by Chris Ward
‘We have three days, but we must be gone in two,’ Sylvion stated purposefully. ‘If they breach the entrance before then I fear Reigin that your life will be short, and mine will become far harder.’ Reigin smiled easily however for he knew no fear.
‘The only death I see is falling from the sky.’ She smiled at him, for the great strength of his character was an enormous comfort.
‘So we must prevent that Reigin. To work then, we have much to do.’
They had purposely allowed the cauldron fire to die down so that they might lower the canopy a little and not risk it catching alight, but it still gave enough illumination for their work. Reigin operated the simple but effective pulley system which was attached to a wall carrying several thick ropes up to the ceiling far above and which held the large iron ring on which the upper end of the banners all came together. His vast strength was easily enough to allow the canopy to be lowered so that Sylvion could release the banner rods from their wall restraints at their base and begin the huge job of sewing together the bottom part where the banners separated. She had estimated a distance of about six cubits for each banner, but when lowered it was closer to ten.
‘If we don’t sew together these lower parts we will lose too much air,’ she informed Reigin for the tenth time, and who seemed to understand now exactly what was required. ‘It might leak a bit but it is so important that we keep the air captured for as long as possible.’ She now found that she was nervously reminding herself why, although she had planned the work and gone over it in her head many times. The banners were well joined by strong stitching from the top ring down to almost their base, but needed some separation there so they could be held back more easily to the wall by their individual brass rods. The lowered canopy draped the banners to the floor and both Sylvion and Reigin began the tedious task of stitching them all together using twine and large needles. They worked continuously, until their hands ached, and painful blisters rose upon their fingers. Sylvion lost count of the times she pieced her left palm and fingers as her needle suddenly passed through the fine woven cloth. She was amazed at its quality however. Grundig had told her that there was none finer in all the land, for the weavers of the Iridin had found a way to spin the flax ever finer, and the looms were specially designed to create an almost magical material which was strong yet light. Sylvion knew that mere canvas would have been far too heavy, but with this flaxen cloth they had a chance, for the hot air had to lift a considerable weight if they were to make their escape.
They rested in the early hours of the morning and went together and stood upon the parapet roof by the battlements, allowing their aching arms and fingers some respite.
‘Grundig’s history tells true,’ Sylvion spoke quietly, for sound carried further on the still night air. ‘The wind is from the north and east, and is gentler now. It will take us to towards Lockerby, perhaps we can steal a boat there and sail back to the mainland.’
Reigin said nothing as he thought on this, for he liked the water only a little more than Sylvion, and he knew they both had no clear idea just how to sail any craft at all.
‘I fear we will need to steal the crew as well,’ he spoke finally, and as she was not sure if he was jesting or serious, she let it pass.
‘We will solve that riddle when we see what presents to us,’ she said, ‘but for now our task is still large. The air is cold which is best, for I imagine that the hot air we capture in the canopy will lift us better if it is colder on the outer side, a bit like an air bubble in a pond wanting to rise to the surface.’ Reigin thought on this and suddenly had a vision of their fragile craft just like that, a tiny bubble in a vast ocean of cold sky, rising high to the surface, but he could not think on where the surface might be, or whether there was any air left to breathe when they got there.
‘Back to work Reigin!’ He realised that Sylvion was at the parapet door whilst he stood dreaming.
They worked feverishly until just before dawn, when exhausted they slept for a time, until suddenly being roughly aroused by the sounds of the guards banging on the portcullis outside the doors. They could not make out what was being called to them but it did not matter for they both knew that this was the moment in which they defied the king and set upon a path which would likely end in sadness or death for many who travelled on it.
Reigin had thought hard upon how he should make their situation seem innocent, and so gain as much time for their tasks as possible. He went quickly to the huge doors and removing one of the cross braces he too commenced banging loudly upon the oak. The sound from outside stoped immediately. Sylvion smiled.
‘They are thinking on why you would be banging like they are. They will assume there is some problem with the doors. Well thought Reigin!’ The banging started again and Reigin replied. It was the language of frustration, beaten out on timber and iron and whilst neither party spoke it well, it sufficed. Shortly after, the sounds from without ceased altogether.
‘Gone to inform the Captain I would guess,’ said Reigin who replaced the brace into its iron slots. ‘Come Sylvion, gather your cloak and we will go to the parapet and show them we are still here!’ The big man smiled as though enjoying himself and Sylvion rightly guessed that Reigin would welcome any chance to cause his Captain discomfort.
They stood together and watched the worried captain stride towards the base of the huge Vault Tower on which they stood. He spoke angrily to the guards as they walked with much gesticulation, but they all stopped suddenly when one soldier pointed out Reigin and the prisoner standing high above on the battlements looking down. Bach yelled something up to them but the wind caught his words and only the faintest sounds arrived to tickle their ears. Reigin leant far out over the battlements and yelled as loudly as he could, spacing his words for better effect.
‘The lock is broken, the key will not open the doors. I can’t open the doors. Do you hear me Captain?’
Bach cupped a hand to his ear and spoke to those around him, clearly asking if anyone had understood the message. Reigin repeated himself again. There was much shaking of heads and finally Bach lost his patience and shook his fist at Reigin, who reacted by cupping a hand to his ear... and so it went on. Sylvion stood shrouded as she always was when at the parapet edge. She could be clearly seen and so those below had some comfort in knowing that their prisoner was still held safe. In the end Bach seemed to indicate by means of simple signs that Reigin was to write something and toss it down. Reigin immediately saluted his Captain in such a fine manner that Bach realised he had been understood. He raised a single finger to the sky which clearly meant that Reigin was being given a single span to carry out the order.
Sylvion made herself a simple breakfast whilst Reigin scratched out a similarly simple message on a piece of parchment using a fine charcoal point. He went and threw it off the parapet wrapped in a rock, one of a few which he had secured for just that purpose. He came back smiling.
‘Looked like dogs fighting over scraps. I believe Bach understands our predicament. He can do little about it.’ Indeed Captain Bach did nothing. He ordered the guards to stand as they always did outside the portcullis, and went to breakfast cursing his luck, the Wolver and the prisoner. He cheered himself up by thinking on the morning’s parade, for he always felt slightly euphoric after addressing his men. His second in command Captain Piras Sleeman inquired as to the solution to the problem in the Vault.
‘Well Captain,’ Bach half sneered for he hated to not be in control, ‘the Wolver claims he will try to fix the lock. I guess we can do nothing. They might starve in there, but they are not going anywhere. If he can’t fix it we’ll have to break in.’
‘And how long Captain before you think we should do that?’ His second in command inquired politely, but Bach had had enough.
‘How in the Gods should I know that?’ He roared, thumping the table and making the plates tremble. ‘Leave me alone and get the men ready for parade for I have much to say this morning.’ Piras Sleeman left immediately to carry out
the order; he knew that his poor men were in for an especially long lecture that morning. He knew that Bach would use the parade as a means to regain some semblance of control. His men would suffer in silence as they always did, but they were full of mutiny by night however, and he worried greatly over the mood which had descended upon the barracks. He felt a deep irrational anger toward the woman, the mysterious prisoner who watched them all constantly from high on the battlements of the Keep. Bach had said she had murdered his brother, and now she was causing him such problems with the men, for it was she who had Captain Bach so unsettled. Like his dead brother, Piras Sleeman found it all too easy to blame women for any trouble for which he had no understanding or solution.
Sylvion and Reigin continued the stitching, and by working hard throughout the day finished the task just as Captain Bach commenced his second parade. They stood together in the fading light, the tall and rangy soldier, and the slender diminutive heir to the throne, shrouded and mysterious to the soldiers below who watched her to a man, for they had no ear for their pretentious captain. Once more Sylvion found herself intrigued by what they might be thinking, for her life had commenced on a new path, one which might ultimately affect them all.
After a meal of goat meat, cheese and bread, washed down by some rather heavily mineralised spring water, Sylvion started the next stage of her plan. With Reigin’s help she unravelled much of the hemp rope from one of the spools and they slowly threaded it through the seamed loops which once held the brass wall rods at the base of the now joined banners. Wanting to make sure that the canopy was well attached to the cauldron which she hoped to sling below it, they made two complete loops. Once the rope was threaded they drew the rope tight like a simple drawstring until the canopy came together at its base like one might pull a leather thong on a simple pouch. When the opening was about twice the width of the cauldron’s breadth, Sylvion directed that the rope be tied off, and then they both used twine to tie each loop together either side of the seamed banners. After this had been accomplished Sylvion realised that the seams on the loops themselves were critical and needed re-enforcing for they would carry the weight of all which would hang below, the cauldron, the sacks of charcoal and both Reigin and herself. The thought of those seams parting when high above the earth did not bear thinking on. Once more with aching fingers the two worked long into the night stitching, not just the seams but binding the double ropes within the loops firmly together. A little after midnight they were finished and so tired and cramped that even Reigin had trouble working his fingers out from the cramped claws they had become.
For the most part they had worked in silence for they needed concentration and the direction of all their energy on the massive plan, but Sylvion found herself quietly entranced by Reigin, who she realised was a quite beautiful man. She grieved for his experience as a child for she found it abhorrent that any could be torn from their parent and used for another’s cause, especially one so violent as that which was the Wolver’s lot. She knew Reigin carried a sadness which his training hid well, but there was a softness and gentleness which lay not far beneath the surface. His body moved with a fluidity and an efficiency of action which she had seen in no other human. Not even Rema, her love, could compare, and she had been entranced by his ability with the bow and his loveliness as a man in his prime.
As they worked she vowed to herself that should she ever survive the madness of the next few days, and perhaps one day succeed to the throne, she would stop the practice of the stealing of the Wolvers as children.
When they had rested for a short time, Reigin hoisted the canopy up to its full height once more and they set about attaching the cauldrons four chain supports to the double rope loop which they had just completed. Sylvion wanted to ensure that the fire would sit close enough to the canopy yet not so close as to cause it to catch alight. When she was happy that the chains would hold fast to the rope, they built the fire up so that for the first time the canopy acted as a trap for all the heat and it filled and bulged and danced as though wanting to escape which they both thought looked promising but for the hole in the top which allowed most of the hot air to escape.
‘I will cut a canvas cap for that hole which the iron ring creates and when we get the canopy to the roof we will replace the hoop with the cap and hopefully we will have a complete canopy,’ she said, ‘but we won’t get to test it until we use it for the first time.’ Sylvion explained the importance of the final sealing of the canopy to Reigin who understood what seemed quite obvious now.
Exhausted they slept till dawn, and this time ignored the banging of the guards on the portcullis. Sylvion had decided that they would focus on the plan and leave those outside the vault to take whatever action they would.
‘We must work fast now,’ she said for Bach will want to break in sometime today.’ Reigin nodded in agreement.
‘We have a day at best,’ he said. ‘Can we be ready by tonight?’ He looked intently at Sylvion who stood and frowned and then walked around the floor looking up to the canopy, calculating what remained to be done.
‘We will leave at midnight. We must have it ready by then but it will be a close thing. Come Reigin, next we must add more ropes,’ she spoke with concern for in her heart she was worried that the banners would tear away and they would fall to their deaths. Under her direction they extinguished the fire and emptied the cauldron. Then the whole canopy was dropped in a pile in the centre of the floor so that extra ropes could be run from the base right up over the top and down the other side so as to create a simple fishnet effect to hold the canopy within. Each rope was held by stitched twine in several places. At last she was satisfied that all the weight which was to be carried would be held by rope and not the banner material itself. At almost that moment a huge pounding started up outside the doors. They both jumped at the sound, for they knew what it meant.
‘Their assault on the portcullis has commenced,’ Reigin spoke seriously. ‘There is no going back now.’ Sylvion nodded and realised that her heart was pounding too, but mainly in her worry for Reigin for she knew that they would not kill her, but there would be much bloodshed if Bach and his men broke through before they were away. Reigin would give a good account of himself, but he would die, for they had archers as well as swordsmen and Bach’s life itself was under threat from Zelfos. He could not afford to be thwarted. Too much was at stake.
‘Let’s get the canopy to the parapet,’ she said in a tired but anxious voice. ‘It is ready.’
Reigin hoisted the canopy up as high as it would go using the pulley system and when he had tied it off, they both gathered the base of the canopy and walked slowly up the steps with it, around and around until they arrived at the parapet doorway. The weight by this time was considerable and they only just managed to secure it with a rope which was tied out through the door onto the parapet roof. At this point Reigin directed their next move for he knew that it relied solely on his strength to get the rest of the canopy up and out onto the roof complete. He went and lowered the iron hoop a dozen cubits and then tied it off again before returning to the parapet door where the two of them strained to pull the canopy through the door as far as it would go. They repeated this several times until the whole canopy lay in an untidy pile outside for the first time. When they had rested from that effort for a short time, Sylvion cut the iron top hoop away from the banners and proceeded to cap the hole with a piece of canvas. Reigin went down to the vault floor and listened carefully at the large oak doors. Work outside had not slackened, and he thought the sounds of the clanging and cutting indicated that the portcullis was not holding as well as predicted. Mentally he began to work out some other plan for their defence of the vault if Sylvion’s plan did not succeed. He knew that the door to the parapet would hold out a determined force for quite some time, but in that moment he knew that it had to be removed in order to get the cauldron out. Looking around, Reigin knew that there was no defence. There was only one way to live longer than another day,
and that was to fly. He shook his head at the madness of it all, but deep within he felt a great elation, for his life had changed so much in the past few days, and live or die, he did not regret one moment of it.
He sprang to work then, and with the tools he had secured began to dislodge the heavy oak frame from the parapet doorway. It was a difficult job and in a short time he knew that it would be a close thing if they were to make their escape by midnight. The sounds of the assault outside the doors continued unabated and they both knew without a word that time was running out.
Sylvion finished the capping of the canopy and commenced getting the charcoal bags out onto the parapet roof. Without a break she completed several trips down to the vault floor and carried up the canvas hammocks she had stitched earlier, which would hold both Reigin and herself. Whilst Reigin continued his heavy work she then started to lay out the canopy in a tidier manner so that when the cauldron was in position they could attach it more easily. She was thankful that the weather was good and the wind no more than a breeze, for she feared that it would be too much to handle if it started to blow more strongly. At one point she went to the battlements and looked down in the manner which had been her habit. By chance Captain Bach was standing watching and he became most agitated when she appeared. He yelled up at her but once more the words were unintelligible. She realised that her appearing without the Wolver must have made them very worried, for perhaps they suspected that she had killed him too, just like she had slain Sleeman. Sylvion smiled to herself at Bach’s distress, and without a sound disappeared from the battlements to continue their frenzied work.
Reigin finally succeeded in removing the two jambs and the lintel just before sunset. He was exhausted, and his hands were a bloody mess of blisters and cuts. She led him down to the vault floor where she bathed his injures in a tub of fresh water. They ate a simple meal, and just as they finished they heard a heavy pounding on the oak doors. Sylvion’s heart almost stopped. They were through the portcullis!
