'I told you. They have a rope they throw down. Men climb or gear are hauled up,' Ansbor said irascibly. 'They do not keep horses here.'
I nodded, and we tethered the rest of ours. 'Let's go then.' Without any further discussion, I led them forward silently, wading carefully in the freezing water, clasping the spear, but I had no shield.
'How do you plan to take care of Leuthard?' Ansbor asked dubiously. 'He is the most famous warrior in these parts, even with your father's men shining like stars in battle. He has—'
'I … ' I began to tell him to shut up, but then I slipped on to my knees in the water, and a flock of surprised birds took off right next to us. We froze. Three men, Leuthard's hulking form amongst them, came out. They had long hunting bows and wicked spears, and they squinted into the darkening night. An inhuman howl tore the night air, originating from some unfortunate creature inside the tower.
Ansbor paled and mouthed: 'Bero?' I shook my head stiffly, as the enemy was trying to adjust their eyes to the night.
They would see us.
I cursed, and thought about dying there, in the murk, a place of death. I noticed clumps in the water, moving slowly. At first, I had thought them to be ferns or rotten timber, but then to my horror, I realized my father had not bothered burying the servants of Odo, after he took possession of the tower along with Balderich and Bero, and captured Tear.
'Lie down,' I whispered, and slowly sunk to the filth of water, where a corpse of a fur-clad man was staring sightlessly to the sky, his face half skull, eyes missing. 'Pretend to be one of them, or you shall be,' I hissed, and we all lay down with the dead.
It was uncomfortable, freezing cold, horrifyingly agonizing as I gazed at the tower. Leuthard held the men there in the open for a long time. The bald man was stroking a long, braided beard, trying to sense where the sound had come from. His bony brow was jutting over his beady eyes, his many times broken nose sniffling at the nightly air, as he gazed around, the huge man sensing something was wrong. His eyes passed us, the clumps in the water, many times.
The corpse next to me turned around, the gasses inside it escaping through its rotten lips, and I nearly retched in disgust. The man's face turned underwater, exposing his neck. It was a mass of red, a terrible wound, as if something had ripped the meat off it.
Then, mercifully, the birds flew back to the tree they had taken off from, and Leuthard grinned and pushed the nearest man, nodding for the tower. 'The corpses fart, that is all,' he rumbled. They all turned to go, but Leuthard glanced back, some vestige of uncertainty still haunting his animal-like mind, and he stopped a lanky man from following. He grabbed something from inside, and threw a blanket at the man. The man cursed helplessly, and sat down near a wall, facing east, a miserable lump of disappointment, not really keeping watch.
'Come then,' I said softly, and we got up slowly, shivering nearly uncontrollably. 'Not a sound,' I added, and so we sneaked from tree to rotten tree in the deepening gloom, trying not to make too much noise, three pairs of eyes staring at the tower.
'We could use Felix now,' Ansbor grumbled. 'He would find a way. A sensible way. Why don't you tell us the plan?'
'We knew there would be guards here,' I told him with a hiss. 'We knew we would have to kill them. And so, we will. It is a long shot, it is, but it's our only shot. Balderich must not die so we cannot take it by force. We go with the long shot.'
'Tell us what it is!' he hissed, and put a hand before his mouth in fear of being heard. The guard did nothing, and we waded forth.
Eventually, we reached the rock, all of us holding our breaths while the guard was sitting on top, grumbling and cursing. A wind was picking up, the breath of the north promising snow and misery. Then the guard got up, and we froze in concentration, but he went inside, and came back out, evidently having fetched something to drink. Leuthard was calling him a grunting pig, and the man was returning the compliment as he shut the door. It was a soft retort, so Leuthard would not hear it.
'Right, lean on the rock,' I told Ansbor with a whisper.
'Lean on the rock?' he asked incredulously.
'No, in fact, to your knees. Come, come, do not be a woman,' I whispered, and he obeyed, cursing softly, grimacing at me with hostility.
'I am not well, not yet,' he added very softly, as it started to snow, as the wind had promised. It was eerie, but a huge, silvery gray bank of clouds covered the sky, as if summoned by a powerful vitka. Dull, white flakes came down in an ever-increasing amount. 'We'll freeze to death,' he said miserably, trying to keep his face from the water, where nearby, a rotting corpse of a woman floated.
I stepped up on Ansbor's back, and took a step up to his shoulder. If Fulcher were to climb on mine, we could reach the top. The wooden tower was reaching up above us, but around it was plenty of walking space on top of the huge rock formations. Just up, there was some sort of a wooden platform. I poked at it with my spear. It was durable, if moldy. The tower, on a closer look, was made of sturdy trunks. It had holes in the wall, great for firing arrows and some good for even throwing spears. I grunted softly.
'Fulcher, give it to me,' I whispered. 'We will do it here.'
He carefully took out a torch. 'What is that? Are we not going to climb?' Ansbor grunted in pain.
'You wish to fight Leuthard?' I asked him. 'I do not.'
The guard got up, yawning, and went to the door, opening it, braving Leuthard's ire. 'It is his turn! Is as cold as the shit frost of Niflheim out there! Did you drink my ale?' the man cursed, and I heard Leuthard curse him back. Something broke with a crash, and an old man cried in terror. I shuddered at the thought of what we would find up there, should we manage to kill Leuthard.
Fulcher took out a flint and a dagger, kneeled, and placed the torch precariously on his knee. 'Don't drop it!' I hissed.
'What is he doing? Is he afraid of the dark?' Ansbor hissed back. I wish I had told him the plan, but I was sure he would not have approved the next part. Fulcher struck the flint on the dagger, creating a host of sparks and a bit too much noise. It did not catch. He did it again. No light.
The man came out, escorted by threats. 'Shut your mouth, and do as you are told, you rot-tit woman,' Leuthard shouted, and the man who had received the guard duty walked directly above us. I looked up and cursed, holding my balance with one hand, calming Fulcher with the other.
Silence, shuffles, and I looked up. In horror, I looked down.
A stream of piss drizzled down, dripping on and streaming down the wet rock, falling on us. It took a long time. He had drunk a lot, mostly ale, by the smell. Then, he gave a pleasurable sigh, and I hoped he had no other needs to take care of. Luckily, he turned to go, and we waited, sitting miserably under the meager cover of the wooden tower.
'And, to think, I wanted you to return home,' Ansbor complained, miserably.
'Again,' I whispered, ignoring him. 'Carefully.' Fulcher scraped the blade softly across the flint, making a soft, jarring noise. A spark caught; the oiled torch lit. 'Here,' I stretched my hand, and Ansbor groaned as the weight shifted. I took the torch precariously, gazed towards South, and waved it in the air, many times. Nothing was showing in the gloom. I gave it some time, and did it again. Then, after a third time of waving the torch, I got down carefully, trying to avoid making splashes. The guard above was coughing and mumbling as the wind picked up.
'Who is coming?' Ansbor hissed at me. 'Burlein?'
'Wait, my friend,' I told him. 'Now we need luck.'
'Now we need luck?' Ansbor said skeptically. 'What—'
'Fulcher, the bows,' I told him softly. 'Gods be with us. We have to hurry.'
Fulcher grunted. 'Here,' he said, handing me a sturdy bow from under his cloak and two arrows, and he pulled another out, testing the string.
'You are terrible with the bow,' Ansbor whispered. 'What was the torch business?'
'Fulcher said he is excellent with the bow,' I told him under my breath. 'Right?'
Fulcher looked uncomfortable as he was scrutini
zing an iron-tipped arrow. 'I'm fair, to be sure.'
'Fair?' I hissed, 'You said—'
'I bragged!' he said, a bit too loudly, and we froze. The guard was singing, some sort of a heroic tune, with a voice so bored, I nearly felt sorry for him.
'Come then, braggart.' We made our way so we could nearly see the guard and the door, positioning ourselves as sturdily as possible amidst reeds, shitty water, and another half-submerged corpse. Time passed, and Ansbor was staring at us. He was fingering his spear uncertainly, and contemplating if he should join us.
'Wait,' I told him softly and watched the dark tower intently.
Ansbor's eyes fixed to the gloom, his mouth opening in surprise. 'There are people coming this way, Hraban. Who is out there?' he hissed.
I glanced that way, not seeing anything. Soon, however, two stooped figures came from the dark, snow-filled gloom. They carried a pole cumbersomely. Between the pole, there was the large, square, wool-covered mass, swaying with the unsteady steps of the obviously suffering people carrying it. They stopped uncertainly, but then the shorter one pointed a finger our way, apparently having excellent eyesight, and their suffering trek continued across the sloshy, pollen-lathered water. The weight of the burden began to sink them. Some fog was gathering, as the snow whipped across the woods.
'Who the hell are they? Surely, they cannot be with us? I had to show the way, and … ' Ansbor began to whisper.
Fulcher snorted, but I shook my head. 'Ansbor, they followed us. I did not want to start to argue with you, and I wanted to keep them away, until we knew what was out here. Go and fetch them, quietly; leave your spear and be careful,' I whispered.
'The guard?'
'Will fall,' I said. 'And now we need the luck. Or this will end in tears. Ours. Go.' We moved briskly with him, the bows trained upwards for the guard. 'Make noise.'
Ansbor nodded suspiciously, and started to walk with splashes forward in the billowing snow and frozen swamp water. We were cursing the guard, who was still singing. 'How is it he does not hear anything?' Fulcher whispered. 'Surely even a deaf idiot would at least imagine having heard something?'
'He is as drunk as a fat, lazy lord, he is. Be ready,' I told him, and Ansbor was still walking for the pair of people carrying a burden.
'We kill him. We kill him, and hope he does not make too much noise in death. If we miss, it doesn't matter, and we will all suffer.' I flexed my cold fingers.
I glanced back. Ansbor was up the sunken road, talking animatedly with the figures, gesturing for us and waving his hands like a windmill. I was sure he did not like the fact Cassia was there. I had not invited her, but Euric had no helpers, and Burlein's men were not there, so there was no choice.
I took a shuddering breath, my neck aching with the strain of the bow. I was risking the whole night for Balderich. If I died, it would leave Burlein alone and suffering, as he faced Maroboodus.
Cassia. I wondered about her.
She was utterly brave, I gave her that, but she also complicated the plan, for I had not dared tell Ansbor. Apparently, Cassia would not be an easily controllable woman for him. I laughed softly at the thought, and Fulcher hummed. Seemingly, he thought the same. Ansbor was still fuming, but I saw Euric silence him, and they precariously started to feel their way forward after Ansbor took the pole from Cassia. He lifted the cloth just a bit, and I saw him blanch with understanding over what I had bought that day. They felt their way forward, but then Ansbor fell on his knee, making a loud, sloshing noise.
The guard above moved.
He got up with a scrape, and walked briskly to the edge of the stone, draped in a blanket, squinting as a small blizzard of snow blew across his face, hiding the road. When the wind had passed, his mouth fell open at the bizarre sight.
We both grunted, Fulcher and I, and the arrows flew.
The deadly shafts sped in the air. I did not see which one hit the man, or if indeed any missed, but at least one shaft pierced him in the chest, spinning him down on his back, his skull making a small cracking sound on the stone. One of his legs could be seen, twitching, as the man was dying, or at least terribly hurt. I waved at Ansbor to hurry, and in a minute, they arrived.
'Cassia should not be here!' he started to yell, but it withered into a hiss. I waved him down. 'No, she should not!' he continued. 'And this thing? The thing you bought from the market? Will it spare us? I want her gone, at least!'
'No,' she said.
'No?' Ansbor answered. 'What use are you here, where we might all die?'
'Sounds like I will be of much use, if things are so desperate,' she told him imperiously, her thin eyebrows high. 'Shut up, and hear what the lout is thinking.'
'She should not … ' he started, but I shook my head tiredly. Euric grabbed his jerkin.
Euric grunted. 'I told you, she volunteered, and I have none to spare with this chore. I could have used a slave, if I had one, but I don’t. She is a sturdy girl; now shut up, and be a man.' Ansbor huffed and closed his mouth, though with difficulty.
'Now we have to get it up there?' Fulcher asked, shivering in the cold.
'We need the ladder. Euric?' I said. 'There, put it there.'
Euric uncovered a wooden ladder, half as tall as he was from a load he was carrying on his back. The man was so large it did not look strange at all.
'Nobody wondered as they walked laden like that?' Ansbor asked, his face screwed up in curiosity. 'And the cage goes up there?'
I nodded. 'I agree it is not safe, but we will be down here, at least. It is for Leuthard. We could all climb up there and rush the room, but we do not know what is in there. But, we know Leuthard is. I do not wish to fight him, fairly at least. So this will do,' I told them, without a shred of shame. 'Let us set up the ladder. There is a wooden platform, and we must get it up there, facing the tower.'
'Hell to boost it up there. It's not over heavy, but the load will be unhappy,' Euric grumbled as he carefully groped under the clothing of the box and pulled out a coil of rope, one end attached to it. 'Make sure this does not get caught while we try to lift it. That would be uncomfortable. And, I want to say, Hraban, this is an utterly mad plan.'
'Fits him perfectly,' Cassia snorted.
'Need I remind you, girl,' I told her, the woman slightly older than I, 'Felix and I concocted the plan to spring you from Varnis, and here you are. This will work, as well.'
'That you trusted Felix's plan to work was as mad as this is,' she told me regally, exasperatingly.
'She is right in that,' Ansbor supported her, and she rewarded him with a smile that would light the deepest night. I hated them both, and spat in disgust.
'Let's see how this one turns out, then,' I told them with hurt feelings.
We placed the ladder to lean on the rock. It was not tall enough, but I climbed it. Ansbor climbed next to me, shaking his head in desperation. He cupped his hands, and I boosted myself up, hauling myself on his shoulders, then up to the wooden platform, where I crouched for a moment, listening. The guard was moaning in pain, barely moving. Below, Euric and Fulcher lifted the covered box with grunts and vile oaths, Ansbor grabbed it and pulled at it, and they all pushed it up the slight rocky incline. Soon, it was above their heads, slamming against the rock. They panted and kept it there, Ansbor complaining as he felt it slipping on the stone surface.
'Quickly!' I told Ansbor, who wheezed and lifted the box from his end, the stone grating against wood. 'Don't put your fingers inside,' I told Fulcher as he panted with supreme effort, shaking with exertion as he pushed. I grabbed the top of the box, avoided the rope coiling down, and pulled, nearly slipping as I wrestled it further up. 'Hold on,' I hissed, and we got the edge of the box higher, and I was shaking with exertion. Something large moved inside the box, nearly unbalancing it.
'This plan seems most excellent, Hraban,' Ansbor said, as the thing inside the box again moved, and scraping sounds could be heard.
I swayed, grunted, and pulled, my neck and shoulders taut. I
pulled, they pushed, and suddenly, the box was on the platform. I tugged at it, and it was secure. I adjusted the covering, checked the rope was free, and looked down. Below, Fulcher slipped and fell to the frigid water, his eyes huge with shock. I glanced over at the tower’s door. Nobody had noticed anything. I climbed down, and jumped to land in the filth as Fulcher got up.
'Will the rope work?' I asked, grabbing it carefully, making sure it was attached.
'Proper pull will do it,' Euric assured with a sniff, certain in his craftsman's pride. I jumped down, hoping the plan would work.
'Let's prepare, and call out for them,' I said. Then we heard some scraping noise up there, and that did not come from the creature in the box, which had been suspiciously, broodingly quiet the whole time we fought to get it up there. I stretched my neck and noticed the leg of the guard was not to be seen, and a continuous scraping sound could be heard. The guard was crawling for the door. 'Looks like we don't have to beg them to come out. Ansbor and Fulcher, go and get our shields from the horses.' They nodded, and ran off cumbersomely. I waded briskly after them, dragging the rope behind, making sure it did not get caught on anything under the surface. The others followed me, and I stopped in full sight of the tower door.
'What about their bows?' Fulcher asked cautiously, as he looked at the dying guard crawl the last inches for the door, spitting blood, leaning painfully on his side.
'We make a small shield wall,' I said, my heart racing. 'Cassia, hide behind Euric's shield,' I told her, and added: 'Please.' She huffed, and I noticed she was wearing a short axe on her belt. 'You know how to … never mind.' She glared at me, as if I was a thing made of horse turds.
Ansbor and Fulcher got back, handing me my shield, and Euric his. We stood in a row, linking the shields together, and I pulled on my helmet as well. They would know me when they saw me. Leuthard and I had no love lost between us. I thrust my shield forward, and so it was we waited.
The guard was finally scraping at the door.
Leuthard opened it, ready to give nasty reproof, then looking around in confusion, his bald head twitching left and right. Then he looked down and dropped his drinking horn as his guard bled to death at his feet. I nearly chuckled, for his look was comic, one of utter astonishment. Nearly, for I was scared shitless.
Raven's Wyrd: A Novel of Germania and Rome (Hraban Chronicles Book 2) Page 10
