The pipe continued for well over a hundred yards, without deviation and without being joined by other pipes. I knew we were in one of the main sewer exits for the city – further along, the pipe would become smaller and would branch many times, but here there was enough room for us to proceed. I couldn’t remember exactly when I’d learned about this way into the keep. As a captain in the Duke’s service, I’d been party to a lot of conversations with other men of seniority. Perhaps there’d been a security review of the keep at some point and the sewers had been mentioned as a possible method for hostile parties to enter. I just hoped that nothing had happened in the interim to block off this way into the keep’s lower levels.
The left-hand side of the pipe opened out into a paved platform, fifteen feet long and five deep. It was about a foot above the surface of the sewerage and covered in a thick, slimy layer of greenish gunge. Ahead, the pipe continued to wherever it was that it went, the view ahead disappearing into darkness.
The platform was part of a rectangular-shaped alcove. The ceiling was slightly higher here, but there was still little more than five feet in which to stand. Right in the middle of the wall, was a square opening. It was five feet to a side, but blocked by another series of metal bars with only narrow gaps between them. There was a short passage leading to steps upwards on the other side. Ploster had already tested the bars and had pushed and pulled, finding them solid. These bars were embedded directly into sockets in the stone and didn’t look like it was intended that they’d be moved. I looked at the metal closely - it was slightly corroded, but almost as strong as the day it had left the blacksmith’s forge.
I must confess that as soon as we’d set foot into the pipe I’d been playing it by ear. There were probably other ways to get into the keep. We could have hidden a couple of men in a delivery wagon, or tried to brazen it out with some of the guards. The keep saw plenty of traffic, so there was always going to be a way, but I’d thought the sewers to be the most likely method of entry that would take the least amount of time to plan.
“Can you melt the bars?” I whispered to Ploster.
He shook his head. “The amount of power it would take would shine like a beacon to the Duke’s watchers,” he said. “This tiny light is about all that I’m willing to risk.”
I nodded and turned my attention to the only alternative. I gripped one of the bars with both hands, braced one foot on the adjacent wall and the other on the ground. I concentrated and then heaved with all my strength. I thought that the bar might have moved a little, but when I paused to check, it was unbent and as solid as it had been just moments before. I cursed softly.
For the next hour, we worked on the bars. We hadn’t brought any proper tools with us, but I wasn’t sure that I’d have accepted a plan that would have necessitated a lot of noise. Instead, we worked out a method where three of us could apply almost our full strength to the bars, but they were as stubborn as we were and refused to move. After trying each of the bars in the hope that we’d find a weak one, we tried a different method. It produced a certain quantity of scraping and chipping sounds as we used our sword points to gradually pick away at one of the stone sockets into which the bars had been fitted. This socket was imperfectly made and we were slowly able to widen it. After a time, the stone crumbled, exposing the top of the metal.
“Go on, Captain. Give it another go,” whispered Hacker.
I obliged and grasped the bar right at the top, pulling at it as hard as I could. There was definite give in it this time and when I paused, I saw that I’d bent the bar about an inch out of its socket. Heartened, I pulled again, my strength undiminished by the earlier efforts. Once again, I managed to bend the bar an inch from the wall. Now it was possible for two of us to apply ourselves and with the enthusiastic assistance of Scrinch, the bar bent almost double. We stared at the gap – it would be a tight squeeze in our armour.
Faced with the alternative of spending a further hour chipping another of the bars from its socket, we stripped off our breastplates and left them behind. I wouldn’t have normally abandoned our armour so readily, but I was feeling the pressure of time, and the worry that any further delay might be enough opportunity for the Duke to uncover his unexpected guest before we could find her. Even without our chest guards, several of us found it difficult to get through the gap we’d made in the bars and there was some pushing, pulling and suppressed mirth at the predicaments of those who struggled, much of it aimed at me.
Eventually, we were through. The first of us to pass had climbed further up the stone steps, in order to give room to those that followed. At the top of the steps was a confined room, with a circular shaft leading upwards and a metal ladder embedded into the walls. I believed that it would take us into one of the lower levels of the keep. We were all familiar with the much of castle’s layout, but I’d spent more time in it than most and was confident that I wouldn’t be surprised once I got up there.
“Corporal Ploster, is it safe for you to try and detect the Saviour?” I didn’t want us to trample through the Duke’s stronghold, only to find that she was dead or taken elsewhere.
Ploster concentrated for a brief time. “She’s up there,” he affirmed. “Can’t you feel her yet?” I shook my head to show that I could not.
“Strange,” he said. “She feels close.”
With the light of Ploster’s magic to guide me, I climbed the metal rungs of the ladder. They went up about twenty feet, ending at another of the metal grates, this one secured by a metal chain and a padlock. I couldn’t see far into the space above, but I was certain that it was a room. There was no sound at all and nothing to suggest that anyone was close by. I listened carefully for a few minutes, the men below remaining silent.
After convincing myself that there was no immediate threat, I pushed tentatively at the grating. It lifted an inch or two, before the slack in the chain ran out and it would go no higher. There was no room to use my sword in the shaft, so I pulled out my dagger and jammed the tip between the chain and the grating. I pulled on the hilt, gradually increasing the pressure. The chain wasn’t thick, but it refused to break under steady pressure, so I jerked downwards, as if I were about to jump off the ladder. The chain broke with a ping and I almost fell onto the men below, but managed to catch hold of one of the rungs just in time to prevent an ungainly tumble which would have doubtless seen me the butt of many jokes for years to come.
With my dignity just about intact, I cautiously pushed aside the grating and put my head into the room. It was too dark to see anything beyond a few shapes, but I got the impression I was in a store room of some sort. I leaned over the top of the shaft and waved my arm, hoping that the men below would be able to see what I was doing in the dim glow of Ploster’s magic. The gentle noise of hard leather boot sole on metal rungs told me that my message had been understood.
It was Ploster that came up first, in order that we could use his light to see where we’d ended up. We were definitely in the keep, since I recognized the size and cut of the stones that formed the walls. They were too large and costly to have been used in a normal home. Anyway, given the large, open space that surrounded the castle, my sense of direction would have had to be wholly lacking to have deposited us somewhere outside of the walls.
“Store room?” whispered Ploster. We could hear other men ascending the shaft from the room below.
“I think so,” I said. I knew the keep well, but I hadn’t been there for a number of years and had never possessed a perfect knowledge of each room, nook and cranny the place had. It was a huge building and I doubted anyone knew all of its secrets, least of all a captain in the army who spent most of his time fighting elsewhere.
The room was thirty feet square and piled high with boxes and crates. The sort of place where things of little value were dumped and promptly forgotten about for years, or perhaps forever. There was a single, thick wooden door as an exit, with a grille at face height, presumably so that the keep’s staff could look inside
without having to open the door to find out if they were at the right chamber.
“Where is she?” I asked.
“Across there and down,” Ploster replied, pointing through a wall.
“In the dungeons.” He nodded.
I waited till everyone was inside, since here was where the plan became little more than the use of force until we reached our destination. The keep had always been garrisoned with a few hundred men, but they were scattered throughout the many rooms and over two different levels. There was also a large contingent of servants and other staff who were required to keep a place like this running smoothly. The last time I’d visited, it was not uncommon to hear the sounds of torture victims or the wails of the imprisoned as they drifted through the building, almost as if it had been designed to magnify the sounds coming from below. I had always found it distasteful and had noticed that the people who worked here ignored the noises completely, almost as if they weren’t there. I thought their pretence was a cowardice in many ways.
It didn’t seem likely that we’d be immediately discovered, but I had Weevil drape a cloth over the grille while we hammered out the outline of how we would proceed.
“We’ve come into the keep, but we’re above the level of the dungeon,” I whispered. “We’re going to stick together, but does anyone think they’ll struggle to find their way if we have to separate?” I looked across at the faces, eerily lit as they leaned towards me. No one shook their head.
“We’re going to make straight for the dungeon stairwell. Stick with your squads and kill any soldiers you see.” I took a deep breath, since the potential for murder didn’t sit easily with me. “If you see any of the keep staff, use your judgement. Kill them if you’re in any doubt.” I could tell that it didn’t sit well with them either, but they knew what we were here to do and understood how important it was. It was good in a way – we had become much more than heartless killers and I only wished that we wouldn’t have to make a difficult choice on who to kill as the coming events of the night unfolded.
“If you have to give chase, don’t get lost and don’t lose sight of what we’re here for. Corporal Ploster will take us to the Saviour, we’ll grab her and we’ll come back the way we got in. We might have to swim downriver until we’re away from the city. If anyone gets lost, head towards that old man’s farm we stopped at for the mutton and wait there for a week to see who else arrives.”
There were no questions and I felt a swelling of pride that they each knew what was expected of them, without requiring guidance or hand-holding. I walked to the door and removed the cloth which covered the looking-hole. There was a faint light outside in the corridor and I remembered that the Duke kept oil lamps burning at all times, in order that his patrols could go about their rounds unhindered. There was a round metal door handle, which I lifted and twisted.
“Fuck, locked,” I muttered to myself.
Undaunted, I drew my sword and drove it between the door and the frame. I was in no mood for even this small delay, and kicked hard at the sword’s hilt. There was a ripping, cracking noise and the wood around the lock splintered away. I tore it open and entered the corridor, waiting for the men behind to follow. The passage was only wide enough for us to walk three abreast and I had Chant and Beamer to my sides. We all had swords and daggers drawn. The shorter blades were often more useful than a sword in confined spaces and we carried them with us always.
“That way,” I said, pointing in the direction that Ploster had indicated. I already knew where we were and my initial thoughts that it was the store rooms had been correct. They were on the ground floor of the keep, towards the back of the building. The door to the dungeons wasn’t far from the main entrance and I thought it likely we’d encounter a lot of armed resistance, even at this time of night. We needed to kill as many of them as we could, as quickly as we were able, in order that their ability to impede our exit would be reduced.
We marched down the corridor at speed, making little effort to disguise the sound of our footfall. I hoped that our unhesitating approach would convince anyone who heard that we had every right to be here. There were the anticipated oil lamps, spaced evenly along the walls, though only in sufficient numbers to stop the night from completely engulfing the floors and walls. There was no decoration – the Duke had never been a one for it as long as I’d served in his army. The walls were unfinished and grey, though the stone blocks had been cut well enough that there was no need for render. The keep had existed long before the Duke had come and it had been built for defence, rather than show. Warmont had done little to change that.
We turned a corner. Just ahead, a group of four soldiers were standing together, looking to see who it was that approached. They hadn’t been expecting to die tonight and were woefully underprepared for it, with their weapons in their sheaths and their mouths open in astonishment as we plunged dagger and sword into their bellies or their throats. I saw with disgust that they weren’t even wearing all the pieces of their armour, for all the good it would have done them. Our decisive attack ensured they died with little in the way of noise, though one man made a peculiar hissing and gurgling sound as his life departed. We stepped over and around the bodies as we continued along the new passage.
Another corridor joined ours from the right, and the sound of our boots made us slow to hear more soldiers approach from this direction until they were almost on top of us, marching three abreast as we were. I guessed there to be eight of them at first glance – a larger patrol than I’d have expected to see at this time of night. Warmont wasn’t rational in many things, which I suppose filtered down to the people who worked for him. These new soldiers saw the gleaming from our drawn blades and asked questions at once, before I could close the ten yard gap to the lead man.
Nevertheless, they didn’t immediately shout and I drove my sword into the chest of the first. There was power in the thrust and more than half of the blade went through. I heard a cry from the man behind, letting me know that the tip of my sword had cut him somewhere as it protruded from the back of his fellow. We still had the element of surprise and though these men were in their full armour, their swords weren’t drawn and I saw Chant step in close to one. He stabbed his dagger into the gap at the side of his opponent’s metal breastplate, through the man’s ribs and into the heart beneath.
The guards’ indecision didn’t last long. I heard those at the back call out a number of expletives as they drew their swords. I pushed the first man off my blade and saw that the man behind was bleeding profusely from his wrist. I cut his throat before he could threaten me and kicked him into the next man in their group. Beamer had also finished off his opponent, but lost his footing in a pool of blood which had splashed from one of the injuries we’d inflicted.
By now, the superiority of our numbers and skill was obvious. Three of the remaining guardsmen had managed to scramble free their swords, leaving them with little choice but to face us. Two others fled along the corridor, heading away from us and abandoning the others to their deaths. These remaining men weren’t game. The man I faced was beyond his youth and with a grizzled face. He’d probably fought in two dozen battles and thanked whatever gods he believed in that he still lived. On this night, his luck ran out and though he fended away two of my attacks, I managed to knock his blade aside and end his life. Another man tried to take advantage of the moment that my blade remained embedded in the veteran’s throat, but Beamer had recovered his footing and cut off the soldier’s arm at the elbow. A second attack from Chant silenced the scream that had been forming on his lips.
The third man was already dead, though I’d not seen the blow that had killed him - it wasn’t important to know how it had happened. The two guards who’d fled weren’t close enough to pursue. I knew the passage they’d run down would only take them back to the store rooms, where I thought it unlikely they’d be able to raise many reinforcements.
“Continue!” I said, loud enough for my voice to carry to the farthest sq
uad.
They fell in behind me as we resumed our course. The route I’d originally planned to take followed close to the perimeter of the keep. It was the longest way, but one which I’d judged would give the least resistance. Now that two of the guards had escaped, I wanted to shorten the journey, though at a risk we’d encounter more guards. I thought the risk worth taking anyway – the corridors were too cramped for us to put our numbers to their best use, which had already let those men get away from us.
“In here,” I said, indicating a set of wide, double doors. They had the same round, metal handles as most of the doors in the keep had and I twisted one without delay.
“Fuck me, Captain. This is the mess hall,” said Beamer, though he turned the other handle at the same time as I did.
“I know,” I said, walking through.
We entered a room that was not far from cavernous. The ceilings were high and there were tables arranged in neat rows. If the keep were ever to be laid under siege, this was where the men would eat or gather to receive their commands. It was usually home to a number of soldiers both on and off-duty, who had nothing better to do with their time than loiter here. Immediately, I breathed a sigh of relief. It was empty apart from two men, who were seated with their backs to us, twenty yards away. On another day, we could have found thirty or more men, even at this time of night.
Both men turned their heads in minor curiosity to see who’d entered. By that point, there were three of us bearing down upon them with swords raised to strike. Beamer and Chant got there first, since I had to jump over two tables in order to get to where the men were sitting.
“What the fuck?” I heard one man say. The other said nothing, either because he was too surprised, or because his brain had told him the futility of saying anything at all.
Strength of Swords (First Cohort Book 2) Page 10
