“I’ll see to that. As in all past occasions, Laerdavile’s avatar must be wounded by certain magics or by enough corporeal damage that its link to this realm is unsustainable. When that occurs, it and many of its minions will be forced back to the Underealm. I have the means to wound Laerdavile.”
“And how can you be sure the foul monster will fall?”
“I know the being you call the Lord of the Vile. I know all his names. Lord of the Purge, Lord of the Damned, Master of the Underealm, The Grim Crusader, and many more. I know the creature. Where do you think I resided in my absence from here? The Underealm… for the most part.”
“You learned its weaknesses? How?”
“I spent quite some time at Laerdavile’s feet groveling and supplicating. I liked it no more than you enjoy having another sit on your throne.”
“And you are sure we will triumph?”
“A surety you require? I offer the opportunity for victory, but we both know little is assured when one ventures boldly. We both have had the bitter brew of defeat forced down our throats. The taste lingers, yes? It is a reminder and compels us to drive ahead.”
Malig snarled and nodded in agreement. “It does linger. It does compel. You depart for the old fortress then?”
“Your forces near readiness?”
“They do.”
“Then I depart. Most soon I do.”
“This… conjuring you must do. How long will it take? How do we coordinate our efforts? A line of communication between our locations will be long and tenuous.”
“You questions display your wisdom.” Olk reached deeply into a sleeve and withdrew a dark teardrop shaped amulet dangling from a gold chain, its surface swimming and swirling like churning dark water. “This is a channeling device. Enchanted for communion between you and I. Only you can hear me and I you. Should you speak to me when others are near, they may think you mad.”
Malig chuckled and sneered. “They already think me mad.”
“Hold the device thus,” Olk said clasping the amulet between thumb and index finger. “Hold it before your mouth and speak. That is all you need do. Do not let the device contact silver. Silver will negate the enchantments for as long as there is contact.”
“I understand,” Malig said taking the amulet. “Oh, to have such a thing on the field of battle.”
“Let us set events in motion and perhaps such a thing can be done in future conflicts.”
“How long do you estimate your preparations will take?”
“Mere days to complete them. It will begin on the morrow. The bitterness begins to fade.”
. . .
Chapter 22
A farmer led his two draft horses from the pasture where they had been grazing. Walking them toward the barn, he stopped and looked upward as a great rumbling of thunder sounded in the sky prompting him to mutter, “Odd. Ain’t no rain comin’ today.” His face bent with worry when he saw the strange shape in the distant western sky over Byrmont, a dark flat smudge against a clear blue backdrop. The smudge grew as he looked on, the edges drawing out ever so slowly. Squinting and shading his eyes against the glare of the bright day, he could discern traces of dirty brown tendrils wisping from the smudge.
The farmer snarled and shook his head before starting for the barn at a slow walk. “That don’t bode well for no one,” he said.
. . .
Olk Mirkness stepped from the altar in the castle tower. The stonework around him was old and showed scars of its battle with time and the elements, but was still sound. The masons who constructed the walls centuries before knew their craft, as did those carpenters who now toiled to bring the final parts of the old fortress up to Mirkness’ needs. The interior smelled of freshly hewn and finished wood, the restored portions now weather tight.
Olk walked to one of the unglazed windows and looked outside to another tower a short distance north of the one he occupied. Inside, he could see carpenters at work on the upper floor and knew that soon, the work would be complete. He smiled under his hood and returned to the altar. Placing his hands upon it, he closed his eyes and his smile grew as he felt the rift grow. Laerdavile will be pleased, he thought. Let it feel that way. With the Dark Crusade renewed, it suspects nothing.
. . .
As Dech’s tiny force neared Sinfor’s holding, he shared the note Leophric and Ives had provided.
Waiting until they actually laid eyes on Ganesome, the four decided to find a place of concealment near the place before dark and approach through the dense woods that covered the region.
Once they established a location to hide their mounts, the four ate before moving out on foot. Finding a ridge to the east of Ganesome that allowed a fair vantage point, they settled in as the sun went down.
Watching the guards’ routines and noting where openings in the perimeter wall were, they saw no sign of external patrols.
Shortly after full dark came on, a wagon accompanied by two horsemen slowed to a stop at the front gate, most of those aboard seemingly familiar to the pair of guards on duty there.
Erie’s sharp eyes picked out details. “Some wooden boxes, casks, a wagoner, a couple of workers, two youths, with two men-at-arms riding alongside,” he said.
Dech grumbled quietly as the wagon and rider passed through the gateway.
“What is it?” Erie asked.
“The two youths. They may be Sinfor’s latest victims.” Dech said. “He preys on such.”
“Why didn’t you mention it before?” Dissy asked.
“I hoped it wasn’t going to be an issue.”
“Now that it might be, what do we do about it?” Erie asked.
“We’re not leaving them here,” Dissy said
“Certainly not,” Dech said, “but it may complicate the situation.”
“You do not plan on all four of us entering the gate together do you?” Erie asked.
“My planning has yet to consider it,” Dech replied. “I’m thinking you already have something in mind.”
“I do. You’ve told us what we need to do and who we’re dealing with. You need to speak with Sinfor face-to-face before you decide how you’ll deal with him, yes?”
“Yes.”
“While you do that, I’ll look into finding where they took the kids. If Dissy is up to it, she might come along, yes?”
“Yes,” Dissy replied.
“She’s stealthy if she could cut it as a ranger in the Brosalean. Mayhaps can accompany you,” Erie said.
“Fair enough,” Dech said. “How are we going in?”
“Working on it,” the thief said while he looked the place over in detail as thoughts rushed through his mind.
As Leophric and Ives had reported, Ganesome was not much of a fortification. A simple stone wall four or five yards high surrounded a large blocky house of stone some four stories high. It appeared that the only part of the exterior fortifications that could be manned were the towers bracketing the main gate.
The gates stood open with just two guards present, lighted by torches and lanterns. The side gates within their field of vision were closed and looked to be wood panels with iron fittings.
Within a minute, Erie spoke. “I think I can open one of the gates. If not the gate, we’ll find another way. No sign they intend to secure the front gate, at least for now. Not overly worried about security, are they,” Erie said as he continued to survey the place with an appraising eye.
“Considering his proximity to Nevar and what he does for Duke Philip, that’s not wise,” Dech replied.
“Not wise?” Erie said. “It’s positively idiotic.”
“He does have quite a few guards,” Mayhaps said. “Maybe that’s enough. Perhaps he is more powerful than his rank suggests.”
Erie nodded. “Wealth is a form of power and if one is careful, can keep it hidden.”
“He’s an evil idiot with power,” Diz said with disgust.
“Yes, he is evil,” Dech agreed.
Bard nodded. “Power
ful too.”
“And quite the idiot,” Erie added with flashing eyes.
Diz glared at the three men. “I just said that.”
Mayhaps laughed quietly. “We were agreeing with you.”
The glare on Dissy’s face did not abate.
Dech looked at the castle thoughtfully and then sighed. “An evil idiot with power. This could be a perilous undertaking.”
“So we’re leaving, right?” Mayhaps asked hopefully despite knowing Dech’s intent. “Taking this to the king? Bringing back a couple hundred soldiers with siege gear?”
“You can leave if you wish. I cannot.”
“If you stay, I stay. As much as it pains me to say, I must.”
“And you?” Dech asked of Dissy.
She continued to glare.
Dech rolled his eyes. “I retract the question.”
“I’ll go in with you as Josip proposed,” Mayhaps said. “You may need someone with swift wits and a silver tongue to talk our way in or out.”
“Did that help you in Gryspen?” Dech asked.
The bard feigned offense. “I walked out of town with a smile and a wave did I not? You should be more concerned about our friend Erie. He’s the one who ended up locked in a stinking hole.”
“Not because I was caught, Bard,” Erie replied. “I was dragged in because a colleague of lesser talent, little conviction, and no honor named several names to lessen his punishment. I was one of those names.”
Mayhaps shrugged. “Then we have nothing to worry about. Honor among thieves? Is there such a thing?”
“It’s a profession and some of us deem honor vital.”
“A rare man,” Mayhaps said with a smile. “That’s what you are, Josip. How do you intend to gain entrance into yon castle?”
“Tower house. As stupid as they seem to be about securing said structure, I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if the side gates are left unlocked. If not, there are ways of rendering doors open. Failing that, I daresay I’ll go over. Those walls are not in the best of condition. They are of drystone construction and have been lacking in maintenance for some time. Cracking stone, gaps in the seams, that means they can be scaled.
“And what of our fairer member?” Mayhaps asked. “Can she accomplish such a feat?”
Before a glaring Dissy could say something, Erie said, “A Brosalean ranger ought to be up to this, yes?”
“I think so,” she replied with a nod.
“A ranger knows how to be quiet. You do not panic easily.”
“Correct.”
“Can you climb?”
“Ladders, trees, hills, yes.”
“Amusing,” he said without smiling. “What about rock walls?”
“Perhaps. I’ve never done it.”
“You may have to learn it quickly if the gate is barred.” He paused to appraise her as he did the castle before turning toward the other two men and continuing. “Despite her size, she’ll do. Too tall and long in the limbs to make a good thief, but she has grace. Grace usually means one can be quiet. Surviving patrols in the Brosalean proves that.”
“That settled, what do we do once we’re all inside?” Mayhaps asked.
“We need to find evidence of Sinfor’s services to Philip,” Dech said. “Services that link to the duke’s treason. There is also the matter of the work crew that staged here before disappearing and we require proof Sinfor is actually preying on the innocent. If so, I—”
“He dies,” Dissy said.
“Not if he surrenders,” Dech replied.
“I was under the impression you were supposed to see he exited the realm of the living,” Bard said. “I am under this impression because I heard them say it in the council meeting.”
“I am neither assassin nor executioner. In the unlikely event he does surrender, he goes to Cruxford. His end will not be pleasant or rapid if he chooses that path.” Gesturing at himself and Mayhaps before pointing at the other two he said, “Mayhaps and I deal with Sinfor. You two find the youths they brought in.”
“What if things turn to violence while we’re in there?” Mayhaps said.
“It will be chaos. If we are all four together, we fight our way clear. Should we be apart, we’ll need to improvise. The youths need to be freed if they are being held against their will. That is a priority.”
“We’ll see to it,” Dissy said as she adjusted the belt that secured her sword’s scabbard to her back.
“You can watch us from here,” Dech said. “It might be best if we can make entry at the same time.”
“Agreed,” Erie replied. “We can approach the wall from here without any problems.”
“All right. We’ll saddle up.”
. . .
Dech and Mayhaps rode slowly down the road toward Ganesome.
“So what role am I playing?” Mayhaps asked. “Am I the visiting lord from afar or your servant?”
“We have no servants in the order. Just be yourself.”
“What amusement might I get from that? No, we are on a mission for the king and that demands something more, much more, something grand and memorable. Something worth a tale or song. I’ll be the pretentious bard of renown irritated that none of these provincials know who graces their presence.”
“How is that more?”
“How? Why I—ah, a jest. There is hope for you yet.”
“I wouldn’t count on it. Try not to tempt a drawing of blades if you can. Pretentious behavior has been known to do that.”
“Only if carried too far. Would riling Sinfor be to your advantage?”
“Possibly. If he knows who I am or refuses to provide us lodging, the situation will deteriorate quickly. He may betray something if he is angry.”
“Why would things deteriorate quickly?”
“Because I’m not leaving until I have the answers I seek.”
The bard looked at the starry sky. “Is it too late for me to join Erie?”
The two rode up to the gate and stopped. One of the guards looked at the other and gestured at the two arrivals.
The man glared at his comrade in return and approached the two.
“It’s a bit late. What’s your business?”
“I am a knight of the Contrition Order and require lodging,” Dech replied.
“What’s that mean?”
“Means he can sleep where he pleases,” the other guard said. “I’ll go check with Sir Hubert.” Looking at Dech, he explained. “He runs the guard force for Sir Jeffress, the lord of this place.”
As the man walked toward the keep, the other man eyed Dech and Mayhaps with distaste. “What if Sir Jeffress tells you to take the road?”
“We’ll take the road,” Dech said. “Some days from now Sir Jeffress will be called to answer for his failure to serve the King and Creator as required. That’s what.”
The guard snorted and walked inside the gate tower.
Several minutes later, the other man returned. “Sinfor’s not a happy man. Not at all,” he said when his comrade stepped from the doorway.
“Why’s that?” the other asked.
“Pulled him away from his sport. Was just deciding which one he was…” he trailed off with a glance at Dech and Mayhaps, “let’s just say he wasn’t happy.” Looking at Dech he said, “Sir Jeffress will speak with you. Come with me.”
. . .
Erie and Dissy watched their two comrades at the gate from their vantage point in the trees near the wall.
“Length of limb dictates how one might fare as a thief?” Dissy asked quietly after considering Erie’s words from earlier.
“Compactness is best. Long limbs mean inadvertent bumps and bangs in the dark. Small and nimble, that’s the trick. It’s also why gnomes are the best thieves there are.”
“I’ve never heard of a gnoman thief.”
“They do not get caught,” he said with a shrug. “Not often at least.”
Dech and Mayhaps followed a guard and rode through the gate and out of sight.
The pair moved slowly and silently to the wall and made their way to the small gate sealed by an iron reinforced wooden panel.
Erie tried the door and found it secured. Seeking a gap in the stonework or wood of the door, he found none. “Crossbar,” he whispered. “We could check the next opening, but this side is the best to make entry. Up for a climb?” he said with a look up the wall.
Dissy nodded without saying a thing.
Erie nodded in return. “Watch where I place my hands and feet and you’ll do fine. If in doubt, say something. Mind your sword and the ends of your bow as we climb.”
Diz replied with another nod.
Erie climbed effortlessly, stopping twice to check on Dissy who while climbing slowly, did so with skill. Reaching the top, Erie found the wall was slightly wider than his shoulders and lay flat to await Diz’s imminent arrival. Soon, she joined him atop the wall.
They stayed prone and silent as a disinterested guard walked by at the base of the wall, moving slowly. Eventually he turned and disappeared around the corner of the tower house.
Pointing downward before swinging his legs over and gaining footholds, Erie was soon descending as fast as his ascent.
Dissy’s trip down was more eventful. Slipping halfway down, she pushed away and landed beside Erie, the thick grass below and compressing into a crouch resulting in a soft and nearly silent landing.
“Nice response to a mistake,” Josip said. “No panic. You hurt?”
She shook her head.
“Let’s go then. Smooth and quiet, just like moving in the forests with smarter and less savvy animals prowling here.”
The pair crossed the space between the wall and the tower house and moved in shadow to an archway where carved steps led downward to a stone-paved enclosure abutting a corner in the keep’s walls. A heavy metal door with lock confronted them.
Erie swiftly drew some of the tools of his trade from a pouch and after limbering his fingers, went to work. With only the slightest sound of scraping, the lock clicked and the thief slowly cracked the door to peer inside. Seeing no threat, he replaced his tools and stood, Dissy following suit.
The door opened into a passage of eight or ten strides length before encountering a T-intersection, a dim lantern hanging at the cross of the walkways providing meager light. A door on each wall sat open and a quick look into the dark spaces revealed them to be dry storage areas.
The Warder Page 32
