Chapter 20: Chapter 20: The Rescue

Will rushed out of the corridor, holding the tapestry open for the others. They piled into the room, footsteps echoing almost into view as he let the wall hanging fall. Their eyes stayed glued to the entrance, watching for a ripple or wave to show they were caught. The footsteps passed.

Will let out a breath. He turned to check on the others and froze.

“Down with the stars, is that you, Y-” Will rushed forward clamping a hand over the servant’s mouth.

“No,” Will said, “it’s not me. We aren’t here understand, Mops?”

His old friend stared wide-eyed for a moment. He nodded his head once before crushing him into a hug.

“Where have you been?” he asked, finally free of Will’s hand. “Wait, no, why are you back?”

Will drank in the sight of Mops. His dress coat was done up to perfection, tails out, cuffs linked. He wore a dusty top hat and squinted into an oxidized monocle that he must have found somewhere in the room. Will raised an eyebrow purposefully running his eyes from one to the other.

Mops grabbed the top hat from his head and let the monocle fall to hang on its chain. He cleared his throat.

“Right, well.” He gave a nervous cough. “I just wanted to see what they would look like…”

Will laughed slapping his friend on the shoulder. “They’re fitting. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were high-born.”

Mops beamed. Will had missed him.

“Not to break up your little love fest-” Merk started.

“What Merk means to say,” Dai cut in shooting him a stern look before smiling at the boys, “is we’re looking for a couple of our friends… Mops?”

“Gabe Mopeth, ma’am, at your service.” He sent her a quick bow. “Mops is an old nickname from my first position at the palace.”

She gave him a questioning look.

“Mops and brooms, ma’am,” he supplied. “I’ve graduated to chauffeur, now.” He preened tugging on his lapels.

Dai nodded sending him a small smile. “Well, Mr. Mopeth perhaps you could help us,” she said taking a limping step forward. “One of our friends would have arrived yesterday and the other earlier today. Both are commoners, a father, Jack, and his daughter, Chleo.”

Mops’s brow furrowed. Will couldn’t tell if it was in thought or concern.

“We were on our way to the North Tower brig,” Will supplied. “I thought they might be held there.”

“No,” Mops said, looking Will in the eye. It was concern then. “I’ve seen them. Everyone has been ordered to stay clear of the interrogation.”

Will ground his teeth. “Where are they?”

“The throne room.”

His heart sank. It was the most heavily guarded room in the palace. All of the passageways were known, and if the servants were ordered away, the Guard would have them blocked.

“Word is the man wouldn’t talk, so they handed him over to the Guild. I’m not sure about the girl.”

The Guild. Will’s heart sank further. The Guild was known for their… creativity with interrogations. If they couldn’t get Chleo and Mr. Mathews out soon, he doubted there would be much left to save.

“Do you know the Guard schedule?” Eelock asked.

“Yes,” Mops said with an uneasy glance.

“Have they changed?” Will asked.

“No.”

“Good, then I know them, too,” he said to Eelock. He refused to pit his friend against the Palace Guard. Whatever Eelock had in mind he would do instead. The hooded man nodded.

“Will, come with me and Merk. Mic we’ll need a distraction when we get there.”

“On it,” Mic’s phantom voice rang through the room. Mops jumped whipping his head around trying to find the source.

“Dai, go with our new friend. We may need a quick get away.”

“Wait, what?” Mops asked as Dai limped over to him. She linked her arm through his and started to lead him to the passageway.

“I assume there’s a path to the garages through here?” she asked.

Will watched him stutter as they disappeared through the tapestry. He turned to Eelock.

“Do you know what they’ll do to him if they notice a wagon missing?”

“He’ll be out and back before they notice,” Eelock assured.

“And if he’s not?”

“He’ll make it back.” Eelock took a few steps to place a hand on his shoulder. “Your friend will be fine, Will.”

He ground his teeth and fingered his watch. His pocket wasn’t glowing. If what he suspected about his Twist was true, Eelock believed what he was telling him. He gave a sharp nod.

It was a quick trip down to the gallery beyond the throne room. Will led them there with ease. It was a well worn route, one he’d taken with Mops hundreds if not thousands of times.

The gallery was host to every ball the palace held. Courtiers would arrive early to gossip unaware of the passages surrounding them. Before Will’s presence was required, he and Mops would eavesdrop on as many conversations as possible. The drama they inspired would carry him through the rest of the otherwise unbearable night.

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As a result, he was able to lead Eelock and Merk to his favorite viewing nook, out of sight with acoustics that gathered every sound in the room. He took out his watch while they waited.

“They should have switched ten minutes ago. We’ll have fifty minutes until the next shift arrives.” The guards stood shoulder to shoulder before the main door. Others scattered the ballroom in a seemingly random pattern. Only someone familiar with the various passageways would understand the design. Unlike the actual throne room, Will knew of multiple tunnels the guards were missing.

“There.” He pointed to a suit of armor. “We’ll come out as Mic’s distraction deploys. If it could go off down the hall, it’ll pull everyone but the door guard away. There’s no way to escape notice, but their formation will be disrupted.”

Merk pulled a handful of metal marbles from his pocket. “That won’t be a problem.”

Will gave him a nod. “There’s a passage to the right of the door that leads behind the throne.” He pointed it out next. “It’s the king’s emergency exit, so it’s the least likely to be blocked on the other side. Once we’re in, there’s no telling how many guards he’ll have posted.”

He blinked. This was reckless. They would recognize him. There were too many high profile Guard members to escape all of their notice. If they weren’t killed, they would be captured. He shook the thought away.

“If we can get Chleo and Mr. Mathews into the tunnels, we’ll have the best route to the garages. I know a few ways we can lose any tails who try to follow.”

Eelock nodded. “It’s a good plan. It’ll work.”

Will hoped he was right.

He was.

It went off without a hitch. Mic, sent noise makers screaming down the hall. All but the door guard ran to investigate. Merk slipped out from behind the suit of armor and tossed the marbles. There was a quick buzz before each one stuck to a guard’s neck. They dropped as one.

The passageway was short. Before Will fully comprehended that the plan had started, they were stepping out from behind the curtains framing the throne. He tightened his hand around his watch. Thirty minutes until the next guard arrived, shorter if Mic’s distraction didn’t hold the others’ attention.

“Where is it?” a voice demanded, echoing through the room.

“I don’t know,” a voice mumbled. It might have sounded like Mr. Mathews after a Lux Diem all nighter if it weren’t edged with terror.

The watch in Will’s hand flashed a brilliant green. It reflected off the curtain hiding them from view. He quickly flipped it open and watched as a quick etching drew itself inside the cover. Gears and levers appeared in an intricate design that rivaled Mrs. Mathews’ larger pieces at Timekeepers. He shoved the watch inside his jacket, trying to snuff out the light.

A stomp and crisp turn echoed nearby. Will recognized it as the sound repeated around the room. One of the Guard had noticed. They had seconds before he arrived to check. Will shot Eelock a desperate look.

A blast echoed. The far wall crumbled.

~*~*~*~

The Shack was comforting, but the crying baby grated Chleo’s nerves. The sobs echoed in her throbbing head, doing their best to drown out her father’s soft melody. The longer it went, the more she thought she could understand. Slowly, the shrieks solidified into words.

“Where is it?” the baby screamed again and again until her eyes crossed. Why was the question so familiar? Something whispered in the back of her mind as she tried to focus on what she knew.

Her father was there. He felt like a missing part of a puzzle. Had he been lost?

He said the Pits were her memory. Was this one of his? She opened her mouth to ask before she remembered his warning. There were ears everywhere. She closed it again.

The Pits, something had happened there. She remembered the agents. The sight of them made her ribs ache and her head throb. A phantom feeling of stone pressed into her forehead. Chleo glanced around the Shack. If her father could change their surroundings, so could she. She closed her eyes and focused on the coolness spreading across her scalp, the pressure from the stone, and the feeling of helpless terror that surrounded it.

Her center of gravity shifted, and she was bowing, forehead to the floor. The king, the throne room, her stomach twisted as the memories flitted into focus.

“You’re not real,” the memory of her father’s words rang in her ears. Maybe this wasn’t either. She forced her head up.

Purple boots bled into a purple figure. Its features swirled. The purple cane reached to poke her.

“You’re not real,” she told it. The cane passed through her shoulder, an apparition. She dismissed her mind’s version of the king. A ghost couldn’t hurt her.

Chleo turned to her father. It was the scene she’d glimpsed in the throne room, her dad puffy eyed and bleeding with a machine strapped to his head. He was awake.

Someone was questioning them, she remembered.

“Where is it?” the king’s ghost whispered.

She shook her head, focusing on the machine attached to her dad. If she could understand it, maybe she could find a way out. Tubes lead to valves welded onto a metal helmet. The strap kept it in place as a motor ran behind her dad’s chair.

Every time she tried to look at the motor the image fuzzed and warped. She tried to remember if she glimpsed it in the real throne room.

The king’s phantom floated behind her. Occasionally, his cane would poke through her shoulder with nothing more than a small breeze.

His whispered, “Where is it?” followed her as she studied.

“I don’t know,” her dad shouted at the purple figure.

Memories. She never looked at the motor, so she couldn’t see it. The machine could only warp memories they already had. She studied the helmet. It lit and sparked in ways she’d never seen before. No, that wasn’t right. Her father’s memory with the blinking dashboard was similar. They must have the same power source.

There was a blast and crumbling. Her mind panicked and threw them back into the Pits. The agents shouted from their spot beyond the border. The ground fell out beneath them. Dancing Lava sprayed up, purple, hot, and coating their skin. It stuck and burned.

Chleo was on fire. Her head felt like it would explode. Warm arms were grabbing her, pulling her to her feet. Will came into focus.

Will, she should follow Will. She stumbled after him, his arm wrapped around her waist.

She was back in the throne room, and it was on fire. Guards were screaming as they burned. Will’s arm never left her as he pulled her toward a flaming curtain. A sharp pain throbbed against her temple. Was this another nightmare?

She hoped not.

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