by Stuart Daly
It was impossible for Caspan to do a head count, but he guessed that there must have been several hundred clansmen inside the fort. The fact that he couldn’t see any women or children suggested that the stronghold was being used as a marshalling point for the highland clans. This was further proven by the variety of tartans worn by the men. In addition to the blue and red of the Stewart clan, he identified the plaid shawls and kilts of the Wallace, MacDonell and Cameron clans. Groups of highlanders also walked along the dirt track that led to the main gate, or trudged in small bands across the heather covering the glen, packs and weapons slung over their shoulders. Some wore tartans not even Sara recognised, revealing that even the lesser highland clans had come from the distant corners of Caledon to assemble inside the base.
The burial mound had been used as a motte, atop which stood a longhouse. It was a formidable structure, standing two storeys high and constructed of sandstone blocks and stout wooden beams. It had a commanding view over the glen, providing early warning of an enemy’s approach. Not that any of Andalon’s forces had been anywhere this far north in the past hundred years. As far as Caspan knew, no army from Lochinbar had ventured north into Caledon since the construction of Mance O’Shea’s Break. It was simply too dangerous.
Caspan’s gaze was drawn to a wooden door built into the base of the burial mound. A few clansmen emerged from here, carrying chainmail vests and swords, which suggested that the tomb was being used as an armoury.
Wary of being spotted by the guards in the watchtowers and patrolling the palisade, the treasure hunters withdrew deeper into the trees. They dismissed Frostbite, Talon and Bandit for a well-earned rest, but Kilt summoned Whisper and set her to guard duty around the edge of the copse. They assumed they’d be safe up here, for the escarpment was several hundred yards from the trail that led to the fort, but they were deep in enemy territory and weren’t going to leave anything to chance.
‘Some hot food would’ve been nice,’ Roland commented as he rummaged through the provisions sacks, distributing chunks of bread and meat.
Kilt shook her head at him. ‘Trust you to think of food at a moment like this.’
Roland shrugged. ‘We’ve still got to eat. And it’s a bit hard to think straight on an empty stomach.’ He pulled out a shoulder of ham and a jar of seasoning. ‘It’s a shame we can’t start a fire. I could make a lovely stew out of this.’
Shanty chewed on a mouthful of bread. ‘There’ll be no fire for us tonight, that’s for sure. The highlanders would spot it a mile away.’
‘Which means we’re in for a cold one,’ Sara said dolefully.
Caspan jerked his chin towards the spare blankets tied to the rear of the saddles, piled in a corner of the clearing in which they rested. ‘It’s just as well we’ve got those. We can also use the saddles if it gets really cold.’
‘Still, I’m not looking forward to tonight.’ Sara went over and selected a blanket, which she wrapped around her shoulders. ‘I’m freezing already.’
‘Try shuffling on the spot and stamping your feet,’ Caspan said. ‘The trick is to keep your blood circulating. I always found that worked during the long, cold nights in Floran when I was out thieving.’
Sara smiled at him and did as he suggested. ‘Thanks, Cas.’
They sat in silence for a while, before Kilt raised the thought on everybody’s mind. ‘So, what are we going to do?’
‘We’re too tired to do anything right now,’ Lachlan replied. ‘We’ll wait till the morning, then work out a way to get inside the tomb.’
‘You’re not seriously thinking about going down there?’ Sara asked.
He shrugged his broad shoulders. ‘What else can we do? We haven’t come all this way just to give up without even trying.’
‘And how are we going to do that?’ Sara looked at the others for support. ‘The clansmen are hardly going to let us simply walk inside. And how do you know the weapon’s even down there? Didn’t you see – they’re using the tomb for weapons storage.’
Lachlan was resolute. ‘We’ll never know until we check for ourselves.’
Caspan nodded. ‘Maybe the highlanders encountered a trap, preventing them from reaching the end of the tomb. The weapon might still be lying in there, in the final chamber.’
‘Maybe the highlanders pillaged the tomb decades ago,’ Sara replied. ‘For all we know, there might be a clansman wandering these mountains, the weapon strapped by his side, blissfully unaware of what it represents.’
Caspan conceded her point. ‘It’s possible. But as Lachlan said, we’ll never know until we check for ourselves.’
‘And how do you propose we do that?’ Sara pressed.
Shanty winced as he checked his bandaged side. ‘Let’s leave that to the morning. I can see this discussion’s going round in circles and getting us nowhere. Lachlan’s right – we’re tired and we need rest. We can talk about it tomorrow. Besides, it will be dark soon. We should get ourselves organised for the night.’
Roland pointed the chunk of bread he was holding at Shanty. ‘I’ll second that. But we should also keep a watch on the stronghold. I know Whisper’s patrolling the area, but I’d feel a lot safer having a second set of eyes monitoring the fort.’
Shanty nodded, summoned Ferris and commanded him to assist Whisper. ‘We should also take it in turns,’ he said, addressing the group. ‘Any volunteers to go first?’
Sara raised a hand. ‘Best to get it out of the way before the cold of the night sets in. We’ll do two-hour shifts each?’
Shanty nodded and raised a finger in warning at the others. ‘Don’t even think about snoozing when it’s your turn. Do that and we might find ourselves waking to find highlander dirks pressed against our throats.’ He stared fixedly at a patch of earth near his feet. ‘You’re members of the Brotherhood now. If you made a mistake during training, all you received was a reprimand from the Masters, or a punishment of several laps around the House of Whispers.’ He looked up, his expression grim. ‘But things are very different now. Make a mistake out here and it could cost us all our lives.’
CHAPTER 13
PLANS AT DAWN
Caspan didn’t sleep much that night. He tossed restlessly, finding it impossible to get comfortable on the hard ground. Every time he rolled over, a stick or rock stuck into his back, and his cloak and the extra blanket he used could barely ward back the biting chill.
Three months ago he would have curled up into a ball and slept soundly. There were times in Floran he slept on rooftops, or hunkered down amidst the rubbish and rats in alleyways that not even the City Watch would dare tread. But he’d now become accustomed to comfort – to a warm bed, clean sheets and a feather-and-down-filled pillow. What he’d give for his room in the House of Whispers right now!
He rose and blew warmth into his hands. Dawn was a grey smear on the horizon and a veil of mist hung in the air. The sky appeared overcast, although it was hard to tell this early in the morning, when the night and dawn blended into a ghostly half-light. Caspan hoped it wouldn’t rain. It was cold and miserable enough already.
Shanty was already awake, sitting with his back against a tree, and he tossed Caspan his water-skin. ‘Here, lad, get some of that into you. It’ll chase away the chill.’
Caspan took a lengthy draught of the ginger cider. He wiped his sleeve across his lips, feeling the drink warm his belly, then plugged the water-skin and tossed it back to the dwarf. ‘Thanks.’ He looked across to the far side of the clearing as Lachlan, the last of their group to keep watch, emerged from the trees. ‘Any problems?’
The muscular boy suppressed a yawn and shook his head. ‘No. Little’s happening at the fort. They’re just starting to rise and light campfires. A few clansmen are preparing breakfast, but that’s about it.’
Caspan nodded thankfully. As far as he knew, all of their watches had passed uneventfully. He had relieved Sara and kept vigil under the boughs of a large fir tree located near the edge of the bluff. Groups of cl
ansmen congregated around the campfires outside their tents, cooking stews and sharpening and oiling their weapons. A few guards, flaming torches in hand, patrolled the palisade, but none ventured outside.
Caspan watched in envy at the highlanders sitting around the fires. He would have given anything to sneak inside the fort and fill his belly with a bowl of hot food. He tried to distract himself by committing the layout of the encampment to his memory, and took a head count of the highlanders. He lost count after eighty, though, and after his fourth attempt decided to give up.
An hour or two must have passed before he became conscious of a presence in the trees several yards to his right. Startled, he peered into the darkness, his keen eyes spotting Whisper. The huge snow panther was sitting on her haunches, staring down at the fort, her eyes glistening like jewels. She turned to regard Caspan, curled her top lip disdainfully, then slunk silently back into the trees.
Caspan didn’t think much of Whisper. She always growled at him and never let him pat her, let alone ride her. She was just as temperamental as Kilt. A match made in heaven, they were. In spite of this, Caspan was thankful that the panther and Ferris were keeping a careful watch over his sleeping friends. He’d seen Whisper in action before, when she protected him and Kilt from the Roon back at Saint Justyn’s. It was reassuring knowing that any clansmen who came across their camp would have the panther to deal with.
Shanty strode over to one of the saddle bags, drawing Caspan back to the present. The dwarf rummaged around until he found a shoulder of salted lamb and a loaf of bread.
‘We’ve got a big day ahead of us,’ he said, returning to sit against the tree trunk, pausing to nudge each of his sleeping companions with the toe of his boot. He grinned at Roland as he stirred. ‘Isn’t that right, sleeping beauty?’
Roland groaned as he propped himself up on one elbow and yawned. His shoulder-length hair was a tangled bird’s nest, full of twigs and leaves. He looked around the clearing, wiped the sleep from his eyes and sighed. ‘I was hoping this was all a bad dream.’ His gaze lingered on Kilt, who was stirring and kicking irritably at a root with her heel. He pulled a sour face. ‘But it appears not.’
Kilt’s eyes flashed angrily. ‘Knock it off, puddenhead! The last thing I want to do is deal with you right now. I’m cold, hungry and every muscle in my body’s aching. So if you know what’s good for you, you’ll keep your mouth shut!’
Roland brushed her comment away with a flick of his hand and jerked his chin at Lachlan. ‘I should have asked if you had a spare night-cap, Timmity Tom.’
Sara rose and paced around the glade, stamping her feet and hugging the folds of her cloak tightly in an attempt to keep warm. Shanty passed around his flask and distributed slices of meat and chunks of bread, and the friends drank and ate in silence. With a warm drink and food in their bellies, their spirits started to rise.
‘You know, this isn’t too bad,’ Roland remarked, brushing a patch of dirt from his elbow. ‘Once you get over the cold and less-than-average sleeping conditions, it’s quite nice out here. I might even put in for a transfer to the King’s scout corps.’
Lachlan grinned wryly. ‘Yeah, I’d like to see you do that. You barely cope when you enter a tomb and get a cobweb on you, let alone tracking enemies through marshes and camping out in forests in the pouring rain. You’d never cope.’
‘I don’t know about that. It’s good every now and then to get back to nature. Character-building, it is.’
Lachlan rolled his eyes and glanced at Sara, who was sitting by herself over near the saddle bags, a pensive look on her face. ‘Are you all right?’
‘Not really. I tossed and turned all night, thinking about that fort.’ She glanced at Shanty. ‘What are we going to do?’
Shanty picked at a piece of meat stuck between his teeth, then motioned with a flick of his eyes in the direction of the glen. ‘Like it or not, we need to find a way into that tomb and see what’s inside.’
Sara frowned at him. ‘And how are we going to do that?’
Kilt glanced questioningly at the others. ‘Anybody come up with any great ideas last night?’
Roland grinned. ‘I thought we might be able to do an exchange. You know – Kilt for the weapon. Although, I’m sure the clansmen will realise they’re getting ripped off.’
Kilt laughed humourlessly and shot him a scathing look before regarding the others. ‘So no suggestions?’
They shook their heads.
Caspan cleared his throat. ‘I could sneak inside and have a look,’ he suggested.
Before joining the Brotherhood of Thieves he would have thought nothing of infiltrating the fort by himself. He’d been a lone wolf, accustomed to working by himself, believing his fellow thieves in the Black Hand would only slow him down. But he’d changed since then. Above all, he’d learnt to trust his friends and rely upon their help. But he also cared greatly for them, and didn’t want to place them in any dangerous situations, such as being caught stealing inside an enemy fortress.
Sara was quick to object. ‘You can forget about that idea. There’s no way we’re letting you go down there on your own. What if you get caught?’
‘Then Lachlan and I will go with him,’ Roland offered.
Kilt bristled. ‘Um, excuse me. Have Sara, Shanty and I turned invisible?’
‘It’d be handy if you did,’ Roland retorted. ‘Then you’d have no problem sneaking inside the tomb.’ He pointed at her face. ‘But seriously, you’d never get inside the fort. Your head would stand out like a tomato trying to sneak inside a boiled egg convention.’ He turned to Caspan, who was trying to suppress a wry grin, and gave him an earnest look. ‘There’s no way you’re going down there without Lachlan and me. You’ll need us for backup.’
Lachlan nodded grimly. ‘There’s no argument about it, Cas. We’re coming with you, like it or not.’
Caspan worked best solo, particularly in situations like this, when his sneaking skills would be tested. But there were a lot of clansmen inside the fort. As talented as he was, he’d probably be spotted, even under the cover of darkness. Lachlan and Roland were skilled swordsmen, and there was a chance they’d be able to fight their way out if need be. He nodded.
‘Then it’s settled.’ Roland slapped his thigh. ‘It’s the three of us.’
Kilt held her hands out in exasperation. ‘Did I miss something? When was this decided?’
‘Just now,’ Roland replied.
Shanty glanced at Kilt. ‘It will have to be the boys. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there are no women inside the fort. It’s a war camp, and women in Caledon aren’t allowed to join the army. They stay at home and manage the cattle and fields whilst the men go off to fight.’
Kilt snorted contemptuously. ‘Well, that stinks.’
‘It’s the way things are done here,’ Shanty replied.
‘And what gives men the right to treat women like that?’ Kilt asked. ‘The next thing you’ll tell us is that highland fathers plot behind their daughters’ backs to marry them off to merchants twice their age just so they can get out of …’ She caught herself, a look of alarm on her face, as if she’d said something she didn’t want to reveal.
Sara reached towards her sympathetically. ‘I’m so sorry. It must have been terrible.’
Kilt shrugged her away and folded her arms across her chest. She stared off into nowhere, seething with barely controlled rage. ‘My sad excuse for parents tried to sell me off like a horse,’ she muttered, then smiled coldly and looked at her friends. ‘And that’s why I’ll never go home again.’ Her gaze rested on Roland. ‘Well, go on, aren’t you going to say something smart?’
Roland’s expression was one of genuine compassion. ‘No.’
Kilt snickered. ‘I never thought I’d live to see that day. Now stop looking at me like I’m some charity case.’
Caspan finally had a piece of the puzzle of Kilt’s past. It revealed why she hated her parents, and he sympathised with her. But it didn�
�t provide an answer as to why she disliked footpads so much. Hopefully, with time, she’d also reveal that, allowing Caspan to bridge the gap between them.
There was a moment of awkward silence before Shanty cleared his throat. ‘I can’t join the boys either. In spite of being such a commanding presence, I am a dwarf. And dwarves, like women, are not allowed to join Caledonish armies. Personally, I think it’s because we’re too handsome and will put the brutish warriors to shame.’ The friends laughed, glad to have the tension broken. Shanty cut off a slice of lamb and pointed it at the boys. ‘And you won’t be sneaking inside the fort. It’s too heavily guarded. You can’t run the risk of being spotted.’
Roland frowned. ‘Then how are we going to do it?’
‘You’ll walk through the front gate,’ Shanty replied, as if it was the most logical thing in the world.
Roland nudged Caspan, rolled his eyes at the treasure hunter and whispered, ‘I think he’s lost his mind.’
Shanty smirked as he proffered the chunk of meat at the friends, who declined. He shrugged before shoving it into his mouth. ‘There’s a lot to learn from foxes,’ he mumbled.
Sara cocked an eyebrow. ‘Foxes?’
Shanty waited until he finished chewing. ‘Foxes are the most amazing animals. Very clever things, they are. You see, when they want to steal a lamb, they don’t go charging at the flock. That would only cause the sheep to bolt, and then the fox would have to run down its prey. Foxes are far sneakier than that. What they’ll do is walk slowly towards the sheep, giving them no reason for alarm. They’ll wander right in amongst them, building their trust. Then, just when the sheep are happily grazing – snatch! The fox pounces on a lamb. It’s an instant meal, with minimal effort.’
Roland tapped the side of his nose. ‘Hence the expression “as crafty as a fox”.’