Muttering under his breath, Danner slid over the slant of the rock to the level ground below. Tuck and Patrel jumped down to join him while the others remained above, watching the guard. Danner took all of his arrows from his quiver and sighted down the shaft of each, choosing this one, discarding that one, taking up another and comparing it to the one just selected; and he winnowed and culled until at last he held but three arrows, and these he carefully scrutinized—point, shaft, fletching, nock, weight, balance—and in the end he made his choice.
Now Danner stepped to the edge of the upjut, and his eyes swept o’er the nearby ’scape and up to the patrolling Rûck. “I’ll try it from that outcropping over there. It will give me a slightly better angle for this impossible shot.”
“Do you want someone to go with you?” asked Patrel.
“No!” Danner’s voice was sharp, then softened: “Ar, Paddy, no. It’ll be hard enough keeping my concentration without someone breathing down my neck. Thanks but no thanks, Paddy, this one I’ll do alone.”
Danner turned to go. “Good luck,” whispered Harven, and so said they all, and then Danner scuttled away while the Rûck’s back was to them as he paced atop the wall.
Tuck and Patrel clambered back upon the stone and watched as Danner flitted through the Shadowlight across the snow to the nearby outcropping where he slid into the darkness at the base of the stone. And then Danner paused long, seeming to do nought; but the Woody Hollow buccan was watching the Rûck sentry trod to and fro on his station: his form now shielded by a merlon, now exposed through a crenel only to be shielded then exposed again as he slowly marched on. And Tuck knew that Danner was counting to himself, timing the Rûck’s measured step, gauging the distance and reckoning the length of time the arrow would be in flight.
Now Danner took up his bow and set the selected arrow to string, and then the buccan stood beside the stone and drew the bolt to the full and aimed across the ravine and up toward the pacing guard.
But then Danner relaxed the pull and set the bow and shaft aside and removed his Elven-made cloak. Then he took up the weapon once more, and again drew the quarrel to the full.
But again Danner relaxed his aim, for a thin, chill wind had sprung up. Slight it was, yet it would deflect the arrow in flight, and the buccan had to take it into account.
Once more an eternity passed as Danner estimated the needed windage; but at last he again drew and aimed.
“Hsst!” Flandrena sharply drew a breath through clenched teeth and pointed northward along the base of the wall; and Tuck looked and saw one of the ravine patrols marching southward on the far flank of the chasm.
Danner, don’t shoot! Tuck’s thoughts silently cried, for he knew that if the warder atop the wall were felled, then the mission would be detected by the oncoming Rûcks.
“Patrel, Rollo, Harven, Dink,” whispered Tuck urgently, “ready your bows. We may have to slay them all . . . if we can.”
“If this patrol is slain,” breathed Patrel, as all the buccen nocked arrows, “then others will come looking when this bunch doesn’t report in. Let us pray that Danner does not shoot.”
Yet Danner, too, had seen the ravine patrol, and he once more lowered his bow and slipped deeper into the darkness of his outcropping.
And at that very same moment, upon the rampart a Hlôk stepped into view and watched as the Rûcken squad tramped nigh. “Har, yar!” the Hlôk called down from the rampart to those below, his grating voice sounding down the wall and pitching outward to echo from the crevasse. “Has yer spotted anythin’?”
“Nar!” shouted up the Hlôk leader of the marching Rûcks in reply. “Nothin’s in this stupid hole in the ground!”
“Keep your gummy eyes open, then,” yawped down the Hlôk, “they say somethin’s astir on the other side, north of the gate.” After receiving an affirmative grunt from below, the Hlôk above snarled at the sentry and spun on his heel and left the rampart, disappearing from view.
Grumbling and jostling and snarling at one another, the ravine patrol marched below the sentry and on to the south, passing opposite the raiders and going onward. And on the wall, the Rûck warder glared in the direction his Hlôk master had gone, then leaned upon his hands in a crenel and watched the squad tramp away. And so, too, did the Elf, Man, Dwarf, and Warrows watch as the Rûcks marched on.
And time passed.
But at last the patrol tramped out of sight beyond a buttress, and once more the sentry took up his pacing.
And once more Danner took up his bow . . .
And arrow . . .
And counted time . . .
And gauged the distance . . .
And estimated the windage . . .
And drew . . .
And aimed . . .
And Tuck’s eyes flicked from Danner to sentry and back again.
And the Rûck paced toward the corner.
And with his heart in his throat and his inner core wound tight as a spring, Tuck’s mind screamed, Shoot, Danner, shoot! For Adon’s sake, shoot!
Thuun! Danner shot. And the arrow was in flight, arcing upward through the Dimmendark. And the sentry passed from open crenel to shielding merlon. And now the arrow hurtled through its zenith and began hissing downward, and the eyes of all the raiders were locked upon the crenel where the Rûck would next appear, but had not. Now the bolt gathered speed as it sissed down, hurling toward the vacant slot . . . and it struck the Rûck in the throat as he stepped forth into the open! And with a clatter, the sentry dropped the pike he had borne and clutched at his neck and staggered forward, toppling from the corner in the wall to fall silently down the rampart face to land with a sodden thud on the edge of the ravine. And then the corpse slid down into the blackness below.
Tuck gasped: He did it! Danner made the impossible shot! And behind the rock outcropping, Tuck and Patrel grabbed one another in rib-creaking hugs and clamped their jaws shut to keep from shouting for joy. And Igon pounded Brega’s back, and Flandrena’s eyes sparkled, while Rollo and Dink and Harven held hands and danced around in soundless circles.
Then Tuck and Patrel flitted through the Shadowlight and across the snow to the outcropping where Danner stood. And there they found the buccan with his face buried in his hands.
~
“It couldn’t be done, Tuck. It couldn’t be done, Paddy.” Danner’s voice broke as the tears slid down his cheeks, the buccan weeping with the sudden release of unbearable tension.
“But you did it, Danner, you did it,” whispered Tuck, embracing the Warrow.
Patrel took Danner’s cloak up off the ground and gently draped it around the crying buccan and fastened it at the throat; and Patrel, too, embraced Danner, then softly said, “Let’s go, buccoes, we’ve a ravine to cross, a wall to climb, and a gate to open.”
And so, taking up their bows, the three buccen made their way back to the other outcropping where they found Brega, Igon, and Rollo anchoring soft, pliable, Elven-made ropes to the rock—ropes brought from Arden Vale upon Flandrena’s pack horse and borne hence into Gron; for ere he had set out to venture again unto the Iron Tower, the Elf had suspected that another attempt to scale the crevasse might become necessary.
Three long lines were cast over the edge of the ravine to drop all the way to the bottom. Then, because only Brega knew the art of rappelling, he showed each of them how to wrap the line under one thigh, across the body, and over a shoulder so as to slip over the edge and walk backwards down the wall of the crevasse.
And, while a fourth line was used to lower weapons and extra ropes into the blackness below, the raiders began their descent, three at a time: Tuck, Igon, and Flandrena going first. And with his heart pounding and one hand high and one hand low and using his legs and feet to fend, Tuck stepped backwards over the lip of the yawning darkness.
It seemed to take Tuck forever, the rope slowly slipping through his gloved hands and sawing around his body, his feet at times scrabbling upon the icy rock. And three times he lost contact wi
th the stone and freely twisted and turned like a trapped insect on a spider’s strand—or a victim on the gallows. But at last Tuck came to the bottom as Igon reached up in the darkness to brace him while Flandrena untied the weapons and gear from the fourth line and shook it to signal Brega that all were down and safe.
The fourth line was hauled up through the ebon shadows, only to return with three more sets of weaponry as another trio of raiders rappelled down: Patrel, Dink, and Harven. And when they came to the bottom, once more Flandrena signalled Brega.
And the last of the weapons were lowered and the final three raiders came down: Brega plummeting down the rope almost as if he were falling, while Danner and Rollo descended more slowly.
Armed once more and bearing Elven ropes, all followed Brega through the jagged boulders and stone rubble and scree bestrewn across the crevasse bottom; and slowly they made their way through the darkness to the opposite side to come to the layered outjut rising up to the distant rim.
Brega reached forth with a gnarled hand and grasped the stone, and it flaked and crumbled under his grip. “Bad rock,” growled the Dwarf. “Worse than I thought. Yet still we must climb it. Use hands and feet to spread your weight, and move only one limb at a time while supporting yourself with the other three. And if we come to places where it is possible, lay your whole body against the stone to spread the load even more.
“We will rope ourselves together so that if one of us slips the others can support him; and let us hope that no single fall will carry all of us to our deaths.
“I will go first and test every step of the way. My instructions are to be passed back down the line as each of you in turn comes to the same place; and my words are to be followed to the letter.
“And this shall be our climbing order: I go first followed by Elf Flandrena, then Prince Igon, Danner, Harven, Tuck, Rollo, Dink, and lastly Patrel.
“Roll your cloaks and sling your weapons across your backs and shoulders; they must be out of the way and not entangle you nor hamper your ability to climb.
“Now let us tie ourselves together and begin this journey up the rotten stone.”
Soon the cloaks and weapons—bows, arrows, swords, long-knives, and axe—were secured across the climbers’ shoulders, and the nine were roped together. And Brega turned to the outjut and began the slow ascent, Flandrena and the others creeping up after.
When Tuck started up, sixth in line, he could feel the stone flake and crumble under his grip, and pebbles and grains of rock slithered down from those above. And the buccan felt as if at any moment the entire face of the ravine could come crashing down. And he wondered how those ahead of him felt, for they were heavier than he; and then it was that Tuck realized how Brega had selected the climbing order: by weight: the heaviest first, the lightest last, for the stone grew weaker with each passing climber. Yet at the same time, Tuck knew that in any event Brega would have gone first, for only he could lead this climb.
And slowly they crept up the crumbling outjut, now all nine climbers upon the face of the ravine. And Brega cursed, for the stone was much worse than it had seemed from afar. At times the climb came to a complete standstill while the Dwarf searched for a route onward. And these were the worst moments for Tuck, for he could feel the rock slowly disintegrating under his grasp, and he strained to maintain his hand- and footholds while at the same time striving to stress not the stone. And as the nine inched up through the rain of flakes and sand, whispered instructions from Brega were passed back down the line as each came to those same places: Grasp the crevice to the left . . . Put no burden on the round outcrop . . . ’Ware the slab, it is loose . . . This ledge is solid and will bear all your heft . . .
Time eroded past like the sand slithering down the face of the ravine: moments gradually edging into minutes, and minutes into hours. And still the raiders struggled on.
And as he toiled upward, salty sweat ran down Tuck’s forehead and stung his eyes, and his entire body was covered with perspiration; his harsh, gasping breath came through jaw-clenched teeth; and his arms and legs trembled from the agonizing strain. And his stomach felt as if it were tied in knots, for the stone crumbled and shifted under him, and the bottom of the ravine was lost in blackness some ninety or one-hundred feet below. And his heart hammered in his breast, partly from the labor, partly from the strain, partly from fear. And all he wanted to do was simply rest; but even when he stopped there was no relief. And the raiders continued the long upward struggle o’er the disintegrating rock, the lip of the crevasse now but yards above Brega’s head.
Stop! The command relayed down the chain of climbers. Brega had come to an impasse: the stone just below the rim was the weakest of all. Long did the Dwarf search, carefully sidling both left and right, and the scree slithered down. Flandrena, just below the Dwarf, clung to the face of the sheer, while Igon, next, stood on a narrow ledge, and those below the Prince clung to knob and crevice and slab while standing in cracks and upon outjuts.
At last Brega said, “Kruk! It is all of it more rotten than ever, and may not bear my weight, yet here will I try it, for this place is least weak. May the spirit of First Durek guide my way.”
And Brega started up the unsound stone, testing, probing, then slowly shifting his weight upon the crumbling rock, and pebbles rattled down upon those below as the Dwarf inched his way toward the top, now but a few feet above his reach.
Up he crept, and a rock gave way ’neath his right foot and crashed down, and Brega threw himself flat against the wall and clung with two hands and his left foot while he sought purchase with the right. At last his boot found a crack, and he rested but a moment, then went on.
And the rim was nearly in his grasp.
Slowly his trembling fingers stretched for the lip—just inches away—and then his hand fumbled o’er the rim, and gripped it, and he began to haul upwards.
But at that moment, with a sharp Crack! the slab he stood upon gave completely away and hurtled downward, and the Dwarf was left dangling by the fingertips of his left hand. Yet whether or not Brega could have held on will never be known, for the slab tumbled down and knocked Flandrena from the wall; and the Elf fell, his rope jerking the Dwarf’s grip loose, and they both plunged downward amid crashing stone and falling rock.
Prince Igon was next in line, and he braced himself as rocks and Flandrena and Brega tumbled past. And the line between the Elf and the Man snapped taut as Flandrena plummeted to the limit, and the shock wrenched Igon’s grip loose and jerked him down upon the ledge; then Brega hit the end of his line, and Igon was dragged over the jagged edge. But the youth’s grip clutched a narrow crevice and he held on with all the strength he could muster, for he knew that if he fell then all nine would be carried to their doom.
Now Igon got his other hand in the notch, and his left foot found purchase, and then his right. And grinding his teeth, he held on, concentrating all of his strength in clinging to the ravine wall. And below him—dazed—an Elf and a Dwarf swung pendulously, while Warrows watched as their lives and the fate of their mission hung in the balance, depending upon the strength and grit of a highborn youth.
And Igon not only held on, but slowly, against the full weight of Brega and Flandrena, pulled himself back upon the ledge! And he struggled to a standing position and, gasping, turned and took hold of the rope and braced his back against the ravine wall!
Danner and Harven, closest to Flandrena—one above, one below—began to sidle across the face of the ravine wall toward the stunned Elf, stone crumbling and showering down. But Brega—quickly recovering and finding a fingerhold here and a toehold there, hence taking much of the strain off Prince Igon—barked at the two Warrows, “Nay, move not on this rotten stone. Return to the path I climbed. I will aid Flandrena.”
Testing each foot of the way, the Dwarf clambered up toward the dangling Elf; but ere Brega arrived, the Lian warrior came to his senses and grasped the layered stone, taking the last of the strain off the now-trembling youth above.
“Elf Flandrena,” Brega’s voice was low yet filled with anxiety, “how fare you? Are you injured?”
“Nay, Drimm Brega,” answered the Lian, “I am not injured. Mayhap bruised, but nothing is broken.”
“How fare the rest of you?” Brega asked the others.
“I feel as if I’ve lifted a horse,” softly answered Igon, “yet I’m hale.”
“Nought but pebbles rattled down on me,” whispered Danner, now back upon the climbing path.
“Yar, me too,” came Harven’s quiet reply.
“I think my foot may be broken,” gritted Tuck in pain. “One of the larger rocks smashed down on it.”
“I’m all right,” softly called Rollo, “and Dink and Patrel say they’re fit, too.”
“Tuck, you will just have to put up with it till we reach the top,” hissed Brega, “then we will take a look.”
Once more the Dwarf slowly inched up the ravine wall—Flandrena creeping behind—while all the other raiders held their positions on the crumbling face. After a long while, once more Brega came to the stone of the rim.
“Hmphh,” grunted the Dwarf, “the rock uncovered by the fall seems sturdier.”
Now Brega began climbing the last critical few feet. Cautiously he went, again testing every grip, every foothold. And all eyes watched up through the falling sand and rattling pebbles; and suddenly the Dwarf was gone from sight as he crawled over the lip of the ravine and onto the rim beyond.
Now Flandrena began, and his climb went more quickly, for Brega, on firm ground above, hauled upon the line.
And as the Elf went up, Prince Igon advanced, too, and so did they all, Tuck climbing in spite of the excruciating pain in his left foot; and the Warrow could feel something grind each time the foot bore weight.
Now Flandrena and then Igon disappeared over the edge, and with the three—Dwarf, Elf, and Man—all pulling on the line, the Warrows swiftly went up the face of the ravine and over the top: Danner first, Patrel last.
The Iron Tower Omnibus Page 59
