The Fairest (Book #1)

6: Freedom

When nothing stirred after a minute, she glanced at the boy again. He slowly began to slip from the bed. Whatever he had pointed out, it had to have been a person. A dog would've already awoken and alerted everyone with its constant barking. She readjusted her footing and held onto the chute's frame to continue climbing into the quarters. With a hand resting on the hilt of the dagger clipped to her belt, she peeked behind the door, trying to keep it from making any more creaking noises.

A gray-haired guard, wrapped in a thick cloak, sat beside the lit fireplace. His head hung back against the wall, his mouth wide open. His soft snores mingled with the shouting chaos of the prisoners outside of the room.

By this time, the rest of the children were now aware of her presence and sat perfectly still in their beds as she tiptoed towards the guard. She gestured to Dean, now climbing inside, and he quickly got into action.

The guard must've felt their presence because he choked awake. He only had a moment to gasp before Dean punched him straight between the eyes. He caught the guard before he slumped over to the floor and repositioned him in the chair. Dean gave her a quick smirk and stretched out his aching hand.

Then they turned to the children, who were unable to sleep in their ordeal, faces crusted from hours of nonstop crying. Mageia knew a few hours from now, guards would enter with basins of water and sacred robes for the children to change into. With the level of celebration rising outside the front gates of the Taefo, a decision could be made to prepare the children earlier.

They had to move fast.

"Are you here to save us?" the 10-year-old whispered, getting out of his bed.

"Yes," she said. "I need you to gather everyone, silently."

The sorrow in the boy's eyes quickly lit in strong determination. He went to each child, all of them under the age of ten, with various ailments and deformities. Mageia thanked the gods, seeing no one was sick to the point she'd have to leave them behind. They ushered the children to the laundry chute and, one at a time, they climbed up to the roof. One of the smaller ones had a very bad leg that curled inward. Leaving his crutch behind, the 10-year-old offered to carry him on his back. The rescue went quickly and smoothly to her liking, but the hairs along her arms sat on ends. Any sudden sound could have a guard enter within seconds.

With soft feet, Mageia went to block the door with a chest of bed linens and toiletries. Beyond the only exit in the room was the muffled sound of men talking and laughing down the hall amidst the wails of the condemned. A slight whimper arose to her far left within the darkness, and she froze. Sitting in the corner of the room was a wooden crib. That's when she realized she had counted only eleven children when it was supposed to be twelve.

Gods above, she thought, approaching the crib. Lying asleep inside was a baby girl. The structure of her skull was unnaturally squeezed, a defect that automatically marked her for a mercy death.

She waved Dean over and he glanced inside. "Great gods. We can't take her."

"But she's a baby."

"Ay. A baby that cries. Plus, look at her skull. She has to have some type of brain damage."

"So, what?" Mageia's eyes watered as she stared at the beautiful baby, whom the Fairs would've called ugly and unworthy to take care of. Did not this baby have a right to live, to grow, and to die free?

She shook her head and carefully wrapped the baby from head to toe with the blanket she lay on. "I can't leave her."

"Damn, Geia, she's going to weigh us down."

"Just make sure everyone else gets out, okay?" She picked up the baby, and she stirred for a second. Her heart skipped. When she stilled, Dean helped to tie her securely around Mageia's torso.