Kirsten sat in the dark, visualizing the ruthless soldiers entering the home. Hearing their boots sounded on the wood floor overhead, she followed them in her mind’s eye as they moved into the house.
Their voices sounded clearly through the cellar door’s thin paneling. It was clear that their native tongue was not Landish. From the sounds above, Kirsten could tell that the men had spread out, one on either side of the living room and a third walking through the middle of the room. Kicking through the mess on the floor and flipping over furniture in their way, Kirsten was grateful that they hadn’t had time to clean Solomon’s home. The ransacked state of the house made it appear as though no one was staying there. As the soldiers moved through the house, Kirsten wondered again where Bo had gone.
Hearing one of the soldier’s heavy footsteps skiff to a stop on the other side of the cellar door, Kirsten covered her mouth in an attempt to silence her breathing. She pleaded to the darkness around her that the man wouldn’t be curious about the cellar door and hoped that, instead, he had stopped to inspect something else. Holding her breath, she heard the handle to the cellar door clink. The door moved slightly, then rattled. She hoped Thomas was holding the door shut, but in the darkness, it was impossible to tell. Whatever was happening, it sounded like the door wasn’t willing to open.
She heard the handle clink again and a breath later the click of boot heels on wood as the soldier resumed walking through the kitchen. Kirsten followed them with her imagination into the kitchen, then up the stairs and through Solomon’s bedroom. Not hearing any struggle, she assumed Bo either wasn’t in the house or that he, too, had found a good place to hide.
The clomping boots returned to the living room and Kirsten thought she heard two of them walk to the front door and stop. The soldiers at the door spoke to each other, or to someone else just outside. It was difficult to tell between the foreign language and their muffled voices. Then one of them raised his voice and called back into the house. Kirsten heard the third man’s reply sounding from just outside the cellar door. The two other soldiers and their associate outside muttered to one another, then Kirsten heard the door to the house close leaving a lone soldier inside.
Wishing she could communicate with her brother, Kirsten sat in the darkness, waiting to hear what the soldier would do next. His feet shuffled near the wall and she could hear the tinkle of his armor as he moved. Then a hinge squeaked, followed by a sound of glass clinking glass. Her eyes widened when she heard the cork pop and a moment later the clash of the soldier’s armor falling hard on the floor. The thudding shook the ground, echoing through the cellar and rattling the potion bottles in their case on the other side of the wall.
Kirsten waited several long moments to be sure she didn’t hear any more movement before whispering to Thomas, “Did he just fall over?”
“Yeah,” Thomas replied.
“Should we check?” she asked.
“What if he wakes up?” Thomas replied.
“I haven’t heard him move yet,” Kirsten said.
“Okay. I’ll look.”
Kirsten heard the handle to the door turn and a stream of light poured in through the crack, illuminating their stairwell. The small beam of light remained a sliver for several seconds, then grew as Thomas pushed the door open. Kirsten turned and saw her brother leaning halfway out into the room above.
He popped his head back inside and said with a smile, “He’s completely out.”
The wave of light made Kirsten’s head start to spin again, but the idea that the soldier had just flopped onto the ground pulled her from her seat. Crawling the short way up the steep staircase, Kirsten emerged through the door cleverly hidden in the side of the wall. Seeing the soldier laying on his back with an uncorked glass bottle in his hand, she thought she knew what happened but wanted to investigate.
“Which one did he drink?” she asked as she watched Thomas crouch down next to the soldier’s body. Kirsten wasn’t expecting a precise response from her brother, but she couldn’t help but ask. She watched as he quickly examined the man closely.
Reaching across the body, Thomas plucked the empty bottle from his hand and corked it. Standing, Thomas held out the yellow-stained bottle, “That’s one of the bad ones; I’m not sure what it’s called though.”
Kirsten watched him place the bottle back on the rack in the cabinet and asked, “How bad?”
“I don’t know. Max, Bo and Britt were the ones to figure that out, but it doesn’t look like he’ll be coming back from that,” Thomas said, motioning to the soldier.
“Is he dead?” Kirsten asked, her head feeling slightly less clouded than it was before the soldiers entered the home. She watched her brother kneel and feel for a pulse.
“He isn’t dead,” Thomas said.
“Well, how long will he be like this?” Kirsten asked.
Just as she finished the question, the door flung open and Kirsten jumped in surprise. She instantly gathered her senses again when she saw Bo step into the room, breathing heavily.
Wide-eyed Kirsten leaned forward, placing her hands on her knees, her legs suddenly felt like jelly from the scare. She gasped, “Bo. It’s only you.”
“Where have you been? Did you see the soldiers?” Thomas asked.
“Yes,” Bo said between breaths as he closed the door behind him. “I had to hide in the forest when I saw them, but after they left, I came back as soon as I could.” Bo walked closer to stare down at the soldier lying unconscious on the ground. He nodded at the soldier and asked, “How did this happen?”
Kirsten straightened and pointed to the cabinet, “He took something from in there.”
Eyebrows raised in surprise, Bo asked, “How did you get him to do that?”
“He did that to himself. We were in the cellar,” Thomas answered. “I had to hold the door closed so they couldn’t open it, but it proved to be a decent hiding spot. They were in and out pretty quickly, all except for this one.”
The thought of being so close to having been taken prisoner again sent Kirsten’s head spinning. The thing she feared most was being held in a cell day after day with no idea whether she would live to see her friends and family again.
“Kirsten,” Bo said, stepping to her side. “Are you okay?”
Feeling Bo’s strong arms catch her as she dipped backward, Kirsten worked to find her feet under her again.
“You’re shaking,” he said his hand resting on her back.
“I’m fine,” Kirsten said. “I just need some food, I think.”
Thomas moved to the kitchen and grabbed three dried apples Bo had brought up from the cellar the night before. Stuffing them into Kirsten’s hand, he said, “Eat these.”
As she ate, she listened to Thomas recount what transpired after they’d awakened. “Why were you outside?” Thomas asked as Kirsten swallowed the last apple, feeling the dried fruit swelling in her stomach.
“My brother and Britt were supposed to be back at dawn,” he said. “I was at the window watching for them, but didn’t want to wake you, so I stepped outside. I waited near the front door as the sun rose and kept an eye on the tree line for their return. As I waited, I heard something to the effect of a large group of people marching. Like an army or something. So, I rushed to the tree line to get a better look at the trail. Keeping low and out of sight, I watched armored riders leading a troop of soldiers toward Brookside. When they’d passed, I started back to wake you two and that’s when I saw the men down at the house. I was able to get back to the trees before they spotted me. Three of them went in, and one stayed outside. I wanted to rush down, but they came out of the house so quickly and left. I worried that you were being held captive or something by the one who stayed inside.
“This isn’t good,” Kirsten said.
“I’m sorry. Maybe there’s something else from the cellar that would be better,” Thomas said.
Kirsten shook her head, “No, the food was fine. I mean this situation. Bo’s right, Britt and Max were supposed to be back a long time ago. What if something bad happened to them?”
