by A. C. Cobble
“You remember being a child?” Ben asked. He climbed up after Rhys.
The rogue had scampered across half a dozen roots and was gently tugging on one of the vines hanging above him.
“Pretty sturdy,” he called back.
“Until you find one that isn’t and take a bath,” warned Corinne.
She’d moved ahead of the others, easily stepping from one root to the next. O’ecca followed her, gracefully drifting through the trees like she really was on a simple evening stroll.
Ben worked his way deeper into the wood, testing every step and vine before he committed to it. It made for slow going, but it was better than plunging into the murky water.
Gunther brought up the rear. The big mage was clearly nervous and uncomfortable on the roots, and didn’t trust the vines with his weight. He was just as clearly not interested in wading through the muck underneath them.
Ben grinned. At least there was one thing the big mage wasn’t good at.
The deeper they moved, the less light they had. The moonlight barely penetrated the thick canopy above, and the relative brightness of the desert faded as they moved away from the edge of the woods.
“We’re going to have to try a little light,” declared Rhys.
“They’ll have at least a few watchers,” argued Towaal. “They may not see our movement under the canopy, but they could detect light.”
“It’s going to be pitch black in thirty more paces,” responded Rhys. “We can’t make it through here blind.”
“How about this?” asked Gunther from behind them. “With such a steep angle, they’d have to be hanging over the wall and looking straight down to see anything.”
A silver glow spread out below their feet, creeping through the black water. The moonlight, realized Ben. The mage was capturing the moonlight and reflecting it in the water. The effect was subtler than a single source of light, and hopefully not noticeable even if someone was looking straight down.
Ben moved to the next root and paused. Below him, two pinpoints reflected the silver light.
“What is that?” he wondered.
“Oh hell,” exclaimed Rhys, quickly stepping to a higher root. “It looks like a crocodile.”
Twenty paces to Ben’s right, he heard a thrashing in the water as something big moved away.
“What is a crocodile?” asked Amelie nervously.
“Remember that big lizard Gunther killed?” asked Rhys. “Imagine it swimming. Under your feet. In the dark.”
O’ecca came back to the group, easily hopping root to root. “Crocodiles? They are common in some parts of Ooswam. I’m told they cannot climb, so do not worry.”
“What happens if we fall?” asked Ben.
“Then you should worry.”
Ben groaned and cautiously took the next step. The thought of moving made him nervous, but standing still wasn’t any better with the unblinking eyes lurking five paces below him.
For the next two bells, they struggled through the thick jungle. Any slips could be fatal, but they had to press on. Walking down the road to the front gate would ruin any chance of stealth. This was the only way they could get in unseen.
“I see why they don’t bother with guards,” panted Corinne.
In the silver light from below, Ben could see rivulets of sweat streaking her brow. Under the trees, it was sweltering hot. The air was still and thick with moisture. It smelled putrid from the muck below them.
Ben’s legs were aching from the stress of maintaining his balance as he stepped root to root. They were nearing the end. Just another hundred paces and he could see glimpses of the rock wall ahead of them. He swallowed. The rock wall.
Through a break in the canopy, he looked up. Two hundred paces of rugged rock soared above his head. Two hundred paces of climbing that had to be done before dawn.
“We’d better get moving,” muttered Rhys.
“At least there won’t be any ice on it this time,” said Ben.
“Didn’t you fall off last time we were climbing something like this?” asked Corinne innocently.
Ben didn’t respond.
They finally reached the base of the mountain and he winced. The swamp ran directly up to it. There was no beach, no ledge, nowhere to rest.
“Drink up,” suggested Rhys, slinging his water skin off his belt. “Halfway up, there may not be a convenient place to pause. After what we just sweated out, we need to stay hydrated.”
“Put your weapons on your backs,” added Corinne. “You want your weight to be evenly distributed. Test each hand or toe hold before you trust your weight to it. This rock is exposed to some brutal weather and may not be stable.”
Ben drew a deep breath.
“We can’t use magic, either,” said Gunther. “It’s possible some members of the Purple are sensitive enough to feel if we alter the energies of this place. We don’t know what kind of wards we could trip.”
“It will be daylight when we reach the top,” warned Milo.
“We’ll have to climb quickly,” responded Rhys. “From far-seeing, it appeared there were only a few people moving around up there. It’s a large keep, so I’m hopefully we can stay out of sight as long as we get there before daybreak.”
“Let’s start climbing then,” said Ben.
He tried to sound confident, but it came out as more of a squeak. Corinne was right. The last time they climbed something like this, he fell into a snowbank. This time, it was rocks and crocodiles beneath them.
“You’ll be fine,” assured Amelie.
O’ecca wasted no time and slapped a hand against the wall. Like a spider, she ascended with no apparent effort. Hands and feet found natural cracks and crevices, and she gained ten paces before Rhys latched onto the wall below her.
“That little girl weighs about as much as one of my arms,” complained Gunther.
Ben looked at the ancient mage and saw him taking deep, steadying breaths. Ben resolved to climb up ahead of Gunther. If the big man fell, he’d take everyone else with him.
Fingers gripping the rock, Ben pulled himself up.
The mountain was made from sandstone and worn from ages in the open air. The rough surface dug into his palm but gave him confidence he wouldn’t easily slip, at least until his hands started to get sweaty.
He refused to look down, only straight in front of his face or up to where his friends were climbing. In the moonlight, he could see O’ecca moving like a wraith. She would make the top before Ben was a quarter way up.
Rhys and Corinne moved behind her, climbing confidently, but without the speed O’ecca exhibited. Milo was next, steady but cautious. Then came Ben, Amelie, Towaal, and Gunther.
Fifty paces above the water, Ben realized that having the mages come last may turn out to be a terrible idea. If one the Purple’s mages spotted them, Towaal and Gunther would have to battle while climbing. That kind of split concentration could end in all of their deaths.
He looked to the sides and grimaced. They were climbing up through a shallow chimney in the rock. It allowed for extra handholds, but there wasn’t room for him to edge to the side and let the mages pass. Even if he could make room, he would have to cling to the rock waiting for them. He didn’t trust he’d have the arm and leg strength to last.
“You can do it,” encouraged Amelie from below him.
He gritted his teeth and reached up again, slipping his fingers into a narrow crack and then drawing his leg up to wedge his boot in the corner of the chimney.
Three bells later, his eyes stung from sweat dripping into them. The skin on his hands and arms was bleeding and torn. He couldn’t feel his toes, but they still held when he shoved them into a crack or pressed them against a nub of rock. His arms and legs quivered like the string of a recently fired bow. Twenty paces above him was the base of a half-tumbled wall.
Rhys was sitting on it, nervously glancing at the horizon where a soft glow was emanating.
Ben struggled to hurry, but his leaden limbs
couldn’t move any faster.
Milo had just disappeared ahead of him, and he could hear Amelie moving below. He didn’t dare look down to see how close the others were.
He gritted his teeth and hauled himself higher, ignoring the pain as rough sandstone ground against his torn skin. One hand, one boot, the next hand, the next boot, he hauled himself higher.
When Ben reached the top, Rhys placed a finger against his lips and nodded in the direction of Corinne. She stood a dozen paces away. Ben saw the broken section of wall they were climbing over was only a curtain wall. Across a narrow, grass-covered baily stood the main wall. It rose two man-heights. Ben watched Milo sling a leg over the top of it and disappear inside.
Corinne gestured for Ben to hurry. When he got close, she whispered in his ear. “O’ecca is on the other side. She’ll direct you to an abandoned shed where we will spend the day. It’s visible from the gardens, so we have to hurry.”
Ben groaned inwardly at the thought of scaling another wall, but this was one was built of poorly mortared blocks of stone. It was closer to climbing a ladder than a mountain. He flexed his hands, trying to regain some feeling, then scampered up. He ignored the bloody fingerprints he was leaving on the rock. At the top, he finally turned and looked out.
On the far horizon, an orange glow crept into view. It barely lit a few jagged shards of rock that stabbed out of the desert. The rest of the landscape was still in shadow. They were too far away to see Frisay or any other towns. All that Ben could see was empty rock and sand. No one would have any reason to come within days of this mountain. Perfect for hiding the Purple.
Unfortunately, the empty terrain would be nearly impossible to hide in once the mages realized their weapon was stolen. Speed was the only thing that would keep Ben and his companions out of reach. Of course, it would only be a problem if they actually made it in and stole the weapon.
He looked again at the faint orange glow and estimated they had a quarter bell until true dawn. In the heat of the desert, he knew that whatever work was done in the garden would be done then. No one would be crazy enough to be outside in the afternoon if they didn’t have to be.
Below him, Amelie was stumbling across the baily to Corinne. She looked drained and lifeless. Rhys was bending across the curtain wall to reach a hand down, Ben assumed to Towaal. He hoped Gunther was not far behind, but he wouldn’t wait to see. He crawled across the top of the main wall and half-climbed, half-fell into the garden below.
There was a decrepit shed beside him with O’ecca standing in the doorway. In front of him was row after row of fruit trees. Between the trunks, he could see rows of beans, corn, lettuces, and other vegetables in the distance. Hopefully, it wasn’t orchard day for the workers.
Ben waited at the base of the wall for Amelie to come down and helped her land on her feet as she staggered away from the rock surface. Her face was a mixture of exhaustion and relief.
They walked to the shed and ducked inside while O’ecca worriedly kept watch.
Wheelbarrows, bags of seeds, pruning shears, ropes, and saws filled the space. It looked like it hadn’t been disturbed in at least a season. Ben sighed in relief then moved to help Milo rearrange the items to clear space on the floor. They wouldn’t have hot food or a bed, but at least they could make room to stretch out.
Time ticked by and Ben and his friends glanced at each other apprehensively. Through the open door of the shed, they could clearly see the grey trunks of the trees and the small green fruits hanging from the branches. Anytime now, workers would pour into the gardens.
Ben took a step toward the door, anxious to see if he could help, but Amelie caught his arm. Either Gunther would make it over the wall before the keep awoke, or he wouldn’t. Ben couldn’t climb down the side of the mountain and haul the big mage up.
Finally, Ben let out of burst of held breath as he saw the others start to drop from the wall. There was a heavy thump when Gunther’s huge body crashed down into the grass. Rhys helped the big man up. Glancing around nervously, they scurried into the shed. O’ecca closed the door, and they all stood there, looking at each other.
A smile curled on Ben’s lips. They’d made it undetected into the fortress. There was still a lot to do, but step one was a success.
They rummaged through their bags, pulling out food and water. They’d eat quickly then rest. They’d take turns keeping watch, but until darkness fell again, they wouldn’t speak or leave the shed.
* * *
Ben woke to sweat rolling down his forehead. The shed was stifling hot. He rolled onto his side and saw Rhys near the door, listlessly waving a hand in front of his face to try and stir the still air. It was silent. Ben couldn’t hear anything outside, but from the rogue’s look, he knew to stay quiet. He crawled over to his friend, who had the door barely cracked open.
Rhys gestured to it, and Ben peered out.
Nearby, there was nothing but the fruit trees. In the distance, Ben could see flashes of movement. People were tending to the rows of vegetables. He watched for a few moments until he heard a sharp call. The movement all changed to be in the same direction. Ben realized a foreman or someone had called the workers in. They may be going for a meal or may be done for the day. He wasn’t sure what time it was.
Rhys cupped his hand and poured it full of water. He wiped it on his face and head, trying to stay cool. He offered the water skin to Ben, but Ben shook his head.
Ben mimicked the sun passing overhead and rose an eyebrow at Rhys.
The rogue held up five fingers then closed his fist. Five more bells until dark.
Ben crawled back to his space on the floor and closed his eyes. He may not get much more sleep due to the heat, but he would rest. They were in for a long night.
* * *
When Ben woke again, half the party was up. They were eating, drinking, and preparing for the night. He saw Rhys had taken his turban and wrapped it around his body, securing his longsword and long knives so they wouldn’t move as they stalked through the fortress.
Corinne was sharpening her hand axes, drawing a whetstone across them slowly to keep the sound to a minimum. Amelie had emptied out to contents of her belt pouch. She was sorting through the items, evidently deciding which would make a valuable catalyst for magic if she needed it. O’ecca was holding her naginata and stretching, bending down until her head nearly touched the floor before straightening up. She tilted to one side and then the other. Ben wasn’t sure how the girl could get more limber, but he saw the wisdom in what she was doing. If they needed to climb, fight, or flee, it made sense to be loose.
He stood and started the Ohms, moving slow like Thyr had shown them. Ben felt his muscles protest at the activity, and he was glad he decided to do it. He was tight from the climb the night before and couldn’t risk a cramp when they entered the keep.
Two bells later, everyone was awake and ready.
Unlike the assault on the keep in Irrefort, they had no information about what the interior of the Purple’s fortress looked like. They could only count on the fact that there would be fewer people inside and likely none of the maids who roamed the halls at night in a public castle.
They waited three bells after full dark then slunk into the garden. The silver glow of the moon painted the orchard around them. On the far wall of the main keep, Ben saw sporadic points of light from windows. There were no lights on the exterior. Either the Purple kept it dark to increase secrecy, or they didn’t want to waste coin to light the outside of such an isolated fortress.
Rhys stalked through the trees, his head constantly turning, scanning the walls, eyeing the doors, and any other opening a person could be lurking in.
He pointed, only his silhouette visible to them. Ben followed the angle and saw a flickering orange light in a tower near the front gate. At least one guard was on duty. Ben was certain now they’d see more of them.
Below the guardhouse, the gate was sturdy wood construction. Not as secure as the other keeps Ben ha
d seen, but he surmised it was likely because the Purple didn’t need protection from mundane attacks. If anything, they were worried about other mages.
The tweets of night birds and the howl of the wind across the high fortress were the only sounds as they passed out of the orchard. They hugged the main wall and moved toward the central building. In the dark garden, as long as they avoided being backlit, they stood a good chance of remaining invisible to anyone who glanced out the windows.
Ben tried counting the lit windows, eyeing which ones were close together and estimating those parts of the keep may still be active.
Rhys was evidently doing the same because as they drew close, he steered them up a narrow flight of stairs to the outside wall. There, he crouched down below the level of the battlements and scuttled forward.
They moved one hundred paces that way, all of them crouched low, until they got to a bend in the wall. It was just two hundred paces further, then they would meet the side of the main building. Ben guessed there must be a door there. Where it led, they would have to hope was somewhere they wanted to be.
At the bend, Rhys held up a hand and stopped them. He crawled forward and was gone a brief moment. When he returned, he gestured for them to huddle close.
“I see two guards further down,” he whispered. “They’re not paying much attention, as you might expect, since they are guarding a wall that stands two hundred paces above the desert. There’s no way we can all slip by them on this wall, though. Entering the fortress at ground level is also something I wouldn’t advise. A building this big is almost certain to have someone awake on the main level.”
“What do you suggest?” asked Ben.
Rhys drew one of his long knives and spun it slowly in his hand.
“It’s your decision,” said the rogue.
Ben frowned and looked at Amelie. She met his gaze but didn’t speak up.
Ben turned to Gunther. “You are certain we cannot negotiate with the Purple?”
The big man shifted, clearly uncomfortable from having to stoop to stay below the battlement.
“These mages have spent literally a thousand years trying to figure out how to use the staff. They won’t let go of it easily.”