Bailey Baz's Arc

Chapter 18 of 44

The elk carried Bailey and Cora onto dry land at dusk. For the first time in a hundred years, Bailey stood on solid ground outside the swamp. He slid down from the beast's back. Then he heard someone crashing through the brush ahead, breath ragged, feet stumbling. A young man burst from the trees and fell at Bailey's feet. Blood soaked one side of his shirt. He looked no older than twenty, wiry, with a scraggly beard and eyes that darted back the way he'd come. "Please," he gasped. "They're behind me. The King's soldiers." He pressed a hand to his wound. "I ran from the capital. I'm Tyrek." Bailey knelt beside him. Cora already had her wand out, scanning the trees. Hooves drummed in the distance. Horns called across the dark. "Hide him," Cora whispered. "If they find us, they find you." Bailey looked down at his chest. The purple cloak hung open, the golden crest bright even in the failing light. Two lions and a letter. The mark of the murdered prince. To lift Tyrek and carry him, he would have to step into the open road, in full view, wearing the one thing that named him. Tyrek's eyes fixed on the crest. His mouth fell open. "That mark," he breathed. "The old crest. They say the dead prince is walking again." He grabbed Bailey's sleeve. "It's true. You're him." The hoofbeats grew louder. Bailey had a choice. He could pull the cloak shut, drag Tyrek into the brush, and stay hidden. Or he could show himself and save the man's life. He stood and left the cloak open. He pulled Tyrek up by the arm and looped it over his shoulders. Cora hissed his name. Bailey ignored her. He walked into the middle of the road with the wounded man against him, the crest facing the coming riders. Three soldiers broke from the trees. They saw the crest and reined their horses hard. One drew his sword. But he did not charge. He stared at the two lions on Bailey's chest, and his face went pale. Bailey raised the family sword. The old runes on the blade caught the last light and glowed. "I am the prince you were told is dead," he said. "Ride back and tell your King." The soldiers wheeled their horses and fled. Bailey lowered the sword. His hands shook. He had won the moment. But now the King would know he was coming, and coming with proof. Tyrek slumped against him, alive, gripping the cloak. "The rebellion needs to see this," he said. "There are hundreds of us hiding, waiting for a sign. You're the sign." He looked up at Bailey. "Take me to them. I'll bring you an army." Bailey helped Tyrek onto the elk. He had meant to reach the throne in secret. That was gone now. The whole capital would hear the dead prince had returned.