“Odds are they will send you on your way,” Ulfr agreed. “But you’ll be on the streets of Corcillum. That’s better than you were before, and I’m sure I can find some parchment for you to tell your parents you’ve escaped. Find shelter there. Surely you have friends.”
“Perhaps … I know a few people,” Alice said hesitantly.
“Commoners,” Zacharias interjected. “We won’t know who to trust.”
“Well, we can’t stay here,” Alice snapped back. “It’s as good a plan as any.”
There was a sound from Edmund, barely audible over the echoes of their argument.
“What was that, Edmund?” Prince Harold asked. “Save your strength.”
“Uhtred,” Edmund whispered. “Uhtred Thorsager. We can trust him.”
“Who’s that?” Elaine asked.
“A dwarf,” Alice replied. “He helped build the secret tunnel under Raleighshire.”
“Do you know him?” Zacharias asked.
Alice shook her head.
“None of us do,” she said. “But Edmund’s father must have faith in him, to trust him with such an important secret.”
“Can you take us to him?” Prince Harold asked, turning to Ulfr.
The dwarf thought for a moment, stroking his beard.
“He owns his own workshop and home. He’s a wealthy dwarf, especially for one so young … a blacksmith, if I remember correctly.”
“Can you take us?” Prince Harold repeated.
Ulfr sighed.
“Follow me,” he said.
CHAPTER
54
THERE WAS A CRACK in the wall—just wide enough to fit a man. They would never have noticed it, for the outside was covered in lichen, but Ulfr swept it aside and beckoned them through.
The entire group followed, the sound of the soldiers marching echoing like a drum in the depths of the tight tunnel. Inside, it was somehow colder still, and the path was so twisted that the torches did little to illuminate their way. The soldiers cursed as they passed through, but a bark from Sergeant Caulder silenced them once more.
Still, they pressed on despite their complaints, eager to finally reach somewhere warm and safe. As they traveled, Ulfr would stop and peer at dwarven runes carved into the walls. Their path split and split again, until Arcturus thought that Ulfr had become lost. But finally, signs of life began to appear.
A cart full of rocks and oars lay on its side down one tunnel, while in another, Arcturus saw a metal door embedded in the wall. He passed too quickly to get a good look, but soon more began to appear. Great iron circles built into the rock itself, riveted and reinforced with a crisscross of bracing along its center. Each one had more runes written above it, but Ulfr did not stop to look now—he wove his way unerringly through the labyrinth, ignoring the dripping water from above and the squeaking rats that skittered from their path.
It was only when Arcturus thought he could not walk any farther and would need to ask for rest that they reached it. Another metal door, this one as large and thick as any Arcturus had seen, with a great pile of discarded leather, rusted nails and other such leavings outside it.
“This is it,” Ulfr said, leaning heavily against the wall. “Uhtred’s workshop. We had better hope he is in.”
Behind, soldiers collapsed to the ground in relief, ignoring the dampness and the cold stone beneath them.
“Edmund … what now?” Alice asked.
But Edmund did not reply. The boy slipped to the floor, his eyes half-closed.
“I’ll have the red one,” the boy muttered, reaching out at the ceiling.
“He’s delirious,” Alice said, pulling her damp cloak from her shivering body and wrapping it around him.
Arcturus strode to the door and rapped it with his knuckles. He winced, and the metal rang so softly that he wasn’t sure he’d heard it. Growling, Arcturus grasped a nearby rock and slammed it against the door with a clang.
“Hello!” he yelled, hitting it again. “We’re here, hello!”
Silence.
“If you don’t let us in, we’ll die down here,” Arcturus shouted. He battered the door with the rock, until the stone crumbled beneath the onslaught. He let the pieces fall to the ground and pressed his head against the metal. It was warm to the touch, and he reveled in its heat.
“You have to be there. You have to.”
Still silence. Then …
“Who is it?”
The voice was deep, but muffled behind the thickness of the door.
“We are nobles from Vocans. We have Edmund Raleigh with us,” Arcturus replied, trying to keep his voice loud enough to hear without announcing that they were nobles to the echoing cave. Who knew what other dwarves might be listening?
The voice took a while to reply, then said, “How?”
“Ulfr brought us here,” Arcturus replied.
“I have heard Ulfr hates humans,” the voice replied. “You’re lying.”
“Please, Ulfr,” Prince Harold begged, looking beseechingly at the dwarf. “Tell him.”
Ulfr shook his head and approached the door.
“Uhtred, it’s me, Ulfr. We have not met, but I believe you’re courting my cousin Briss. She likes you.”
The door was silent again.
“Truly?” called the voice.
“Open the damned door—it’s freezing out here,” Rotter shouted.
Finally, Arcturus heard some movement on the other side. A thumping sound, followed by the clanking of metal. Then the door slowly rolled sideways, and a red-bearded face peered through the gap.
“Ulfr?” Uhtred said.
“Aye,” Ulfr said. “See.”
Uhtred stared at the dozens of soldiers shivering on the floor outside, and the waxen-faced Edmund collapsed in Alice’s lap.
“Come in,” he said, his face a picture of shock.
“About bloody time,” Rotter growled. He hurried to Edmund and lifted the boy onto his shoulder, then barged past Uhtred into the room behind. Arcturus followed, and the soldiers piled in, thanking Uhtred with the exaggerated gratefulness of men on the edge of despair.
But Arcturus was not listening. Because he was staring at a roaring fire, and the heat was the most blessed thing he had ever felt in his life. He fell to his knees and spread his arms, while Rotter laid Edmund out beside him.
“Some warmth and rest will do him good,” Rotter said, brushing the hair from the boy’s forehead. “And some soup.”
Arcturus took a few moments to let the feeling seep to his extremities again, before turning to see Uhtred standing morosely among the men who had crowded into what appeared to be a forge.
Metal tools and implements lay in neat rows on wooden benches, and half-finished weapons and armor were stacked like kindling in wooden boxes around the room. In the center, where Arcturus was now warming his back, an enormous furnace roared within a metal pipe that extended into the ceiling. On the opposite side of the room, a door identical to the one they had just entered from was built into the wall.
“What’s wrong with Edmund?” Uhtred said, hurrying over and kneeling beside the stricken noble.
“He was hurt fighting the orcs, and the summoners couldn’t heal him,” Rotter said. “The skull may be fractured.”
“It may be brain swelling,” Uhtred said, stroking his beard with a worried expression. “The cold from outside has probably helped with that, but he’s too weak to cool him any further. We must give him rest—there’s nothing else we can do for him now.”
Arcturus was finally able to take a look at the dwarf. It was strange, but the dwarf was taller than Ulfr, reaching as high as Arcturus’s chest. His arms were heavily muscled, and his shoulders as broad as two men standing side by side. But despite his beard, he looked young. Arcturus would have been surprised if Uhtred was much older than himself.
“What are you doing here? Did you say he was injured by an orc? And who are all these men?” Uhtred asked.
He was looking furtively at the men around him, as if he was already questioning his decision to let them in. Arcturus doubted he would have, had Edmund not been with them.
Nobody replied to the dwarf; instead Sergeant Caulder slammed the door shut and twisted the metal wheel that kept it locked into place. Then the tired man collapsed to the ground and put his face in his hands.
“We did it,” the sergeant said. “Goddamn but we kept you safe. It’s a bloody miracle.”
Arcturus smiled and hugged Sacharissa close. It was true. They were finally safe.
CHAPTER