As he bypassed Tarel, he saw Meone and Len’i crouched low and peering over a small rise in the tunnel. They had extinguished their torches, and he did the same instinctively. He crept up behind them. ‘What do you see?’
Len’i pointed. ‘Below is a bridge cut from the rock, well lit and guarded by a handful of soldiers.’
Coinin strained harder to see better, and sure enough, Len’i had spoken the truth. Below, well lit by torches, half a dozen of the king’s guards manned a thick rock walkway that led to a solid door at the far end. That must be the way into the castle, he thought.
‘Four against six. I like those odds,’ Len’i said to himself.
‘Five,’ Meone reminded.
‘What is the plan?’ Len’i asked.
Coinin looked lost for a moment. ‘Perhaps if I were to fall upon your expertise, and request a solution.’
‘Then I would consider it an honour.’ Len’i tipped his head. He turned away and stroked his bristled chin thoughtfully and considered the options, yet with so many variables and attack strategies coming to mind it was near impossible to cover all angles without a war counsel. However, that would take time, and they had little, especially as Jericho and the others were ready to strike somewhere above ground at their signal.
Turning to the others, he sighed heavily. ‘There is just no way that we can get close enough to create a distraction without being seen. There’s no cover between here and the bridge. Our presence would be known almost instantly, and the alarm sounded.’
Coinin frowned. ‘What do you suggest?’
Len’i smiled broadly and showed off his great fangs glinting with saliva. ‘Is it not so that your Brotherhood is adept at magic?’
‘Well, yes, indeed, but I don’t see how –’ Coinin stalled, and a grin spread slowly across his face. An idea had come to him, and he felt that he and Len’i possessed the same thought.
‘We need a distraction to enable us to get close. What have you noticed about the tunnel below?’
Meone raised a brow and sniffed the air. ‘The wind,’ she said plainly. ‘There is much wind that passes through the tunnel.’
‘Correct. If we can amplify that wind to such a level to drive the guards into cover, we would be free to overpower them while they sheltered.’
Coinin baulked. ‘But I am but a novice mage. I’m not confident that I can produce such magic.’
‘No fear, Curator. As guardian of the Temple Library, it is my duty to be proficient in the magical arts, of which I have studied for many years,’ Meone purred happily.
‘You can do this magic?’ Len’i questioned.
‘It is powerful magic to alter the elements in such a manner and bend them to your will, but yes, it is possible.’
‘Then it is settled. Meone will cast her spell, and the remainder of us will storm the bridge and slay the enemy.’ Len’i’s eyes glinted.
‘I’d rather not slay anyone if it can be avoided. I’d hoped that we could hold them prisoner,’ Coinin objected.
Len’i scoffed. ‘In order to win today, we cannot afford to leave men behind to guard prisoners. We must be swift and decisive, cut down the enemy where they stand if we are to have any chance of surviving this day.’
Coinin looked from the orc to Meone, who nodded and agreed that Len’i was correct in what he had said.
‘I just hate the thought of innocents coming to harm.’
‘They are far from innocent. They protect a false king who rules with an iron fist. They are as guilty as he for the deaths of countless city folk, never mind the shortages of food that has driven many away, and the blatant bloodshed that he has caused in other lands, for the sake of gold.’
Coinin bit his lip and conceded defeat. He, of course, had the power to overrule them both. He was wise enough to know that without proper council a fall could arise should such advice be left unheeded and then one charges ahead with idealism as one’s sword.
‘Very well, Len’i. Your plan is sound.’ The Curator nodded.
Len’i wasted no time issuing orders, and soon everyone was ready to take the bridge.
Meone positioned herself to the right of the tunnel opening and closed her eyes in deep concentration. Coinin heard the distant sound of humming and knew that this was the result of Meone drawing on the elemental forces.
Half a minute later, a quiet whooshing sound filled the underground river tunnel below them, and the white crests began to form atop the water. The noise started to build and echoed around the cave system, bouncing from one wall to another and causing a stir amongst the palace guards stationed across the bridge.
The wind grew with each passing moment, and the din became a throaty growl, and then like the roar of a thousand lions.
Red and blue standards positioned along the bridge fluttered wildly and threatened to tear from their poles as the wind grew in intensity. Loose hair whipped about the faces of the guards, who looked terrified at this new occurrence. Never had such a strong wind, accompanied by river water lashing over the low wall, threatened to throw them from the bridge and they hunkered down to protect themselves from the force of the tempest.
Four determined invaders crouched low and made a careful way along the bridge, sheltered by the low stone wall. Thankfully, the guards were far too busy cowering together to have noticed. Ten yards, five yards, and Len’i raised his sword high into the air. Almost at once the spray and wind dropped, and the four launched forward towards the stunned guards.
Coinin took up the rear as ordered by Len’i and flicked his head back to their tunnel. Meone looked drained but relieved she had performed her task and afforded the others critical cover.
A clash of swords and screams of pain replaced the noise in the tunnel. Coinin turned back to see Len’i single-handedly take three of the guards at once.
He spotted a straggler running for a brass alarm bell beside the doorway leading to the palace, and he gave chase. He knew instantly that the runner had too much of a head start. Panting and wishing his cloak wasn’t so heavy, he stopped dead and hopped on top of the low wall. From here he had a clear line of sight of his quarry.
Think, think, his brain screamed, and as if Archmage Menin were behind him, urging him on, her voice called loud and clear. Seize the bell. Instantly, he reacted with lightning speed and crouched to grip the wall with his hand. The other appendage he pointed straight at the bell and with considerably less concentration that he’d had to use previously, he sent a blue bolt of light directly from his fingertips. It collided with the bell and resonated audibly, but not loud enough to raise the alarm. Ice began to form along its dome and spread to the clanger. Within seconds the bell was non-functional. The escaping guard clutched at the rope attached to the clanger and immediately regretted his action as ice spread along his fingers and held him tight. He cried with the pain of the cold, and his eyes grew wide in terror as the ice continued to spread. Before long, to Coinin’s horror, the guard was completely entombed within a skin of ice, a look of anguish set about his features.
Len’i slapped Coinin across the back and congratulated him.
Coinin merely grunted, horrified that he had taken a life.
Len’i saw upon the curator’s face a look he had seen many times when one of his own had killed for the first time, and he wrapped a thick arm around the boy’s shoulders.
‘It is always hard the first time. But know this, it was not your fault that he gripped the bell rope,’ the orc whispered.
Coinin sighed and closed his eyes. He dipped his head to hide a solitary tear that dripped unnoticed onto the dusty stone of the bridge. ‘Thank you,’ he croaked, and coughed to clear his throat.
Len’i released him and gripped the body nearest to him. He hoisted him high and threw the corpse into the fast-flowing river below. With a splash, the body vanished from sight to be carried away to the dark depths of Lake Rodine.
Soon, Len’i had disposed of all bodies bar one. The sad bell ringer was still frozen in place, and it took L
en’i several hacks with his sword to free the dead man’s arm from the bell rope. The body tilted sideways and landed with a crunch of ice, some of which skittered across the stonework. Len’i, alongside the other Brotherhood soldiers, lifted the heavy weight with grunts of exertion and flung it over the side of the low wall that spanned the bridge.
A loud splash signalled the fight was over and they could carry on. Len’i waited for Meone to join them from her hiding place and soon they trudged forward and approached the great wooden door separating them from the palace.
Coinin took up the rear with a heavy heart. His role was to protect the temple and Brotherhood at all costs, yet sanctioning the deaths of those soldiers caused him some anguish. How Len’i dealt with the guilt, he had no idea and prayed to Rindor for forgiveness.
The thick oak door opened with ease, and silently, thanks to well-oiled hinges smothered in thickly applied animal fats. Ahead of them, lit by torches, lay, not a staircase, but a pathway that sloped upwards in a tight spiral. The walls were damp this far down and gave off a green hue from the mould that grew in abundance.
‘It appears this will be hard going,’ Len’i grunted.
Meone shook her head. ‘Have they never heard of stairs?’
A thought popped into Coinin’s mind, from his recently acquired mass of knowledge. ‘Perhaps the point is to wear out any advancing soldiers and box them into a tight space. Easier to kill, I suppose.’
‘Good point,’ Len’i said. ‘We shall have to remain as quiet as possible and be wary of enemy sentries ahead.’
As silently as they could, the five trudged their way up the steep pathway. Every now and then a foot slipped against the gravelly surface and threatened to spill them onto the floor. Coinin had been correct, of course. The pathway was designed to exhaust anyone venturing that way, and Len’i cursed himself several times for not heeding Coinin’s advice and taking a prisoner. He wondered if he was losing his skill as a tactician. He had been out of the game for such a long time that things didn’t readily come to mind as they once did. Perhaps prison had dulled his mind. Now, without a prisoner, they had no idea what lay ahead.
Ever watchful and listening hard for signs of enemy ahead, he ploughed onward as quietly as any gigantic orc could. Even so, no one upfront could fail to notice his advance. His solution was to move swiftly and, leaving the others behind, he raced forward. Torches flickered and smoked as he sped by, and his shadow elongated eerily as he passed by each light source. He sensed that the tunnel was becoming warmer and it had slightly widened.
Without warning, he slammed into a wooden door with a loud bang. He held his breath and drew his sword and listened intently for footsteps. None came, and he looked confused. Surely there were guards on the other side of the door.
He heard puffs and pants behind him, and the others brought up the rear, looking hot and bothered. Len’i placed a finger to the remains of his leathery mouth and held up his hand for them to stop moving. They did as instructed and Len’i turned to the door. He tried the handle and, to his surprise, it opened.
Unlocked? Where is the security in this place? he thought.
INFILTRATION
Jericho scanned the warehouse, a secure building, dark and seemingly devoid of guard. Had Sonny’s contact come through and cleared it of all military personnel?
The answer came a minute later when Sonny, red-faced and sweating, stopped before the gathered Brotherhood troops and took deep lungfuls of air. The small man was very unfit, and Jericho shook his head and pursed his lips in disapproval.
‘I’m sorry I took so long, Sonny panted. ‘I had to wait until the other guards had left. We’re all set to go.’
Jericho peered at Sonny in the darkness. ‘Not that I doubt your word that your contact is trustworthy, but I want to know what it is he had told his men before they left.’
The little grey man looked furious for a moment that Jericho had questioned his word, and frowned deeply, accenting his features. ‘My contact is above reproach, General. In fact, he told his men to venture home to pay respects to each of their family members, and to return at daybreak. As far as the warehouse guard is concerned, they believe they are being sent on an exercise and unlikely to return for six months.’
‘Then time is short, thank you, Sonny.’ Jericho turned to his men and addressed them. ‘You heard the man, make haste to the warehouse door and let’s get kitted out.’
Without further instruction, each Brotherhood soldier marched quickly by and headed to the main door of the warehouse.
Jericho turned back to Sonny. ‘What happens when the guards return, and they are not sent on an exercise?’
‘My contact will simply advise them that the order has changed. They will not question their superior.’
‘And if one should say something out of turn?’
‘That is unlikely to happen. The king’s guard is well trained to keep information on troop movements to their individual squads. Though, should something go awry, I have an escape plan for my contact.’
‘Very well, you should return to your home. Tonight is going to be hectic enough without my worrying about you.’
‘I appreciate your concern; however, I am quite capable of taking care of myself.’
‘Fine. I shall bid you farewell, and should we not meet again after tonight, I wish you well and good fortune.’
Jericho and Sonny shook hands and parted ways. The general watched the tiny man leave the area and disappear into the gloom. He turned himself then, and nodded to Marrok, who had waited patiently for the pair to finish their discourse. Both trotted to the main door of the large wooden structure.
Cautious as ever, Jericho peered through a crack in the doorframe and saw all was well. He rapped on the oak door and waited. Several seconds later the sound of a bolt unfastening preceded the door creaking open. A shaft of yellow light spilt from the open doorway and illuminated the general. He squinted and spotted a tall, muscular man, dressed in a green uniform, topped with a steel chest plate. The thing looked exceedingly uncomfortable to wear, and Jericho was glad he wasn’t the wearer. The man possessed one less eye and ear on the same side and appeared to have suffered a recent burn to his face, the scarring only beginning to heal.
Jericho and Marrok tried not to stare as they were let into the barn. Around them, men and women were busy changing clothes and donning the uniform of the palace guard. Steel breastplates bearing the crest of the king and a burgundy tunic with black woollen pants finished off the ensemble. The bright red piping along the edges of the uniform looked gaudy and several long peacock feathers secured to the caps upon their heads were distracting to the eye. Thankfully, the boots they already wore were an almost perfect match, so sizing from a huge pile sat within a box was not required.
The last equipment to be collected was weapons. It was typical for the palace guard to have both sword and pike to hand. Shaped with a sweeping curve, the swords of the land were entirely different to their own, and so they would need to leave theirs behind. Not an easy thing for a soldier to do, since each is taught from basic training to value and care for his sword as he would a family member.
The contact threw open a large oak and lead-lined chest. Inside, twenty dozen oiled and pre-sharpened swords glinted in the available light. To the right of the trunk, a wooden rack held scores of pikes, with cruel sharp tips of steel.
Each of the newly uniformed Brotherhood soldiers deposited their own weapons upon a thick leather hide which was then tied into a roll. This would be carried with them and hidden for recovery later.
Several soldiers swished their newly acquired and unfamiliar swords to get a feel for them and took an instant dislike.
‘Top heavy,’ one complained.
‘Poor steel,’ replied another.
‘Quit your bellyaching, we will make do,’ Jericho growled.
Jericho, followed by Marrok, led the contact aside and together they sat on a couple of crates and faced each other. Marrok
stood and surveyed, his arms crossed.
‘Why do this for us?’ Jericho questioned.
‘My grandmother requested it, and you don’t say no to her,’ the contact replied with a chuckle.
‘Seriously?’ Marrok said.
"Oh, yes. Besides, the king killed my parents, and he deserves to pay.’
Jericho inwardly smiled. There was nothing finer than a personal tragedy to cement an idea or a desire for revenge in a man. If what he said was true, then he truly was an ally.
‘Can you show my men how to behave as palace guards?’
‘Certainly. There’s nothing to it.’
The unnamed contact marched forward and bellowed. ‘Right, you lot. We don’t have much time, and you need to learn how to pass for palace guards.’
Each of The Brotherhood turned to face the disfigured man and took notice, especially since Jericho and Marrok stood behind him and nodded approval.
❖
Opening the door a crack, Len’i peered beyond into a dimly lit corridor. There were no signs of life, thankfully, so he bravely opened the door wider and stepped through. To his left, a long series of cages ran the length of the brick, arched corridor. To the right, several dozen wine casks, as tall and as wide as a man, lined the room, each in its own alcove.
No natural light entered the room, which was lit by two eight-armed candelabras hanging high from the vaulted ceiling. They swung slightly now that a stiff wind found its way through the newly opened door.
Len’i stepped forward cautiously, sniffing the air for signs of life. There was a human or humans nearby, but no way to tell whether it was guard or civilian. Sensing, though, that the immediate vicinity was clear, he turned and beckoned to the others, who stepped through the door one by one.
Coinin closed the door behind him and sniffed. A strong smell of oak, mixed with sweet smelling wine permeated the air, intermingled with a robust and pungent reek of human excrement, urine and sweat. He covered his mouth and nose to mute the smell, but to no avail. A low groan issued from his left and he whipped his head to the source. A dark cage, iron by the look of it, stood inside an alcove, large enough to house a dozen animals. He crept closer to peer into the interior and saw only darkness.
The Aduramis Chronicles: Volumes 1-3: The Definitive Collection Page 93