Devil's Night Dawning: The First Book of the Broken Stone Series

by Damien Black

That did little to settle Hettie’s nerves as they stepped through the doorway. On the other side of the door was a great ring of rusted iron – wide enough for two to grasp it at once. They had to shoulder their packs and squeeze together side by side at the top of the stairwell to pull the door shut behind them. Fortunately Goriath had also thoughtfully installed sconces for their tapers just inside the door.

  The door closed with another smooth click. Hettie wrinkled her nose in disgust as she caught the foetid air.

  ‘I hope Goriath remembered to design air holes – I don’t fancy choking to death underground!’ she said.

  ‘Of course he did,’ replied Adhelina excitably. ‘Look, you can see them at regular intervals going down the shaft! You can even find them where they exit on the hill up above if you care to look for them – only a genius like Goriath could have worked out how to design such things!’

  ‘A genius – or a black magician,’ muttered Hettie disconsolately. ‘Let’s be getting on – the sooner we’re back outside again the better I’ll like it!’

  Taking the tapers the two damsels began their descent. The spiral stairs descended for what seemed like an age to Hettie. Sure enough, Goriath had built small apertures at regular intervals in the shaft down which the crooked stairs now took them, but all the same she began to feel dreadfully claustrophobic. The deeper they went the warmer and danker the air became; were it not for her veil Hettie felt she would have been gagging by the time they reached the bottom, where a tunnel stretched ahead of them.

  This ran level at first before inclining upwards at a steady gradient. The tunnel walls were earthen but supported by stout beams that appeared not to have been worn away by time. Once or twice she thought she caught a glimpse of some peculiar markings on them; weird alien characters that made her feel uncomfortable. Her muffled breathing sounded loud and ragged in her ears, and Hettie had to summon all her fortitude not to succumb to panic.

  If her mistress felt anything similar she gave no indication of it. When they got to within thirty paces of the exit they began to feel a cool breeze; this steadily strengthened as the tunnel continued to rise. It terminated at a great round door fashioned of bronze. There was no discernible handle.

  Adhelina stared at the door, her face buckled up with consternation.

  ‘What is it?’ hissed Hettie behind her.

  ‘I completely forgot – the exit door can only be opened by a secret catch as well!’

  ‘Well, surely you knew that! Didn’t Berthal tell you?’

  Adhelina shook her head dolefully. ‘When we first got on to the subject he said the secret exit had two doors operated by hidden mechanisms – but he only told me where the first one was! I was so enthralled by that, I completely forgot to ask him about the second!’

  ‘Oh, what do we do now?!’ Hettie wailed, raising her voice for the first time since they had left their chamber.

  ‘We don’t panic is what,’ answered Adhelina irritably.

  But Adhelina wasn’t really annoyed with Hettie. In truth it was herself she was angry with – how could she have been so stupid? In her desire to escape she had seen only what she wanted to, and forgotten any detail that might cause her to hesitate.

  Forcing herself to remain calm she bent to examine the round bronze door. It was smooth and polished: like the oak beams that supported the tunnel it had withstood time far better than it should have done. All around its circumference could be seen more eldritch markings: probably the sorcerer’s script, part of the ancient language of magick first taught to men thousands of years ago by the Unseen.

  That made her extremely reluctant to touch them, but screwing up her courage she did so, gingerly poking and prodding for any signs of another secret catch or lever.

  All to no avail. After a while she turned to face Hettie, her heart sinking.

  ‘I can’t find anything!’ she said. She almost felt like crying. They had come so far, everything had worked out so well...

  ‘But... if we can’t get out, that means we’ll have to turn back,’ said Hettie in a small voice. ‘The guards – how will we explain...’

  Her voice trailed off as they stared at one another helplessly. Their torches were starting to burn low.

  ‘Do we have any more tapers?’ Adhelina hissed. Hettie nodded, opening her bag and rummaging around until she found a fresh pair. They lit these off the old ones as they considered the problem.

  ‘Try to think,’ Hettie urged her. ‘What did Berthal say to you exactly?’

  ‘I don’t recall,’ replied Adhelina. ‘It was several years ago. He said something along the lines of “there are two doors at either end of the secret tunnel, both of which can only be opened by a secret catch”. Then he told me about the catch on the first door, but he never mentioned anything about the second one. Oh, how could I be such a fool as to forget something like that!’

  Hettie looked deep in thought now. Suddenly she looked up, a fresh light in her eyes. A light that said something had dawned on her.

  ‘But wait...’ she said hesitantly. ‘That just doesn’t make sense.’

  ‘What doesn’t make sense?’ This time Adhelina tried to mask her irritation. She had expected something better than that.

  But Hettie obviously had something on her mind. ‘Did Berthal say the second door could be seen from outside?’ she asked.

  ‘Well of course not – a fine secret escape tunnel it would be if everyone could see it!’ barked Adhelina, exasperated. ‘No, on the other side this will be covered with sward, it’ll be a seamless part of the rest of the hill. To all appearances at any rate.’

  ‘Well... then it definitely doesn’t make sense.’

  ‘What doesn’t make sense? Hettie, you’re not making sense – please explain yourself!’

  ‘Well, picture it if you will, m’lady – you’re a lord whose castle is under siege and you’ve decided to flee as a last resort. Of course no one can know how to open the first door because you don’t want people pursuing you, assuming they find out where the secret door is in the first place. But why put an inside lock on the second door?’

  Adhelina shrugged. ‘An extra precaution I suppose – in case pursuers find their way through the first door and chase you down the tunnel.’

  Hettie shook her head. ‘Begging your pardon m’lady, I may not have your book learning but that just doesn’t ring true – what if the catch broke? If that happened on the first door you’d still have the freedom of the castle at least, but if it happened down here you’d be stuck! And you’ve searched the thing high and low – there’s clearly no hidden catch!’

  ‘But Berthal said – oh, Goriath was canny beyond mortal ken, he must have hidden it somewhere... perhaps in the tunnel walls.’ Adhelina began casting around frantically, her sputtering taper painting frightful shadows on the unrevealing earthen walls.

  ‘Goriath for all his powers was a man when all’s said and done – and so is Berthal,’ said Hettie, her voice unusually firm.

  Adhelina stared at her. ‘So what are you suggesting? That there’s no lock on this door at all? We simply push it open just like that?’

  ‘Well, it might be worth pointing out that we haven’t even tried to push it open yet...’

  Adhelina turned back to face the door. It looked heavy-set enough, sunk into the damp earth like the head of a giant tent peg.

  Yet still, what harm was there in trying?

  ‘All right,’ said Adhelina, handing her taper to Hettie. ‘Step back and give me a little more room. I’m going to try.’

  Adhelina was strong for her sex, but she was expecting the door to be a stout obstacle. She gawped as it gave way after a few moments of pressure, opening on concealed hinges that behaved as though freshly oiled. The night air rushed in to greet them, and both women blinked as stars greeted them across the darkened firmament.

  ‘I don’t believe it,’ breathed Adhelina. ‘You were right and Berthal got it wrong! I don’t know what to say!’

  ‘B
erthal doesn’t know everything,’ replied Hettie archly as they stepped out. ‘He forgets a lot of things, according to the castle knights I’ve spoken to... He’s a good and faithful servant to your father, but he’s seen more than seventy winters! You just don’t remember things so well at that age.’

  ‘No, I don’t suppose you do!’ replied Adhelina, beaming. ‘But come, let’s be off! First let’s close this door...’

  The door had brought them out at the southern tip of the hill on which the castle stood, just as Adhelina’s map had said it would. When it was shut it was as though it had never been there.

  ‘Well, let’s hope the last part of our escape plan is as successful,’ said Adhelina, holding her taper aloft. ‘Come on, it’s this way to Merkstaed!’

  The streets of the town were dark when they reached it, all its occupants having said their prayers and gone to bed. A drunk lurched out at them from an alley as they were making their way across the deserted town square, but he was too far in his cups to do more than harass them with incoherent remarks.

  All the same, Adhelina was anxious to not to linger in Merkstaed. Footpads had been known to prowl its streets at night, although the town watch would most likely keep that from happening. But of course, in their present circumstances, running into a bunch of guardsmen could prove just as catastrophic.

  They reached the Flying Fish without further incident. The stabling yard was dark but Hettie had memorised where the ostler’s sleeping quarters were. In any case she didn’t have to venture in to wake him, for he stepped out to greet them looking haggard and tired.

  ‘Well there you are,’ he muttered irritably. ‘I was wondering whether you were going to turn up! Missing a well earned night’s kip for you!’

  ‘Your services are being paid for in full,’ Hettie reminded him, putting on her haughty voice again. Adhelina could not help smiling behind her veil. Though her lady-in-waiting was a noblewoman, she was on the very lowest rung of her class and seldom put on airs and graces.

  ‘Aye, speaking of which...’ The ostler extended a grubby hand for the rest of his pay. His eyes gleamed in the moonlight. Adhelina disliked him immediately.

  ‘Let us have our horses first – then I will pay you the remainder,’ replied Hettie.

  ‘Oh aye,’ he smirked, ‘of course, my lady – or should I say my ladies...’

  Adhelina felt a surge of anxiety as the ostler fixed her with a gimlet stare, before turning abruptly to fetch their horses from the stable.

  No, surely he could not have guessed...

  Adhelina had little time to voice her fears to Hettie, for the ostler soon returned with their horses. They appeared to have been kept well. Leading them out into the yard he stepped up to Hettie and extended his palm again.

  ‘Another five silver marks, that was the price we agreed,’ he said.

  ‘Here,’ said Hettie, pressing the coins into his hand. He glanced at them and smiled a gap-toothed smile before putting the jingling coins casually in his pocket.

  Adhelina was about to step over to a horse and mount when she heard an altogether different sort of jingling behind her. Whirling around she saw two soldiers of the watch, dressed in rude mail. Their swords were drawn, their unhealthy-looking faces cruel and greedy beneath their pot helms.

  ‘Ah, that’ll be my friends from the watch,’ said the ostler breezily, before addressing the new arrivals: ‘I was wondering when you would turn up as well! Good job you’re all as bad at timekeeping as each other, or that might have scuppered my plans.’

  ‘You said they was high-born ladies, Reefe,’ said one of the watchmen, addressing the ostler as they stepped into the yard. ‘And high-born ladies always keep folks waiting. Well now, my fine dames, Reefe here tells me you’ve been wanting to leave town in the dead of night. Strange that you should wait a fortnight to do that – sounds to me like you’ve had your hands tied.’

  ‘My companion has had to wait for me,’ Adhelina said quickly, using the cover story she and Hettie had rehearsed in case the ostler should ask any awkward questions. ‘I am not minded to disclose the reasons for my delay to common guardsmen. Now if you’ll stand aside - ’

  The watchman who had spoken favoured her with a gap-toothed grin of his own. In the mingled light of the flaring tapers and wan moonlight they looked a foul pair of rogues. Every watch had its rotten apples.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ he sneered. ‘Any woman who goes about at night veiled and hooded like a common footpad don’t deserve to be treated as no noblewoman, if y’ask me. Besides that, Reefe here tells me you’re a merchant’s lass – that might make you rich, but yer still a commoner.’ He inched forwards.

  Hettie rounded on the ostler. ‘What is the meaning of this, you churl?’ she demanded, genuinely angry. ‘We paid for your silence!’

  The ostler appeared unruffled. ‘Indeed you did, my lady,’ he replied in his mocking voice. ‘And I reckon them as can afford to pay ten silver marks for a man’s silence and service have a lot more than that stashed away on their persons!’

  ‘I’ll see you hang for this, you rogue!’ Hettie spat.

  ‘Begging your pardon,’ interjected the watchman, as he and his silent companion advanced towards them. ‘But it seems to me as if it’s you who’s on the wrong side o’ the law – we’ll find out what crime you’re running from, after we take the rest o’ your coin.’

  Without warning Adhelina flung her taper at the watchman’s face. He lurched out of the way, but it gave her the moment she needed to dash towards the horses. Following suit, Hettie lunged at the ostler with her own torch. He gave a yelp of pain as she caught him a singeing blow across the eyebrow, forcing him to let go of the horses’ reins.

  That was all the advantage she gained. Bounding over, the silent watchman seized her by her cloak and flung her roughly to the ground. The other closed in on Adhelina as she tried desperately to mount one of the horses, and grasping her by the arm he pressed his sword to her throat.

  ‘I wouldn’t be trying any of that, your ladyship,’ he leered at her.

  ‘Ho there, men of the watch, what is this now – surely not arresting respectable ladies in the middle of the night?’

  The voice was strange, high-pitched yet rough, and thickly accented.

  The five protagonists turned to look at the newcomer. Dressed in a brown cloak and hood and brigandine and vambraces of studded leather, he cut a short, nimble figure as he strolled lightly from the inn towards them. A sword was girt at his side and a poignard sheathed at his boot. His face could not be seen beneath his hood.

  ‘Get back inside yonder inn,’ growled the watchman, still holding Adhelina firmly. ‘This is watch business, and none of yours, mercenary!’

  ‘As to that,’ replied the stranger, taking another step towards them. ‘I still don’t see what business the watch has arresting two defenceless women at this time of night.’

  ‘Good folk have no business being abroad at the Wytching Hour, veiled and cloaked, that’s why!’ snarled the watchman, turning the blade of his sword towards the cowled freesword. ‘Now get you gone, before I arrest you too.’

  ‘Perhaps you should,’ replied the foreigner breezily, taking another step. ‘After all here I am, also abroad at the hour of darkness, my face concealed.’ He spread his arms invitingly.

  ‘Right, if that’s how you want to play it,’ snarled the watchman. ‘Reefe! Stop crying over a woman’s blow and grab hold of her! Derk, you can have the honour of gutting this foreign pig if he resists arrest!’

  The watchman named Derk grinned evilly at this and advanced towards the hooded stranger. Reefe grabbed hold of Hettie and pulled her up from the ground, pinning her arms behind her.

  In an instant the stranger’s sword was out of its sheath, its gently curving blade displaying a razor edge that was anything but gentle.

  Not a sword, Adhelina thought momentarily, a falchion – a rare weapon in these parts.

  Without taking his eyes off the slowly adv
ancing watchman the outlander crouched in readiness for him but addressed Adhelina: ‘You there, with the other watchman – why are you being arrested?’

  ‘No reason other than to rob us,’ Adhelina shot back, hope of rescue rising in her as her quick mind assessed the situation. ‘This lickspittle ostler has obviously taken them into his confidence. We need to get out of the country – if you help us I can promise you a rich reward, far greater than any mere coin we carry.’

  The foreign freesword parried the watchman’s first crude stroke, nimbly stepping to one side and launching a lightning riposte. The startled guardsman only saved himself by lurching clumsily backwards. That bought them more time to talk.

  ‘Very well, what guarantees can you give me of this reward?’ said the mercenary, without taking his hooded eyes off his assailant.

  ‘None,’ replied Adhelina firmly, ‘but I can pay you a handsome sum now if you’ll deal with these guards without killing them or waking up half the town.’

  ‘Damn your eyes, shut up!’ snarled the guard holding Adhelina, pressing his blade against her neck again.

  But the brief exchange seemed to have made up the foreign fighter’s mind. Stepping in lightly he goaded Derk into attacking again, a clumsy lunge that he evaded easily before stepping within the hapless watchman’s guard. Grasping his sword arm firmly at the elbow, the hooded foreigner brought the pommel of his falchion round into the side of his head just below the helm with a resounding crack. Adhelina could not help wincing as he fell to the ground like a sack of turnips.

  Cursing, the other watchman let her go and dashed towards the mercenary. Crouching low he waited for him to close the distance between them... and in a whirlwind of motion he had spun around behind the watchman with breathtaking speed, striking him senseless with another pommel-blow to the back of the head.

  With scarcely a pause for breath he turned and advanced on the ostler, who was holding Hettie before him.

  ‘I’ll yell for the rest of the watch,’ he said hesitantly, clutching her tightly.

  ‘All right,’ said the freesword. ‘No need for that. After all we can always rob the ladies and share the spoil ourselves. Not convinced? Here, look, I’ll put my sword down...’