by LeRoy Clary
“May the three gods advise me. My head hurts with every step the horse takes. I know my thinking’s slow, but I don’t understand these two men,” the Dungeon Master stated, not speaking to either of them, but speaking loud enough for all to hear.
They chuckled at him, and Quint turned his horse to the left and followed a faint trail that led directly to the edge of the cliff. He climbed down and walked stiff-legged to peer over. “Here it is.”
Raymer joined him. A ledge wound down the side of a steep cliff, often no wider than his shoulders. The surface was strewn with loose rocks and sand. One slip promised a long fall. “I won’t ride a horse down there.”
“Me neither,” Quint agreed. “I knew it was supposed to narrow, but that’s not what I had in mind.”
Raymer turned to the rear and saw men on horses in the distance. They had gained half the distance in the time it took to locate the trail. If Quint was right, there were troops on their left, more on their right, and those closing in from behind. Another dungeon or take the path?
Raymer said, “I say we go down. I’d rather fall to my death than go back and rot in that cell.”
Quint nodded and started untying the blanket holding their supplies the old woman provided. Raymer gathered the blankets and shirts in his arms. He looked for anything of value on the horses and realized they were so worn out from the trip they couldn’t have carried them much further on level ground, let alone the narrow trail down the side of the canyon.
“We’ll let you wait here for your people,” Raymer said to Ander. “If that’s agreeable with Quint.”
“Good by me. We don’t need him slowing us down or trying to betray us at every turn. Didn’t want to bring him anyhow.”
“Where are you two going?” The Dungeon Master quickly asked.
“Pumping us for valuable information, are you?” Quint said, spreading the blanket and taking a quick inventory as he split the contents into two equal portions for carrying.
Raymer said, “It’s no secret. We’re heading beyond the Raging Mountains to Quint’s home. We’ll be far away from here where there’s help for us. I’ll get word to my people somehow, but don’t expect to ever see us again.”
The Dungeon Master sat on a rock and cradled his chin on his palms, his eyes closed. He opened them and looked at the far-off mountains. “I’ve never been there.”
Quint paused and stared at him. “Are you asking to go with us?”
“I don’t like being in that damned Dungeon any more than you. My father made me take the dirty job. Let me go with you and if you get caught, I’ll play the part of a hostage.”
He had the full attention of Quint and Raymer.
“I pledge you my word. Let me travel with you and see something of the world instead of the insides of the dungeon walls. You may not realize it, but I was every bit as much a prisoner like you.”
“Your word?” Quint asked. “No conditions?”
“One condition.”
Quint snarled, “Which would be?”
“You address me as Ander. Never call me the Dungeon Master again.”
Raymer relaxed and smiled as Quint stuck out his hand to shake. Quint said, “We’re not your lackeys . . . Ander. You do a third of the work or go hungry. Grab those blankets from Raymer so he can carry this.” He held out a second blanket filled with food.
Raymer said, “I’ll go first.”
He held onto the four corners of the blanket where it was tied and tossed the heavy middle over his shoulder like a farmer carrying a sack of vegetables. It didn’t weigh too much and was not as unwieldy as he feared. One last look behind revealed those chasing them were closer than he liked, and their horses were galloping as fast as able. A few of the men had already pulled swords and waved them in the air. Faint shouts grew louder.
Raymer looked down at his bare feet, the filthy and tattered trousers that nearly fell off his thin hips, and the shirt that had once been tan. It now hung in charcoal colored ribbons. But it was his bare feet that concerned him. The rocks were sharp. Even the sand was sharp, and plants with thorns grew in abundance.
Quint said, “Stop thinking and do it before they capture us standing here waiting for you.”
Raymer stepped gingerly onto the center of the narrow ledge. His toes tried to find something to grip. He took another step on the steep decline and found it was not slippery, as he’d feared. The ledge was probably wide enough at the top for a horse to navigate if the animal could be encouraged to step upon it, but further down it narrowed.
Raymer’s confidence grew with every step. He heard the others moving behind, and the shouts of the army louder. Some of them would have arrows. He moved faster.
The ledge sloped quickly near the top, then leveled as it went lower, but it also narrowed, unless his eyes deceived him. A glance over the edge revealed a cliff below that was taller than the tallest building. No, taller than ten buildings. One misstep and he’d fall long enough to think about all his misdeeds in life.
Despite the danger from the ledge, his pace increased as the shouts grew closer. His feet were already sore but would heal. The ledge turned and followed the side of the cliff, always dripping lower, sometimes faster than others. He lifted his head and looked at the path in front of them and almost stumbled.
The ledge came to an end.
Raymer glanced behind and saw that Quint had noticed the same thing.
But a smile formed and Quint said, “Trust me.”
There was not a choice. Raymer turned and moved gingerly to the end of the ledge. As he got closer, there appeared to be a lip where the trail simply ended, but he kept on. From Quint’s knowing smile he expected to find a ladder or perhaps a rope.
But the ledge still appeared to end. He slowed and advanced the last few steps cautiously. The ledge didn’t end. It continued around a point of rock, turning back on itself like a switchback on a mountain trail at home. As he rounded the point, he almost returned in the same direction as he came from.
Around the sharp bend spread a wide, flat area, large enough for ten men to stand. The ledge continued to travel down, but Raymer stepped aside and waited, catching his breath. Quint and Ander appeared, both wearing relieved smiles when they turned the corner.
Quint said to Anders, “Exactly as I was told. This was made hundreds of years ago when my family was warring with yours.”
Ander said, “Made? This trail was made?”
Quint shook his head and pointed up. “They can’t see us from up there. Can’t throw rocks down on us and can’t shoot arrows. All they can do is follow down that ledge, one at a time.”
Ander continued, saying what Raymer was thinking, “You said it was made.”
Quint motioned to the marks on the rear of the stone wall. “Dug out by chisels. This wide spot only. But this is where we stand and fight. Turn them back.”
“We could just keep on and get away,” Raymer said.
“They’d follow and catch us by nightfall. Right here we convince them not to follow us,” he smiled as he stepped to the wall and reached into a split in the stone. He pulled a staff into view. Then two more. Looking at Raymer with a sly smile he said, “Ever try one of these against a man who’s not an image in your mind?”
Raymer accepted the staff and his fingers wrapped around it as if he’d been born with it in his hand. “How’d you know they were there?”
“This path? This place and weapons stashed here? I was briefed before I set foot into this heathen land of yours. My people suspected betrayal by King Ember, but wanted peace so badly they sent me anyhow. But not unprepared.”
Ander slipped his hand inside the crack and pulled it back with a sack attached. He looked inside. “Grain. Dried nuts and fruit.” He reached again and pulled a small leather bag that jingled with the sound of coins. He handed it to Quint without opening it.
Raymer said, “If this was placed here for your possible use, there are probably more stashes along the way.”
“My people are maybe too trusting, but we are not stupid.”
The shouting above had quieted. Raymer jabbed a thumb up into the air. “What now?”
“We wait. You and me with staffs. Each time one of them shows himself we attack.”
“Here on the ledge?” Raymer asked.
We have room to move. We’ll take them by surprise and shove them over the side.”
Ander stepped closer, meeting Quint’s gaze from his shorter size, but no less serious. “They’ll die.”
Quint said easily, “If you look at their hands you’ll see swords. They intended for us to die. Why are you upset if we will kill armed soldiers who are doing their best to run us through?”
Raymer nodded in partial agreement. “This doesn’t set well with me either, Ander. But if you wish our permission to walk back up to that ledge and warn them of our intentions I have no objections.”
Quint said, “Go there if you like, but don’t return to us. Perhaps it will be better for all if you do leave.”
“No, I stay! But I have never killed a man, nor seen one killed.”
“That will change soon,” Quint said. “I hear them coming down that ledge. When we strike, I expect to hear blood-curdling screams of terror as they fall all the way to the bottom.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
The three of them stepped closer to the back of the rear rock wall and grew silent. The men chasing them called encouragement to the ones on the ledge in front, urging them to move faster. The voices and boots stepping on the loose gravel on the ledge allowed Raymer to pinpoint their location. The first of the troops rounded the corner, watching the ledge in front of himself instead of lifting his gaze and seeing the men with staffs waiting.
The soldier never really had time to look up and see them. Quint held his staff chest high at one end, waiting for the man to appear. A solid jab with the end of the staff at the shoulder as it emerged from around the corner sent him toppling over the side of the cliff. As Quint had anticipated, the scream chilled them, and probably petrified the others behind him on the ledge.
The abrupt killing and subsequent scream made Raymer realize he was near to losing his breakfast, but he hadn’t had any. Still, the sour taste of bile filled his mouth, and the abrupt ending of the scream already haunted him. He would hear it again on dark nights. If it affected him so much, what must those following the first soldier think?
He slipped and fell, that’s what they’d think. The next in line would come around the point with more caution, perhaps expecting a rock to trip over, so his attention would be at his feet. He shuffled ahead slowly, his eyes focused on the path ahead as if to avoid the fate of the first.
Standing nearly out of sight, Quint leaped forward and jammed the end of his staff into the man’s chest. If anything, the second man screamed louder and longer, until it was mercifully cut off by a sickening sound of the body striking the rocks below.
“Now they begin to wonder,” Quint said softly. “The next one will peek around before taking a step.”
Raymer watched as Quint raised the end of his staff to head-height and waited. As predicted, a head slowly appeared. Quint slammed the end of the staff into the head. The man toppled over to fall quietly to his death.
Raymer stole a quick glance at Ander. The man looked as ill as he felt. “Quint, is there another way?”
“No.”
“How long do we stay here?”
“Until those above stop sending good men after us.”
They had looked away from the ledge while talking, and a soldier with a sword held high leaped into view, ready to slash. Without thinking, Raymer shifted the butt of his staff in front of the soldier’s feet. Then he struck the staff upward to meet the shins. The man stumbled over the staff, took two quick unbalanced steps and fell over the side, a wild expression on his face, as if he didn’t understand what happened.
His scream was quickly cut short, but none of the three cared to look over the side to see what finished it so fast. Quint said, “I’ll bet the next one will wait until they berate him enough to move.”
Ander said, “I only saw six of them when we were above.”
Quint looked to Raymer. “You?”
“Six.”
“Then I miscalculated,” he eased to the ledge and made a quick move that let him see up the path where they’d come from. “Nobody there.”
“There were six, I swear,” Ander said. “There should be two more.”
Quint nodded, “I believe you. Six. Four we sent over the side. Above is an officer who won’t come down until the way is declared safe, and a coward who’s too smart to come down. Probably he’ll get put into one of my old cells for refusing orders.”
“What now,” Raymer asked.
“We go down. No sense in waiting here for reinforcements to show up. Just senseless deaths from now on.” Quint gathered several rocks and placed them on the ledge where it turned, and then added a few more, further down. He also pulled several strips of leather from the crevasse in the wall and held them up. “Trips. We’ll set these at convenient places along the path.”
Ander gathered the blankets and shirts. He looked at Raymer, eyes tearful. “Did I make a mistake coming with you?”
Quint chuckled, but Raymer said, “It depends. If those men stop chasing us, will I hurt anyone else? No. But if they keep coming, will I kill them? After you answer those questions in your mind, you can either stay or go.”
Raymer turned his back to them and started down the ledge again. The position of the sun told him he had daylight left, but he didn’t want to be stranded by darkness on the ledge. He hurried faster. The trail continued to descend until it ended in a mass of jumbled rocks that had fallen and piled at the base since time began.
The dragon flew nearby again, and Raymer again ordered it away. It seemed that each time he became emotional or fought an enemy the dragon ventured close. It was something to consider and possibly use in the future when one misstep on a path would not end his life.
A trace of a trail started where the ledge ended. Rocks had been cast aside or used to fill gaps between boulders. The footing was surprisingly firm for crossing what is called scree, usually better for broken legs or twisting ankles. He suspected the trail along the ledge had existed far longer than anyone knew, and there had been more manpower to construct it than was apparent.
There was little daylight remaining when they reached to bottom, an area covered with low brush and green trees in the distance instead of the barren landscape above. Looking up, Raymer couldn’t see any soldiers on the top of the cliff, and he hoped he didn’t find the remains of any who had fallen to their deaths. He also hoped the horses they’d paid for were well taken care of, and the old lady who’d sold the horses hadn’t been punished.
Quint said, “That’s a river is ahead. Anybody thirsty?”
The mention of water made Raymer’s mouth all the dryer. He gave a look to Ander, “You still going with us? It’s not too late to claim we took you here by force.”
“I am with you, but barely. Not because I changed my mind, but because I’ve never worked so hard in my life as I did escape from that horrible dungeon.”
Quint said, “Tired, are you? Why this is one of the easier days in my life. Certainly one of the better ones.”
Raymer saw the sparkle of water as he heard the first rush of the swift river. Breaking through a thicket of willows, the cobblestone edge of the river lay ahead. He hadn’t allowed himself to think about water until now. They had been too busy fleeing, but the sight of flowing water stilled him in his tracks.
Quint rushed past and fell on his knees at the edge, placing his face fully into the river. Raymer took hold of Ander’s shoulder and helped him move across the rocks to reach the water. Both slurped their fill, waited until that settled and then drank some more.
Quint pointed to a tangle of brush and small trees on the shore that had washed down the river. “Dry wood for a fire and the sand i
s a soft place to sleep.”
They limped ahead and settled down for the first time since their escape. Quint fell onto his back, his forearm over his forehead. “Raymer, how’d you manage it?”
“Manage what?”
“That dragon attack. Don’t try telling me it was an accident or coincidence.”
“I didn’t do it.”
“I’ve heard about you guys calling down dragons but didn’t believe it.”
Ander looked from one to the other as he listened to the exchange. Raymer didn’t want him to believe something not true. “My family says some can do it, but I was too young to teach. I didn’t call him down.”
“Do you deny trying?”
“My plan was to have the dragon melt the bars with the slime they spit. We would have covered ourselves in lime and crawled out.”
Quint laughed, “Knocking down the whole damned wall worked pretty well, too. Nothing fancy, but effective.”
Anders shrugged, “You two make me realize how unhappy my life was.”
“How so?” Raymer asked, the comment drawing his attention and curiosity. Ander had been raised in a wealthy family almost as powerful as the kings’. The idea that he might envy two prisoners sounded interesting.
“Oh, it’s hard to explain. I guess laughter among royals is more a weapon than an expression of joy. We laugh to support someone who can help us, or we laugh to ridicule our enemies.”
Raymer didn’t understand but decided to keep their conversations on survival track. He asked, “Will we stay here tonight?”
“Yes. Rest our feet some. Mine are raw from that walk down the ledge. Soak them in the water and get a good night’s sleep. We leave early.”
“What if they come tonight?” Ander asked, his eyes raised to the walls of the canyon above.
Quint snorted. “After seeing and hearing those men fall today, would you dare tread that ledge at night? And if you did, you’d find yourself falling from those trip strings I left.”
Raymer walked to an eddy of the river and sat on a boulder, his feet in the cold, healing water. The coldness numbed them, and they already felt better. “Hey, Ander. We’ve offered you the chance to turn back about three times, so far. I still don’t get why you want to go with us.”
