“Well, I was hoping to see Ludwig. Do you know him?”
“Ludwig, huh?” he said, as if such a request surprised him.
Liane chanced a peek out of the corner of her eye as the guard surveyed the barracks.
“Isn’t that him there? Looks like he’s headed out.” Liane followed the line of his pointing finger and saw Ludwig limping away from the barracks. “Were you love birds planning on meeting up? Don’t stay out too late. Don’t want to get caught after curfew now, do you?” He chuckled as he strolled away.
Liane waited until the guard was out of sight before chasing after Ludwig and was about to call out to him when he diverted from the gravel path and walked deeper into the twilight garden beyond, toward a gazebo where a servant in palace double star livery paced. They were one of Aristea and Heinrich’s household. Pulse drumming in her throat, she watched Ludwig read a note the servant handed to him. His shoulders tensed, and then, with a curt nod, he walked away, coming in her direction. She ducked behind a bush and held her breath as he walked by.
Where was he going at this hour, and what had been in that message? Though it felt wrong to doubt him and to spy, her gut told her to wait and watch. Keeping a safe distance, she followed him until he strolled through the palace gates. Curfew wasn’t far off, and it wasn’t like Ludwig to head out late at night. If she followed him, she might see what he was up to and maybe even find a chance to talk. But leaving the palace broke her promise to Luzie… Nibbling on her thumb, Liane debated her options. She had to prove Ludwig’s innocence. Turning on her heel, she followed him out of the palace.
A gibbous moonrose in mocking defiance against the bright blue sky. Even with sunset hours away, the eye of the Nameless Goddess peered past the veil, reminding Erich of another impending change. For too long, moon cycles had swung above his head like a guillotine’s blade. Tonight, if he were successful, he wouldn’t have to fear it again. With time, he might even learn to appreciate its radiant beauty as poets and artists seemed to. Tearing his gaze away from the horizon, Erich resumed his scouting mission. After meeting with Fritz, he’d returned to the palace to survey potential locations for an ambush. There were multiple routes they might transport the sword along, the most obvious being the main road which connected both temple and palace together. It was direct and easily defendable, but it also had the added complication of heavy foot traffic, which at peak hours could provide cover for Fritz and Erich. That was assuming they didn’t wait until past curfew to move it.
Making a mental note, Erich followed the road parallel to the palace. Walls encircled it, and from the tops of the ramparts, guards patrolled. From up there, they’d have a view all the way to the temple. Crossbows couldn’t reach that far, but if they were seen from above, they’d call for reinforcements,which shortened their window of opportunity. Towers marked the corners of the palace wall, and from there, the road branched in two directions: one down a smaller back street, and another down a narrow alley. Glancing down the street, he saw it rolled downhill, between rows of townhouses. The other branch followed the southern wall of the palace ending at a small gate where a man and donkey cart waited.
A guard greeted the man before inspecting and letting him inside. It must be some sort of utility gate, where supplies were delivered. If this street joined up with Temple Street, then he might have found his route. Backtracking, Erich followed it down the hill as it looped around, emptying out back onto Temple Street. If he were trying to transport an important artifact, Erich would have taken the less direct but secret route. The most glaring flaw was the number of niches and alleyways where ambushers could hide, leaving the convoy exposed. If he were the Midnight Guard, he’d wait until after curfew bells and move it directly and armed to the teeth.
There were too many variables to be certain what they’d choose. And guessing meant picking the wrong one. And there wasn’t time for near misses. He had to be certain. Tonight he could not fail.
Returning to the palace square, Erich waited for sunset and Fritz to arrive. Pedestrians leaving the palace flowed past without a second glance. In these upper districts, no one thought twice about a well-dressed man standing on a street corner. But as the moon grew brighter and light dimmer, his impatience grew. Long shadows crept across the cobble, and Erich started to pace. Lamplighters came around, pressing flame to wick, and the haunting yellow glow of lamplight mixed with the dying light of day. The flow of pedestrians reduced to a trickle, as the last rays of golden sunlight sank below the tops of buildings. Where was Fritz? He hadn’t changed his mind, had he? His plan wouldn’t work without a diversion, and Erich couldn’t be in two places at once.
The shadow of a nearby lamp flickered strangely, warping and contorting, then it sprouted arms and a head. Blinking, Erich rubbed his eyes, but the object grew, coalescing into a figure who approached him. It solidified into Fritz, who grinned at him in greeting. A few stragglers strolling past didn’t look twice at the elf as he waved to Erich. It was as if they hadn’t seen him at all.
“How did you do that?” Erich asked him.
“Can’t you step out of shadows?” Fritz teased.
Erich shook his head. Whatever elven magic he used, that could be an asset to them tonight. No use in questioning it.
“Either way, you’re late. I need you to create a diversion at the main gate, drive them to the southern gate, where I’ll be waiting to ambush them. Then we’ll—”
“I’m late because I had a vision,” Fritz said, his voice solemn. But something about his tone made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.
“I hope you saw us successfully retrieving the sword,” Erich said.
Fritz’s eyes were glowing golden as he gazed past Erich and into the distance. “You were standing at a crossroads, and a voice whispered: ‘remember your promise.’ Does that make any sense to you?”
Snapping back to the present, Fritz regarded him with an inquisitive gaze. Before leaving for Sundland’s court, Erich had promised Endland he’d stay true to himself and become a great king.But Erich had reached that crossroads long ago and made his choice, and there was no turning back now.Then there was the promise he’d made to Prince Mathias, to protect his sister, but that had been a lie. There was no turning back now. Once he had the sword, and his cure, there would be no reason to stay in the city or to ever think about Liane again.
“It was a false vision: I don’t make promises.”
Fritz frowned. “That’s unfortunate...”
“We don’t have time for prophecies; there’s a job to do, remember?”
“You’re right.I’ll set up the diversion, as you said.” But Fritz seemed uncertain.
There wasn’t time for second guessing, the moon’s changing waited for no one, and only a few days remained before the next full moon. Either he got this sword, or he left the city before the next change.
“No second guessing,” Erich said.
Fritz nodded, and his form shifted, becoming a stranger with blond hair, blue eyes, short and stout. If he hadn’t seen him change, he never would have guessed it was him.
“I know what needs to be done. I’ll see you later.” With a wave, he jogged toward the palace gates.
They parted ways, and Erich strolled down the road, finding a spot in an alleyway where he could see the gate and stay hidden among the shadows. Time dragged on as they waited, and his mind wandered, remembering things better left forgotten. Endland wanted him to be a righteous king, the sort who’d marry a princess like Liane, save her from arranged marriages with men like his Uncle Duke Mattison. But he never could be that man; it was why he left it all behind. Fritz was wrong. He’d already chosen his path at the crossroad, and he couldn’t look back. With time, Liane would become like others he’d walked away from, a distant memory. The thought made the dragon twist in his gut, but more surprising was his own regret.
Pushing her from his mind, he concentrated on the steady trickle of courtiers exiting the palace as he drummed his fingers on the hilt of his dagger. A limping figure headed toward him, and Erich pulled back into the shadows. The gait and build were unmistakably the killer from the apothecary.What was he doing in the palace? Was Liane in danger?
