'It was good,' said Rayster, 'but I needed to leave room for the apple pie. My friend tells me it is magnificent.'
'Aye, the wife is a fine pastrycook and no mistake.'
Kaelin paid for the meal, adding two daens 'for the cook'.
'Good of you,' said Grabthorne.
Kaelin tucked into the apple pie. 'I don't know how you can eat at a time like this,' said Rayster. 'My stomach is shrunk so tight I doubt I could swallow an apple pip. Are you not at least a little frightened?'
'I'm not usually frightened when I eat,' said Kaelin, with a smile. 'There is not much danger at the moment. Ask me again when we reach the gatehouse.'
'I will probably have other matters on my mind around then,' said Rayster.
The two clansmen were the last to leave the tavern, and Kaelin led Rayster into the shadows of an alleyway overlooking the gates. The sentries had still not been changed. The two men waited silently. At just after midnight two more guards appeared, had a brief conversation with the men they were replacing, then entered the gatehouse.
'Now?' whispered Rayster.
'Wait awhile. Let them settle down and become bored.'
'By heaven, you are a cool one, Kaelin Ring.'
Kaelin did not reply. He did not feel cool. His heart was beginning to beat faster now, and tension was tightening his belly. Taking his money pouch from his pocket he tipped out the coins into his hand. Pocketing most of them, he put several chaillings and daens back into the pouch.
Another hour slowly passed. Small groups of soldiers continued to return to the keep. Kaelin noted that the guards did not bother with passwords. Easy to be complacent when five thousand fighting men were stationed in and around Black Mountain.
'Now,' said Kaelin, and strolled across the open ground. Rayster followed him.
Kaelin crossed the drawbridge and reached the wrought iron gates, which were now closed. 'Hello the gatehouse,' he called softly. A soldier appeared.
'What do you want?'
'Mr Grabthorne sent us. One of the soldiers left his money pouch at the Dancing Bear. I am to return it.'
'Hand it through, then.'
'Mr Grabthorne asked me to fetch a signed receipt, and see the money counted.'
'You don't trust me?'
'Of course I trust you,' said Kaelin. 'You are a soldier of the king. 'Tis Mr Grabthorne who doesn't trust me. He counted it out before I left.' He reached into the pocket of his dark coat, producing a bottle of uisge, which he uncorked and sipped. 'Ah,' he said, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. 'Twenty-year-old single malt. Nothing like it.'
'Damn, but that's too expensive for the likes of common soldiers,' said the man.
‘I’ll share it with you while you count the money,' offered Kaelin.
The soldier slid back the gate bar and ushered them inside. Kaelin walked into the small gatehouse. A second soldier was sitting at a table there, a deck of playing cards spread out before him. The first guard explained to the man about the money pouch. Kaelin passed the uisge bottle to him, then tipped out the contents of the pouch onto the table. Both guards sat down, their eyes on the silver and copper coins glinting in the candle light.
'Must be near five chaillings here,' said the second guard. 'I'd like to know how a soldier came by five chaillings.'
The first guard pulled the money towards him, and began separating the coins. Kaelin glanced at Rayster and nodded. Then he dipped his hand into his pocket, curling his fist around the hilt of a knife. Rayster moved closer to the table, looking as if he was reaching for the uisge bottle.
Kaelin's blade came clear of the pocket. With one swift movement he rammed it into the throat of the first guard. Rayster plunged his knife into the neck of the second. Kaelin's opponent struggled to rise, blood pumping from his severed jugular. He fell across the table. Kaelin caught him, lowering the body to the floor. The second soldier was grappling with Rayster. They kicked over a chair. Kaelin moved in, stabbing the man twice more in the back. He made a gurgling noise then fell into Rayster's arms.
'Strip them of their armour,' said Kaelin, kneeling beside the first corpse and swiftly unbuckling the straps of the black breastplate.
Within moments the two clansmen had donned the breastpfates and black leggings and shirts of the dead beetlebacks. Rayster struggled into the larger of the boots. They were still too tight. He stomped his feet. 'This is uncomfortable,' he said.
Kaelin heard a rapping at the gates. Rayster jerked. 'Stay here, and pull those bodies behind the table,' said Kaelin. Lifting a round black helm from a hook by the door Kaelin donned it, then stepped outside. Three soldiers and an officer were standing there.
'Password?' asked Kaelin.
'Just open the bastard gate,' said a drunken soldier, his voice slurring. 'Do I look like a sheep-shagging clansman?'
'My orders are to ask for a password,' said Kaelin.
'And quite right too,' said the officer. 'The password is Valhael.'
Kaelin pulled back the bar, allowing the men inside. 'I don't know you,' said the officer, peering at Kaelin in the moonlight.
'I'm with Lieutenant Langhorne and the Fifth, sir,' said Kaelin smoothly.
'I didn't know the Fifth were operating within the barracks.'
'I was only told this morning, sir.'
'Very good. Stand easy.'
'Thank you, sir,' answered Kaelin, copying the salute he had seen among the soldiers at Ironlatch.
The officer walked away. The drunken soldier remained behind, leaning against the gatehouse arch. 'You made me look bad, you prick,' he said. 'I shan't forget it.' He pushed himself away from the wall, half fell, then righted himself. Staggering off across the parade ground he called back: ‘I’ll remember you!'
Kaelin returned to the gatehouse. 'You man the gates,' he told Rayster. 'If anyone asks you are from the Fifth and your officer is Lieutenant Langhorne. Ask for the password, which is Valhael. You understand?'
'Aye, I heard you talking to the soldiers.'
Kaelin strapped on a sabre, and slid his knife into his belt. 'See you in a while,' he said.
'May the Source make that true,' replied Rayster.
Kaelin Ring strolled across the parade ground towards the keep. The main doors were open and he stepped inside. The clerk's desk was empty now, but he could hear the sounds of men in the mess hall above. Moving behind the clerk's desk he climbed slowly down the circular stair beyond. It was unlit and he placed each boot with care. The lower steps glinted with reflected light and he paused momentarily.
If there were two guards he might just be able to kill them before they either raised an alarm or made enough noise to alert other soldiers. More than two? What if there were four or five? Kaelin's mouth was dry. However many were waiting here he would walk in and take them on. It would be better to be dead than to know he had failed Chara. He leaned forward to peer along the dungeon corridor.
One guard was asleep, his head resting on a table, his unbuckled breastplate on the floor beside him. Kaelin could see no-one else.
Taking a deep, calming breath he moved silently down the last of the stairs and eased his way towards the table. The man was snoring gently. Kaelin stepped behind him, drawing his knife. The blade was razor sharp, and it slid through the flesh of the man's throat without at first waking him. Then the pain cut through his dreams and he jerked upright, opening his eyes. Blood pumped from the wound, drenching his shirt, and he slumped forward once more.
There were twenty dungeon cells. Half of them were open. Lifting the lantern from its wall bracket he ran to the first locked door, sliding back the metal grille and shining the lantern inside. A white-haired man was asleep on the floor. One by one Kaelin checked all the dungeons. Three times he had to open the doors, for the occupants were not in sight of the grille. In the last he saw a sight which would haunt him for years. A man was lying unconscious on a pallet bed. He had no hands or feet, the stumps having been covered with black pitch. His eyes had been put out. He m
ade a low moaning noise as the dungeon door swung open. The sound was barely human. Kaelin heaved the door shut.
The horror of what he had seen did not register at first. What did was that this was the last locked dungeon, and neither Chara nor Wullis Swainham was here.
He had failed.
Kaelin struggled for calm. His plan had worked perfectly to this point, and he had penetrated the keep without being caught. Yet it was all pointless now. He tried to think clearly. If she was not in the dungeon of the keep, where would she be? Were there other cells? He had no way of knowing, and the thought of failure was bitter.
Then he heard sounds upon the stairs. Kaelin swore softly and ran to the dead guard, grabbing him by the arms and hauling him from his chair. Swiftly he dragged the body into one of the empty cells. Moving back into the corridor he saw that blood had drenched the table and the floor beneath. The dead guard's cloak was hanging on a hook. Wrenching it clear he draped it over the table, just as two guards came into sight, half carrying a prisoner. The soldiers were not wearing breastplates or swords, though both had sheathed daggers at their waists.
The prisoner was Chara. Her face was swollen, the lower lip split and bleeding. Her clothes were torn, the leggings half open at the waist, exposing her belly and right hip. Anger flowed through Kaelin, but he fought for calm.
'Where is Bay?' asked one of the guards.
'He had a bad throat,' said Kaelin. 'I'm standing in for him.'
'Your lucky night,' said the second. 'You get a nice piece of a highland arse. Course it comes used, if you know what I mean.' The man laughed. Kaelin saw Chara's swollen eyes open, and she looked up at him.
'It is your lucky night too,' he told the guards, moving closer. 'But not all luck is good.' As he stepped in he put his hand behind his back, drawing the knife from his belt. Chara began to struggle. Both men looked away from Kaelin. The knife plunged into the chest of the first, passing between the ribs and skewering the heart. Chara rammed her head into the face of the second man. He staggered back. Releasing the knife Kaelin drew his sabre. The man let go of Chara and turned to run. Kaelin caught him, bearing him to the ground. The soldier's face struck the stone floor, smashing his teeth. He cried out. Kaelin dropped his sabre and knelt on the man's back, his hands tight around the guard's throat. The soldier struggled for a few moments, then went limp. Kaelin did not move, and continued squeezing the throat until he was sure the guard was dead. Then he pushed himself to his feet.
Chara was sitting on the floor, her back to the wall. 'We must get out of here,' he said. 'Can you walk?' He reached for her.
'Don't touch me,' she snapped. She closed her eyes and drew in several deep breaths. 'I can walk.'
Kaelin lifted the gaoler's breastplate from the floor. 'Get into this. I will buckle it.'
'I can do that myself,' she replied, her voice cold and distant. Kaelin lifted the blood-drenched cloak from the table.
'Tie this on. It will not pass close muster, but the guards on the battlements may be fooled.'
Chara did so and Kaelin led her up the circular stairs, pausing in the doorway at the top and listening. There were still sounds from the mess hall above, but they were muted now.
'Let's go,' he said, moving out through the keep doors and onto the parade ground.
The walk to the gatehouse seemed interminable. He tried not to look at the sentries on the wall. Then he saw one of them wave. Kaelin waved back.
Rayster was waiting. He saw the injuries to Chara's face and his mouth tightened. 'They'll pay for this,' he promised.
'Some of them already have,' said Kaelin. Moving inside the gatehouse he tore off the breastplate and put on his black greatcoat. Then he retrieved his pistols, pushed them into his belt and stepped back out into the night. 'Now let's be gone,' he said.
Easing open the gate the three highlanders crossed the drawbridge and moved towards open ground. Kaelin's mouth was dry. At any second he expected to hear a sentry call out for them to stop. He imagined long muskets trained on them, lead shot ripping into flesh. Into his mind's eye leapt the image of the mutilated man in the cells. Kaelin shivered and walked on.
No challenge came from the barracks and the three highlanders disappeared into the alleyways behind the Dancing Bear.
Rayster and Chara ditched their breastplates in the alley, then Kaelin ordered Rayster to return to the wagon and head off towards the west. 'Chara and I will go directly south,' he said.
'Why south?' asked Chara.
'We will not have long before they find the bodies. They will expect you to run for home. That is where the search will begin. We will go south, and then turn west into the forest. It will be slower travel, but we have more chance of moving undetected.'
Rayster and Kaelin had bought supplies earlier that afterno'on, and Kaelin took a small sack of provisions from the wagon. Rayster gripped his shoulder. 'Good luck to you, Kaelin,' he said. Then he climbed aboard the wagon and flicked the reins.
Kaelin and Chara set off through the deserted night streets, keeping to the darkest places until they reached the edge of the town. The southern road was empty as they left Black Mountain. 'It would be good if we could run for a while,' said Kaelin. 'How is your strength?'
'Not good, but I can make a mile or two,' she told him.
Together they began to lope along the road. Ahead, just over a mile away to the right, Kaelin could see the dark outline of the forest. Fear was heavy upon him, for out in the open like this they could be run down by a horse patrol within minutes. He sent up a silent prayer to the Source and increased his pace. Only then did he realize how exhausted Chara was. She struggled to keep up, then stumbled. They had made less than half a mile. Kaelin dropped back. 'Let's walk awhile,' he said, glancing over his shoulder towards the town, expecting at any moment to see horsemen thundering into sight. How long would they have? It was unlikely the whole night would pass before a soldier spotted that no-one was guarding the gates.
They pushed on, running and walking. Chara did not complain, but Kaelin could see she was almost at the end of her strength. At last they reached the rising slope leading to the trees. Chara struggled on, then suddenly sat down, her breathing ragged. Kaelin knelt beside her. 'Let me help you,' he said, taking her arm. She snatched it back.
'I told you not to touch me.'
'Aye, you did. I understand why. And you should understand that it is stupid. I have strength and you do not. If we do not put distance between us and Black Mountain you will be back in that dungeon cell by daybreak.'
'They'll not take me alive again,' she said.
'Take my arm, Chara. Then it won't be me touching you, but you touching me. Use my strength.'
She hesitated for a moment, then hooked her arm in his. Smoothly he drew her to her feet, and they continued up the slope, and into the trees, where he finally allowed her to rest. There was no point pushing into the forest at night. The moonlight was thin, and obstructed by clouds. Here at the edge of the trees there was still some light, but if they moved deeper into the forest they would be stumbling in pitch darkness. Best now to wait for the dawn, and watch the road. Kaelin's fear was that the enemy would bring tracking dogs to the scene.
Chara lay down on the soft earth, covering herself with the blood-drenched cloak. In the faint moonlight he gazed upon her bruised and swollen face. These wounds were as nothing to those which burned like fire on her soul, he knew. Four years previously a highland woman had killed herself after a rape by beetlebacks. The young Kaelin had not understood her despair. He had voiced his confusion to the Wyrd one afternoon, in the woods just beyond Maev's house.
'Why would she do it?'
'I don't think any man can understand, Ravenheart,' she told him. 'It was not just the act of rape, which is evil enough. It was all the vileness that accompanied it; the fear, the self-loathing, the realization, maybe, that her life was not hers. Rape is the opposite of everything that love-making should be. Instead of being life-affirming it degrade
s the very value of life. Parsha Willets was raped many years ago. It still scars her.'
'Parsha? But she is a—'
‘I know what she is,' snapped the Wyrd. 'She sells her body for money. A man might therefore think that a rape would be a small matter for someone in her profession. It is never a small matter, Kaelin. Rape has little to do with lust. It is about domination and humiliation, the stripping away of dignity, the scarring of the soul. It is about pain. Parsha still has nightmares about it.'
'Does Jaim know?'
'No, and I will trust you not to speak of it to him. Jaim is a good man, the finest of the Rigante. His heart is huge, and he carries within him great magic.'
'Jaim is not a sorcerer,' said Kaelin.
'No, he is not. The magic I speak of is elemental. He does not know it is there. Grymauch lifts the soul, Kaelin. Have you not noticed how, in his presence, your spirit soars? He radiates all that is fine in the Rigante. He touches hearts. Were he to kno'w of Parsha's suffering he would set out to kill the men responsible. That would stain him. Parsha knows this also.'
'They should be killed,' said Kaelin.
'Maybe they should, Ravenheart. Maybe they will be.'
Now Kaelin sat at the edge of the trees watching the road. His heart was burdened, and he felt a great sadness overwhelm him. Before tonight he had killed only two men. Both had deserved it, for they had murdered Chara Ward. Yet what had the guards at the gatehouse done? They were merely soldiers doing their duty. Perhaps they were married and had children of their own. Perhaps they were good men. The sleeping gaoler might have been dreaming of his wife or son. At least the last two deserved their fate.
Curiously there was no sense of achievement, or exultation. He had walked into a fortress and rescued the girl he loved, and all he felt was a sense of melancholy. Kaelin looked down again at the sleeping Chara. Would her wounds ever heal? She shivered in her sleep. Removing the greatcoat he laid it over her. Then sitting with his back to a tree, he dozed a little, and dreamed of the man in the dungeon cell, whose hands and feet had been cut away.
The sound of hoofbeats on the road awakened him. Kaelin crept to the tree line and saw four riders moving at speed. They were beetlebacks. He waited until they had passed out of sight along the southern road. Were they searching for him? It seemed unlikely, for they were moving too fast to see tracks. Even so, their appearance brought back his fear of capture.
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