of Sword and Flame

Chapter 20: The Trial

 The infiltration of the castle was almost too easy. Aran chewed on his inner cheek as they swept through the halls, Aran pulling his hood low. His arm, trapped in a metal grip, was held by Jin in the form of a castle guard. Barely anyone spared the two a glance, and they walked about without issues. Somewhere around them, they knew Nik was present; Aran spent his time trying to discern where Nik was. He kept his ears peeled, his eyes darting across the carpet for signs of footprints.

Even when they reached the prince's door, the guards didn't question Jin. They tilted their helmeted heads in a bow, and Jin bowed back—before he dropped his form into a girl with cropped brown hair and a wicked smile. The guards reared back in shock, stunned momentarily as Jin launched herself at the first row of guards. Aran tossed his cloak aside, ripping a spear from one guard's hand as he shoved them into the wall. Their head slammed against the corner of a painting, knocking the canvas to the floor. The yellowed poppies on its surface tore as Aran's boot slammed into it.

Nik joined the fight, working their way through the group without letting a single one slip by. As they battled, Aran could see out of the corner of his eye that Jin had their back to the wall. The guard she was facing slowly crept toward her, and Aran's eyes narrowed.

He completely abandoned his own fight, rushing toward Jin, preparing to put his spear between her and the scrawny guard.

Aran was suddenly standing in a memory in the middle of a cold, wet street; his arms outstretched to stop a feral cat from scratching the boy behind him.

"Get away from him!" Aran screamed, tossing the cat to the side as its claws sunk into Aran's arm. He spun, slamming the cat into the wall, and at last, the feral creature hissed a final time before retreating into the shadows.

The little boy behind Aran ran up and wrapped his little arms around Aran's waist, clutching him tightly as he wept into Aran's back.

"I want to go home," he cried, sobbing hysterically as the rain poured down on them. "I want to go home!"

Aran began to cry as well. He grabbed his little brother's hand and led them into an alley where at least a torn canopy lay, and they sat under it, shivering.

"It's okay," Aran reassured him. "It's okay, Ash. We'll find Dad and Papa again. We'll find them, and we'll go home. We just have to be patient."

Ash's hands were dirty and muddy from the rain, and Aran took a good look at the state they were in. It wasn't supposed to be like this. All that week should have been was a family vacation to see the snow.

Aran looked up at the canopy. His stomach grumbled. It had been at least ten hours since they'd gotten lost. Ten hours with nowhere warm to stay and nothing to keep their stomachs from rumbling.

He heard Ash sniffle once again. Pulling the boy toward him, Aran wrapped them both in his little coat. It was light green, with lots of pretty buttons, which his dad had bought him just for this trip.

He heard his stomach rumble again, only it was much louder this time. Much, much louder. And as the ground shook and puddles near their feet quaked, Aran realized it wasn't his stomach that was making the rumble.

A giant wagon appeared next to the alley, its wheels dipping into a giant puddle that covered the boys in water once more. Ash screamed as the ice-cold water hit his face, and Aran rubbed it out of his eyes.

When he looked up again, there was a scrawny-looking man with a rat-like face peering down at them, holding a lantern.

"We got two more!" He yelled to someone in the wagon and then turned his ratty face back toward them.