When they reached the beginning of the garden wall, Mordon leaned against its cool stonework and talked in a louder voice. He had given the names of Simper and Drake to her yesterday, although it seemed like a week ago. He purposely put both their names into conversation, just in case she was around to hear. “We are going to stand right here and talk about the garrison, Simper. If you have any questions, Drake, jump right in at any time.”
That was what they did, and the memories of the two soldiers brought laughter even to Drake. Five minutes of reminiscing was all Mordon felt he needed to accomplish. The woman was smart, and would quickly recognize these two extra voices as his friends. If she was elsewhere, well then, the pause had been good for all three of them.
Mordon held up his hand in the moonlight that had crept into the alley where they stood. It was quiet, and then the woman spoke in a natural voice from the opposite side of the wall.
“The tower may be out-of-bounds for me now.”
Her voice sounded disappointed to Mordon, but it was also tinged with acceptance. Mordon watched Drake move uncomfortably in the starlight. The three men listened when she continued.
“I understand the connection you have more than you might realize. If you, Mordon, wish to continue what we have started, you know where I dwell.”
Silence reigned in the moonlight. That was something else Mordon would have to figure out if Simper or Drake chose to leave the tower by the roof. Maybe he could fix the door, it was unlikely either Simper or the old man would dare venture into the dark chamber mid-way down the tower steps. Mordon waved the two men forward. He led them through the rear supply door. Simper was just as familiar with this path as he, and perhaps more so. They came to the entry foyer and walked on out the front archway onto the large entry stoop and on down the steps to the courtyard. It surprised Mordon when Simper made no comment about the cleanliness of the castle floors. But it was possible, and probable, this was the first time in two years Simper had walked through the castle. Mordon did not stop until climbing the stairs in the guard tower and across the wall walk. When he reached the cistern tower, he pointed down at the grate, which shown clearly in the light of the moon. Mordon jumped down and landed with a thud on the shelf.
Simper sat on the edge, and then swiveled to hang from the wall and dropped the distance; bending his knees as he struck. His arrival had been much quieter than Mordon’s. Drake looked down, clearly hesitant about dropping so far; his bones were probably a lot more brittle then the two rugged soldiers. Simper motioned him forward with his hand. The old man finally gave in, and tried to repeat what Simper had done with success.
Mordon reached through the grate, pulled the bar free, and lifted the grate against the tower wall. Simper was astonished enough to ask a question. It was the first anyone had spoken since leaving the garden wall.
“Where the hell are you taking us, Mordon? I’ve worked and lived around this castle for nigh forty-five years. I’ve seen this grate, but never thought twice about it being an entrance to anything. I figured it for a gutter for the cistern.”
Mordon had to grin, “Just wait Simp . . . my castle awaits just a few steps from here.” Mordon explained what was below, and where they needed to go when they descended into the alley. Simper climbed down without further question. Drake was quickly on his heels. Mordon followed, lowered the grate, and forced the bar, locking the grate. By the time Mordon reached the ascending ladder, the other two had already climbed up. He could hear Drake’s comment.
“It’s dark as the tunnel we been liv’n in. I ain’t able to see ah thing.”
Simper’s voice came to the smiling Mordon, “Shut up, lad, and step away from the ladder . . . give the man access to his home.”
Mordon’s head came above the stone floor shelf inside the tower. He could hear Drake taking tentative steps in the direction Simp must be standing. The routine was so ingrained in Mordon, he had a candle lit in seconds. Mordon felt a wave of pride, and lit a dozen of his candles. When he turned, the two men were gawking at the space inside the tower. Both their jaws were dropped in surprise. It took nearly five minutes before either of them said a word. Their heads swiveled in one direction, and then the other, taking in what Mordon had done to the inside of the tower. Granted . . . the dozen candles created only a low light, but everything could be seen within the interior of the tower. Surprisingly, Drake had something good to say.
“Ain’t seen nothing like this . . . you been living like the king did when he was alive.”
Mordon smirked, but did not respond. It did make Mordon smile when Drake fell back into his normal caustic way of communicating.
“Geesus Simper, why you been make’n us live in the tunnels when we could have been liv’n like this above ground?”
Mordon watched Simper shake his head before answering.
“Lad . . . there isn’t another place like this in the city. We could have searched years and not found a place like this.”
The old soldier turned to Mordon and smiled.
“You’ve got two exits I can see. In the tunnels, we had dozens.”
Simper must realize that more exits meant more entrances for intruders. It was obvious he was trying to defend himself. Mordon did not want to take the decisions Simper had made and make him look foolish. The man was anything but unwise. Mordon made the effort to reinforce the decision that had led Simp into the tunnels. It was really his only choice to settle there. “Simp’s right about the tunnels, lots of ways out, and easily defendable from those who are not familiar with the bends and windings. There are several chambers suitable to take up housekeeping. The wells are plentiful in their supply of water; completely protected from above.” Mordon thought of the powder, but did not ask if they kept using the water in their subterranean home. “This place has water, but only the two exits. I’ve had to live like a ghost trying to keep this place a secret; not easy in the few buildings still standing in Widley.”
The look on Drake’s face indicated he had made salient points. Simp’s face showed thanks, and vindication of his choices. Now they were here, they needed to make some adjustments to the sleeping quarters. Mordon hated the idea of giving up his bed. The effort of getting it here was worth the comfort it had given him the last two years. The bed had been one of his first acquisitions. He still was prideful of his efforts at keeping himself clean enough to even use it. Drake must have been reading his thoughts.
“I can’t sleep in a bed like that. Give me some padding on the floor and my bones will be happy.”
Mordon watched as Simper walked to the edge of the bed, and reached out his hand to touch the comforter. His hand stopped without experiencing the silken fabric.
“I’ve been sleeping on padding for a long time.”
Mordon realized the man was trying to find an excuse not to indulge in such luxury. Mordon knew if he lived in the tunnels, they would have to be ready to move in an instant’s notice. Having something like an actual bed would be impossible. Maybe they could find enough padding they could at least be more comfortable than in the tunnels. These two were apparently the only ones left of Simper’s men. Otherwise there would have been more than the two trying to win back their food supply. “Tell you what . . . there is a pile of clothes beyond the bed on the shelf. Take what you want for padding,” in afterthought, “and any clothes you think will fit or make you more comfortable. Wherever you want to find space for sleep is fine with me.”
Both men walked around the four-posted bed, exchanging glances at the other and at the immense pile of clothes. Drake, true to form, made a comment that brought another smile to Mordon.
“Gees us Mordon, you could open ah damn clothing shop.”
While the two sorted through the material in the pile, Mordon took three of the candles and set them on the table. The maps brought a sense of wellbeing to Mordon. He drew the chair under him, and gave the map he had com
mitted to memory a cursory look. The names and locations were still strongly imprinted in his memory. His heart beat a little more strongly knowing someday he would ride . . . or walk . . . the areas of this map. Mordon glanced up to see both men carrying armloads of clothing to different areas of the shelf.
The only reason he would change whatever choice of location they made for a bed was if it interfered with his normal paths. It might take them a while, but they would have to learn the same paths he had. They needed to quickly learn where to move in complete darkness without making any undue sounds.
Mordon leaned back in his chair, and watched Drake make his nest of clothing just to the left of the shelf holding the candles . . . the old man was out of the way. He was initially surprised to see Simper going through the same process against the stone wall under the high landing. When Mordon thought more of the location the older soldier had chosen, it made sense. Simper was only steps from the alley, and equal distance to the bottom of the stairs; smart man, ol Simp. Mordon had placed the bed in the tower long before he built the steps. He had further to go to reach the alley, but a shorter distance to the steps. Mordon hoped it would be a superfluous concern where they slept. Scatley’s numbers would be the only way they could be trapped in the tower.
When the two men finished with their beds, Mordon explained his shower and showed them the barrels of food. Both men reached into the barrel of salted pork, and snacked on a salty piece of meat as they followed him around. Drake, always paying attention to detail and cognizant of his surroundings, asked him a question.
“The roof over the cistern an bed made sense, but where did the bats go?”
“If you look closely to the roof over the space between the clothes and the food, you will find a lighter area of canvas.” To stay further questions about the bats, “I got tired of cleaning up after them and plugged the hole.” Simper was not going to be left out. His comment nearly fell on the nail head.
“Maybe, boyo, you didn’t want the lady to wade through bat dung in her visits.”
Mordon did not make comment. So what if it was true? Telling these two men he was lonesome enough to desire the company of bats to being totally alone sounded crazy. Mordon just shrugged in the light of the candles. He needed to make one thing completely clear, “The voice you heard coming from the garden was just a voice,” he grudging admitted, “one I like. But if you saw the form of the wraith, or the more believable form of the woman, and either one of them saw you in return, you will be dead within seconds. She is not in control of what she does. If her master sees another victim through her eyes, their lives are immediately forfeit. I . . . .” Mordon was interrupted by Simper.
“How can a real flesh and blood woman turn into a wraith?”
The expression on both faces wanted Mordon to answer that question. He wanted to be able to answer the same question himself, but could not. Mordon squirmed on the chair in which he sat with impatience. He had forgotten about interacting with other people. Having been alone for so long, their simple questions, well not so simple, were like the stinging ants he had patiently suffered under the pile of stone. No matter how irritating their questions seemed now, he knew their presence would be a benefit to their future . . . at least he wanted it to be so. “How far away is the moon? Where is the man who ravaged this city? Is Scatley going to come crashing into this tower in the next second?” This was futile. Why take out his frustration of not knowing the answers on them? “Guys, I do not even know the woman’s name. I have only known her for three days. There are a lot of things she has not talked to me about. It took most of that time for her even to trust me enough for us to speak together for only a matter of minutes at a time. If we can keep what is happening from her master, then maybe she will not kill me.” Mordon paused in thought, and then considered the faces of both men, stopping to concentrate on Simper’s face. He thought Simper would understand better than the older man. “I am taking what the woman and I share one day at a time, even one hour at a time. Maybe it was wrong to put the two of you in this position, but I don’t think so. You are a lot better off here than wandering the city with her master looking for people to kill.”
Mordon kept after them relentlessly, it was important they moved with the same understanding of the situation. If any of them were to survive her presence in the city, it would be because they completely understood and accepted her limitations. “It is imperative you do not initiate contact on your own. If she does not know beforehand of your arrival, she won’t be able to protect you. It’s best to let her come to us in darkness.” Mordon began rubbing his forehead with his fingers. All this talking, and trying to explain something he really did not understand himself, was giving him a headache. Drake commented when he lifted his head.
“Gees us . . . maybe the forest is the better place to be. At least, the damn wolves and bear can be fought off if’n your smart. Be’n aroun your friend is like jump’n off a cliff expect’n you’ll be safe at the bottom.”
Mordon joined Simper in a good laugh. Drake apparently could not find the humor in his comment, and remained surly.
“You two birds are ah plac’n ah lot’a trust in sump’thin Mordon here says don’t even have control over their own actions.”
Mordon did not want to argue the relevant points Drake had brought out. The man was right. It was a crazy position to place them in, but in his heart, Mordon knew this tower and the woman were the right answers to the dilemma of Widley. “Look at it this way, Drake. The woman is willing to be our guardian angel if we are prudent enough to follow a few rules.”
“Well, I’ve been live’n with one fool, I might as well join another. It seems kind ah idiotic trust’n ah woman killer.”
Mordon stood tipping over the chair, in three steps he towered over the much smaller man. This wasn’t going to work if he had to listen to this old man berating the both of them. The woman may be a killer but so were both Simper and I. “Simper may accept your surly disrespect, but I will not. You call me a fool one more time . . . I know where there is a good start to a pile of bodies, it won’t bother me in the least to add yours.” Mordon stepped back and took a deep breath, this was not going to help anything. “Whether you believe it or not, you are safer here than anywhere outside this tower, there is food and ample clean water, plenty of clothes for the cold months, and decent company. If you want, you can move right back out and take your chances with Scatley’s men and the wraith. Simper and I have a lot of catching up to do, and you are welcome to join us.” Mordon pointed at Simper, “This man has been a father to me, so don’t expect me to have much patience with a caustic old scarecrow of a man I don’t know.” Mordon watched Drake rub his chin. There wasn’t a drop of fear in his face, but at least he was considering amending a portion of his attitude towards the two of them.
“Tis about time one of you leather soldiers put me in my place. I been wait’n for Simper to set me straight, but he was will’n to put even my company ahead of my mouth. Anybody who has figured out how to survive the whirlwind of destruction that took place is alright in my book.”
Mordon watched the old man extend his hand, and he took it in his once more. This old bird might be a good friend sometime in the future. Mordon released the hand and stepped to the alley entrance. Dim light was showing on the flagging of the floor. Morning had arrived while they had ironed out their positions in the tower. Ignoring the two men, Mordon went about his routine in preparation for sleep. He noticed they started doing the same thing in their own way. By the time Mordon pulled the comforter up under his chin, without guilt, the others were blowing out the last of the candles and had taken to their beds.
Mordon voiced a soft warning, “She may change her mind about visiting us in the tower at some point. If it feels right to you, ask what questions you may have. Just remember she has killed more men than any of us individually, and probably more than us combined, so I would be careful what subjects
I broached.” He knew they heard him, and their silent response spoke well of their character. Maybe what he had said would make them think before asking stupid or dangerous questions.
The feeling that came over Mordon in the darkness was one he had not experienced since living in the barracks. He had to admit, it felt good to know there were others close at hand. In the old barracks, they had only bunks and a footlocker as their personal space, but there had been the overpowering sense of oneness, or at least it had felt so to Mordon. The presence of these two men brought back that feeling; two whole years of being alone and now awash with the intangible sense of camaraderie. It was like sleeping in the protected arms of a mother or father. All the men had been his protectors and his family. Mordon went to sleep with a smile on his lips for the first time in longer than he wished to remember.
CHAPTER 9
Mordon awoke to the mumbled sounds of men talking. He quickly realized it was neither of the two men housed in the tower with him. Someone placed a hand on his shoulder and shook, in a quiet attempt at awakening him. He whispered, “I’m awake . . . who do you suppose it is?” As soon as he asked the question, he knew it had been a dumb question to ask; only men left were Scatley’s. Only vaguely could Mordon see the man standing by his bed. It did not matter which of the two men it was. Mordon swung his feet off the bed and slid into his boots. The armor and sword, with sheathed knife, found their way onto his upper body and waist in practiced efficiency. Without saying anything, he quietly strode to the alley and kneeled, listening.
“It won’t budge capt’n. The grate looks to be welded to the stone.”
The voice that came next must have been coming from a man standing upon the wall walk; softer and slightly more distant than the first.
“It doesn’t matter corporal . . . it is probably just a rain gutter. Get back up here and go help the men moving into the castle.”
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