but the Moonshadow elves were lightning quick, as light on their feet as the guards weren’t. The battle was half-visible chaos and Callum had no idea how any of them were managing to land or block blows.
One of the Moonshadow elves struck down one of the guards, and suddenly Soren had struck the assassin down in turn while their sharp blades were caught in the flesh and armour of his guard. Soren immediately pulled his sword free of the assassin’s flesh and turned to meet the next assassin, while the dead guard and the slain elf fell practically at Callum’s feet.
Callum choked in horror and his back met the wall. He pushed himself unsteadily to his feet, now at against the far end of the hall, in front of the window letting in the moonlight.
At the other end of the hall, Lord Viren was evading the combat and clearly preparing another spell with the staff in his right hand, while his left hand was still clenched in a tight fist around Callum’s voice.
Callum had no way of reaching him, nor of reaching King Harrow through the heavy doors still protecting his stepfather. To walk into this battle would be worse than a fool’s hope; it would be madness.
Callum couldn’t even cry out warning to his stepfather, though he still tried, his empty wheezing drowning in the din. He was without his voice and without a weapon, trembling with fear and seemingly half-blind, and he had no idea what to do. This was exactly what he had been dreading and that he was still so helpless to stop it happening in front of him was a living nightmare.
“Stop! The Dragon Prince is alive! There’s no reason to fight!” Callum might have cried, had he had his voice. But… Soren and the guards hadn’t seemed to care… and the leader of the Moonshadow elves hadn’t listened to their calls for peace either.
It seemed hopeless.
And it got worse, for when Callum looked toward the stairs as the only thing he might be able to do was flee, there was a fifth Moonshadow elf standing there. This elf was tall and broad, with green-silver eyes and a long bow drawn, and he fired his arrow before Callum could cry out a useless warning. Then he drew and fired again, lightning quick, and again.
Runaan.
The leader of the Moonshadow elves’ arrows flew true. One guard fell with a gurgle, an arrow in their throat, and another was struck back by an arrow piercing their shoulder. Even if the arrow hadn’t drawn blood, the nearest assassin took immediately advantage as the guard staggered, and soon that guard fell dead to the floor as well.
Runaan’s last arrow struck the High Mage in the left shoulder, interrupting the next spell, and Lord Viren had no armour to block it. Viren cried out in pain and staggered back. He didn’t drop his staff, but the fist of his left hand finally opened.
Through the combat and the poor, purple light, Callum saw that brilliant, golden sphere, still held in a green grasp, fall to the floor. Like Viren’s fist, the green hand opened as it struck the floor and it faded away into the air. The released golden sphere floated, free, above the macabre thing Viren had used to cast his spell.
Callum willed it to return to him, but his stolen voice stayed where it was, brilliant and vulnerable, inches above the floor, on the other side of the fight.
There were still three other Moonshadow elves left, and now only three guards standing beside Soren, and Soren was distracted by his father’s injury. In the entranceway of the stairwell, Runaan divided his bow into two sharp blades – his green-silver eyes flickering dismissively over Callum – and the leader of the assassins threw himself forward.
“Soren!” Callum tried to shout, reflexively. “Look out!”
It was soundless, so it seemed pure luck that Soren suddenly turned to meet Runaan’s blades. Soren pushed Runaan back and recollected himself to face the new threat. Soren now looked nothing like the young man who had so irreverently played with Callum in the sparring ring not so long ago.
While each guard was engaged with an assassin, Callum looked again to Lord Viren, who had distanced himself farther from the fight. The High Mage still had an arrow in his shoulder and was hunched over with the pain of that, leaning heavily on his staff. The purple light he had summoned for the hall hadn’t faded, but… he’d abandoned Callum’s voice!
Viren had simply left the golden sphere where it had fallen! Callum watched in horror as his stolen voice sat in danger being stepped on by the clashing fighters. He still had no more means of reaching it than he did his stepfather.
Though Runaan was engaged with Soren, the leader of the assassins deflected one of Soren’s blows and then tripped another guard as he danced away in a smooth motion. Soren turned again just in time to see a Moonshadow elf take bloody advantage of their opponent’s imbalance. Runaan didn’t even look as his assassin killed yet another of Soren’s guards, his attention fixed on Soren.
Soren’s widened eyes narrowed as he engaged Runaan again, but the death of another guard had left an assassin without an opponent. The other Moonshadow elf was free to engage another guard with one of their fellows – two against one.
Callum didn’t see what happened next, but he heard the ambushed guard cry out in pain.
Callum pressed himself back against the wall to steady himself. The assassins were winning the fight and soon they would either turn on him or on the doors. Across the hall, he could see the impossible goal of his fallen voice… and Lord Viren’s eyes lighting up as the High Mage prepared another spell. Would that turn the tide back in their favour? Would that give Callum the opportunity to steal back his voice and warn his stepfather?
If Runaan was here, Callum thought in panic, what hàd happened to Rayla?
What happened to Ezran?
Through the window behind him, Callum could hear the castle’s alarm being raised, and he chanced looking outside to see the guards running across the walls and through the courtyard to answer the intrusion. They’d finally noticed! And they would come to protect the king, Callum knew, but he couldn’t know if they would reach the tower in time.
Back in the fight, Soren had moved to protect the man the assassins had teamed up again, but that man was injured and that made Soren against three opponents. At least, it was three opponents until Runaan suddenly backed off and changed targets, pushing for the spellcasting Lord Viren instead.
Callum looked desperately out the window again, urging the guards to hurry and-
Oh!
Suddenly, Callum could have cried out in relief, even now. He would know that yellow blob’s glow anywhere! He could see his little brother, hiding in one the shadows of the courtyard, with a sharp figure with white hair beside him. The egg of the Dragon Prince glimmered like a guiding star in Ezran’s arms!
Callum thought he saw Ezran try to shout out something, but he couldn’t hear it over the din of the battle behind him and the alarm ringing through the castle.
The figure who only could have been Rayla pulled Ezran back toward the shadows, back out of sight of the guards running past.
They were waiting for him. Every second they stayed risked Ezran’s life and the egg, but they were still waiting for Callum to join them. Callum who had left them and risked them on a fool’s hope.
When Callum looked back to the fight, he saw that the injured man Soren had been protecting had been struck down by the assassins. Soren was fighting Runaan and another Moonshadow elf, protecting his interrupted father, and the other two assassins were dispatching of the last guard.
Once the last guard fell to the floor, Callum flinched back, expecting them to advance on him next.
The two assassins looked to him, their eerie eyes flickering over Callum before… they dismissed him. They turned on Soren and Viren instead, and Runaan disengaged from Soren to let them take his place. The leader of the Moonshadow elves instead approached the doors protecting the king.
If Callum attacked Runaan now, he would die.
If Callum tried to snatch up his vulnerable voice from the floor, where it had miraculously not yet been crushed, he would die. The Moonshadow elves would surely perceive him as a threat and attack. Runaan would strike Callum down without a second thought.
If Callum died, Ezran and Rayla would get caught waiting for another dead body among the many that littered the hall. Callum looked out at that starlight in the shadows of the courtyard at them. If the assassins found Ezran, they would kill him. If Viren found Ezran, he would take the egg again, and then this stupid, bloody war would never end.
I can’t do anything here.
I need to look after Ezran. I need to look after the egg.
Dad, I am so sorry.
Callum took a deep breath and sprinted for the stairwell. If the Moonshadow elves saw him, they let him go. They weren’t here for him. He was nothing to them. Callum couldn’t and didn’t let himself look back as he ran down the dark stairwell, feeling anything but fortunate.
He knew the way up to his stepfather’s chambers like the back of his hand. He gasped when he tripped on something that shouldn’t have been there on the tower stairs – for a moment he was weightless, as he fell, but then he crashed painfully against the stone steps. He skidded and tumbled down half a dozen of them before he stopped.
He wheezed in pain before he realized he was lying next to body, slumped on the stairs not unlike himself, and he let out a soundless cry of horror.
He had tripped over a dead body. All the guards he had passed on his way up were dead.
Callum scrambled to his feet and stared down at the guard with wide eyes. Some fool part of him hoped they were only unconscious, but they were so still, and he knew he was wrong. He refused to let himself dwell on it and refused to look down as he stumbled the rest of the way down the stairs with his fool’s hope feeling like it was being turned inside out.
Don’t look down. Don’t look down. Don’t look down at all the dead.
Just keep moving. Ezran needs you.
Don’t scream.
Not that you can anyway.
Callum flung himself desperately out of the stairwell, into a dark hallway, and cried out soundlessly again at the bodies of guards that waited for him there too. He had looked without meaning to. They were sprawled in hideous, unmoving lumps, all over the floor.
At the far end of the hallway, Callum could see more guards running for the stairwell, wielding torches as well as swords. The reinforcements moved around the bodies as they ran and Callum wanted to shout at them.
“What took you so long? Go save him! Hurry!” he could have cried, if he had the words or bravery for it, or else: “Turn back! Turn back! They’ll only make corpses of you too!”
Instead, Callum spun on his feel and ran in the opposite direction. He thought he heard shouts of anger behind him, demands for him to stop, but he ignored them. Did they think he was one of the assassins? It didn’t matter. He had to reach Ezran.
The flight was the king’s tower was a blur from there. Callum honestly couldn’t remember how he had reached the courtyard, when he finally skidded out into the open, for it had been a rush of dodging guards and servants alike. The castle alarm was still ringing through the night and his head.
“Callum!”
Ezran!
Callum lifted his head and his hands from his knees, as his little brother leaped out the shadows to greet him. Ezran looked as desperately relieved to see him as Callum felt. He probably would have hugged Callum if the egg of the Dragon Prince wasn’t still safely in his arms.
“Did you talk with Dad?” Ezran asked hopefully, as Callum pushed him back into the shadows and out of sight.
The castle was still on high alert, people were everywhere, and they couldn’t be seen they wanted to make it out of here.
Callum simply shook his head miserably, still breathing heavily.
Ezran’s expression dropped.
Rayla stepped forward and pushed Callum’s pack into his arms.
“Say the word and I’ll go back into that tower with you,” she declared fiercely, and she looked like she meant it.
Callum stared at her, caught entirely by surprise, unable to say any word.
That tower would be an even greater nightmare now. Either the reinforcements would have reached the assassins or the assassins would have breached the doors and engaged the king. There was no way the three of them would be able to run all the way back and reach King Harrow in time to save him.
Even if, by some miracle, the assassins had been killed, then going back into that tower would be a death sentence for any Moonshadow elf. Even trying could get Rayla killed before they even reached that bloody stairwell.
It was still tempting. They might succeed! They might not all die bloody deaths! They might save King Harrow! They might steal back Callum’s voice from the floor where it had been abandoned! If they tried again, if they presented the egg, maybe everyone would listen to them! Maybe they still had a sliver of a chance!
But that was a fool’s hope.
Callum looked to the egg. It had looked like a faraway star in the distance, but up close it was brighter and even more beautiful… and more terrifying. It was so fragile and real in Ezran’s arms. The glow within pulsed like a heartbeat… like the rhythm of breath… like a living thing was inside… and there was. Every second they stayed risked the creature inside.
Every second they stayed, peace moved further out of their reach.
Callum shook his head.
He had acted on enough fool’s hopes today. Returning to that tower might get him killed. It might get Ezran or Rayla killed. It might get the Dragon Prince killed. These things were too important to risk anymore. That was why Callum had finally run from that bloody hallway, no matter what he might be leaving behind.
The king was… unknown, but no princes would die tonight if he could help it.
It was up to them now.
He had so much to say to Ezran and to Rayla here, but he could say any of the many words he had to share. All his articulated thoughts and any brave sentiments he might have mustered before, to cover all his rage and horror, were locked away thanks to Lord Viren’s spell. He would have to find another way.
With trembling hands, Callum first pressed a finger to his lips.
Then he carefully signed, "Let's go."
Palms coming together, right over left, in front of his upper midsection, before the left hand pulled quickly away and a little upwards. It was a sign he knew Ezran was familiar with, at least, through their family and years of mischief. To emphasize it, Callum raised his hand and gestured for them to follow him, while pressing his finger to his lips again with the other.
They were going to be sneaking out a castle on high alert. Silence made sense, right?
Callum didn’t want to get into the loss of his voice yet. Ezran would be horrified and they had to go. They weren’t going back into that tower for anything and Callum’s voice was the least of the things worth going back into that nightmare for.
Rayla cocked her head, but Ezran nodded, then looked up at her.
“He said, ‘Let’s go’,” Ezran whispered helpfully.
Rayla looked down at him, then nodded back at Callum.
Callum nodded at her again, as confidently as he didn’t feel, then stepped forward to scoop up Bait – Ezran couldn’t carry his spoiled pet while he was carrying the egg, after all – and then turned to lead them out of the castle. They sprinted out of the courtyard, sticking as much as they could to the shadows.
Bait squirmed and struggled in Callum’s arms, but Callum just held him tighter, hoping desperately that his brother’s pet didn’t give them away with a glow.
But for all the castle was awake with the alarm, the way out was relatively easy. Alerted guards rushed past them, completely distracted. Their party ducked out of sight of the servants leaning out of windows and doorways, all looking toward the king’s tower, none taking notice of the children sneaking out through the dark. No one was trying to keep people from getting out of the castle tonight, it seemed.
No, it was all about keeping people from getting in. So much for that.
Callum held his straining breath, as they snuck around the few guards still stationed at the castle gates, and they slipped through and out without anyone stopping them.
Ezran tried to stop on the bridge to the castle, but Callum didn’t let him, pushing him forward. There were still guards at the top of the gates behind them and at the watchtowers on the other end of the bridge, and they would be in plain sight of them now.
“Halt!” one of the guards, at the end of the bridge, called from one of the watchtowers. “Who goes there? What news from inside the castle? Speak, messenger! What news?”
Rayla and Callum both pushed Ezran forward, as the boy froze and stumbled, and Callum worried for his brother’s short legs and heavy burden. Would they make it?
In one of their few strokes of fortune tonight, it seemed that most of the guards who might have been stationed at these watchtowers had left to answer the alarm and secure the castle proper. The guard who had spotted them was not quick enough to come down and block their path. The three of them sprinted through without stopping, even as the guard kept shouting.
“Who are you? Stop! Stop in the name of the king!”
Pulling Ezran and the egg between them, Rayla and Callum ran out into the safety of the night, out of the light of the watchtowers and hopefully the sight of the guards. Even when Rayla slowed, she didn’t stop, and Callum followed her lead until:
“Callum!” Ezran gasped. “Callum, please! I can’t-!”
Callum stopped abruptly and Ezran seemed to collapse in relief, sitting back onto the ground, with the egg of the Dragon Prince still held safely in his lap. Callum was as worried for Ezran as he was grateful for the stop, since he was also burdened and out of breath. He dropped Bait onto the ground and put his hands on his knees, chest heaving with effort, as Bait crawled up to Ezran in concern.
“We can’t stop here,” Rayla said urgently, as she came back to them.
Callum nodded, because he knew that, and held up a hand. They just needed to breathe for a moment. They wouldn’t get very far if they spat up their own lungs this early on.
Rayla looked back toward the watchtowers of the bridge with a frown and Callum followed her gaze. They weren’t distant enough for his comfort either. He could still see the tiny figures of the guards and the specks that were their torches, but he didn’t think any of them were following them. He hoped the guards couldn’t still see them.
If the guards caught them, they might not stop to listen. They might kill Rayna and drag Callum and Ezran back to Lord Viren. Callum had seen first-hand tonight that the guards took the word of the High Mage over the word of a child prince.
Would Viren even still be alive? Callum had left too soon to see. He had seen the man shot in that hallway, but Viren was a powerful mage. While Callum was furious with the High Mage beyond words, he didn’t know if he hoped Lord Viren had been killed. Callum had never wished anyone dead before.
Except maybe the assassins who might have already killed the king.
“Callum,” Ezran said breathlessly.
Callum looked questioningly toward his little brother.
“Callum, do you think Dad will be okay?”
The words struck at the heart of Callum, because the answer was on the tip of his tongue before he even knew it would be his answer.
No. Callum didn’t think King Harrow would be okay. Last Callum had seen, Viren had been wounded, Soren had been cornered, all the guards had been dead, more than half of the Moonshadow elves had still been alive, and Runaan had been about to open the doors and engage the king. King Harrow was a competent warrior, but… Callum had never seen anyone move like those living-trick-of-light assassins had.
Callum looked to the king’s tower, now so far away, as though he might be able to see a fool’s hope there. But, of course, he could see nothing of what was happening or what had happened in that bloody tower. He could only hear that distant alarm, still crying out for aid.
Still, he looked back to his little brother and… he smiled reassuringly, if tightly, and nodded.
Ezran looked confused by this silent answer, but he smiled nervously back anyway.
“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, Dad’s going to be okay.”
As Ezran looked down at the egg in his lap, Callum’s smile fell from his face and he exchanged an unexpected look of understanding with Rayla. He could see her disbelief and knew she could see his. Neither of them thought that the king would survive her fellow assassins. They both looked away.
“Come on,” Rayla said. “We need to keep moving and get out of the open.”
Ezran groaned, but nodded, and moved to get up. Callum stepped forward to grab under his little brother’s armpits, hoisting Ezran and his added burden up. Once on his feet again, Ezran looked immediately to Bait, and Callum smiled reassuringly at his brother and bent over to hoist Bait into his arms again.
He wasn’t looking forward to carrying his brother’s spoiled pet for the foreseeable future, but he knew there was no leaving Bait behind.
“We should keep moving for as long as we can. We need to put as much distance between us and that castle as we can,” Rayla continued, turning to lead them away. “Come on-”
She paused suddenly.
Callum couldn’t see her expression with her back to them like this, but he heard her soft gasp. He asked her what was wrong and… only remembered he couldn’t do that anymore when nothing came out of his mouth but air.
“What is it?” Ezran said beside him.
Rayla turned around slowly. “Nothing! It’s just… I took a bit of a fall earlier and twisted the wrong way just now,” she said placatingly, and pressed her right hand gently to her side, keeping her left against her back. “I’ll be fine. I’m sure you’ve got a few bumps and bruises yourselves. We can take another short rest as soon as we reach the cover of the forest.”
“Of course!” Ezran agreed.
Callum nodded understandingly. He had plenty of aches that would be making themselves known in the morning. Rayla’s arm was still injured from Claudia. Of course her fight with Runaan had left a few marks as well, especially since she hadn’t managed to stop him as Callum bitterly wished she had.
Rayla looked toward the moon above, briefly, then smiled at them.
“It’s a long journey to Xadia,” she said.
And with that, they slipped away into the night, keeping close together. They hurried until all the light and alarm of the castle fell far away behind them, and then on farther still.