“Yes. Agreed.” But what had she just agreed to?
The door opened as Shorty returned, carefully carrying two full pitchers. Seeing him, BH shuffled the pack with a dramatic flourish. “Okay. Who’s in?”
“Me.” Finn settled down on the bench beside BH. They were joined by Hippo and Shorty. However, Widget had his travel chess out and was casting hopeful looks in Lori’s direction.
“I’m coming.” Tamsin stood and patted Lori’s shoulder. “Go on. Give Widget a real game.”
Lori had one last question. “The bit about eating Nysian, that was a joke wasn’t it? Segann was just playing along with the child?”
Tamsin did not say anything, but did not need to. Her wry pout was the only answer necessary.
Chapter Seventeen
Cirrus’s hoof clipped the top of a tall fir, sending a shower of snow cascading down through the branches. A few wayward flakes swirled in the draft caused by the riders and stuck to Lori’s cheeks. She brushed the snow away. The fur lined gloves and jacket were doing a reasonable job of keeping her hands and body warm, but her exposed face stung in the raw air. The temperature was dropping as dusk thickened.
They had been passing over densely packed forest for mile upon mile. However, it was finally coming to an end, where the trees ran into the flanks of a mountain chain. The jagged peaks stretched away on either side, in an unbroken line, until swallowed by the fading light. For the last quarter hour they had flown low, brushing the upper branches, so as not to be conspicuous to lookouts. Castle Farraon must be close at hand.
A small break in the trees appeared in the wintry forest ahead, where banks of snow surrounded a frozen pond. To Lori’s relief, the Silver Ravens were making for the opening. It was not just the cold. After hours in the saddle, she was stiff, tired, and hungry.
Cirrus skidded to a halt beside the other horses, sending up a cloud of powdery snow. Firs overhung the glade, hiding the lower mountain slopes, but peaks towered above the treetops, stark against the last wisps of sunset. Was it the edge of the world? If they flew over the barrier of rock and ice, would they arrive on the other side of Annwyn?
Lori took a moment to gather herself. She swung her leg over Cirrus’s rump and slipped her foot free of the stirrup. Her feet hit the ground, and her knees buckled. She was more tired than she had realised. She held on to the saddle for support while stamping her legs to get the circulation going.
“Are you all right?” Tamsin was at her shoulder.
“Yes, fine.” She pushed away from Cirrus’s side.
“We’ll get camp sorted quickly.”
“Right.”
Tamsin moved on.
Lori took another moment to make sure both legs were working before unbuckling the saddle and pulling her pack from Cirrus’s back. Did the horse need rubbing down? Food? A coat? The Silver Ravens had let their horses loose, without even a hobble to stop them from wandering. Presumably, whoever had created the flying horses went the extra mile and made them low maintenance as well.
At the far end of the clearing, several of the Silver Ravens were erecting a round, yurt-like tent. Lori went to help. Even before the shelter was finished, the amount of equipment on show was cause for surprise. Where had it come from, given the absence of a packhorse? Confusion changed to bewilderment when she entered the yurt and saw BH fitting a flue to a small cast iron stove.
“How did that get here?”
“It was in Widget’s bag o’ tricks.”
“What’s that?”
BH pointed to where Widget knelt at one side of the tent, feeling inside the large rucksack he always carried.
He grinned at Lori. “This. A magic bag.” He produced a succession of thick blankets. “Can put a house in there, you know. Never gets full. Never weighs anything. Food stays fresh in it, though you can’t put in anything that’s alive if you want it to stay that way.”
“Right.” She watched him pull out kindling and sawn logs. “How do you find things in there?”
“Practice.” Pots and pans appeared. “And for my pièce de résistance.” He flourished a box of tea bags in the air.
Lori’s heart leapt at the sight. “Why didn’t you get them out before?”
“Because the bloody boggarts eat them. The little buggers are all tannin addicts.”
Lori mentally ran through all the other things she had been missing. “I don’t suppose you have something in there to charge a laptop.”
“Of course. I’ve got a couple of solar powered units and more back at Caersiddi. Why, do you need one?”
“Not now. But I could have done with it while I was working on the decoding.”
“You should have said something, pet.”
Too late now. Another idea struck. “Does it work if you take it to Earth?” She could have done with it in Adam’s spare room.
“To tell the truth, I’ve never tried. But if it stopped working, and everything exploded out, it’d get terribly messy.”
* * *
With food cooking atop the stove, the yurt was a huge step up on the Mud Town inn. Lori sat with a blanket draped over her shoulders and her hands wrapped blissfully around a mug of tea. Outside, the wind whistled over the trees. Then a long, drawn-out howl came from the distance. Wolves, werewolves, or something else? Whatever its source, the call did not bother the Silver Ravens.
Tamsin dropped down beside her. “I thought I’d fill you in on the background and some hints about what to expect tomorrow.”
Lori battled to act relaxed, ignoring her body’s reaction. “Sure.”
“History-wise, Castle Farraon was built about eighty years ago by Havgan, who was a distant cousin of King Arawan.”
“Is that eighty years Earth or Annwyn time?”
“Annwyn. It’d have been something BC on Earth. Havgan wanted to carve off a piece of the world as his own kingdom and was shaping up to make a fight of it. Castle Farraon was built to withstand a siege but was never put to the test. Back then, a man called Powel was captain of the Silver Ravens. Powel wasn’t about to do anything as stupid as launch a head-on attack. Instead, he waited and caught Havgan by surprise when he was out hunting.”
“So King Arawan kept all Annwyn and got a new castle as a bonus.”
“Except it was a castle he had no use for, nor his heirs. I don’t think Queen Rianna has set foot in it. Our problem is that Havgan created Castle Farraon as his stronghold, and we’ve got bugger all idea what it’s like inside, especially since the one person who did take an interest was Bronwen, during the short period she was in charge. I believe she was preparing Castle Farraon as her final refuge. However, Queen Rianna was smart enough to follow Powel’s example, so it never came to an all-out fight.”
Just a knife in the back. “Gilwyn came here with his mother?”
“Yes. In truth, it’s such an obvious place for him to hole up I’d been in two minds about coming straight here and not bothering with Segann. Except it was too obvious. I thought he’d try to be a little less predictable.”
“He was double-bluffing you.”
“He’s a slippery bastard, but I doubt he’d thought it through that far.”
Lori put down her empty mug. “Based on my conversation with him, you could be right. He definitely thought humans weren’t as clever as he was. He’d assume outsmarting us would be easy.”
“Exactly. With any luck, Gilwyn won’t expect us to track him down this quickly. He hasn’t had much time to prepare, but even so, we need to stay sharp. Take nothing for granted. If in doubt, check. If not in doubt, check anyway. I…” Tamsin stared at her clasped hands. “I shouldn’t have agreed to let you join us. Now I’m half tempted to leave you here in the yurt tomorrow, while we tackle Gilwyn.”
“No. I want to come along.” She certainly did not fancy being on her own with whatever it was that had howled.
“It could turn nasty.”
“I understand.”
Tamsin’s lips twisted into a wry smile.
“But that risks spoiling my cunning plan.”
“What cunning plan?”
“When I let you try the sniper test, in part it was because I thought you’d fail, which would spare me having to say a flat no to you. But in part I thought if you saw more of Annwyn, you might want to stay here. You’re—” She broke off again, and brushed imaginary dust from her legs. “Be careful tomorrow. I still want to have that talk with you.”
* * *
Farraon had been built where a wide chasm split the side of a mountain. The outer battlements sealed the breach, running from the cliff face on one side to the other. BH drew a sketch on the ground, highlighting the main points. “This is the only area where there’s any activity. The rest of the castle is deserted. Gilwyn’s not alone, but there aren’t many with him, maybe three or four fay and a few dozen boggarts. They’re trying to keep out of sight, but…” She smiled. “They aren’t doing a good enough job.”
“Any sign of humans?” Tamsin asked.
“No.”
“Great.” Was her response due to an ethical dislike of fighting other humans, or the absence of Earth weapons? “Any sentries?”
“Just one. There’s always a fay standing watch on top of the gatehouse. But there’s a clean shot from here”—BH pointed to her sketch—“without being seen.”
“How far?”
“About a hundred yards, give or take a few.”
“Okay.”
Everyone glanced Lori’s way. They were expecting her to shoot someone, and it was not a video game. The realisation hit like a kick to the gut. She took a gulp of tea. It burned her throat but did not thaw the ice in her chest. Most of what followed passed in a haze. Fortunately, there was not much to it.
Tamsin stood. “Right. Do we all know what we’re doing?”
She might have missed a few details, but Lori nodded. She knew exactly what she was about to do—she was going to kill someone. Anything else was a minor detail. She should have thought things through before asking to come along as a sniper, although her options had been limited.
The Silver Ravens began assembling and checking their kit. Lori blindly copied their actions until Tamsin knelt beside her, holding another rifle.
“You’ll need to take this. It’s a high-powered airgun. We don’t want to let the entire mountainside know we’re here. The range is limited, but it’s fine for what BH described. Accuracy isn’t an issue. It’s got steel tipped pellets. A scratch is all it’ll take. Widget can carry your other rifle in his bag o’ tricks, in case you need it later.”
“Right.” The gun was cold, hard, and heavy in her hands.
The rising sun was behind them when they set off from the clearing. A light breeze stirred the tops of the branches, sending flurries of snow down on their heads. It whispered around Lori’s ears. The only other sounds were snow crunching under their feet and the raucous shriek of a hunting bird. Cold air pinched her cheeks and the weight of the rifle dug into her shoulder.
Under the trees was quieter still. The blanket of snow was replaced by fallen pine needles, deadening all noise. The Silver Ravens moved silently, weapons at the ready. Lori tagged along towards the rear, moving when she was beckoned and standing where she was pointed. A sense of awkwardness grew. She should not be there. She did not have the training. Nor, now that the moment came, did she have the desire. She was a programmer, not a soldier.
The Silver Ravens moved on, taking up positions, shifting from tree to tree. Their actions were precise and coordinated. They had done this before, many times. Emotions rattled through Lori, too quick and unfamiliar to name, except for one—anxiety. She did not want to fail.
They reached a patch of heavier firs, where low hanging branches swept close to the ground. At Tamsin’s signal, Shorty, Hippo, and Widget broke away, heading in the direction of the castle. The rest got down on their stomachs and wiggled forward, inching under the covering of evergreen boughs.
BH and Finn stopped, but Tamsin beckoned Lori on a few more feet, until just a thin green curtain separated them from a rutted track through the forest. A fallen tree provided additional cover. Tamsin and Lori shuffled forward slowly, until they could peek over the top.
No traffic was on the road, or had been for days. The pristine coating of snow was broken only by the prints of birds, deer, and other wildlife. The track curved gently up to the castle gates. The distance matched BH’s estimate—an easy shot, even with an airgun. Tamsin trained a pair of binoculars on the battlements, while Lori shrugged the rifle off her shoulder.
The sentry atop the gatehouse was visible through the veil of pine needles, without needing scope or binoculars. Lori adjusted the sights, wishing she could take a practice shot to get the range, but the light breeze was at her back. Unless an unlucky gust caught the pellet, the weather would not be an issue. The sentry was standing upright and unmoving, as if to attention. He could not have made an easier target of himself if he tried.
Lori rested the rifle barrel on the trunk, so the tip of the muzzle just parted the pine needles, and squinted into the scope. The head of the sentry filled her sight. The only movement was the ends of his silver hair, stirring in the breeze. His features were utterly impassive. His eyes were locked on the track to the gates, ignoring the rest of the castle. Were it not for puffs of steam as he breathed, he might have been a dummy. Had he blanked out through boredom? What was he thinking about?
A tremor started in Lori’s hands. Her stomach tightened. The fay was living, breathing, carrying hopes for his future and memories of his past, and she was going to wipe it all out. It was not a game. Lori closed her eyes, willing her hands and heartbeat to still. She was going to do this.
The scene had not changed when she opened her eyes again. The safety catch released with the faintest click. The crosshairs lined up with the fay’s head. She slid her finger onto the trigger. All she needed to do was squeeze gently and it would be done. But her hand had seized and her finger turned to stone. The muscles in her palm sent darts shooting up her wrist. And now her shoulder was locked. She had to stop and massage life back into her arm.
Someone tapped Lori’s elbow, soft but insistent, demanding her attention. Finn had shuffled into position beside her. Slowly, he lifted the rifle from her unresisting hands and set it against his own shoulder. He pressed his cheek against the stock, taking aim.
Lori let her forehead sink onto the trunk and scrunched her eyes closed, wanting to shut out everything. She could not watch. The rifle chuffed, a sound no louder than the sigh as Finn let out his breath.
“Good shot,” Tamsin’s voice was one degree above a whisper.
The fay man was dead. The world would go on without him. Seconds trickled by—seconds that had been taken from him.
“Any reaction?” Finn asked.
“I’m not seeing it.” Tamsin had the binoculars to her eyes. “You and BH take up position on the other side of the road, in case Hippo needs cover.”
“Yes, Captain.”
As Finn shuffled back under the trees, his expression was one of grim satisfaction. He did not spare a glance for Lori. What was he most pleased about, his successful shot, or that his low opinion of her had been proved right?
“I…” Lori did not know what to say.
“You couldn’t pull the trigger.”
“No. My hand…it…”
“That’s all right. Better to find out when your life isn’t dependent on it.”
She had failed. Lori stared at her empty hands. She had failed.
“If you want to do something useful, take these binoculars. Now that the sentry is gone, Hippo will be climbing over the wall. We don’t want him to be caught out.”
“Right.” That was something she could do.
Her pulse still pounded. The wannabe soldier course did not count as true military training, she knew that, but she had not thought she would fall so short. The beta testers had said Rank and File was too realistic. In truth, it had not come close to reality
—no game could.
The trees ran right up to the castle walls. They had clearly grown up after the stronghold was abandoned. The first sight of activity was when Hippo, Shorty, and Widget emerged near the gatehouse. After a moment to sort himself out, Hippo started to climb. Rather than the line and grapple beloved by movies, he looked to be using standard rock-climbing harness, rope, and spring-loaded cams. It would be slower, less dramatic, but undoubtedly safer.
Lori turned her attention back to the walls. But there was nothing. No shouts. No friends rushing to the sentry’s side. He was dead and nobody knew. The empty spot where he had stood kept hooking the binoculars, dragging on her thoughts. He was lying there, unnoticed and unmourned. Yet surely someone would cry for him when the news got out. Somebody would care he was dead.
Hippo reached the parapet and disappeared over the top of the wall.
Tamsin tapped her shoulder. “Come on. Time to take the fight to them.”
Lori could not move. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. Killing shouldn’t be easy.”
“My hand just…”
“Now’s not the time for talk. Either come with us or stay here. Your choice.” Tamsin rolled over the trunk and through the curtain of pine needles.
Lori clasped her hands over her head. Part of her pleaded to stay beneath the trees, hiding from everyone. But another, even more childlike part, was desperate and frightened, and did not want to be left alone. She forced herself to follow Tamsin onto the track. Finn and BH emerged from the trees on the other side. Lori could not meet anyone’s eyes. She did not belong with them and now everyone knew it.
By the time they reached the castle, the wicket gate was open. Hippo stood there grinning while Widget returned the climbing equipment to his rucksack. The Silver Ravens slipped through the narrow entrance and assembled under the archway, with a first view of the castle’s interior.
Silver Ravens Page 22
