Chapter 42: Theme of the Advancing Army
Beyond the sheltering embrace of Alma-Kinan's dense tree cover, tall grass glimmered like jade and gold in the afternoon sun - a vast sea stretching to the horizon. This flat landscape, the Grasslands, spanned the distance between the woods and the canyon from which Brass Castle rose.
A small band of riders thundered across the plains, the hooves of their horses beating a frantic pace. Chris squirmed in the unfamiliar saddle of the Karayan plains horse. The way the animal shifted between her thighs, the way it reacted to her commands, it all felt awkward to her. She knew the war horses of Zexen, destriers trained for battle from the time they were foals. She knew their temperaments, their habits, their every subtle bit of body language. The Karayan steed was a stranger to her. There was no doubt the animal felt the tension in her body language and chafed at her blunt commands. But they would get acquainted, with time. They would both learn.
Three score riders accompanied Chris as they raced for Brass Castle. A few were her chosen companions – Lily, Yumi, who had proven their loyalty and bravery many times over. Another, Nash, rode by her side unbidden. She kept a close eye on the man. Chris could not deny the man's talents, but she wished fervently she could trust him.
The rest were Karayan warriors, riders who handled their light mounts as if they had been born to the saddle. These young men and women were handpicked by Lucia to form Chris's honor guard, and wore thick linen shawls wrapped about their torsos and heads, shielding their faces and clothes from inquisitive eyes. They wore daggers and short swords at their waists, and unstrung bows on their backs.
Together, they formed the initial striking arm of the alliance. Earlier that day, the Elders had capitulated to Chris's demands. As commander-in-chief of the alliance, Chris had then laid out her plan for how to capture Brass Castle. Their scouts had revealed the truth of her fears: the Harmonian army was already on the march and would reach the walls of the border fort within three days' time. But well before that, the Harmonian vanguard would set out for the keep. Light cavalry to clear the path, halt and slow the enemy advance, and reinforce the defenses of Brass Castle against the Grasslanders, if need be. Alron commanded the keep, and would raise its gates to the Harmonians. Chris did not expect such a warm welcome for herself and her companions.
A single chance to win: reach Brass Castle before the Harmonian vanguard.
The Harmonian light cavalry could maintain a rapid march, but Chris had one advantage. A small band of riders traveling swiftly from the edge of Alma-Kinan could beat the Harmonians to Brass Castle. All she needed to do was to prevent the defenders from raising the gates to the Harmonians. If Chris could cast out Alron and seize command of Brass Castle before the invaders arrived, she could shore up the keep's defenses, stall them long enough for the Grasslander army to reach the fortification. Against an advancing army at their rear, even the vastly superior Harmonian army had no choice but to retreat, or be caught between the hammer and the anvil with their supply lines cut.
It was the plan she had worked out with Caesar and Apple, and a plan they wagered Albert Silverberg would not foresee. But even should they reach the castle ahead of their enemies, their task would not be done. Chris had thought about simply riding up to the gates of Brass Castle, announcing herself, and demanding to be let inside. Such a bold move might have been viable in the past, but not now. The Chimera's magics had sown doubt and fear among her people. Many had seen the effects of her illusions first-hand, and had learned to distrust even their own eyes. With the not-so-subtle nudging of Alron to turn their minds, there was no guarantee the archers on the castle walls would turn her into a pincushion rather than raise the portcullis.
No, she had to do this the hard way. And when the prize was Brass Castle, the best fortified keep within a hundred miles of the western coast, the hard way meant the really hard way.
They were two hours' ride from Brass Castle when the ambush struck. Chris's first warning was the arrhythmic thwack of crossbow strings firing. A hail of bolts buzzed through the air like angry bees, and horses and men shrieked as quarrels struck home.
Chris ducked her head, shouting for her riders to rally. Anger flared up. A slight rise in the land, a wooded hill shrouded in dusk's shadows. She should have seen this coming. With a quick glance she assessed the situation. She saw one horse down, a rider trapped beneath it. Another horse thrashed nearby, its leg lamed by the bolt. Three more riders had been thrown from their saddles, winded or dead, their horses bolting free. At least a dozen bowmen sheltered among the woods, reloading their crossbows. Their second volley would strike true and mercilessly. A battle cry rose from the edge of the hill, and the thunder of galloping horses came to her ears. The Harmonians had seized the moment of chaos to charge them.
"Yumi!" Chris hollered. "Barrier!"
Yumi's hand shot up, lit up with the flash of her Earth Rune. The ground rumbled, and from the loam ahead, claws of earth pierced the earth, thrusting to a height of five feet. The wall ran twenty paces long. Harmonian horses shrieked and drew up short ahead of the obstacle, riders crying out startled commands. One horse leaped the barrier and landed uncertainly in the middle of Chris's group. The lone rider struggled to control his steed, but he was out of time. A Karayan blade took him in the neck.
"Keep your heads down!" Chris shouted. Their assailants broke like a wave against the earth barrier and split into two groups flowing around the rampart. She could hear the Harmonians rallying their charge. Staying low in the saddle against flitting quarrels, Chris spun her horse around to get a good look at her troops. "Rashya, dismount and ready your bows! Lannin, take your riders around the hill, hit those damned bowmen from the flank! Ylene, Harw, you're with me! Prepare to meet a charge!"
The Karayan warriors responded without hesitation, gathering the men and women under their command. The air filled with shouting voices: desperate commands, shrieks of pain, roaring battle cries.
Chris watched Lannin's riders disappear in the gloom, moving to entrap the enemy bowmen. She needed them to strike swiftly and decisively when the time came. For now, she had to prepare for the Harmonian cavalry to come around the earth rampart. She glanced at Rashya's archers, kneeling in the grass, deftly stringing their bows. She could hear the Harmonians' horses moving on the other side of the earth barrier. She had to buy Rashya some time.
Chris thrust her sword up. "Ylene, guard the right flank! Protect the bowmen! Harw, with me!" She spun her horse to their left flank, peered into the gloom around the edge of the barrier. She meant to meet the Harmonians head-on.
The invaders came flowing around the earth barrier from two sides. Chris focused on the soldiers charging against their left flank. She was only aware of the enemies on the opposite side by the sounds of crashing hooves and the clash of steel at her back. The Harmonians charged their ranks. The only option was a counter-charge.
Chris spurred her horse on. "For the Goddess and the Grasslands!" she hollered. She charged the approaching bowmen, trusting the Karyans at her side to follow. If not, the Harmonian charge would swallow her up, trample her beneath the hooves of their steeds.
Lily's clear voice cut through the air, bless her. The Tinto princess threw her horse into step with Chris and followed into the fray. Around them, Chris heard battle cries and horses galloping. Harw's warriors followed.
The Harmonian front ranks struck them like a crashing wave. A sword flashed in front of her eyes, and Chris flicked her blade, parried it. Another sword thrust at her side, and she caught the steel on her own. Her blade darted out on instinct and bit through the second assailant's throat. The dying Harmonian soldier disappeared into the confusion of the melee.
The riders danced around each other, horses and warriors mingling into a press of flesh. Chris turned back and forth in the midst of the chaos, sword raised. Now and then a Harmonian drew near enough to strike, but then retreated before she could lash out. Here and there an ally popped into her field of view, forcing to her stay her hand, with great effort.
A rider pushed through the throng from the Harmonian side. Chris saw him charge the backs of several Karayans occupied with fending off attacks from their front. Swords clashed. Chris nudged her horse forward, wove past several allies to spring free. The Harmonian rider had a spear in the pit of his arm, leveled like a lance against the unwitting Karayans.
Chris moved to intercept the charging spearman, fighting her own steed. The animal must be as frustrated as she was, neither understanding the other. But somehow, with one last effort, Chris spurred the horse out of the throng and lunged towards the spearman.
The spearman saw her at the last moment, and swiveled his mount to charge her. The spear's point came rushing towards her with the force and speed of a thrown javelin. Chris had time to gauge the spear's angle and the soldier's grip. At the last moment, she ducked in the saddle and pressed flat. She felt a draft as the spear passed over her back. Inches away. Room to spare. She had seen his grip was off. He did not have time to compensate for her sudden movement. Caught in the momentum of the charge, the spearman thundered into the press of the melee and went down in a flurry of flashing blades.
Chris turned to take in the battlefield. The Harmonians still swarmed around the sides of the earthen barrier. Bodies of horses and fighters littered the ground, some fallen on top of each other. Most were Harmonian. But it did not matter. At least a hundred men had been sent to ambush them, perhaps as many as two hundred. Chris glanced behind her, saw Rashya catch her eye and give a signal.
It was time to act.
"Rashya, ready your archers!" Chris bellowed. Seeing the nod in return from the woman, she turned to Yumi. "Shatter the barrier," she said.
Yumi's lithe fingers glowed a ghostly topaz, and the magic of the rune flared to life on the palm of her hand. She flicked her wrist towards the barrier. The earth shattered with a resounding crack. The loamy dirt dried up, turned ashen, and began to crumble. Within moments the formidable barrier had disappeared in a cloud of dust.
Chris raised her sword. From the thick veil of dust, she heard scores of Harmonians and their horses clamor in sudden blindness and confusion. Chris let her sword fall.
On that signal, Rashya let out a commanding shout. Two dozen archers released their arrows as one, sending a deadly volley through the dust. Screams filled the air—screams of men and horses both. Through the haze of the dust, Chris saw a horse rear up, buck its rider, and then spin and collapse with a heavy thud.
Volley after volley, Rashya's bowmen fed their barbed arrows into the massed Harmonian ranks. Arrow after arrow found flesh and blood, cutting down soldiers wherever they flew. As the dust began to clear, Chris got a sense of how much confusion her ploy had wreaked. In the dust storm, the Harmonians had bunched up, stumbled back and forth trying to get their bearings, unable to see which way is what, too fearful to race off in any one direction. Blocked by their comrades and unable to escape the throng, the horsemen would not have understood what was happening when the first volley bit into their ranks. By the time the air whistled with the second volley of arrows, they would have understood—but then it was too late. When the dust finally cleared, a few dozen riders guided horses among scores of dead and dying, trying to rally together for protection.
Chris raised her sword again. "Charge! With me!" She spurred her horse into a run.
Over a field of dead bodies, her horse leapt. The animal flared its nostrils in agitation, smelling blood. Chris clung to its back, stroked its coarse mane, and prayed the animal would not rear or slip in the middle of the treacherous, blood-stained ground.
The Harmonian soldiers met them on the open ground, formed a half-hearted line. They had no time to retreat, no time to organize a counter-charge. The cavalrymen brandished sabers, tugged at the reins of their dancing horses, but the battle cries that rang out from them had a note of desperation.
Chris filled her lungs, expelled it in a furious bellow. Her rallying cry shook the faltering Harmonians, caused a moment of hesitation. Then Chris and her riders fell upon them, swords rising and falling. A Harmonian soldier raised his saber to deflect Chris' strike. She feinted, hoping to draw a reaction. It came in the form of a flinch from the soldier. He turned his saber sideways, anticipating an overhead slash that was not coming. Instead, Chris nudged her steed to the side and thrust for the joint in the armor at the pit of the man's arm.
The Karayan horse did not understand her command. The animal jerked to one side. Chris, who was not expecting the sudden movement, was flung sideways. Betrayed by the unfamiliar saddle, she was pitched from her seat and only just managed to catch the leather before hitting the ground. She hung from the horse's flank, one hand gripping the strap of her saddle, one foot caught in the stirrup, just barely keeping her in the saddle.
She found herself staring at the ground as it flashed by in a blur of motion. Rocky dirt plowed up by the beat of dozens of hooves. Thankfully, the animal had bolted past the fray, putting her out of harm's way. For now. Chris took a deep breath. Adjusting her grip on the saddle strap and testing her foot's hold on the stirrup, she hauled herself back into the saddle. Somehow, her other hand still held tight around the hilt of her sword. She halted her steed and looked around.
Two feet away, she stared into the face of the soldier she had just tried to kill. She could make out his features now. Damp curls of blonde hair spilled from his crested helmet. A light fuzz grew on his chin, a thin mustache glistening with sweat. She saw the man's eyes very clearly. In the dusk, she could not have said what color they were, but whatever it was, it was the color of murder.
The soldier's saber flashed. Chris acted on instinct, spinning her sword to meet the blade. Their weapons slammed and locked against each other. The soldier pushed down, gritted his teeth. Chris would have nudged her steed into a more favorable position, but the memory of almost being pitched onto the hard earth had Chris unwilling to take that chance. Instead, she pushed back. Their swords rattled with the effort, but the man was stronger. By quarters of inches, the sharp edge bore down on Chris. Their horses danced nervously, pushed against each other. Chris fought with her off hand to master her steed.
The soldier's twitched suddenly. His face contorted as if flinching. Then his eyes glazed over and blood spilled from the man's mouth, pooling down his chin. His arm went limp, and the sword dropped from his numb fingers. As he slumped over in the saddle and came to hang from the horse's flank, Chris saw a dagger sprouting from the back of his neck, blossoming blood.
Nash sat astride his horse, grinning at her. He saluted. "Milady."
Chris did not like the thought of owing the man a debt of gratitude. Still, she gave him a curt nod before turning to survey the field. What she saw filled her with relief. They had broken through. The Harmonians who had stood in their way lay dead or had scattered.
Chris's heart pounded in her chest. The sun's glare was so sharp it hurt her eyes. The smell of blood and iron on the air clogged her nostrils. Warm sweat ran down her arms. No matter how many times she had been through this before, the thrill of combat never really lost its effect on her. Once again, she had cheated the reaper, but the day was not won yet. Chris squinted against the dusk, searching the shadows among the trees for the figures of the Harmonian bowmen. Any moment now, she expected a volley of bolts to fly from the edge of the wooded hillside, cutting down riders and mounts alike.
Where was Lannin? Did she dare hope that the Karayans had managed their encirclement? Her small band would have had to make a wide circuit, beyond the range of the crossbows, to strike at the rear of the bowmen. Chris spotted movement among the trees on the hill. Was that a crossbow being raised in her direction? The shadows played tricks on her eyes, obscured the movements. Chris gritted her teeth, spurred her horse into ever-swifter gallop, bouncing in the saddle.
A bolt came whirring through the air. It flitted overhead, sailed harmlessly past them. Chris inhaled sharply. Had Lannin failed? A frontal assault from the bowmen would mean disaster. Expecting the bolts to fall at any moment, Chris raised her hand, ready to signal her riders to scatter and retreat.
A shout sounded forth from between the trees on the hill, forestalling Chris's actions. "For Karaya!" A moment later, several bowmen stumbled from the tree cover and raced down the hill towards Chris and her riders. Behind them, riders emerged from the trees, chasing down the scattered, fleeing bowmen. Karayan warriors, swords and daggers raised. Lannin's men.
Chris's heart leapt for joy. She allowed herself a brief moment of relief, expelling a long breath. Then she shouted, "Victory!"
Lily had trotted up beside her. The girl's sword was painted red by blood. She raised the blade and answered Chris' cry: "Victory!" All around them, Karayan warriors echoed the cry. "Victory!"
Lannin came cantering down the hill, drew up beside Chris. The blonde woman grinned from ear to ear, pumping her fist in elation. "Chief, only a handful of the Harmonians got away. Those bowmen should trouble us no more." She glanced around the battlefield in Chris's rear, and surprise registered in her eyes. When she spoke again, it was in reverent tones. "You've won a great victory here, Chief Chris."
Chris pressed her lips together in distaste. "It will be all for naught if we should fail to capture Brass Castle. Assemble your warriors. We must push on."
Two days ago, if someone had asked Chris about the feasibility of invaders scaling the walls of Brass Castle to reach its parapets, she would have called it a madman's proposition. The redoubtable keep rested upon a flat-topped mesa encircled on all sides by a wide canyon hundreds of feet wide. To scale the keep's walls, one would have to either approach the gates along one of two heavily fortified stone bridges, or one had to first climb down into the deep canyon and then scale back up along the treacherously sheer surface of the mesa's cliffside, just to get a crack at clambering up the seamlessly laid bricks of the fortress' own walls. Two days ago, Chris would have staked her reputation on it being impossible.
Now, she had staked her life on the opposite.
Chris clung to the knotted rope, hands numbing with cramps. Her palms sweated against the coarse rope. If she squeezed her eyes shut, she could almost imagine herself mere feet off the ground. Then the illusion was dispelled when the wind came rushing along the canyon's wall, swaying the rope from which Chris hung.
She thanked the Goddess for the darkness. Night's embrace hid them from the watchful eyes of soldiers patrolling the castle walls, but more importantly, it hid the depths of the canyon from her own eyes. When she was foolish enough to look down, all she could see was an impenetrable darkness.
Hand over hand she hauled herself up the rope, using the knots to steady her grip. At long last she felt the fortress' dressed stone replace the rough rock of the mesa. She lingered there, waiting for Nash to prepare their final ascent. When she dared to look, she saw him above her, clutching onto the same rope. In his off-hand he spun a grappling hook, aiming for the parapet above. In her overactive imagination, she pictured him losing his balance or slipping, falling down onto her and sending them both tumbling into the canyon. She shook the horrible thought from her mind. Below, she could hear Lily mumble something, then Yumi return a few words. How the women could chat, she did not know. Her own heart pounded so fast she thought she might faint. Never in her life, not even on the battlefield, had she felt such terror.
Nash released the grappling hook, and Chris saw the line sail up into the sky, a slender dark band obscuring the twinkling stars as it curled and straightened. She held her breath, listening for the sound of the iron striking the crenelated stone.
The grappling hook clanked against the battlement. In Chris' head, it echoed as piercingly as the cathedral's bells at mass, pealing over Vinay. Surely the soldiers on the parapet must have heard it? Were they even now raising the alarm, trumpeting their presence to everyone inside? She stared up, past where Nash hung motionless. Any moment now, a soldier would peer over the battlement, give a cry of warning, and cut the rope, sending Chris and the others plummeting to a horrific death.
No one came. After a time, Nash tested the rope, then tentatively shifted one hand, then both hands, to the rope attached to the hook. Quick and silent as a snake, he slid up the rope and disappeared over the battlement.
A few seconds passed, then Nash's hand appeared from between the merlons, giving an affirmative sign. Slowly, saying silent prayers to the Goddess, Chris braced her toes against a secure foothold on the rock wall. Then she leaned in and reached for the rope hanging from the grappling hook. Her hand batted at it, missed, and she swung back, nearly losing her breath. Her fingers cramped, and her palms were sticky with sweat.
Get over it, Chris told herself. If you fall, you fall. It will be as the Goddess wills. Thus emboldened, she held her breath, and swung out again to grasp the rope. Her fingers closed around the braided rope, tugged several times to ascertain its safety. Then Chris leaned in and let go of her safe hold, grasping the last rope with both hands. Slowly, methodically, she pulled herself up, hand over hand, towards the battlement.
She could almost reach out and touch the tops of the battlement when her feet slipped. Chris lost her grip, and her hands slipped down the length of the rope. The terror hit her so hard she thought her heart might leap from her chest. Her hands clamped fast around the rope, skidded along it, the rope burning her callused skin. Finally she managed to halt her descent. Somehow she had kept from screaming. Shock, perhaps.
For a moment, she hung there, feeling the wind sway the rope. Heart pounding, nearly mad with fear, Chris resumed her climb. She focused only on moving her hands and feet, step by step, advancing up the battlement. She stared into the dark wall, not daring to look up or down for fear of losing her focus.
Chris nearly yelped when something touched her shoulder. A firm hand grasped her arm and pulled. She looked up to see Nash leaning out from the parapet, and let him help her onto the battlement. Feeling solid ground beneath her feet, Chris slumped down against the parapet, legs drawn up, trembling and gasping for breath.
Her head swam. Vaguely she heard Nash mumble something to the others as he helped Lily and Yumi up and over the battlement. Chris pushed to her feet and did her best to shake the trembling from her legs. Looking around, it felt surreal to see the interior of Brass Castle extend out into the night's dusk. She had made it. She was inside the castle.
Chris convened with Lily and Yumi in the shadows of the gate house. The three of them clasped hands and looked into each other's eyes. There was not much to be said. Each woman knew the danger they faced, knew that they might not see the sun rise the next morning. Chris felt her throat choking up, and was caught off guard by the depth of the emotion. How long had they known each other? Weeks? Months? And yet, they had been through so much, and shared so much. There had been those Chris had called comrades in the past. There had been some among her fellow knights she would have trusted with her life—Salome, for one—but there had never before been anyone she would have called a friend.
Embarrassed, Chris looked down at her feet. She squeezed their hands, and managed to push out: "Good luck." She had wanted to say more, but it would have to wait.
Lily, true to her usual bravado, gave a cocky snort. "Luck? Wish it on our enemies. We won't need it."
"Captain Lightfellow," Yumi said, in a chiding way, "You'd better have kept Brass Castle's wine cellar well stocked. We'll need it when we celebrate tomorrow." The woman's soft laughter tinkled in Chris's ears.
They released each other's hands, and each of them made their final preparations and then confirmed they were ready. Fighting off a melancholy mood, Chris drew her sword and led the small group down the parapet towards the southwest tower. There, they would find the captain's quarters, and their quarry. Alron was sure to be inside.
The thought of that vile snake ensconcing himself in those rooms, which held so much of the history of the Zexen Knights, quickly chased any tender feelings from her heart. She would have to have every surface and every piece of furnishing and decoration scrubbed thoroughly to wash the grease of his hands from them. As for the bed, she might have to burn it. But before any of that, she still had to remove the false captain from her castle.
Alron would not expect an assault from inside Brass Castle. If she moved swiftly and avoided confrontation with the Zexen soldiers manning the keep, she could capture the false captain and seize control of Brass Castle in a single stroke. If she was cornered by the soldiers, the revelation of her identity should buy her enough time to mount a resistance against the false captain before the fog of confusion lifted. Alron would have started replacing the officers with his cronies, but it had been less than a week since the false captain wrested control of the keep from Sir Salome. Chris felt certain that most of the soldiers of Brass Castle remained loyal to the council.
Chris kept to the shadows, running her hand along the cool, familiar brickwork of the walls to guide her step. Where she had to dart past an illuminated doorway or stairwell, she crouched low. As she slunk closer to the southwest tower, she kept an eye on the soldiers patrolling the battlements and the courtyard below. When their gazes turned towards her, she hid in a shadowed alcove, or when there was nothing to obscure her from their eyes, she kept as low and still as she could.
She was grateful for the occasional chance to rest. Her arms still ached from the climb. The effort had taken a lot of out her, more than she had expected. She glanced back at her companions, and wondered if they felt the same. Doubt crept into the back of her mind. How long could she swing a sword, if needed? Whatever happened when they confronted Alron, they would have to end it quickly.
As they drew closer to the southwest tower, a sneaking suspicion pulled at her thoughts. Something about the soldiers was off. At first, she could not put her finger on it. It was something about the way they moved, or the way their voices sounded when they called out to each other with words too distant to make out. Pausing at the base of the southwest tower, she motioned at Yumi, Lily, and Nash to wait. She crept along the parapet and leaned down over the edge to peer out across the courtyard, where bright lanterns revealed rows of marching soldiers. Chris' breath caught in her throat.
They wore Zexen armor and carried Zexen arms, and they would have passed for Zexen soldiers to a casual observer. But not to the captain of the knights.
She rejoined the others in the shadows. Lily must have seen something on her face. "What's wrong?" she asked.
"These soldiers are Harmonians."
"How can you—" Lily began, but then thought better of it. "How did they get here?"
Nash shrugged. "That woman must've used the Blinking Rune to deposit the Masked Bishop's soldiers inside the fort. It's the only way they would've made it this far, this fast."
Chris twisted the hilt of her sword with nervous energy. "This complicates things."
Lily sniffed. "Zexen, Harmonian, what does it matter? Soldiers are soldiers…"
"Think," Yumi said, shaking her head. "If we storm the captain's quarters and capture Alron, the Zexen soldiers will recognize their true captain and bend knee to her. The castle will be ours. But these Harmonians care nothing for the politics of Vinay. Captain Alron or Captain Chris, they care not. Their task is to secure the gates of the keep for the Harmonian vanguard at all costs."
Chris nodded slowly. "A strike at Alron will gain us little indeed, should we fail to close the gates of Brass Castle. These Harmonians would simply overwhelm us. And yet, we must not give up the element of surprise entirely." She looked around, studied the courtyard below and the long shadows thrown by the soldiers patrolling in flickering lantern light. "We shall split apart. The three of you must seize the gatehouse and admit our comrades into the fort. We shall need their number to capture Brass Castle."
Chris was ready to turn and leave, but Lily tugged her back down by her sleeve. "What about you?" the Tinto woman hissed.
"I shall confront Alron alone."
Lily's eyes flashed. "Alone!" she whisper-shouted. "Not a chance. I'm going with you—"
"No," Chris cut in. "You three are needed at the gatehouse. Besides, this nonsense with two captains is my responsibility. I shall end it myself."
Lily bit her lip. "Fine," she said, sullenly, "but I take back what I said about luck. We might just need it after all."
The gatehouse that guarded Brass Castle's eastern approach was a blocky mass of stone that rose twenty feet above the battlements. Two heavy iron portcullises, one on either end of the gatehouse, sealed the passage. Chains ran through the interior of the structure, connecting the portcullises to massive winches on the second floor of the gatehouse.
That's where they needed to go.
Lily hunkered down beside the parapet, keeping her eyes trained on the gatehouse. She could see into the structure through the arched doorway that connected the winch room with the battlements. The warm glow of torchlight illuminated the room and threw long shadows out into the night whenever a patrolling soldier darkened the doorway.
She'd counted three men since she started watching. She'd named them, too. Burly was the biggest, with shoulders so broad he'd have to fit sideways through the doorway. Hunchey walked with a slouch, dragging one foot behind. And Drowsy always stopped to stretch his limbs and yawn into the night when he passed the doorway.
Lily glanced behind. The shadows swallowed their forms, but the faintest sound of breathing made Lily aware of them in the dark. Yumi had donned a drab Karayan tunic and trousers, an outfit more suitable for the sort of adventures they'd embarked on than the thigh-length dresses she usually wore. A fierce warrior, a dead shot with a bow, and a maven with runes, the Kinese warrior-shaman was someone to count on in a scrap. She had a way of swaying her hips—too shapely by half—and a glint in her eye that Lily found irritating. Especially when she saw the way men looked at her. Still, she had to admit that somewhere along the way, Yumi had become a friend. It wasn't her fault she'd grown up in a less cultured domain than her own Tinto. Lily would make a lady out of the woman eventually, and perhaps in return Yumi could teach her a thing or two about hips and the swaying thereof.
Then there was Nash. The Harmonian spy was spinning a throwing dagger over his fingers. He was smiling, but then he always seemed to be. He had the kind of smile that suggested the world should be in perpetual gratitude for his existence. An infuriating man. Nosy, opinionated, and with an inflated sense of self-importance. He was the kind of person Lily loathed to be around. She didn't trust him as far as she could throw him, but Nash was useful to have around. Despite everything, the spy was a man of hidden talents.
Three of them against the three soldiers guarding the gatehouse. Not bad odds at all. Lily alone was easily worth half a dozen of this rabble, of course, but it never hurt to have some backup.
Lily peered out over the edge of the battlements, past the chasm to where the grasslands pitched into the canyon. She could see no sign of them, but they were there, somewhere. The Karayan warband they'd traveled with would be hiding among the sparse trees, waiting for the gates to open.
And somewhere beyond, the Harmonian vanguard would be racing towards the fort, running their horses to the ground as they sought to head off the Grasslanders' approaching army. If the Harmonians reached Brass Castle before Lily and the others could secure the gatehouse, it would be all but over.
Lily waited for Burly to appear in the doorway and disappear back into the depths of the gatehouse. She signaled the others, drew her rapier, and set off at a run. The three of them covered the distance to the arched doorway within seconds. They halted there, pressed against the outside wall, inches from the warm glow of the portal.
She could hear their voices now, the men inside. Burly, Hunchey, and Drowsy. They had to silence those three men quickly, before they could raise the alarm. Counting her breaths, she waited until Hunchey's shadow appeared from the doorway and stretched onto the gloom of the battlements. The moment she heard him turn away from the doorway, she gave the signal, then slipped around the wall and into the gatehouse.
Hunchey was crossing the middle of the room, his back to Lily. Burly was on the left, near the winch and the stairwell leading down to ground floor. Drowsy leaned against the wall on the far side, where another arched doorway led onto the opposite side of the battlements.
Lily let her rapier serve as a greeting. She lunged and thrust at Hunchey's back. The slender point of the blade slipped between ribs and pierced something vital. Gurgling blood, Hunchey went down in a heap. Drowsy and Burly turned to face her. They had enough time to register what was happening, but not enough time to react. The next moment, Nash's dagger protruded from Burly's skull. His knees wobbled and he fell over. Almost the same instant, an arrow flitted past Lily and sprouted from Drowsy's chest.
There came a choking sound from the left. Lily turned to see a fourth man coming up the stairs from the ground floor. He was carrying his helmet in the crook of his arm, and immediately Lily named him: Wispy, for the wisp of light brown hair that clung to his otherwise bald pate. Wispy saw his comrades tumble to the ground in near perfect unison. His eyes went wide as he took in the three people standing over the bodies in the gatehouse. Then he shouted a warning at the top of his lungs.