“I hope this doesn’t mean we are to be married?” said a raspy voice.
Ludwig looked down in shock. Sigwulf was staring up at him, his haggard face pale, yet the hint of a smile played at the corners of his mouth.
“You’d best not mention this to Cyn,” Sig added. “You know how jealous she is.”
Ludwig couldn’t help but smile. “You gave us quite the scare there.”
“Speaking of Cyn, where is she?”
“Getting something to eat. She hasn’t left your side for days.”
“I must get back to work,” insisted Sigwulf.
Ludwig let go of his hand. “You’re not going anywhere until you’re fully recovered, my friend.”
“How long have I been out?”
“Three days,” said Ludwig.
“What have I missed?”
“That depends. What do you remember?”
“The assault went badly," said Sigwulf. "I recall taking an arrow in the back as I was making my way across the moat. Then Cyn did something that hurt a lot.”
“That arrow almost killed you,” said Ludwig. “She had to break off the head so we could pull it out.”
Sigwulf shifted slightly, obviously in some discomfort. “I remember now. Did you get it all?”
“We did, but you took ill with a fever.”
“And yet I live?”
“Yes, thanks to warriors moss.”
Sigwulf raised his head, trying to view his bandages, but Ludwig used a hand to force him back down.
“You covered me in moss?”
“More or less. In any event, it appears to have done the trick. Now, you need to rest until your strength recovers.”
“How's Cyn?”
“Uninjured, if that’s what you mean, but she hasn’t slept much since we discovered you, nor eaten, to be honest. She’s definitely in no fit shape for the next attack.”
“You plan to scale the walls?”
“Actually,” said Ludwig, “we’ve come up with something a little different this time. I think you’d be impressed.”
“Would that I could join you, but I fear my strength has been drained.”
“It’ll recover in time, my friend. You must rest for now, but I’ll tell you all about it once we’re victorious.”
“You’d better,” said Sigwulf.
19
The Gatehouse
Spring 1095 SR
* * *
Dawn. The sun stretched out its rays, bathing the land in a golden hue. Ludwig, up to his waist in water, and in the shadows, shivered. They had advanced under cover of night and now stood beneath the raised drawbridge, huddling in water that sapped their strength. He looked at the others: twelve hand-picked men, all of them shivering like him, waiting on the order to begin.
“Soon,” he whispered. This was the most difficult part, the waiting. In order to get close to the wall, they must stay put until the diversionary attack began. Only once that commenced could they risk the rush of the last few yards to get the Earth Mage into position.
The gatehouse projected out from the curtain wall, forming a corner of sorts, and it was where these two structures met that was the intended point of entry.
Ludwig felt confident. Once Linden Herzog opened up the wall, it whould be a simple matter to get inside the gatehouse and lower the drawbridge. Their task complete, the cavalry under Hagan Stein's command would rush across, securing victory, providing, of course, Ludwig and his group could get into position without being seen.
From the west drifted the sound of warriors charging forward, steeling themselves for the assault on the wall. Ludwig closed his eyes and started counting, trying not to rush. When he finally reached fifty, he looked at Herzog and the others.
“Ready?” he asked.
They all nodded, and then Ludwig moved to his left, navigating his way around the base of the drawbridge. He scanned the curtain wall but spotted no sign of soldiers. Closer he crept, then began climbing out of the water. The moat’s bank was steep here to allow the drawbridge's massive counterweight room to swing. It also made navigation far more difficult. He struggled for a moment, then managed to grasp a tuft of grass and haul himself onto his stomach.
His task complete, he turned, offering his hand to the next in line. As they exited the moat, each man made their way to the curtain wall, pressing themselves up against it. Ludwig soon joined them. Linden Herzog was pushed up against the corner where the wall met that of the gatehouse.
The mage rubbed his hands, trying to warm them, then placed them against the stone. Clearly, he was looking for something, for he moved them several times, then smiled.
“What's wrong?” whispered Ludwig.
“I have to find just the right spot,” replied Herzog. “I don’t want to tunnel right where a support sits.”
“Why? Would that bring down the wall?”
“No, but it would mean displacing more stone, and we don’t have the time for that. Now, let me concentrate on the task at hand.”
He began mumbling something, and then Ludwig felt the air come alive as if a swarm of insects had come upon them. The hair on the back of his neck rose as the mage's hands began to glow with a faint yellow light. Herzog was sweating now, and the strain was clearly visible upon his face as the words kept flowing and then abruptly ceased. The yellow light faded into the stone, and the mage lowered his hands.
“What’s wrong now?” said Ludwig.
Herzog turned to him, grinning broadly. “Nothing. It’s worked like a charm.”
“But the wall is unchanged.”
“I suppose it would look that way to you, but in reality, it is now ready for me to manipulate. Watch closely, Ludwig, and see how real power works.” Herzog pushed his hands into the stone, which parted under his touch.
Ludwig couldn’t believe his eyes. It was one thing to see him bend a pebble, quite another to see a stone wall part beneath his very fingers. The mage worked slowly, pushing in and then scooping out the stone. Those around him watched in fascination, for their eyes could not grasp what was happening as the stone parted beneath Herzog’s fingers like clay.
Another scoop, and then his hands were knuckle-deep. More stone came loose, dropping to the ground in small blobs, and still he worked on. Ludwig held his breath, then forced himself to breathe.
The work continued until Herzog’s arms were up to the elbows in the stone. He stepped back, revealing a small hole that penetrated the wall.
“I’m through,” he announced. “Now comes the job of widening it.”
Time dragged on, and Ludwig began to worry it was taking too long. He glanced up to the top of the wall, but no one had yet taken any notice of them. Off in the distance, the sounds of the assault were dying down, a sure sign their time was running out. He looked over Herzog’s shoulder, trying to gauge the mage's progress, but all he could see was a dark hole, hidden in shadows, and the mage's arms, nearly shoulder-deep as he worked to push the stone to either side.
Fearful that they would soon be discovered, Ludwig turned to the man behind him. “Take this,” he said, passing over his shield. “It will only get in my way.” He stepped to Herzog’s side. “How goes it?”
“It is far more difficult than I anticipated,” revealed the mage. “The wall is thick, and it's resisting my efforts. I am unable to press it aside and must, instead, scoop out the stone to make the opening wide enough.”
The odd sounds of fighting were still drifting in from the west, but Ludwig knew it wouldn't last much longer. “As soon as you have a small opening, I’ll crawl through.”
“Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer to wait?” said Linden. “You could become trapped on the other side.”
“We have no choice. If we don’t secure the chamber beyond, they’ll be able to pick us off as we come through.”
Herzog knelt, his hands working feverishly. The hole had become more of an oblong, and he worked to form it into a vertical opening.
Ludwig peered
through the gap, careful not to get in the mage's way. Beyond, the room was lit by a torch, but he could see little other than the flickering of the flame on the opposite wall.
The Earth Mage was sweating profusely now. He shook his head, though to what end, Ludwig couldn’t say. Wider and wider grew the gap, and then the mage took a step back.
“Do you think you can get through?” Herzog asked.
“There’s only one way to find out,” said Ludwig. He poked his sword in, then, leading with his right hand, began squeezing through the opening. He flattened himself as best he could and moved sideways to reduce his surface area.
His arm soon cleared the opening, but then his chest caught on the stone. Ludwig exhaled, driving the air from his lungs, and pushed harder, finally clearing the wall. Casting his eyes around the room, he discovered he was in a small chamber, not more than three paces deep. To his left was a door, and he moved towards it quickly, pressing his ear to it.
He had just settled into position when someone pushed on it, throwing him backwards and causing him to fall. A guard gave a startled cry as the door flung open, and he spotted Ludwig sprawled there, then backed up, giving himself room to draw his sword.
Ludwig jumped up and rushed through the door, striking out with his own weapon, but the soldier's chainmail surcoat resisted his efforts. He was in the inner courtyard now, and the duke's men looked to be everywhere. The surprised defender's cry had alerted the keep, and now a half-dozen men began running towards him, spears in hand.
Ludwig cursed, for the plan had gone awry from the start. The false attack had ended, releasing the soldiers into the courtyard. The first guard struck with his sword, but Ludwig managed to parry the blow. He swung, but his blade once more scraped across the superior chainmail.
Someone stabbed at him with a spear, and he jumped back, narrowly avoiding the attack. He parried, then attempted to close the range, only to find the fellow was using his weapon like a staff, driving the butt of it into Ludwig’s groin. Pain shot through him.
Ludwig fell to his knees as men rushed past him. He tried to reach out with his sword, anything to buy his men time, but the end of another spear struck him in the helmet, causing his head to ring.
Men swarmed him, seizing his arms. Ludwig fought with all he had to free himself, but their grip was solid, and they quickly pinned his arms in place. He looked back into the entryway in time to see a soldier pushing a spear through the hole in the wall. Someone on the other side let out a terrible scream as the warrior pulled back his spear, blood dripping from its tip. Ludwig knew in his heart that Linden Herzog was dead.
Others flooded into the room, and then two of them held shields up to the gap, preventing any further infiltration. A figure loomed in front of him, blocking his view as a sword hilt smashed into the side of his face, his head swimming for a moment before everything went black.
* * *
Ludwig awoke to the feeling of damp straw pressed against his cheek. Somewhere off in the distance was the drip of water, and his first thought was to wonder where he might be. Rolling onto his back with his head throbbing, he struggled to breathe. His hands clawed at the dried blood that had flooded from his nose.
Above him, a faint light reflected off the arched ceiling, possibly denoting a cellar of some sort. He lifted his head to look around, noticing the iron bars that defined his cell. Sitting up, he took stock of his situation. He was in a small room, barely long enough for him to lie down, but someone had at least tossed in some straw. Why go to such lengths for a prisoner, he wondered.
The cell took up roughly a third of the circular chamber. Across from him sat a torch in a wall sconce, the only source of light in the place, while a nearby door indicated the only exit. Pressing his ear to the bars, he was desperate to hear any distant sounds that might give him some clue of how the attack fared. It was a futile attempt, revealing nothing but the drip of water and the crackle of the torch.
Ludwig had heard of the kind of treatment that might be afforded a prisoner. Had he identified himself as a noble, he might expect a comfortable imprisonment, but as a common soldier and a mercenary at that, he could expect little, save for perhaps torture and death.
His thoughts drifted to Linden Herzog. Was he the one who had taken the spear? He hoped not, and yet he could see no other explanation. The mage would have been working to enlarge the gap, so there was little chance it could have been anyone else.
Ludwig examined his legs. They appeared uninjured, and he wore no shackles. For that, at least, he must be grateful. Moving to the far wall, he sat with his back against the stone, facing the iron bars that kept him prisoner and waited.
Sleep claimed him at least twice, but he had no concept of how much time had passed until, finally, footsteps approached and then came the sound of keys turning in the lock. Moments later, the door swung open, revealing a man in the livery of the Baron of Regnitz.
“Ah,” the man said. “I see you’re awake.”
“Where am I?” asked Ludwig.
“Where do you think? Under the baron’s keep, where else?”
“Why am I still alive?”
The guard looked amused. “Why? Would you prefer to be dead?”
“No, merely curious.”
“His Lordship was most intrigued by the method of your attack. I expect he’ll want to talk to you about it.”
“I shall say nothing,” swore Ludwig.
The guard shrugged. “It makes no difference to me. Are you hungry?”
“Yes,” said Ludwig, “though thirst is of more immediate concern.”
“I detect an air of education to your manner. Are you a knight?”
Ludwig was caught. He could reveal his noble lineage, but to do so risked his father hearing word of his whereabouts. “No,” he finally responded, “merely well-read.”
The guard grunted out, “Wait here,” then disappeared back through the doorway, only to return a moment later, a ladle in hand. He approached the door to the cell with caution, then reached out with it. “Here, have some water.”
Ludwig took the ladle, eagerly downing the brackish liquid.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me,” said the guard. “I’m only here to keep an eye on you until the baron’s ready for you.”
“What of the attack?”
“You mean the feint against the wall or your little escapade?”
“What do you mean, feint?” asked Ludwig.
“Come now, it was pretty clear that the attack from the west was only designed to keep us busy. I’m guessing your infiltration was the real plan.”
Ludwig felt the defeat well up inside him.
“Well,” said the guard, taking back the ladle. “I’ll go and scrape up something for you to eat, shall I?”
“To keep me full for my execution?”
“Who said anything about an execution?”
“I’m your prisoner. Why would you deign to keep me alive?”
“What do you take us for, Orcs?” replied the guard. “Lord Wulfram would never countenance such a thing.” He shook his head. “What strange ideas you have. Tell me, how long have you been in service to Lord Gebhard?”
“I’m not,” said Ludwig. “I’m a Grim Defender.”
“Oh, yes? What’s that?”
“A company of mercenaries.”
“I suppose that explains how he raised an army so quickly,” noted the guard. “Now, let me go and dig you up some food before it’s all gone.”
He left the room, closing the door behind him, leaving Ludwig to ponder his fate.
* * *
Sometime later, the door opened, revealing visitors of a different sort. In addition to the guard, the baron himself was present, along with a young woman with hair of spun gold. Lord Wulfram stared at Ludwig, though to what end, the prisoner couldn’t say.
“So you’re the one who broke through the wall,” he finally said. “What’s your name?”
“Ludwig.”
“Wait,” said the baron. “I know that name. Didn’t you compete in the tournament at Torburg?”
Ludwig blushed. “I did, my lord.”
“Yes, I remember it now. You went down fairly quickly at the hands of Sir Galrath, if I recall.”
“I did.”
“And now you’re a mercenary?”
“Yes,” said Ludwig. “I'm a member of the Grim Defenders.”
“So I’ve been told. That was quite the daring feat, coming through the wall like that. I doubt many men would have had the courage to do what you did.”
Ludwig shrugged. “I was merely doing my duty, my lord.”
“Duty? Don’t make me laugh. You’re either exceedingly brave or extremely foolish. I can’t quite make up my mind which.” He turned to the young lady. “What do you think, my dear?”
Her face was unreadable. “I believe he's an enigma, Father. On the one hand, he's obviously noble-born, or he wouldn’t have been able to compete in the jousting. On the other, he has sunk to the level of becoming a sell-sword.”
“And what conclusion do you make from that?”
“I sense his fortunes have turned sour.”
“You must pardon Rosalyn,” said the baron. “My indulgence of her literacy has led her to flights of fancy.”
“And yet,” said Ludwig, “she is, in essence, correct.”
“Is she now?” The baron stepped closer. “Tell me more. Perhaps I shall take pity on you and let you live.”
“Father!”
“Hush now,” said the baron. “I spoke in jest only.” He returned his attention to his prisoner. “Are you, in truth, a knight?”
“No,” said Ludwig, “though my family is noble.”
“Who is your father?”
“I would prefer not to say, my lord. There is an estrangement between us.”
“Ah, that would explain why you joined the mercenaries, I suppose.”
“It would.”
Warrior Knight Page 20
