Lingering Shadows-Chapter 7

Notes:

• First, sorry for the delay in finishing this.

• But I did finish it! So…here it is.

• Previous Chapter

Chapter 7-A Threat to the Crown

    The moment Artham saw the figure in black on top of the building bending his deadly bow, he whirled around and shouted,

     “Esben! Get down!” He lunged for his brother, pulling him to the ground and at the same time trying to shield Esben’s body with his own. Just before Artham threw himself in front of Esben, as he was pulling them both to the ground where they would hopefully be obscured by the walls on either side of the bridge, the archer on the building released his arrow. 

      A stab of agony struck Artham in the shoulder only a second before the two of them hit the ground. Artham bit his lip to keep from crying out, and he looked up to see that Esben had moved so that he was pressed up against the wall, completely hidden from the mysterious attacker, staring at Artham with an expression of pain and fear, his hand still tightly over his arm. Artham gritted his teeth and moved so that he was next to Esben, but when he turned to try to lean against the wall, the pain in his shoulder exploded and seemed to send fire through his arm and something warm slipped down his back.

     Looking over his shoulder was painful, but Artham did it anyway, discovering with surprise, horror, and a small degree of fascination that there was an arrow in his left shoulder. He turned so that he was sideways against the wall, resisting the temptation to try and pull the arrow out and get it over with, reminding himself that jerking the arrow out could result in a far more serious injury. He wondered if Esben could hear the frantic pounding of his heart.

     All of it had happened in only a few seconds. He took several deep, rapid breaths, both trying to push down the terror that was rising in him and adjusting to the fact that an arrow in his shoulder would most certainly affect what he was going to be capable of doing, but he told himself that he couldn’t let it keep him from doing what he needed to do to get his brother out of this situation. Protect. The little voice in his mind whispered again and again, reminding him to be strong. He looked up at Esben. 

     “Are you okay?” He asked. Esben nodded hesitantly after glancing down at is arm and answered,

     “I think so. But you’re not.” 

     “I can do whatever it takes to get us out of this,” Artham responded, grateful that his voice was steady and assured. 

     “We need to make it into Pennybridge. The side of the bridge will cover us, but there’s a stretch of absolutely no protection after that. We’ll have to sprint, and pray the Maker keeps us safe,” Artham said, looking Esben in the eyes. Esben nodded, fierce determination on his face. The brothers made their way to the very end of the bridge, Artham rather clumsily as he discovered that it was nearly impossible to use his left arm without jogging the arrow, resulting in the pain in his shoulder that was incredibly distracting. A trickle of blood had already begun to run down his arm. 

     “Maker help us,” Esben whispered, hissing involuntarily when his right arm brushed against the rock wall. They had reached the end of the bridge. Artham moved so that he would be between Esben and the archer in black for the full three seconds of a sprint into the cover of Pennybridge, where if all was as it should be, at least two sentries would be a few houses into the city. Artham nodded at Esben and held his arm tightly against his body.

      The two of them sprinted as fast as they possibly could over the bare, protection less part of the road. Artham’s heart was pounding again, and adrenaline raced through his veins, temporarily obliterating the pain in his shoulder. An arrow whistled so close to them that it rustled Artham’s hair just before they reached the cover of the first building. Artham stumbled and fell to his knees, scrambling upright just as one of the sentries came running up. 

     “Your Highness! Your Majesty! What happened!?” The sentry shouted as the second sentry tried to support Artham. Esben started talking fast, explaining what had happened, but Artham took matters into his own hands. 

     “Why weren’t you two at the bridge?” He asked angrily. The two sentries looked at each other rather guiltily.      

     “Let go of me,” Artham growled at the first sentry, jerking his arm out of the man’s hand and regretting it immediately, “and go after whoever it was who was shooting at us!” He finished, his voice having risen to an angry shout.

      “Where was he?” The second sentry, who seemed older than the first one asked, drawing his sword.

      “That way,” Esben gestured, “On top of a building above Baker’s Street,” The older sentry nodded, the first drew his sword, and both ran off to the closest path to Baker’s Street. Artham drew his sword and prepared to follow them, in fact he started running when Esben grabbed his right arm.

      “Artham stop! We’re both hurt. We need to get back to the castle, alert the militia, and send reinforcements. That’s the best way we can help right now.” Artham hesitated, his every instinct telling him to run to the ends of Anniera if necessary to hunt down and obliterate this threat to his little brother, but the sight of the red smeared hand over Esben’s arm changed his mind like nothing else could have. He nodded. 

      “Let’s get back to the castle,” Esben rushed to the nearest inn, barged into the stable, and grabbed the first two horses he could lay hands on. The innkeeper rushed out the front door with an expression of anger that changed to one of fear and confusion when he saw Artham and Esben. 

      “What’s goin’ on?” he shouted.

      “Alert any nearby sentries that there’s a dangerous threat loose in the streets! Send them to Baker’s Street as quickly as possible,” Artham shouted as he pulled the horses out of the stable.

      “We need to get to the castle,” Esben yelled to the innkeeper. Artham gritted his teeth as he pulled himself up onto the horse and began riding up the street, only looking back to make sure that Esben was following.

      “Aye sir!” The innkeeper shouted. Soon, Artham and Esben were galloping through the streets, the cold wind stinging their faces as they rushed back to the castle.

        * * *

     When they arrived back at the castle, Esben was out of breath and the cut on his arm was stinging terribly, but he ignored it. Despite the fury in his eyes, Artham was looking pale, and when he dismounted a little too fast and rather clumsily, his tightly clenched fists were shaking slightly. As Artham shouted at one of the squires in the courtyard to fetch the captain of the guard, Esben grabbed his brother by the arm that wasn’t injured and tried to draw him inside.

   “Artham,” Esben hated how scared his voice sounded.

   “We need to get inside, Artham,” Artham looked in the direction the squire had gone to get the captain of the guard and it seemed like he was going to say something but decided against it. After a moment of hesitation he walked with his brother toward the door across the courtyard.

     As they went from the already cold day into the colder shadow of the castle, Esben turned and shouted to one of the pages to get Doctor Idrion.

    They went straight into the first somewhat private small room off the entrance hall and Esben stood pressing a wadded up cloth to his arm, gazing in absolute bewilderment at Artham, trying to figure out a way he could sit down without jarring the arrow.

Artham saw Esben’s confusion and sat down at an angle so that his left shoulder didn’t brush against anything. 

      “Are you okay?” He asked Esben a little bit shakily.“How…bad is…is your arm?” Esben glared at Artham in exasperation, feeling like if he had been a few years younger he would have stomped his foot at his older brother.

      “You have an arrow in your shoulder and you're asking if I’m okay?”

      “Yes,” Artham answered simply, and Esben decided against starting an argument over how overprotective his older brother was, considering that his overprotective older brother had just saved his life. He sighed but realized that Artham was not going to let himself be taken care of until he was sure Esben was okay. 

      “I don’t think it’s very deep,” He said, touching near the wide cut and wincing. “It stings though. If someone wants to kill me, they should get someone who actually knows how to hit the target in the first place.” Artham groaned. 

      “Please do not…say that.” 

      “Sorry,” Esben responded, glaring up and down the hall outside the door.

      “When will Idrion get here?” He asked anxiously. “Anyway,” he said turning to Artham, “You are far worse of than I am right now,” 

      “I’ll be fine…eventually,” Artham answered with a strained voice.

      “Uh huh,” Esben said, once again refraining from an argument. He looked out the door again. 

       “There you are!” He shouted, ushering in Doctor Idrion and a younger man who also appeared to be a doctor. “What took you so long?” He asked angrily. The doctor looked up apologetically. “Your Majesty, it has been approximately three minutes since the page told me you and your brother were injured.”

       “Oh.” Esben responded, looking uncomfortable. “Sorry.” The doctor nodded and whispered quietly to the younger man who appeared to either be his apprentice or his assistant to see to Esben’s arm as he went over to Artham. Esben heard someone outside the door again and stepped outside despite the young doctor’s protests to see the Captain of the Guard, Sir Bren. 

      “May I enter to see the Throne Warden?” he asked quietly after bowing. 

      “No you may not,” Esben retorted. “Send guards to the sentries who are looking for an assassin on Baker’s Street, yes you may assume it’s a state of emergency, and you aren’t seeing my brother until the doctor fixes his arm, because if I know him, he’ll be talking with you for two hours and won’t let the doctor see him until afterwards. Goodbye.” Esben nodded curtly and closed the door unceremoniously in Sir Bren’s face.