by Adam Carter
Heading west, they took the path away from the soldiers. They were so close to their goal now it would be foolish to throw it all away by letting down their guard.
Continuing down the hill, they came to a small stream and followed it, knowing it would lead them roughly to where they wanted to go. It was not long before the rising and falling hills led them without warning into the company of two soldiers headed their way.
For a moment all four individuals stopped, dumbfounded by what was before them. Then the soldiers reached for their weapons and Asperathes leaped, slashing upwards with his sickle and slicing one man a nasty blow across his belly and chest. The other soldier swung a sword at him, but Wren blocked the attack with her own blade, an inch before it would have taken out the apepkith’s eye. Shoving him back, Wren dropped into a defensive crouch.
The soldier charged and Wren span, kicking his legs out from under him. The soldier landed hard on his back and Wren was upon him in a second, binding him with small sections of rope she kept upon her person entirely for that purpose.
Asperathes looked down upon the man he had himself wounded. Blood soaked through the somewhat feeble armour he wore and Asperathes gave him a mild nudge with his foot to make sure the man was not faking. The soldier gasped in shock and pain, his eyes wide as he failed to understand what was happening to him.
“Stop that,” Wren said, dropping beside the soldier and tearing off his armour.
“Pardon me for wanting to stay alive,” Asperathes said, backing away.
Wren worked quickly and silently. The man’s injuries were not as severe as they could have been, which was evidence of Asperathes’s slow reactions. There was a time when Asperathes would not even have frozen, but would have sliced the man in two before the soldier even realised he was there. Now he was partnered with someone who insisted on administering aid to felled enemies whenever she could.
Watching her work, Asperathes had to admit the captain did a good job of binding the wounds. Once she was finished, she did not even tie the man’s hands as she had done with his companion.
“If we leave them here,” Asperathes said, “they’re just going to alert their regiment that we’re in the area.”
“Not once you’ve worked your magic.”
Asperathes was getting tired of her calling upon his magic. In truth Asperathes knew only the one spell, and that he claimed had been taught him back in the dungeon by a faerie named Kastra. The spell he knew required asphodel petals, concentration and the right words. Its effect was one of forgetfulness, which had proved handy over the past few months. In truth, there was no magic to the ‘spell’, for Asperathes had learned long ago that the correct application of herbs could fool the foolish into believing he knew something of magic.
The spell took moments to cast, and as they looked at the bleary eyes of the two soldiers, Wren removed the rope from the one she had bound.
“See?” she said. “No need to kill the people I intend to work with once this is over.”
“Forgive me if I don’t much care about killing the soldiers of the baroness. Present company excepted, of course.”
Wren ignored him.
“Won’t he wonder how he was wounded?” Asperathes asked as they moved off. “And how he was bandaged up?”
“One of life’s mysteries, Asp.”
It did not take them long to reach their camp, nestled in a cave at the base of the hills. As they walked in, the sunlight was cut off, but Asperathes was still able to pick out the forms of Sergeant Canlin, Mannin and Valok.
“Asp, you’re all right,” Mannin said, relieved.
Wren cast him a wry smile.
“You ran into trouble?” Crenshaw asked, making Asperathes jump; he had forgotten the old solider liked to hang around the cave entrance in case their visitors turned out to be unfriendly.
“Nothing worth mentioning,” Wren said. “We got a look at the castle. There’s some work being done on the south side. Looks like someone attacked the place a while back and it hasn’t all been put back yet.”
“That’s our way in,” Crenshaw said. “Serita, can you get us inside?”
“My face isn’t exactly welcome around the castle any more, Joe.”
Asperathes had to laugh at the way things had turned out. They may have been after different things, but they were all outlaws. “No one’s likely to recognise you,” Asperathes said. “The problem’s going to be getting me and Crenshaw inside.”
“I keep saying I can mask you,” Valok said. A sorcerer in his sixties, Valok could be easily disguised with a simple change of attire. The others could be disguised similarly, aside from Asperathes and Crenshaw. There were few, if any, snake people in the baroness’s army, so Asperathes would be noticed immediately, and Crenshaw was a problem because of his arm. A long time ago he had served the baroness, but during his service he had picked up several scars and a terrible injury which mangled his right arm, rendering the limb useless and emaciated. Since he was the most wanted man in the kingdom, putting a uniform on him would not offer much of a disguise. Valok had offered numerous times to enhance the disguise with his magic, although Asperathes was extremely wary of risking it.
“Any magical disguise would be picked up by the baroness,” Asperathes reminded him. “I think she stopped being entirely human a long time ago.”
“You’re not staying here in this cave while we do all the work,” Valok said.
Crenshaw grunted, which was his response of choice these days. “Like I’d trust you people to get this sorted without us.”
“Still don’t trust us, Crenshaw?”
“Still don’t have a reason to, Valok.”
“Much as I love this team-bonding,” Asperathes said, “could we perhaps not kill each other before we get inside the castle? The baroness has enough soldiers perfectly willing to do that for us, and I can only imagine she’d be in hysterics if she found our corpses in here with our hands round one another’s throats.”
The last twelve months had not, needless to say, been the easiest of years.
“We’ll do our part, Asp,” Wren said. “And I for one trust both you and Crenshaw to do yours.”
Crenshaw grunted again, but Asperathes knew the man well. He did not like Valok or Canlin, probably did not think that much of young Mannin either, but he respected Captain Wren and knew that if she planned to betray him she would be decent enough to tell him about it beforehand.
“Then we’re all set,” Asperathes said. “Captain Wren, you take your people and sneak in through the south entrance. Crenshaw and I will have to find our own way in.”
“And what way would that be?” Wren asked.
“The only thing that will work,” Crenshaw said, “because we know it worked the last time.”
Asperathes frowned, then realised what he meant. “You’re talking about a full-frontal assault, aren’t you?”
Wren’s eyebrows rose. “You’re mad, Joe.”
“It worked last time,” Crenshaw repeated.
Asperathes considered the matter, then shrugged. “If nothing else, it will cause a distraction for you people to enter through the south. Count me in, Crenshaw.”
“And me,” Valok said. “I won’t be able to go through the south way. Even if you disguised me as a soldier, I have a magical aura about me the baroness may be able to detect. I can better serve you by being a part of the frontal assault.”
“If you do that,” Wren said, “you could be killed.”
“Anything we do in that castle can kill us, Captain. Besides, you have to remember, Crenshaw and Asperathes have attacked the castle before.”
That made Asperathes laugh: it was a laugh which did not fade when everyone looked at him. “Well,” he said, “at least history will repeat itself. A soldier, an apepkith and a sorcerer attacking the castle. Exactly the same as last time.”
“Only this time,” Valok said, “it will be a male sorcerer attacking.”
“Yes,” Asperathes reflect
ed, “it was before, too.”
Valok shook his head, as did Wren: these days they took a lot of what Asperathes said as mental games. If they paid closer attention they may have one day realised much of what he said was actually the truth.
“We have a plan, then,” Wren said. “And, if everything goes sour, see you on the other side.”
For a moment it looked as though Crenshaw was going to say something soppy, but thankfully he did not embarrass himself.
“We should all get a good night’s sleep,” Valok said, “and attack at first light.”
First light, Asperathes reflected, or the dawn of their deaths. He chose not to say this aloud: he had a feeling they might once again assume he was not being literal.
CHAPTER TWO
They did not keep their heads down as they walked, but nor did they make eye contact with anyone. Mannin remembered the day she had been posted to Captain Wren’s regiment. It had been a happy, proud day, despite her fellow academy graduates sniggering at her. Wren was seen as a failure because she had not been able to capture the three most wanted fugitives in the land, but no one seemed to take into account the amount of bounty hunters who had also failed to do the very same thing. Unlike most of those hunters, at least Wren was still alive to try again.
Mannin had never lost her love for Captain Wren, and what they were doing presently only made her prouder.
There were hundreds of people working on the south side of the castle, with a vast number of soldiers patrolling the area. There were so many bodies in the area that Mannin would not have been surprised were she, Canlin and Wren able to slip through without anyone even glancing their way, for they were simply three ordinary soldiers going about their business. It was strange to think that after all this time at odds with the baroness’s troops, the three of them could just walk right back into the castle and no one would notice anything was wrong.
They spied a sergeant and Wren and Canlin saluted smartly, stopping until the man had passed. If it galled Wren to salute sergeants as though they were her superiors, she did not show it, but Wren would do anything for the baroness and Mannin was glad she had lost none of her patriotism over the past year. It would have been so easy to have thrown her lot entirely with Crenshaw, to turn her back on her duty, but Wren had never faltered. There was an evil within the castle and Wren intended to destroy it, saving the baroness and making them all heroes.
Wren did not like that word and had once chastised Mannin for using it. But that was what they would be, and Mannin could think it all she wanted, so long as she never said it aloud. Come the end, there was a chance they might even all receive medals.
What would happen to Crenshaw and Asperathes was another matter, but if the baroness was feeling especially grateful she may grant them some leniency. That was, of course, beyond Mannin’s decision.
They were almost into the castle when Mannin was stopped by a man twice her age and size. “Where are you going?” he asked.
“Reporting to Grey Regiment, sir.”
“Good. Captain Arrow’s not going to miss you for a while, I’ll square it with him later.”
Mannin cast a nervous glance to Wren and Canlin, neither of whom had stopped, for they did not want to be delayed along with her. “I think Captain Arrow wanted to address the whole regiment, sir. He had some important news.”
“He’s retiring. News over, now it’s old. Come with me.”
Mannin fought for an excuse, but there was nothing she could do which wouldn’t cause a scene so she complied, following the large man as he led her to one of the work crews. There was some form of argument going on, with a group of urchins rattling off a series of snorts and chirps their porcupine-like species was famous for. Mannin had not had much contact with urchins and whenever people mentioned them to her she always thought they were talking about children of the street. Urchins, however, were a proud species, quiet and often dignified.
It seemed the baroness had subcontracted to a group of urchins, probably because they were cheap labour that loved working nights, when there was not so much activity about the castle.
“Uh,” Mannin said, “sir? My urchinese isn’t too great.”
“Doesn’t matter. They want to see someone in charge.”
“I’m not in charge.”
“They don’t know that.”
“Sir, you’re a captain, sir.”
“And I’m too big. Urchins respect stature, but not the way we do. You’re young and you’re short, so they’re going to listen to you. Just stand there and look imperious and I’ll translate what you say.”
“What do I say?”
“Whatever you like. I’m going to translate it to what I want, I just need you to stand there and look short.”
“Pretty, sir. Stand there and look pretty.”
“All right, stand there and look arrogant.”
“Stand there are look arrogant, ma’am.”
“Don’t push it, soldier.”
Mannin shut up. The captain launched into a series of grunts and snorts, only some of which Mannin could comprehend. She understood the captain’s reasoning of wanting her there, but he had chosen a very bad time. She tried to look back to the castle without making it obvious that was what she was doing, but Wren and Canlin were already out of sight. They would continue with the mission and she would just have to catch up whenever she could. At least her cover had not been blown, she thought while she stood there and looked short.
“Look more imperious,” the captain told her. Mannin straightened her back and raised her chin, which caused the urchins to lose some of their bluster as they turned away their eyes. The captain’s voice became calmer, and from what little she could pick up of the dialect she was under the impression he was pretending to be doing them a favour. The urchins were clearly being extorted as a labour force and were probably being paid in worms or something. That was one word she had heard the captain use, although she could not quite make out the context. The urchins could have been asking for fatter, juicier worms and all they were being given were grubs. Mannin felt sorry for them and wondered how long this sort of thing had been going on for.
She thought through the words and phrases she knew of the urchin language, working out whether she knew anything which might help. The problem was she could understand more than she could speak, which left her only a few words she could actually form into words.
“Yes,” she said in urchinese.
The urchins stopped talking and looked at her. The captain tried to glower, but couldn’t well do that if he was pretending she was his superior. It was then that Mannin realised she could have a little fun with this. If she and Wren were reinstated in the baroness’s army, this could backfire, but until then she may as well enjoy herself.
“Yes,” Mannin repeated. The urchins chattered excitedly and the captain tried to say something, but Mannin raised an arm to cut him off. “Yes,” she repeated, staring at him, her chin raised.
She sought desperately for another word she could say, but her tongue was stumbling over all the grunts.
It was, however, enough, for the urchins picked up their tools and went merrily back to work. It was somewhat anti-climactic, but at least they were happy.
“Having fun?” the captain asked her.
“Yes?”
The big man grinned and slapped her on the back. “I don’t know whether you’re an idiot or just arrogant, but that was a fine piece of work, soldier. Thanks to you, those porcupines will be getting big fat worms.”
Mannin was pleased she had achieved that for them.
“Which saves us having to pay them,” the captain said. “Ha! Paying your labour force in worms, that’ll do wonders for our overheads.”
The captain walked off happy and Mannin could not have felt more miserable. She had been lucky with Captain Wren in that Wren always at least tried to do the right thing. Mannin was not naïve enough to believe people were inherently good, but it still saddened her to lear
n her superiors were so without morals.
She put the urchins from her mind when she saw people running, others looking confused. As a group of soldiers rushed past her, she asked what was happening.
“Commotion at the main gates,” came the hurried reply as the soldier did not stop. “Someone’s attacking.”
So it had already begun. The attack upon the castle was underway, which meant Wren and Canlin would be moving as quickly as they could to their target. If Mannin wanted to be of any help at all she would have to catch up to them.
Slipping into the castle amidst so many other soldiers, Mannin was instantly lost.
CHAPTER THREE
There was very little in life that Jobek Crenshaw truly hated. He did not hate the castle, did not even hate the baroness who owned it. He did not hate the fates which had played him to their tune, did not hate those who had betrayed him over the years. Hatred was a futile pursuit, one which Crenshaw had never understood. It was therefore without hatred that he stood before the castle, intending to force his way in to kill the baroness. He could not speak for his companions, but Crenshaw was there because it was necessary for his survival. He would have been perfectly happy sitting in a bar, drowning in a bottomless tankard, but the baroness would never have left him alone long enough for that. Then of course there was Moya to consider.
They had walked steadily and were now facing the main drawbridge of the baroness’s castle. It was a high-walled imposing place, but the drawbridge was always down in order to allow trade through. Beyond the barbican lay the courtyard, and it was beyond this that they would find the baroness’s tower. Entering the castle itself would be easy, but getting close to the baroness was going to prove the difficult part.
“You don’t look nervous,” Valok said from beside him.
Crenshaw glanced his way. He should have hated Valok, but he didn’t. Beside the sorcerer, Asperathes was readying his sickle, keeping his hands occupied so he would not have to think about what they were on the verge of doing. They were both afraid and Crenshaw almost envied them. Being afraid would have been an indication of being alive.