The Runaway King (Ascendance 2)
Without waiting for an order, Agor grabbed the whip and moved to strike me with it. I had closed my eyes in anticipation of the sting, so I didn’t see the speed of Roden’s movement. All I knew was that before the whip touched me, Agor’s angry cry turned to a grunt of pain and he fell to the ground. When I looked, Roden stood behind him, his sword red with blood.
“Stop him,” Devlin shouted.
Just as he had with my vigils at the castle, Roden cut through the pirates like they were little more than soft butter. It didn’t take long before the rest of them backed away. And once they saw where he was going, they stopped fighting him entirely.
Devlin stood behind the rest of his men, not because they were protecting him but because he was using them to hide. He had withdrawn his sword but held it limply in his good arm.
“I am the king of these pirates,” Devlin said. “Roden, you have violated the oath —”
“And you violated our bargain,” Roden said. “Drop your sword.”
“Never.” Devlin raised his sword to attack, but in a single move, Roden deflected his thrust and stabbed Devlin just below the chest. Devlin was dead the instant he hit the ground.
There was a long moment while everyone stared at their king’s body, as if it was impossible that after so many years he could be gone so quickly, and with surprisingly little effort on Roden’s part.
Roden stared at him too. Of course, Devlin had made the first strike, but I didn’t think Roden had intended to kill him. Now that he had, Roden was more than just a pirate here. And he knew it.
“You have a new king,” Roden announced. “You will follow my orders now.” The others looked up at him, not sure what to expect next. Then he nodded at me. “Get Jaron down from there and someone find him a shirt. Put him in the jail until I decide what to do with him next.”
“My traitorous captain of the guard is in the jail,” I said. “One of us is bound to kill the other in there, so if you want access to us both, I’d suggest taking me elsewhere.”
Roden glanced at a pirate next to me who said, “I’ll put him with a boy we just locked away. I think they came here together.”
“Is it secure?” Roden asked.
“Probably more so than the jail. Nobody’s ever escaped it.”
“Fine.”
The ropes were cut away from my hands and pirates grabbed me on either side. Roden never looked up as they led me away. I said nothing to him either, mostly because I didn’t know the words. Roden hadn’t saved me from the pirates. He’d only delayed what now seemed inevitable.
As the pirate had told Roden, the room where they took me did seem far more secure than the jail where I’d been yesterday. The jail was nearly at ground level, so if a prisoner could get past the vigil, he could be on the run in seconds.
In contrast, this room was midway up the cliff, above the living quarters, and it took the men considerable time to unlock the door to put me inside, so it would likely be nearly impossible to pick the lock from within the room. Even if someone could do it, the stairs down would take him past several well-armed pirates, and there were no stairs up to the top of the cliff. It was obvious why nobody had ever escaped from here. I doubted many people had even tried.
Fink reacted with an excited yelp and a high jump when the locked door opened and he saw me on the other side.
“I didn’t think I’d see you again,” he said. “No offense, but I really didn’t.”
I smiled tiredly. “No offense.”
My escorts thrust me into the room, which was furnished only with a small table and a single chair. One who had been particularly unkind in the way he held my arm said to Fink, “He’s not out of trouble yet, boy, so don’t get too attached.”
They tossed a shirt into the room, which, surprisingly, was in better condition than the one I’d worn before. Then they locked the door behind us and left the room.
“No vigil?” I asked Fink, pulling the shirt over my head.
“I asked for one, just to have someone to talk to. They said one wasn’t needed here, and besides, I’m not much of a threat to anyone.”
“You’re not,” I agreed. “But I’m glad you’re here.”
“Where’s Imogen?”
“She left. I hope.”
“Oh. That’s good.” Fink sat on the table and stared at me. “She said your name is Jaron, that you’re the king of Carthya.”
I sat beside him on the table, looking at nothing in particular. “She’s right.”