Westhaven - Rowan Erlking (free e novels .txt) 📗

Winstrong’s Roan home. The room smelled exactly the same. It almost looked the same. The hearth of the boiler’s fire glowed yellow and red in the same far corner. Key half expected to see the governor’s slave lying there, struggling to keep warm as he slept. However, the room was empty. In a way, Key breathed easier.

 “Ok,” Key turned to brief the underworld thugs behind him. “I’m going to find the boy. You can go do what you came to do. Just don’t follow me.”

They nodded. Several snorted, telling him that was the plan anyway. They pulled up their facemasks.

Tiler and Loid were ready to go with him. It was a simple snatch and grab, though it was possible that the boy would be too terrified to escape with them. However, Key was prepared to deal with that also—remembering his own fear vividly.

The palace was not entirely empty of Sky Children as Key had hoped. Most of the head staff were gathered in the kitchen not far from the cellar, which meant they had to go low and quiet. The good thing about the construction of that city was that they had stone floors which did not creak like wood. And when they crept along in their soft leather shoes, their footfalls hardly made a sound. Once they slipped out the dining hall the two groups split up.

Key led Loid and Tiler through the palace, sticking to the shadows—though several of the rooms were lit. In those rooms, they walked along the walls.

Key suspected the boy was kept in the servants’ quarters, though his mind thought up other locations just in case. At the door, Key rapped lightly.

Almost as if those inside exploded, he scurrying on the other side of the door. That he took as a good sign, so he pushed the door open. The servants inside drew in sharp breaths when they saw the three masked men, but Key immediately drew his gun, showing it off without a word. Every one of the servants went silent. As they did, Key peered at their faces to make sure there were no Sky Children among them.

“All clear,” Key announced to the others, lowered his facemask so the servants could see him.

Loid and Tiler lowered their masks also.

“We have no intention of hurting you,” Key said as he walked through the group, looking for young boys. “In fact, if you do as we say, you’ll be free tonight.”

“That’s a load of rubbish.” A bent man with stubbly bristles on his chin emitted a watery-eyed snort of disgust. “You’ll just get us killed.”

“That’s right.” Another man stepped forward. “You might as well shoot us now for all the good it will do.”

“We’ve got a witch on our side,” Tiler added to support Key, looking from one despairing face to another.

But the servants still looked unlikely to run even if the door were set under their feet. Several of the women smirked.

“I think they’re witches,” Loid said to Tiler.

“That’s right,” one of the women said. “Their magic is more powerful.”

Both Loid and Tiler clenched their heads, waiting for Key to toss back his age-old retort. But Key merely groaned and came back to his friends.

“He’s not here,” Key said. “None of these faces look southern.”

“So, what do we do about them?” Loid asked, casting the slaves a glance.

Nodding, Key set his hand to his right sleeve. He rolled it up and over his shoulder. With his brand mark exposed to show the seal of the Westhaven military on his arm, he spoke clearly and slowly so that the servants would not misunderstand him. “If you think escape is impossible, you are right. That attitude will keep you trapped forever. But if you are like me and have dreamed of freedom all your lives and just need a reason to live again, then come with us.”

The slaves quickly crowded around Key. Their eyes went wide on the obvious slave mark, several nearly pawing Key’s shoulder.

However, Loid lifted his sword and started shoving people back. “That’s enough! Do you want to come with us, or not?”

“How did you get in here?” the bent man asked, staring at Key’s face.

Sighing, Key replied as he pulled his sleeve down, “Magic.”

“We also have a wizard,” Tiler explained, smirking.

The room almost exploded with murmurs. Their faces truly looked like they really did want to believe them.

“But how can all of us go at once?” one of the women asked, searching faces of their would-be saviors for a hope-filled answer.

“For starters, we don’t go all at once,” Key said. “In fact, I’m looking for the governor’s recent acquisition. A boy from the south. Where is he kept?”

They all stared at him.

“You want to steal the governor’s footman?” one of them repeated with disbelief.

Key nodded.

They all murmured together. Then one of the women said, “He’s kept in the chauffeur’s room.”

“The chauffeur’s room? Where is that?” Key asked, peering through to the other side of the servants’ quarters. General Winstrong did not have a chauffeur’s room.

“I’ll take you,” a large man said, bowing.

“Alright.” Key then turned to Loid. “I want you to lead them back through to the escape hole. No shoes. No talking. Take them past the kitchen door in small groups.”

Loid made a face. “Why me? Why not him?” He waved over to Tiler who smirked, tucking away his gun.

“I don’t have time for this,” Key said with a roll of his eyes. He turned to the large servant. “Lead me.”

Without a word, the man turned and went through the far door. Key followed him with Tiler jogging close on his heels. Loid shook his head with warning that Tiler had better watch Key’s back then he beckoned to the others to follow him back to the cellar. There was little else he could do. Key was right. They didn’t have time to argue. Besides, more than likely Tiler would not have parted from Key’s side as willingly anyway. So, as Loid turned and instructed the other slaves on how to follow him, Key and Tiler crept further into the palace in search of the governor’s new slave.

The chauffeur’s house was only down the hall, just above the auto garage. To get to it, one had to cross in front of the wide driveway. However, the moment the servant opened the door, Key and Tiler noticed that the garage doors were open. Thugs dressed in black were scurrying around with heaps of stolen goods, shoving them into the back seat of one of the autos. They had already started the engine. No guards were in sight.

Edman jogged up to Key from the garage, pushing inside the servants’ door, closing it. “Fancy meeting you here!”

Key nodded, breathlessly then cracked the door open again. He looked up to the room where the chauffer was suddenly running out, shouting. Key ducked back into the servants’ hall. He watched the Calcumum thugs gun up the automobile’s engine then take right off to the palace gates. The chauffer chased after them on foot.

“Is he the only chauffer?” Key whispered, peering out the crack again.

The servant nodded. “He is.”

“Alright then.” Key opened the door and trotted straight out. He went down across the drive and up the stairs to the door, going right in. Tiler and Edman hurried after him, the servant on their tails.

When they rushed inside the apartment, Key searched all over for the boy, reaching first for a closet. Just as he had expected, down on the floor, crouching with his legs pulled to his chest was a dark skinned boy that reminded Key very much of the patriarch of Wendora. The child’s face, however, was filled with horror when he stared up at them. He stifled a scream.

“Your father, Olev Taller, sent me,” Key said, extending his hand to the boy.

But the boy just shook.

Key sighed then glanced down at the boy’s ankles. He lowered his hand. The boy’s ankles were weighed down with leg irons much like the ones he used to wear. Taking in a breath, Key crouched down on one knee, took out his all-key and gently undid the lock. And despite that, the boy withdrew into his corner as if he wished to melt into the wall. As Key pried open the second iron manacle, he spoke just above a whisper to the boy. “I used to be just like you. The general told me that if I even tried to run he would have his men shoot me and drag me back so he could punish me. But I got free. And now we’ve come to free you.

“I promise,” Key said, reaching to the boy but not touching him, “that I won’t let one Sky Child get a hold of you.”

Breaking into sobs, the boy grabbed hold of Key, clenching him in a hug. “I want to go home.”

“I’ll take you to your father myself,” Key said, holding the boy tight.

Someone tapped Key’s shoulder. Key looked up. He saw Tiler gesture back towards the door.

“Let’s go.”

Key stood up, carrying the boy. The boy clung to him so tight that making him let go to run would have been ridiculous. Besides, in a strange way, holding the boy in his arms Key felt as if he had rescued himself as a child. With all the strangers that had offered to free him but could not actually do it, at least he could fulfill such an offer now.

They hurried out of the chauffeur’s house, down the stairs, and back into the servants’ quarters. The servants’ quarters were completely empty when they cut through them. All the slaves’ shoes lay scattered on the floor, left behind. From there they walked much more slowly, making sure their footfalls would not be heard. Reaching the end of the hall, they found the last of the servants waiting in line along the wall. Loid was still sneaking people below the kitchen doors into the cellar to climb down into the tunnel.

Key turned to the witch then nodded to Tiler. “I’d hate to abandon you all, but I need to cut through and take this boy out myself. Edman, please watch the back of the line. Tiler, stay with him.”

“I’m not leaving you.” Tiler followed him.

Resisting the urged to stomp on his foot for being ridiculous, Key hissed at Tiler. “I need you to watch the end of this line with Edman in case those Sky Children come out. If you cannot handle them silently, just shoot them. No swordplay.”

“And if someone hears the gunshots?” Edman asked, peering hard at Key.

But Tiler nodded, scooting back. “I get it. We then we evacuate as fast as we can while I fend them off.”

Key patted Tiler on the back with his free hand. He rushed toward the cellar, holding the boy close. He had to duck low as he went with the next three slaves. Loid saw him, nodded for Key to go past then called for the next three slaves. Going down the cellar steps, Key whispered for the boy to keep his head down. Most of the time he cradled the boy’s head to make sure the boy felt safe. With each slave slipping into the hole under the table before him, Key counted until he had his turn. Then he whispered for the boy to climb down into the hole, trying to let go.

The boy just clung to him tighter.

Feeling the panicked heart beat in the boy’s chest, with a sigh Key crouched down. “Fine. I’ll go first. You then jump into my arms. Ok?”

He set the boy on the stone edge, climbed into the dark hole and then reached for the boy to follow. First staring into the blackness of the tunnel, the boy then took a breath and dropped with all the trust that Key would catch him. And he did. Embracing the boy, together they slid down the side to the bottom where Key carried him through the pitch black toward the far end.

“It’s so dark,” the boy said.

“Close your