Sam's POV

We are a half a day's ride from Ghána, and it's stopped raining. Jed is mostly silent for the rest of the trip, and now stays near to me when we stop to rest. He's earned the respect of the Guards, and they allow him to ride with them, instead of on the outside of the pack as before. He now rides in the center of the group, and if I didn't know better, I'd say my men where protecting him.

He could have let me be killed, but he saved me. He saved all of us. I find myself unsure what to think of him now. I trust him, when my mind tells me that he is a threat. But, I find myself trusting more with my instincts. This rarely occurs because as a prince I was raised to trust no one. And it never happens with mercenaries, who should rather slit my throat than listen to me. We are now resting our mounts near a small creek, which is flowing abundantly from the previous rainfall.

"Do you think we could catch any fish?" Titus, one of the Guards asks Jed as he fills his goatskin, crouched by the bank. Titus seems to be taking a liking to him, as the boy saved his life. After all, Jed startled the robber staying his blade, and giving Thomas time to react.

The Guard is a younger man, in his early-twenties, and has yet to grow a proper beard. He is tall, a head or so more that Jed, but still shoulders smaller than Thomas, and not nearly as muscular, but still fit. I allowed him a place on the Guard for his skill of stealth and for his cunning way of thought. He has brought in many a fugitive undercover, tricking them into giving him trust and luring them back to me. He has been called the hoodwink of the court, and has earned respect for his title.

Jedediah looks quietly upon the water, grey eyes reflecting rays of sun. "Perhaps, if the beast is not near. He casts a nervousness upon the brook." He glances my way, where I am standing with Daziràs. The Vann Hest paws the mud with a hoof, snorting sea scented air in annoyance and tugging at the iron wrought bit that bites his tongue. The metal is supposed to keep them more tame and less likely to drown you, but they do not like it. I noticed that Lyra never uses iron anywhere on or near her beast, despite his wildness.

"If we were to wait till nightfall, they would be easier to catch. They don't fear humans in the dark, the shadows make them careless. But I think that shall be an event for another night." Jed looks to me as he speaks, standing from the creek and plugging the opening of his water bag.

I wait a moment to speak. "Lyra would appreciate our haste, I think. Let us continue to ride on until morning." I agree.

The mercenary nods, then looks back to Titus. "Another time, then." He goes to his steed, a loyal bay, who waits patiently near the creek bed, water dripping from his lips. His slender ears prick towards his master, and he begins to walk to him without being asked, meeting him half way. When I come to recall it, the horse hasn't fought Jed, even when he is close to Daziràs, while the others shy and buck. I haven't ever seen an animal trust a man so much as to stand near a Vann Hest without restraint.

Jed doesn't turn his face to me, as he straps his water to a saddle bag. "His name is Hamais."

I incline my head, but do not respond, less he be able to tell that I am impressed. I climb onto Daziràs' tall back, keeping his reins taut. "Let us keep moving," I address to the group. "Time is of the essence."

-

We rode at a hard canter until we got close to Panais, then slowed and unmounted. We left one man with the horses and Daziràs where they cannot be seen. We now crouch in the trees around the suspected area, scouting before we make any action. I have a good idea of where the Guards might be being kept, due to some further questioning of the prisoner before my departure. I briefly wonder if he is still breathing from our previous interaction. For his sake, I pray not.

Jed's face has always looked serious, but I've never seen him so lethally calm. When he moves, I am reminded of a panther; utterly comfortable in its own skin and capabilities. I wonder about all of the things he may know that he hasn't told. He would easily become a leader the instant it was needed, but he seems very used to allowing the control to belong to someone else.

Thomas stays directly to my left, and Jed and Titus are to my right. I look over at the young Guard, and motion with my hand down towards the cave below us. This sends him into action, and he creeps stealthily down the hillside, a bow and quiver on his back. I had my own bow resting my my side, and now bring it to my line of sight, an arrow in position at the bowstring. "Keep a watch for any movement. Guard your brother, Thomas. You're eyes are quick, so let you're tongue be so, as well."

The captors have managed to find a location easily protected all around, and built into the side of the mountain. The entrance can be seen from here by sharp eyes, but appears to be carved into the rock face itself, if studied closely. It seems to be unguarded, for now, so I am assuming that the entrance cannot be opened from the inside. Jed leans forward in a crouched position on the side of the hill a few feet down, his eyes scanning the hills all around us with a curious intensity. I feel as though the mercenary would be quicker to spot any threats before Thomas, the most skilled of my Guardsmen, so I keep an eye on him.

Titus blends with the brush and shadows of trees, and I nearly lose sight of him as he gets further towards the valley. His feet are careful and skilled, and disrupts no sticks or leaves beneath his feet as he goes, despite the steepening decline of his footing. The dirt is turned to mud by the rain, and there are puddles of standing water at the bottom of the hill. Titus leaps over the one closest him, and slides in the mud, unable to gain good ground. He catches himself before he falls, and quickly looks around to be sure he hasn't given his position up. After a moment, all is well and he continues.

Jed waves a hand to get my attention, and points into the distance. "Someone approaches the rock face." I look to where his finger directs my attention, seeing the dark figure striding towards the entrance, having come down from the other side of the mountain, hidden by the trees. I did not see where he came from.

I pull my bow string back, but do not let an arrow fly. "I am too far away to make a shot." I whisper, frustrated. Titus will surely be spotted.

Jed looks to me a moment, before he turns and rockets down the side of the hill with the grace of a grizzly bear, slipping once in the mud. He seems to step on every stick and rustle every tree as he goes, and I am baffled at his clumsiness. Surely he can move much more quietly than that. I blink, shocked for a moment too long, and unable to call his name to stop him. What is he doing? From where I am positioned, I can see some of what is going on.
Titus hears the loud descent, and it draws his attention, stopping him from exposing himself to the man who is now at the mouth of the rock face, only a few hundred paces away. Jed reaches him at the tree line, and grabs his shirt collar, pulling him further into the foliage. He whispers something to the young man, and points to the entrance. Titus seems grateful, and most likely thanks Jed for saving him from being spotted. If he had been seen, we all would have been blown and this rescue would have been a failure. To further Jed's understanding of the danger that could have been, the man at the entrance looks over just as Titus is pulled from view. How the mercenary knows these things, I will never know, but this is the second time his extra senses have saved my skin, and that of my group.

Jed steps from behind a tree to meet my gaze, holds it a moment with something like regard, before turning and releasing Titus' tunic. He whispers something more to the boy before slinking through the trees like a panther, not even rustling a fallen leaf. He seems to blend in like a shadow, and with the dotting guard at his heels, the two glissade through the trees towards the man, the opposite of how he was moving before. It is a wonder that the man at the rock hadn't heard Jed's descent, but the mercenary seemed to have known that he was just far enough away to be undetected.

The man is unsuspectingly feeling around the rock face, as if searching for something. All is eerily quiet in the mountains then, not even a bird sings in the tree tops. Then the air is cut through by the sound of rock on rock, and the nearly invisible lines in the mountain open to reveal a sort of door. The man steps in the way, though, and I cannot see what is inside. He shouts something, and draws the sword at his side. The head of a golden lion glints at the sword hilt, and I recognize it after a moment. I've seen it somewhere, and it hits me. That is the weapon of an important person, someone who is high ranking. It is the sword of the Captain of a Guard. That is the sword that I've seen tied to the belt of Hana. We are undoubtedly in the correct place.

Jed stops very close to the man, as he steps further into the cave. Titus raises his bow, an arrow notched. Thomas and I hold our breath. The man disappears into the mouth of the opening.

An arrow flies.

Hana's POV

I am sitting shoulder to shoulder with my brothers, all of us too exhausted to converse. Castiel is still unconscious, but he is alive, at least. Due to the suffocating darkness, it is impossible to judge if he is going to be alright, or to see how bad his injuries are. I keep a hand near his chest to be sure that he keeps breathing, and for now, I feel his chest rise and fall evenly. I pray that he will recover, as my tired mind tries to grasp at a logical escape plan.

We could not likely over power those who hold us here in this state, even if we did manage to hold the element of surprise. If they could take us as easily as they did to bring us here, I doubt we could do that, anyway. Without my sight, I cannot even take in our surroundings to better judge our predicament. When they return, they will undoubtedly have a source of light with them, and with our eyes being so adjusted to the darkness, we will be momentarily blinded by it. They have all of the advantage here, and we are ultimately trapped like rats in a cage.

Even if we could manage an escape, we've no horses or means of transport. Anything of value that we had on our persons have been stripped away, and even our armor is missing, so there is no option of paying someone for transportation. Not only have these people napped us, they've robbed us, as well. I have my free hand resting at my ribs, and every breath reminds me of my condition.

"Captain?" Michael asks softly, but his voice is still loud in the silence. He sounds to be feeling a tad better, as his coughing has subsided into something calmer, only jarring his body next to me every so often without making much of a sound.

"Yes?" My voice is heavy and ragged with pain and exhaustion, and I can no longer hide it.

"Are we going to die here?" The way he says this makes me in vision him as a young boy, scared and hopeless, looking up to a father-figure for assurance.

"No. I will get you and Castiel out of here, brother. You will see your families again." My voice is definite and hard, like the stone pressing into my back. Even if I die, so that you may live.

"Sir..." Michael sounds uncertainly determined, almost as if he had learned somehow of my drastically changing thoughts. "We will get you out, as well. Lyra needs you."

Lyra. I stand, using the cold, damp wall for support, feeling a new sense of urgency. I must at least attempt to get back to her, she is in danger. With her life at risk, especially now with my company missing, the strongest of her Guard knocked down, she is more vulnerable than ever. I cannot allow anything to happen to her. I will not allow anything to happen to her. She is my responsibility, it is me that she has trusted with her life. I dare not fail her now.

"Hana, what are you doing, sir?"

The small effort of standing has me panting for breath, and I feel sweat drip down my face, mingling with dried blood and crusted dirt. "Searching." I step over Michael's figure on the floor, keeping both hands on the wall as I slowly pace the perimeter, giving my sight over to my touch. "Keep your hand by Castiel's breath. Keep a watch on him."

I've kicked something with my foot, and it skids across the ground. I follow the noise and bend to pick it up with difficulty, my hand closing around a sharply pointed rock. I weigh it in my hand, familiarizing myself with the feel of it. This could come into use later on, if our captors return. I close my free hand around the rock shard tightly, unwilling to allow myself to lose it if I stumble upon a stone and fall.

I hear Michael shift, undoubtedly moving to my deserted spot to sit next to our weakened brother. "Searching for what, captain?"

I am a few feet away now, and my fingers trace over a small line in the rock. At first I thought it just a crack lining the wall, until I follow it with my fingers. "For a way out." No light escapes through the crack, but I trace the marking into the shape of a door, following the already present grooves. "There appears to be a sort of opening here." I continue to run my hand over the area of the rock face, but find no sort of handle to grasp. It most likely only opens from the outside. "I cannot open it from the inside, there is no handle present." I check the strength of the door, pressing my weight into the stone, pointed rock stabbing into my skin. All of the sudden it is pulled open, and I think for a moment that I've somehow opened it, until the shadow of a man comes into view. I leap back, surprised and taken aback by the sudden light. I stumble backwards, squinting my eyes at the blinding brightness of it as I try to make out the figure that stands in the doorway. I cannot see anything for a moment, but I do not panic, knowing that the blindness will pass as my eyes adjust. I turn my face away, blinking rapidly as I attempt to focus my vision.

"Who are you?" My voice surprises me by coming out strong and demanding, despite the fear that coils beneath my bones. The sharp stone presses painfully into my side, but I dare not move it into the persons view. God must be on my side, because as I fell to the ground, my hands landed behind me in such a way that would give the illusion that I am still bound, and the stone stayed in my grasp.

"I would not say that you are in the position to ask questions. The leader would like a word with you." The man's voice is unfamiliar, and I still cannot make out his face. I have to close my eyes again against the burning of the day.

"I care not of your leader and his wishes." I am aware that I am testing my luck with my comments, as I try to blink the blindness away. "Tell your superior to eat manure."

The man seems to come closer, his boots scuffing on the stone. "You don't have much of a choice, now do you?" It sounds as if he's drawn a sword. "You will obey, or be killed by your own weapon. Come now, stand." So, he is in possession of my sword. That can be changed quickly.

"Why do you not try and make me?"

He comes closer, until I feel the cool bite of a blade at my throat. "Do you think me to be daft? I would never give you the opportunity to switch our positions. I know how a brain like yours works."

My face is still turned away, but I crack a smile. "Apparently, you do not."

Michael had leaped to his feet as the entrance opened, and took to hiding in the shadows away from the door. When the man had stepped forward, he crept behind him, just to the side enough so his shadow wouldn't be seen. Now he jumps the man, who turned too late to run him through. I lunge to my feet, and plunge the rock into what I thinks is his back, hopefully severing his spinal cord.

Michael falls to the ground, panting and drained from his distraction. He is set into a coughing fit, breathing heavily as he leans against the wall.

The man crumples, clawing at his back, as if trying to dig the stone out. He falls to his knees, and I take my sword from his grip, forcefully taking it back.

He flops over onto the ground, and I find my ribs with a hand, trying to suck air in only to have it stolen again by pain. I raise a hand to shielded the light from my eyes, and squint down at the man. His eyes stare up at me, a bit of blood at the corner of his mouth. It is then that I see that my stone may not have been what killed him. There is an arrow jutting out of his chest.

"Forgive me if we are late." Comes another voice, accompanied by a shadow. This man has a bow and arrow, and holds out a hand to me. "Your Lyra sent us. We've come to bring you home."

A/N

My loves, I behold to you the end of the chapter I've kept you waiting for, for far too long. But, here it is! The picture I posted is different than the others, because you've got to look at it a certain way. The man in the off-white tunic is what Lyra looked like as a "man", minus the face. Do you follow? Take away the beard the the face shape, and in fact, just don't look at the picture too closely at all. And then that's sort of what Lyra looked like. It's the only picture even remotely close to what I envisioned her to look like, so I just kind of went with it. Use your... *throws glitter* imagination. It's good for you, I promise.

Someone was asking I think, about my religion? I believe I was asked if I am Catholic. Well, here's my answer! I'm a proud Christian, but I am not permanently part if any certain denomination. I was raised Lutheran, but currently go to a Baptist church.

Thanks always, guys. God bless y'all! Thanks for your patience, and please excuse grammar and spelling mistakes, this chapter was only roughly edited.

-A.