Dream Drive Ch. 08

"That's the stable," Ellesmere said. "There's a ramp that goes to the second floor. It can hold over five hundred horses."

"That's fantastic," Charles said. "Who are the kids?"

"Stablehands," she said. "They take in the horses and ensure their care and feeding."

Charles looked around for a way in. The main door was blocked by the guards, and a raised alarm out here was suicide. He didn't see any other entrances, and he didn't want to risk going back into the palace. But there was a window.

"I can probably boost you up to there," Charles said, pointing. "You go inside and grab some rope."

"Boost me up?" Ellesmere asked. "I'm a princess, not a traveling acrobat."

"Actually, you're an empress."

"Why don't you go?"

"I'm too heavy for you to lift," Charles said.

"So climb up."

"Does it look like there are handholds?" Charles asked.

"I just - what if I get caught, or -"

"Ellesmere," Charles said. He took her shoulders and turned her to face him. "I need you for this. You go in, find some rope, and get out. If you can't find any, just come back and we'll think of something else."

Ellesmere nodded, but the nervousness didn't leave her face. Charles waited until it seemed that none of the guards were looking their way, and then he dashed across the courtyard, pulling Ellesmere with him. She tripped and stumbled through the grass; he almost had to drag her.

They pressed up against the wall of the stable. "What happened to all that noble grace?" he asked.

"I'm wearing two dresses, you pompous, arrogant ass," she said. "And if you haven't noticed, they're drenched from the dew."

Charles cupped his hands together. "Put your foot here. I'll push you up."

"I cannot believe I'm doing this."

"Running away with a mass-murderer, or stealing from your own stables?" Charles asked.

"Both. All of it. God save me. Us." Ellesmere crossed herself, then lowered her singed, soiled, and wet dancing shoe into his hands. Charles pushed her up, up, and braced her straight over his head. She scrabbled for the window sill, caught it, then grunted, pulling herself up and over. Charles heard a thunk as she landed on the inside.

He glanced to the wall. A passing patrol was on the walkway above the gate - four men, one carrying a torch. They didn't look his way.

He pressed against the side of the stable, trying to form as small a profile as possible. There was a sort of half-fog hanging in the garden, and the chill was seeping into his muscles. His nose felt numb. He cupped his hands over his mouth and breathed over them, trying to restore life to his fingers.

Snatches of conversation drifted from the guards at the front of the stable. Charles hesitated for a moment, then crept closer.

"-princess...doesn't have...from the armory."

"Why did he take her up there?" one asked. "Easy place to pen him in."

"The emperor lured him into a trap, you idiot," the other said. "He didn't know the castle."

"And now the emperor has a knight commander and three of the Vuldstadt reds burned up in their own fires," the other said. "And we're out in this spitting rain standing miserable because the freak is still on the loose."

"So what about the princess?"

Charles could almost hear the man shrug. "Think she's roasted, my friend."

"Shame. The one damn thing around here that was nice to look at."

The men chuckled a bit. Charles heard a boyish voice - small, tiny. "Um, sir...is that true? Is the princess really dead?"

"Who knows? Very well might be the case. Why? You fancy her?"

The men laughed again. Charles heard the boy laughing, too. "Well, she was really pretty. But, she was nice, too. I took her horse once. She came later, to feed it carrots. And she said I did a good job. I thought maybe she'd rule well. If she took the throne, that is. Everyone likes her."

"Ah, lad," one of the guards started. His voice was gruff; he was older than the others. "To be fair with you, I do think she's a goner. I heard from one of the men that was in the ballroom - the killer climbed on top of a man and broke his neck where he was standing. Type like that ain't gonna let a hostage just walk off. But...it's probably better that way."

"Better? How could dead be better?"

"Because she won't ever have to learn to not be that nice princess," the guard said. "Remember her that way, boy. An emperor can't rule with carrots. Only with a fist. You'll learn, when you're older."

"Mmm," said the other guard. "That was deep, Lamor."

"Ah." Lamor sighed, then made a grunt as he stretched. "Well. Not as deep as I was in your wife the other night."

"Funny, she didn't mention it to me. Your prick must not be all that big."

The men broke into good natured laughing again, then the talk turned to the more mundane topic of which of several taverns served the least watered-down beer. Charles moved away. His shirt dragged a bit on the stone as he slid back under the window.

"Ransfeld!" came a hissed voice. "Rope!"

Charles glanced up just in time for a pile of rope to drop directly onto his face. He fell into the grass, arms working to push it off his head and shoulders. His struggling seemed only to knot it around him more tightly. "What the hell?! Why did you -"

"What are you doing? Get ready to catch me, there's people in here!"

Charles took a long breath, shoved the frustration away, and stood as well as he could. He worked his arms free of the coils, then held his hands out, this time keeping a close eye on the second floor.

Ellesmere clambered over the windowsill. She hung from it by her fingertips, then dropped. Charles neatly caught her, falling to his knee to break her momentum, and then set her on her feet.

Ellesmere smelled a bit like the stable. She brushed hay off her clothes. "That's the first thing I've stolen in my whole life."

"And how does that make you feel?" Charles asked.

"It's...oddly liberating," she said. "Though I wish it had been from someone besides myself. Perhaps there's meaning in that. A thief hurts himself more than any man wronged by theft."

Charles resisted the urge to roll his eyes and started wrapping the rope around his forearm to reel in the slack. "See those crenelations up on the wall?"

"Yes, of course."

"How big around do you think one is?"

"How should I know?"

"You've never walked up there?"

"I mean, sometimes," Ellesmere said. "I never measured the arrow slits."

Charles sighed. "I'll just take a good guess, then."

They worked their way away from the stables and along the gardens, ducking behind cover when patrols passed by. When they were between the two gates, farthest from where the guards were gathered, Charles pointed out a stair cut into the wall. "We'll go up there. Wait until I say."

Huddled in a wet, dark corner behind a pillar, they watched the top of the walkway. A drifting torch marked a patrol moving along its length. It steadily passed where the stairs intersected the top.

"Go!"

Charles darted out from their hiding spot and across the open green, running as fast as he could in a half-crouch. He arrived at the base of the stairs in a flash, then glanced to the side. Ellesmere wasn't there.

He looked back. Ellesmere was jogging upright, holding her dress up with her hands. She stumbled, then stopped. She started poking her foot into the ground as if digging up the grass with her toes.

"Princess!" Charles hissed. "What are you doing?!"

"My shoe, it got caught in the mud!"

"Forget the shoe! Someone will see you!"

Ellesmere wavered for a moment, then waded across the grass and made the bottom of the stair. "How do you expect me to walk through the city without shoes? We are going out there, aren't we?"

Charles glanced at the three-tiered, switchback staircase, then back to Ellesmere's rain-stained dress and muddy feet. He leaned over and swept her up.

"What -"

"Quiet! It'll be faster this way!"

Charles took the stairs two at a time. The stone was slick under his bare foot, but his prosthetic gave him a little more grip. He slowed up near where the stairs turned back on themselves, changed direction, then sped up again. In a few long seconds, he'd climbed the wall.

He put Ellesmere down, then threw the loop in the rope around one of the stone crenelations. It was barely big enough. He pulled the knot tight, then grabbed the slack and tossed it over the wall. "It's not to the ground, but it's close. That should be..."

Charles trailed off. He could see it, now - the Imperial Capital, Hadraan.

It was as if he'd stepped into a painting of a medieval metropolis. Paved boulevards surrounded the castle wall, which faded into cobblestone streets, which in turn devolved into muddy roads. Buildings were packed wall-to-wall right up to the edge of the street. The homes and businesses followed a similar pattern - marble terraces and professional masonry rose up around the palace, fading into a disorganized tangle of wood and thatch closer to the outer wall. The half-fog scattered all the lights twinkling through the windows, washing everything a dark grey.

That wall was huge - at least four or five times the size of the one he now stood on. It enveloped the cityscape as the wings of a giant bat, lined with keeps and watchtowers like so many fibrous spines.

Charles was starting to feel a little bit trapped. He put on a smile.

And then he saw something that made his smile fade. He pointed. "What is that?"

"The Keep of the Vuldstadt," she said. Charles continued to look at her. "It's where the mages live, the priests. It's the seat of the Vuldstadt, the head of the church."

Charles inspected the keep again. It hadn't been visible from behind the palace wall, but it was even taller than the fortress behind him. The black monolith was huge and harshly rectangular, cutting a hole into Hadraan's skyline. It wouldn't have looked out of place in downtown Boston.

His mind told him to stay very far away from that building. His gut told him to initiate a hostile takeover and figure out how to shoot those balls of fire.

I think I've had enough fire for one day. "Down we go," Charles said. He got a firm hold on the rope, then hopped out and over the edge of the wall. He pushed off, then let a few feet slide through his hands. Repeating the motion, he rappelled to the bottom and dropped the last few feet, landing in a crouch.

Charles looked back up. Ellesmere was staring over the edge of the wall. He cupped his mouth and called as loudly as he dared. "Move it!"

Charles barely heard her voice. "I can't do that! You didn't tell me about that!"

"What else did you think was going to happen?!"

She said something else; he couldn't quite hear. Charles worked very hard to keep himself from screaming. "Ellesmere," he said, "if you don't start climbing down that rope, I'm walking away without you!"

"You can't! I can't do this!"

"Are you an empress or not?" Charles said. His smile was barely a flicker now. "Behind you is certain death. The rope is life. Grab the rope and hang on."

"But -"

"Do it!" he shouted.

"You there!" Charles turned toward the new voice. Three guards were walking toward him, one bearing a torch. Another had a weapon free - an axe. "What are you doing? Identify yourself!"

Charles grit his teeth and looked back up. Ellesmere was hanging over the edge of the wall; her hands clutched the rope to her body. She slid down inches at a time.

"Hey!" The guard grabbed his shoulder.

Charles snatched the man's hand and pulled his arm forward. The guard took a step to keep his balance. Charles grabbed the back of his uniform and slammed him face-first into the wall.

The other two men shouted - the one with the axe swung. Charles raised his hand to stop it. It chopped down between his fingers, embedding itself in his palm.

His hand felt numb and prickled with needling pain, but the trade-off was worth it. His Power Punch had a free shot. His fist smashed into the guard's face so hard his helmet flew off. The man sunk to his knees.

Charles pulled the axe free from his hand and turned - but the last man, holding the torch, was already sprinting away. He waved it over his head. "To arms! He's here, outside the wall! To arms!"

Charles glanced up. Ellesmere was still twenty feet up. "Jump!" he shouted.

Ellesmere shook her head. "Too far!"

"You're invincible now! Jump! I'll catch you!"

Ellesmere stayed still. And then, her grip went slack, and she fell back.

Charles's catch was not as graceful as his first. He acted more like a landing pad than a welcoming embrace. Ellesmere was quick to roll off of him. He smacked his chest to get air in his lungs and got on his hands and knees. "Are you hurt?" she asked.

"Never better," Charles grunted. "Hold still."

Charles grabbed the axe. Ellesmere stiffened up, but stopped when she saw what he was doing. He cut away the bottom overhang of her too-big dress and her ballroom gown, giving her feet room to work. "You don't need shoes," Charles said. "Even if you step on something, it won't hurt you."

He stood to the sound of shuffling boots and armor. A group of men was coming around the wall, shouting and waving torches. A hard sound was tapping in rhythm around them - hooves.

"Run!" Charles shouted.

They took off along the main avenue in front of them. It was downhill - dangerously so - and the stone was slick from the damp. Without a boot on his normal foot, Charles's gait was awkward, worsening his balance. His feet threatened to slide out from under him.

He glanced back - Ellesmere was already wheezing, but keeping pace. He grabbed her hand and pulled her along faster. The marble manor-houses flashed by on either side of them, then smaller shops, and what Charles thought might be a restaurant.

He wracked his brain for a strategy, but nothing came to mind. They were hopelessly outnumbered. He had no doubt that the emperor would have sealed the city gates. He couldn't fight an army by himself.

They needed to take shelter, wait for the heat to die down. Charles could theoretically find a spot where he could risk the thirty seconds and log out, but that wouldn't help Ellesmere. She'd be stuck here alone - a risk he couldn't take, assuming he wanted to keep her around.

The hooves behind them were ringing in their ears when Charles dragged them into a side street. They ran past a few crates stacked on the side of a shop. Charles shoved Ellesmere ahead, sparing a moment to knock the wood boxes into the alley.

He ran forward again, looking over his shoulder. A horse was bearing down on them. It reached the crates - and easily leapt over them. Fuck.

"Ellesmere, go left!" Charles shouted.

"That's uphill!"

"Just do it!"

Ellesmere bolted left at the next intersection. Charles reached it a split second before the horse on his tail. He turned on the spot, bringing up his axe as the animal bore down on him.

Hooves came in. Charles was trampled to the stone by a half-ton of horseflesh. But he heard the animal scream - his axe had bit into something.

The crushing blows to his back felt different than the others. The magic was painful, but this felt deeper. He got his hands under his chest and forced himself upright. He'd taken 27 points of damage - over half his health bar in one go.

The horse was twisting in the intersection. Blood dripped from its underbelly. Charles had torn a gash across its ribs.

The rider desperately tried to control his mount, but he was bucked off in a few seconds. The horse charged back the way it came - Charles barely squeezed out of the way. A quick glance told him it was about to run through a group of pursuing guards.

He turned the corner of the alley. Ellesmere was a few yards ahead, doubled over, heaving in air. "Why didn't you keep running?!"

She panted words between breaths. "Didn't - know if - couldn't leave - you alone."

"Heartwarming," Charles said. He grabbed her arm as he went by, pulling her back to his pace.

They worked uphill as fast as they could. Charles could only hope that doubling back so quickly would give the guards some confusion. He didn't see anyone else in the side streets, but he caught flickers of light and movement back on the main road. The cold fog was suddenly a blessing in disguise.

They reached one of the manor houses. The back of it was a sizable garden, surrounded by a head-high retaining wall. Sharp iron spikes jutted from the top of the stone to deter intruders.

Charles backed up against it, kneeled, and knitted his hands together. "Jump."

"Ransfeld -"

"That," Charles said. "That right there. Do you know what that is?"

Ellesmere looked sweaty, exhausted, and confused. She blinked at him for a moment, then shook her head.

"That is the last time you're going to question me while we're being chased down by thousands of men," Charles said. "Jump onto my hand and push off, now!"

Ellesmere ran forward and jumped. Charles caught her foot and shoved her up. She tumbled over the wall.

He leapt up, grabbed the edge, and pulled himself up. The spikes dug into his hands and his foot, draining his life points, but it was life well spent. He rolled over the edge of the wall and fell into the garden.

Judging from the squeaked grunt beneath him, he'd landed right on Ellesmere. Charles rolled off her. "Payback from earlier."

Ellesmere used the wall to prop herself up. She tossed her hair and wiped the strands out of her eyes. She was still getting her breath back. "You're so...damn...petty!"

Charles found himself missing Mivra. He could keep up running banter with his A.I. android for hours. Charles usually lost, but he swore she used the internet to cheat. Compared to that, Ellesmere was a wet rag who took herself far too seriously.

Thinking about her in this situation. I'm losing my mind.

Charles focused on their surroundings. The garden was small, maybe a ten yard square. They were on a gravel path that ran the edge around beds of flowers and a few shaped bushes. He made for the doors leading into the back of the house and tried the knob. It was unlocked.

He clamped down on the rush of euphoria - they weren't safe yet. He slowly opened the door and peered inside. It was quiet, even darker than it was outside. As his vision adjusted, he caught glimpses of furniture, tables, other doors.

Shouts made Charles look over his shoulder. Lights were bobbing on the other side of the wall. Charles waved Ellesmere inside, then shut the door with a soft click.

They stood in the darkness, covered in wet, mud, and blood, breathing heavily. Charles scrunched his nose. It smelled like too much perfume.

"I know this house," Ellesmere whispered.

"You do?"

"Lord Edae's residence," she said. "His home at the capital. I've been hosted by his daughters many times." Ellesmere sniffed. "God, I hate that perfume. I swear they bathe in it."

At least she has good taste. "Would they hide us?" Charles asked.

Ellesmere bit her lip. She shook her head. "Maybe, but maybe not."

"That's a no," Charles said. "Is there a room we could hunker down in? One that isn't used frequently?"

"Maybe in the servants' quarters," Ellesmere said. "Rumors were floating around that they did away with some of the staff. Probably trying to flush out a spy."

Charles nodded knowingly. Medieval corporate espionage. "Alright. You're on point."

"On point?"

"It means you're taking the lead," Charles said.

"Oh, I see," Ellesmere said. "Like the point of a weapon. Is that a saying where you're from?"

"We can chat when we're safe."

Ellesmere nodded, then slinked across the room. Charles worked to keep his steps light - the bottom of his prosthetic fell hard on wood flooring. They meandered around several pieces of furniture. Charles noted a single candle lit at the base of the stairs.