8. The Seacrag Castle.
In his assessment of Ewalt's abilities Marroch was dead wrong on one point. He assumed that Ewalt managed to sneak into the Seacrag Castle, on the night when Mirgas died, by scaling its walls at night. Such feat was more than challenging even for a squirrel, thanks to the walls' solid construction – few chinks and gaps even after so many seasons – and their overhanging battlements, but seemingly believable for the legendary Ghost.
Now, hanging on the wall by his claws, trying to gather strength for the very risky attempt to pull himself up and over the said battlement, battered by biting wind, straining his eyes to see anything Ewalt had to reconsider the wisdom of not telling the ferret what actually happened. Sure, he actually was a good climber, and over the last couple of seasons he contemplated infiltrating the castle in the very way he was doing now, even trained for this by scaling sheer cliffs. But on that night he actually got inside by pretending to be a slave who brought more wine from the bay to the guard at the small wall door on the seaside. It was a pure gamble, born by a desperate mind that succeeded because sentries left on the wall got drunk… and the stoat left on the guard duty below didn't, so he opened the door as soon as Ewalt promised to leave a bottle for him. He was pretty much a runt, probably the lowliest of Kunas' grunts…
Ewalt pushed the unwanted thoughts out his head and concentrated on climbing. The guard pacing across the southern wall moved away now, and it was the time for another action, born of a desperate mind. The warrior mouse already drove one of his daggers in a small gap between stones of the battlement. But he had to do it from a very, very unwieldy angle. Now he had to test whether he managed to push it far enough in to hang on it for a second, while his other paw tries to grasp edge of an embrasure in the parapet. Without hesitation, Ewalt bent backwards, grabbed the dagger handle, and let the wall go!
About ten seconds later – and after getting ten seasons older, or so he felt, Ewalt sat in the embrasure, trying to catch his breath without making any noise. The guard was now coming back, and rapidly. The mouse had no idea, how that poor excuse of a sentry managed to not hear steel striking stone a bit earlier, when he was trying to turn his dagger into a pawhold. Probably sounds of the wind and waves – the strong western wind whistled over the battlements since dusk, sometimes barely fanning the beasts unlucky enough to be outside, sometimes lashing unpredictably and with savage strength – muffled the clang. But now the guard finally heard something, maybe just enough sound to make him want to check. But not enough to raise alarm immediately, as he should have done if he knew what was good for him.
A half-minute later Ewalt was wiping his sword on the sentry's fur. A stoat too, by coincidence… This one, though, died almost instantly, cleanly even, if such word can be applied to something as messy, as a violent death. Ewalt took a deep breath. There should be more guards. The mouse warrior had a general idea of their placement in the castle, information he obtained over the seasons from overheard conversations and captured soldiers. Somebeast usually still was posted at the wall door – to keep slaves from getting out, rather than to let anybeast in, of course – and at least a half-dozen stood watch at the main gate in the northern wall. And a couple on the top of the central tower. Those were the biggest trouble of all on a night like this one, when the moon was almost full and sometimes looked down through breaks in mountainous masses of clouds, driven swiftly by the wind. Not only the tower was likely even harder to climb than the walls, but with at least two sentries on a small platform, Ewalt had no hope to dispose of them quietly, unless, by sheer luck, they were asleep. That's what stopped his personal assassination plans before.
However, observers on the tower had a big blind spot, useless for a lone assassin, but significant now. They could easily notice ships approaching from the open sea, but the high cliff, on which the Seacrag Castle was perched, and its high wall, and the high trees growing on the steep bluff, into which the cliff turned to the north of the castle, were hiding from their view a bunch of boats that moved alongside the rocky coastline and into the bay braving the dangerous weather.
Speaking of that… Ewalt hauled the hapless stoat's carcass upward, and placed it in an embrasure, so that any sentry from above, accidentally looking at the southern wall, when the moon appears again, could only see a beast seemingly peering at something in the sea. Then the mouse slinked to the stairway leading below
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Marroch had to admit that without the help of otters his plan would be practically impossible from the beginning. If not for their boats, his small band hardly could have hoped to cleanly escape the sweep, get to the castle without running into trouble on the way and approach it from the least watched direction. But then again, one of the reasons he tried so hard to recruit Ewalt was getting a beast who could secure their assistance.
At first, though, he was unpleasantly surprised, when Ilmo Wavedog brought over twoscore beasts with him. Marroch's own band, even after joining with a few more rogue vermin, numbered only a score and a half, and unlike his motley crew all otters looked like fierce warriors. He had to adjust his initial plans. Given the difference in strength, the otters would not be surprised, if he is to leave the conquered castle to them – thus letting them face the wrath of Kunas' captains, while he would be out in the woods, building a new horde.
But that would be later. Now both forces followed Marroch up the narrow rocky path, ascending from the mouth of the bay to the southern wall. He donned his full battle garb tonight – a heavy chainmail with a cowl, that covered him from pate to knees, a sturdy round shield of wood and iron, a straight sword at his hip and a light mace in his paw. A long crimson cloak, held in place by a heavy golden clasp, the treasure of his family worn only on most important occasions, completed his appearance – now the dark ferret looked a born warlord! Of the six dozens beasts walking in a double line behind him, only Kethra and Suran Longspear had equally fine arms and armor. The rest of the vermin were lucky if they had a shield of solid wood, not bark, and a thick quilted jacket for protection, while their finest blades were short chopping cutlasses. Otters of the Starscatter tribe had no armor and only small round shields – armed with short spears, double-pointed javelins, slings, and daggers, they were fearsome at range, but had little more than their bravery to protect them in paw-to-paw combat. Marroch had no doubts that Kunas' own guard alone can cut their combined force to pieces twice over in a fair fight. But then again, being forced to fight fairly indicated a failure of a warlord's cunning.
Of course, success or failure of Marroch's cunning tonight rode on the shoulders of a single mouse. But Marroch was not about to let his face or posture betray his true feelings about this fact, as he strode forward confidently.
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Rowanbloom walked at the very back of the small column. Convincing Ewalt and Ilmo Wavedog to take her into the bloodbath about to begin was not very easy, but she succeeded by pointing out that many wounded may die, if she will be safe far away from them.
"Do as you wish," finally said Ewalt then. After a long and heated argument, he was sounding really angry for the first time since she met him. "I'm not a beast who fancies spending his time talking reason into fools in a hurry to die. If you insist on going into battles, find yourself a weapon and start practicing with it, at least."
"I doubt if that will really help me to live longer," answered Rowabloom. "Don't real warriors need to practice for many seasons, preferably starting when they are still dibbuns, erm, babes?"
The warrior mouse shrugged. "Sure, a beast, like, say, Kethra, will have less trouble gutting a squirrel, who took up the sword just this season, than picking her teeth. Most of the vermin are not such trained slayers. Find yourself a weapon."
Despite the advice, the squirrel still carried nothing deadlier than a sharp knife, just like on the very day she walked out of the gates of Redwall…
"Take this." A familiar voice, now barely above a whisper, shook Rowabloom out of her memories. Selvathy was right next to her, holding out a short spear, one of the two she carried. "Are ye daft, marching to battle unarmed?"
"But you know, I'm a healer, not a…"
"No "buts". When arrows start flyin', don't expect yer tail be watched by others all the time, just because it is bushy."
Rowanbloom hesitated for a second then took the weapon, holding it awkwardly, as if the wooden shaft was covered in splinters. "Thanks, Selvathy."
"Thank me if it saves yer life." The otter smiled. "Now, look – the door! It's open!"
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"Quick, quiet, here!" Marroch hissed, pointing with the mace. Beasts streamed inside the castle through the opened walldoor, beyond the cooling body of the rat who stood watch here a couple of minutes ago. Ewalt hadn't failed. But there was still one last big obstacle in the way…
"Luggun! Take your archers to the gates, and don't you dare be seen, until we begin at the tower. Kethra, lead the rest to the right. Ilmo! Gather your otters to the left. Be ready to rush the door as soon as it opens!"
Ilmo looked skeptical but nodded, as he tested sharpness of his saber with a claw then walked away to lead his beasts into the position. Luggun and his small team, tasked with capturing the main gates, were already gone. Kethra lingered a bit more, looking uncertain.
"Do your part." For a moment, Marroch's voice turned icier than usual. "I know how to do mine."
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A couple of minutes earlier, just when Ewalt was opening the walldoor for the unlikely allies, King Kunas woke up, sweating and gasping for air. Nightmares visited him often those nights, nightmares of fire and smoke, and burning flesh, and the burning shadow with eyes like two angry blue stars drawing ever closer to him. That was one of the reasons he hit the bottle so hard in the recent times – at least in booze-induced stupor he usually could sleep dreamlessly. This evening, however, he drank little... was he trying to catch some elusive thought, something he overlooked? The pine marten cursed through clenched teeth. He couldn't remember now. Was it something about Ubel? That bloody Seer and his promises. How he was so confident about catching Ewalt, if all of his arts couldn't even let his King sleep well?
But the thought was quickly lost driven away by the simple desire to drink something, even mere water, if need be. Thankfully, a jug clearly filled with something liquid – ale, as the King found immediately – was not far away on the table besides his large bed. The pine marten took a few big gulps and sat back trying to sort out the jumbled contents of his mind. He suspected his Seer of something, didn't he? But that was preposterous. Ubel succeeded too well in inspiring fear. He helped in that, more than once giving unduly ambitious – and, not accidentally, popular – soldiers to Ubel, when the latter begged for more sacrifices. Even Rugger, that madbeast, despised the albino ferret. Ubel's head would part with the shoulders in a blink, if not for the King's protection. Rugger was equally hated, and however dangerous the black fox was, nobeast could fight off the need to sleep. Ulakhai was a suspicious, dour outsider. Eikeru was smart and well-liked despite her savage exterior, but lacked in fighting skill and sheer strength next to every other captain. No, no, no, from treachery he was safe. Then what it was? What worried him? The Ghost?
The pine marten glanced warily about. But the windows were still too narrow for a beast to crawl through, and Yellowfang still snored just beyond the heavy door. Ubel swore that the accursed mouse was a creature of flesh and blood. Ubel also swore that he was safe now. Kunas spat on the floor. Maybe he was just swift to imagine things because of the nightmare. Should he get back to bed? His "mate", Marda, who was sleeping next to him, woke up when he moved suddenly, but still pretended to be asleep, in hope that he won't notice her; he could tell that from her breath and scent. Kunas felt a hot prickle of anger…
…Wait. Now Kunas also heard something else. The sound of a heavy paw knocking on wood, and a voice he couldn't recognize from down below... What was going on? Stepping softly, the King moved to the closest tower window.
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"So, ye see, commander needs to see that! Or, cough, anybeast, cough, wheeze, I don't care! A ship, I swear, I've seen a ship. Argh, cough. Go yerself and take a look, if ye don't believe me!" Marroch masterfully faked a gruff voice, made almost unrecognizable by freshly caught cold. Thank fates, the hapless wallguard apparently sounded close enough, when he was still alive!
"Me swears, if that's yer eyes playin' tricks again, I'll flay yer hide off yer back!" The stoat on the other side of the heavy wooden tower door who rose to answer Marroch's insistent knock was not dense. But anybeast can make a mistake, when she is sleepy. And that stoat made a very bad mistake, pulling the heavy door bolt aside and starting to open the door right at the moment, when King Kunas looking from his window on high discerned a dark mass of armed beasts below the tower and shouted at the top of his lungs: "To arms! Wake up, idiots! To arms! Enemy in the castle!"
Just for a fraction of a second, the thunderous cry befuddled the stoat. And in that brief moment Marroch struck.