The Price {Completed}

Chapter Forty-Five

The executioner stepped back, his hand reaching for the lever. In those few seconds, I could only think of one thing. The only thing I did well, the only thing I loved as much as the man that was about to be taken from me. It was something that could never leave me, that was so a part of me that I scarce could tell what was me and what was it.

"Wait!" I shouted, holding up a hand. The executioner sighed heavily.

"What now?"

"What if I showed you something?" I asked.

His eyebrows perked up and a lewd grin split his face. He ran a hand through his beard and shrugged. "Suppose you did?"

"Something beautiful," I said.

He looped his thumbs through his belt and stepped forward, swaggering up to stand in front of me. "I think I might be persuaded to look the other way if I were to see something like that."

I knew what he expected. What he was licking his lips for. Instead, I stepped back and fell into a starting position, one leg behind the other and my knees slightly bent. He watched me curiously at first, and then with annoyance when he began to realize that my dancing was not the sort he wanted.

I ignored it, and gave into the dance. There was no music, but I needed none. I only needed my life, playing behind my eyelids as I swayed across the snow. Mama running off without me, Mr Lennox emerging like Death and taking me under his black wing. Dancing my first performance in front of an audience and basking in their thunderous love. Ferdinand's hand on my waist, our kiss under the stage. My marriage, the war, and now the fear of losing the one thing I could not bear to lose. I poured it all into my legs and limbs and body, let it flow out of me like sunshine or rain. This was not a dance I'd been taught. I was not following Ferdinand's lead, or mimicking whatever vision had come out of Mr. Lennox's head. This was purely me. My soul and only my soul, bubbling out of me for the first time in my entire life. I did not have set steps or an amount of time. I merely danced until I was exhausted and my insides were used up. When I came to a stop, I dropped to the ground, breathing heavily and not daring to look up lest I see the trap door drop.

The executioner's voice, strained, came to my ears. "Take him." The words were like a miracle come to earth.

My head whipped up to see the tracks of tears down the grime on his brutal face. His hands shook. My eyes trailed to the other guards and the three remaining prisoners. They stared at me with eyes like open graves, fighting against the tears. Each one of the men there had once had a life, just like I had. One that they were torn away from with this war. They found themselves here, now, in the dark, hanging from a rope or piling even more bodies in even more heaps. A girl and a dance had not been what they'd seen that night, yet here I was. They stared as if I might give them hope.

The executioner yanked the rope over Ferdinand's neck.

"Take him and get out of here. I don't want to ever see your faces in this city again," he whispered, keeping his eyes anywhere but on me.

Not daring to believe it, I lunged forward and caught Ferdinand's hand as he offered it to me. He jumped down and pressed me tightly into an embrace, and I drank his aliveness in.

"Oi, I said beat it!" the executioner shouted, rubbing his nose and trying to hide the tears that still spilled down his cheeks.

We turned and ran, slipping on the snow but not caring because we were putting distance between us and death. The sounds of the other three men dropping followed us like a morbid shadow, clenching our heels in its grasp. Ferdinand, his knee unable to take his weight, leaned into me as we ran, and he shuddered with silent tears. I knew he was thinking of the men he'd left behind. That they suffered a fate he had escaped by some strange miracle. I tightened my grip around his side, my fingers pressing against his ribs.

We couldn't make it all the way back to the Wellington to fetch the hidden documents that would secure us safe passage from the city. Ferdinand would need to rest, and with him dressed in the thin clothing of prisoners, his head shaved, and battered and bruised, it was entirely likely that we'd gain far too much attention from any passing soldiers. We'd have to make our own way, even if it wouldn't be on a relatively safe and comfortable train.

The barracks came into view, and I skirted around them. We were now nearly an hour from the closest train station out of the city, and I despaired of ever getting Ferdinand there before the sun rose and the danger of our being caught increased.

For his part, Ferdinand bore the relentless pace with bravery. He never once complained as we walked every onward through the snow and the whipping wind. His limp only grew more pronounced, and when I glanced at him I saw his face grow white and his lips press tighter together. Heat rolled off his skin beneath his shirt, and I worried about fevers. Once we were out of the city, and far enough away that we wouldn't meet any soldiers, I vowed to let him have as long a rest as he needed. But until then, we had to move.

It took us more than an hour to finally come upon the train station, and when we did I grimaced at the sight of Vigilant Men soldiers climbing out of the cars and milling around as they waited for orders. They were bedraggled and bloodied, fresh from a fight, and their numbers were strangely small. They'd been on the losing side, then. I tried not to look too closely at them. They'd end up on that pile in the alleyway soon enough, more bodies for the women and children to pick over.

Ferdinand ducked his head, and I steered him toward the low wall that ran around the edge of the train station. The sun was only just rising, and deep shadows still clung to the corners and crooks. We ducked behind the wall, and I let Ferdinand slide to a seat while I peeked over the edge at the soldiers.

"What's the plan?" Ferdinand asked. He was out of breath. I glanced at him, worried at the sheen of sweat that glistened on his blanched skin.

"We probably can't get on the train, but we might be able to follow the tracks out," I whispered.

"The Vigilant Men have scouts on the tracks for a few miles outside of the city," Ferdinand said. "They don't want their recruits leaving."

I frowned and bit my lip. "Well, I'll take a look around."

I leaned down to give him a hasty kiss before getting to my feet and casually walking through the snowy streets. I looked like any other young woman, and I used it to my advantage. The soldiers ignored me while I walked among them, looking into the train cars at the scant supplies they intended to feed their army with. Down the tracks I could see the edge of the city, where the buildings thinned out to the moors. Normally there was nothing to line the tracks for miles, but now I saw little outposts, covered from the elements. No doubt there were Vigilant Men inside, with guns and keen eyes, making sure that none escaped the city except by death.

I got as close to the border of the city as I could, but some army, whether it was Vigilant or royal, had built a fence of wire and wood to block the way except at the tracks. I paused, looking out at the frozen moors in the weak light of the newborn morning. There was our freedom, if only we could find a way past the fence.

I spent five more minutes following the fence without appearing to. I had to double around on streets to make it look as if I wasn't scouting the border, but finally my work paid off. In some back alley, the fence pressed up against a house. The windows had been securely boarded up by the army, but someone else had pried a small opening up. It was a drop of ten feet from the hole in the window to the ground, but it would get us over the fence. Even better, it was far enough away from the tracks that the chances of a soldier spotting us as we made our way over the flats was near to none. It was the perfect route.

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A/N

I found the motherload of perfect songs for The Price by watching the new War & Peace, so pardon the streak of W&P soundtracks. :P I just love the music so muuuucch!