The Brotherhood (The Eirensgarth Chronicles Book 1)

by Philip Smith

  “Are you okay?” she asked in a hushed whisper. He slowly sat up, staring at his feet. In answer to her question, he pulled the end of the rope out from under himself and let the broken piece of oak dangle in the air.

  “Secure? Right,” he huffed. “Last time I take that giant’s word for it.”

  “Well, it did hold him, so I’m not sure what that says about you,” she smiled, taking hold of Robert’s forearm and hauling him to his feet. Twostaves jogged over as quietly as he could, still producing a thudding vibration in the earth below Paige’s feet.

  “If you two are set, we have some work to do,” Twostaves said. “Let’s pray Duelmaster plays his part well.”

  ◆◆◆

  Duelmaster’s good-natured demeanor was completely suppressed under a cloak of cold, clammy fear. He breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth, reminding himself to channel that fear into being cautious and attentive to his surroundings.

  At present, he was positioned outside the small gatehouse and wall between the battlements of the outer fortifications and the wall separating the barracks from the rest of the city. He wore the black robe Jesnake had used last night but he kept the hood off so it looked like a normal peasant’s cloak. Instead, he wore a wide-brimmed felt hat over his shaggy brown hair and sat in the driver’s seat of a cart they had “commandeered” an hour or so ago. He’d waited till they were well into the night to put his part of the plan into action, after the second blast for the changing of the guard had echoed across the city.

  “Ok. Deep breath. It’s not like the lives of all of your best friends rest on your ability to play your part. Nothing to fret about,” he assured himself. He picked up the slack in the reins and urged the horses onward.

  A company of six soldiers manned the gate, though none of them stood there now. Instead, they enjoyed the warmth of the small guardhouse and, by the sound of it, also enjoyed several mugs of warmed ale. Duelmaster screwed up his nose in disgust. Even with extra guards on watch this night, they were still some of the most undisciplined ruffians he’d ever seen. No disciplined army would allow its pickets to touch a drop of alcohol, but he was glad this one did. It made their evening much easier. Feridar had not met a foe who could best him in battle, and so the outpost became lax in military protocol. Duelmaster said a silent prayer of thanks that this cocky attitude mixed with mulled ale might be the key to the Brotherhood pulling off this rescue.

  The dryad drove the cart up to the old wrought-iron gate with a click of his tongue, keeping his hooded head low and out of the torchlight. A lone soldier, a low ranking officer by the looks of his turban, stumbled out of the lit doorway and slammed it behind him. He dragged himself up to the cart, leaning heavily on a spear as if it were a crutch.

  “Ho there! Just where do you think your going?” he slurred, grabbing hold of the front wheels. Duelmaster could smell the yeast on his breath, so he spoke slowly.

  “Good evening, sergeant,” he said, noting the circlet of gold around the man’s bare forearm. “I’ve fodder for the prince’s steeds.”

  “Delivering in the middle of the night?” the soldier said. His bloodshot eyes blinked excessively as he scowled at the cloaked dryad.

  “Well, I know it’s a bit late. Been some trouble on the roads, you know, what with those bloody highwaymen. But the master won’t care about that. He’d likely beat me if he found out I waited till tomorrow to deliver.”

  “Not my problem,” the man spat. Duelmaster pulled out a wineskin and shook it in the air for the Shaud to see.

  “I’ll make it worth your while,” the dryad said. The soldier stared greedily at the wineskin, then glared again.

  “I’ve half a mind to search your cart,” he slurred, jabbing an armored finger at the pile of hay.

  “I’d wager you do,” Duelmaster grabbed a coin purse from under his robe. “So to hurry this along, and I can sweeten the deal.”

  The soldier blinked again as the bag of coins fell at his feet. Duelmaster held his breath, and extended the wine skin, glancing nervously at the closed guardhouse door.

  “There will be more where that came from, I assure you, sir,” Duelmaster said.

  The officer waited a moment, then took the wineskin and scooped up the coin purse.

  “I want you out of here within an hour. Got it?”

  “Naturally, sergeant.”

  The officer opened the gate, and Duelmaster quickly drove through to the other side. He heard the man uncork the wine and take a long swig. He waited a moment, then heard the man spew the liquid from his mouth with a disgusted retching sound.

  “What kind of bitter garbage is this?” He threw the wineskin onto the dirt.

  “Oh, blast!” Duelmaster slapped his forehead in exasperation. “I must have given you the one I laced with that stupid sleeping powder.”

  The soldier opened his mouth to say something, but then slumped into the cold muddy roadway. Jesnake was right behind him, a large rock in his hand.

  “Good call,” Duelmaster said. “I wasn’t sure if the potion would take effect soon enough to do any good.”

  The elf nodded, reaching down and grabbing the spear off the ground. He quickly padded over to the guardhouse door and used it to deadbolt it in place so those inside wouldn’t be able to get out, even if they were sober enough to stand up straight.

  “Let’s move,” the western elf whispered, knocking on the side of the cart twice. Broadside popped out of the hay, coughing through the mist of dust. He rolled out of the back of the hay wagon and landed on his back.

  “Oh, good heavens,” he heaved.

  Jesnake shushed him with a wave of his hand. “Help me drag him over off by the guardhouse,” the elf commanded.

  The dwarf obliged, leaning the man against the side of the small hut, arranging the wineskin in his hand to make it look like he’d merely slumped over and passed out. They both clambered back into the cart and Duelmaster urged them onward. He looked around wearily, but there wasn’t a sound to be heard, save for the wind that blew through the small peach trees scattered about. Duelmaster loved peach trees; they reminded him of the maiden dryads back home that lived in them. Those maids were considered by most of the dryad race to be the softest and most beautiful of their kind. But Duelmaster could tell these trees were the trees of men. They had no spirit in them, and his heart ached to know why.

  He took a deep breath and quietly drove the wagon down the east side of the inner wall towards the mighty aqueduct. He had one more role to play tonight, possibly the most dangerous. He was the distraction.

  They wheeled the cart to the eastern side of the palace and backed up into the shadow of the outer wall. He stopped the cart and took a deep breath. Scanning over the quiet courtyard, Duelmaster satisfied himself that no one was around. He softly caressed the side of the cart.

  Tap, tap, tap-tap.

  Instantly, the bottom of the cart fell open. Dinendale, Broadside, and Jesnake rolled to the shadowy packed earth. All three had drawn bows, and looked around in a triangle formation, covering all their sides.

  “Ah-CHOO!”

  “Broadside!” Dinendale snapped.

  “I’m sorry,” the dwarf wheezed out a whisper. “Hay fever is terrible on dwarfs. I can’t help it.”

  “We need to get to the cistern,” Dinendale urged. “You think you can handle the water Broadside?”

  “Handled that serpent in the water just fine, if you’ll recall.” The dwarf’s face was still noticeably pale even in the patchy moonlight. A toll of thunder rolled through the valley, echoing off the stone structures of Aschin. The group made their way to the huge stone pool that lay against the secondary battlements. The wall for the cistern sat as tall as Broadside with several clay pipes running along the wall to the rest of the city.

  “Okay, this is where we should find the floodgate,” Woodcarver said. “But since it’s under water I’ve no idea if the others have gotten to open it yet.”

  “Here’s a br
ight idea, morons,” a voice spat in the dark. “Why not ask?”

  The group tensed, looking at the stone wall where the voice originated.

  “Robert? Is that you?” Jesnake called in a hushed tone.

  “No, string bean,” the voice muttered sarcastically. “This is the captain of the guard.”

  “Don’t do that!” Jesnake heaved, releasing the tension on his string. “I could have shot you!”

  “Seeing as there is a four foot stone wall between us,” Robert commented, “I count that as highly unlikely.”

  “Perhaps next time, I’ll do it just to prove you wrong,” the elf hissed.

  “Enough already,” Dinendale snapped. “We don’t have forever. Tie up the horses, Duelmaster.”

  “Over here,” Robert’s voice instructed. “By the cistern wall, there’s a small hole.”

  Dinendale and Duelmaster saw the small passage through the wall. The dryad smashed his face up against it and could see Robert’s eyes on the other end.

  “Gotta have a way to communicate to the men running the cistern floodgates, I imagine,” Robert explained.

  Duelmaster nodded. “You can open it from that side?”

  “I think it is open as far as it will go. Twostaves is holding it just to be sure,” Robert offered.

  “We’ll be there shortly,” Duelmaster said, swinging his leg over the short wall. From their vantage point it was impossible to tell how deep the cistern was, but they had no other options. The dryad took in a huge gulp of air and slipped down into the icy water.

  The cistern was murky, but Duelmaster could still make out the shape of a large set of iron doors at the bottom which lay open outwards into the basin. The collection tank was a lot larger than he had originally thought, dipping down at least three fathoms. He could feel the slight current the distribution pipes were causing but easily swam to the bottom and made his way past the iron doors. Within a minute, his head rose from the water on the other side where Robert stood with an outstretched had to haul him up over the lip of the cistern. The dryad shook himself like a soaked dog, drenching Robert.

  “Thanks,” Robert growled as he wrung out his tunic. “Not sure why you dried off, though. We’re just going to get wet again.”

  “And miss that precious look on your face? In your dreams,” Duelmaster countered.

  Shortly after, Broadside bobbed out of the cistern like a cork, sputtering and making an obscene amount of racket. After him came Jesnake, Woodcarver, and Dinendale.

  “I’m so glad I’m going with you, Duely,” the dwarf sputtered as he positioned his helmet on top of his soggy head. “I’d rather face a hundred soldiers than swim another cistern.”

  “Be careful what you wish for, Master Dwarf,” Woodcarver flexed his gloved hand.

  The five waded through the man-made stream to a grate that flowed under the final wall through the rusty iron grate. Twostaves and Robert stomped against it together until it bent and crumpled like a spider on a candle flame.

  “Alright, everyone ready? Duelmaster?” Robert dusted off his hands.

  Duelmaster looked at Twostaves and Broadside, his two compatriots for the next phase of the plan. The giant and the dwarf nodded, and the dryad drew his rapiers from their home on his back.

  “Well, boys, I believe there are some stables and gates that need visiting,” he said nodding his head southward towards where the rowhouses and barracks lay. The others agreed.

  “Try not to cause any mischief, alright?” Paige urged.

  Duelmaster smirked. There was no sense making a promise he had no intention of keeping.

  ◆◆◆

  “You’re sure they can handle the rest of the plan?” Paige asked Dinendale as they watched the dryad, the dwarf, and the giant slip into the darkness.

  “We don’t have another option. I’m sure they’ll do fine.” The elf began to slide forward in the trough of water. He poked his head through the hole in the grate to see the palace.

  “Oh, thank the Creator. The trough runs straight into the palace,” Dinendale sighed. “At last some good luck for a change.”

  “Don’t get too comfortable. We don’t know what that channel leads to. Could be a storehouse or even the keep’s garrison,” Woodcarver cautioned. Jesnake murmured an agreement, stowing his bow and drawing to knives from his belt.

  Dinendale sat like a child going down a hill in a sled and then propelled himself to the the other side of the wall. Paige followed suit, the water shooting her forward faster than she’d anticipated. She sped along the trough like a bolt from a crossbow. Her feet hit Dinendale’s back as they propelled across the courtyard, and she bit her lip as she saw him flinch from the impact. Through blurry, water sprayed eyes, Paige saw a couple guards standing at the palace’s front staircase. She bit her lip, praying that they wouldn’t turn the wrong direction and see them scurrying into the drain like a pack of sewer rats.

  “Duck!” Dinendale hissed. Paige dropped onto her back just in time to miss the stone archway leading into the palace wall. The channel immediately dipped to a steep angle, and the pair of them shot into a dark black abyss. Paige’s heart leapt into her throat. She landed with a splash into a basin that was hip deep. Paige scrambled to her feet to keep her quiver and sword out of the water as she stepped over the edge of the basin. Feeling her way down to the floor, she crouched on the cold damp stone. She blinked to adjust her eyes, leery for any threat that might jump out at them in the darkness.

  There was no sound in the emptiness, save for the dripping of water. Dinendale crawled out of the basin. Robert, Jesnake and Woodcarver slid in right behind them, trying to keep their splashing to a minimum. Woodcarver muttered some elvish words in the darkness and a small green glow sprang to light in his fist. The green lumination emanated from the stone he held in his hand dimly lighting the room in a cool, soft glow.

  “Are you ok? Your back-” Paige whispered, but Dinendale hissed for her to be silent. The space where they landed appeared to be a large kitchen under the mof the castle, large enough to have at least fifty workers running around with ease. The chamber was strewn with small kilns, ovens, tubs of dirty dishes and counters of carved black marble. The basin was the primary water source in the room, with several steps leading up from the floor. At the far end was a large, carved door without a latch, allowing the servants and slaves to enter and exit with full hands.

  “Best be quiet,” Robert smirked. “No telling who might be sleeping down here.”

  They crept across the room to the door like a den of panthers trying to take down a buffalo. Robert cracked open the door and looked into the hall, insuring a clear pathway. He poked his head back in, looking at the others with concern and said, “There’s no one in the hallway, but we have a problem.”

  “What?” the other four demanded in unison.

  “Does anyone know which way the prison is?”

  “Into the mountain,” Woodcarver responded.

  “Yeah, but the hall splits three different ways, all into the mountain,” Robert said. “Which fork do we take?”

  There was a pause as the other four poked their heads out to examine the situation. Sure enough, the stone hallway split into three halls illuminated by the faint light. One branch went to the right, the other to the left, and one straight into the mountain.

  “Oh, dear,” Woodcarver said softly.

  “What should we do?” Jesnake asked.

  “Split up,” Dinendale said.

  “I thought you knew the layout?” Woodcarver snapped.

  Dinendale glared at him. “I was here when they laid the foundation. That’s all. We knew there might be a problem once we got inside. I’m as blind down here as you are.”

  “Then splitting up is the only option we have,” Robert said. “We can do two pairs and one of us will have to go alone.”

  “I’ll go alone,” Jenake volunteered. “I’ll be a lot quieter by myself if I don’t have to worry about who’s with me.”

  “
Fine, Jesnake take the center. Robert and I will take the left,” Dinendale said.

  “I’m not leaving the princess,” Robert argued.

  “She’ll be safer with me,” Woodcarver countered.

  Dinendale looked at Paige. “What do you think?” he asked.

  Paige glanced down the dark hallways. “I think we don’t have time to squabble over picking teams. I just want to find Olivian,” she said. “I’ll go with Robert. You stay close to Woodcarver. There. Everyone happy?”

  Woodcarver took the stone in his hand and forced it into three pieces, passing a piece to Jesnake and another to Paige.

  “Let’s make a plan to meet back here within the hour. Leave your stone in the water basin to let everyone know you made it back and made it out if you get the princess before the other groups make it out.”