Haven: A Trial of Blood and Steel Book Four (35 page)

“Both women?”

Sasha raised eyebrows. “If Yasmyn can fit through that window, I can too. We may need a tall man to boost us up. Who would you pick to do all that?”

Arken thought about it. Then conceded. “Fine. We wait for night?”

“We wait for night.”

That evening, more guards came down the cliff-side trail and replaced the guardhouse watch. There were only three, it seemed. But it only took one to raise an alarm.

Arken was a good climber, the skill well practised by some in the Ilduuri Steel. He went first, and hauled himself up without difficulty. Yasmyn followed, light and wiry, and seemed as unperturbed as Arken.

Sasha watched where Yasmyn put her hands and feet, and found those holds easily enough in the not-quite-dark. But still it wracked her nerves, as the ground fell away below, to know that if she missed a hold, she would be badly hurt. Soon that knowledge changed to the certainty that if she missed a hold, she would die. Her heart thudded hard, and she forced herself to concentrate as though it were a sword drill with Kessligh, watching only for the next move and the next placement of hands and feet. She'd never had a difficulty with heights, and had assumed that would hold her in good stead on this climb. Now she discovered that enjoying a good view from a relatively safe peak and clinging to a cliff face like an insect above a lethal drop in the dark were two different things entirely.

When she hauled herself onto the path, she was shaking. She lay for a moment, winded, breathing deeply, and willing her muscles to some kind of recovery. Then she stood, and discovered with further alarm that the trail itself was not wide enough for comfort during the day, let alone at night.

They descended the trail cautiously, shoulder-hugging the cliff to one side, feet wary of loose stones. It was darker than Sasha had expected, making their footing more precarious, but lessening the chance of being seen. The stone against their sides was dark, like their clothing, and with blades sheathed lest a stray gleam of steel give them away, Sasha did not think it likely any in the tower, looking out into the trees, would notice them.

They descended past the encircling wall, level with the tower. Within the narrow windows, lamplight gleamed, and voices could be heard. Stupid, Sasha thought. Looking out from a lighted room onto darkness made vision impossible. But guard duty was boring, and guards lit lamps when their superiors weren't about, by which to play dice or otherwise pass the time.

Sasha led, padding softly to the base of the short tower, and slowly tried the door. It was open. So much for crawling through windows then. Yasmyn was eager, and Arken grimly determined, so she let them go first, and waited. She was in no mood to kill surprised and defenceless guards. They went up the stairs while Sasha guarded the doorway below. Then a commotion, and some shouts. Then footsteps coming back down.

Three guards emerged, frightened and bewildered, stripped of their weapons. Sasha opened the gates to let the others in while Arken guarded the prisoners, and Yasmyn tied them with rope.

“A large bell,” Arken told Sasha. “In the tower, to be rung if there was an attack.”

“We'll leave the guards outside the gate and shut it, in case they wriggle free,” said Sasha. “Probably they could climb back over eventually, but it would take too much time to matter.”

“Killing them would be safer,” Arken suggested.

“Yasmyn,” Sasha asked, “will they get free?”

“Not before morning,” Yasmyn replied, biting her lip as she worked.

“They live,” Sasha told Arken. “I don't want the angry spirits of men dishonourably killed chasing me up the mountain.”

Arken gave her an odd look.

As they began climbing the narrow trail, all discovered why the night was darker than expected. With a speed found only in the mountains, the weather was closing in. Soon the wind began to gust, and rain to fall.

The rocky trail became slippery and hard to see in the darkness. Arken led the way, then Eirden, then Sasha and Yasmyn, all keeping as close to the cliff face as possible. In places the trail narrowed to barely the width of two boots. In such places, Sasha forced her attention inward, and pretended she was performing one of Kessligh's balance drills atop a wooden fence in the pouring rain. She tried not to recall that, even then, she'd fallen occasionally. Then, she'd had only a little distance to fall to soft grass. Here, moonlight spilled occasionally through gaps in the cloud, and fell upon the rugged terrain beyond Dirdaan, a long way below.

The trail grew a little easier as the cliff face met the broader bulk of Dirdaan's middle, and great, rounded domes of rock closed in about them. But as the cliff face ended, the trail became steeper, often requiring hands and feet together, and a spider-like climb up clefts between boulders. Several men slipped in the rain and dark. Thankfully none fell.

Finally, and after a long, exhausting climb, the trail emerged onto a shelf that overlooked the Altene. Ahead the trail wound downward, and onto the exposed shoulder of mountain on which the building rested.

It was a keep, Sasha supposed, having less experience with Bacosh-style fortifications than most. Such buildings were rare in Lenayin. It was like a small castle, with walls rising directly from the cliffs that surrounded on three sides, leaving no space to stand beneath them. The fourth wall, facing them, had a drawbridge opening onto the road that climbed the opposite, gentler face of Dirdaan. That drawbridge seemed the only way in or out. Built into the northern walls was a tower that occupied perhaps a quarter of the total walled space.

“The walls are not so high,” Bergen observed as they crouched low behind an outcrop. “Perhaps a rope and grapple thrown over a wall, then we climb up?”

“They'll see us,” Sasha disagreed. “With all the troubles in Andal, they'll be alert by now. There's no taking this place by stealth—we must go through the front gate with force.”

“Twenty-six of us,” Arken reminded her. “Perhaps two hundred of them.”

“They're not Steel,” said Sasha. Arken thought about it. Bergen nodded approvingly. “Militia at best. Can you guess the layout?”

They remained crouched while Arken scratched lines on wet rock with his knife, indicating where he thought the inner walls were, and the main, enclosed building and stables. The rain grew heavier, and the wind gusted. Thunder grumbled, and men looked about in some dismay. Sasha did not mind the weather at all. In fact, she thought it could help.

“It's like a snail shell,” Bergen advised. As an Enoran, he'd know more about castles than any of them. “It has four quarters—you go in the main gate and it forces you through each of the three-walled sections, each with their own barred gates, archer slots, and so forth, before you get to the tower.”

“By which time we're all dead,” someone observed.

Sasha peered out into the rain, at the dull grey outline of the keep against the hulking mountain opposite. “Two hundred guards?” she said dubiously. “How many horses? That's a long climb from Andal on foot. They've Meraini nobility here, so there's servants aplenty, senior Remischtuul too, which means more servants, personal guards as well as Altene house guards. Cooks. Stablehands, especially to handle all the wagons going back and forth just with food.”

She looked questioningly at Bergen. The big Enoran nodded.

“They'll have five hundred folks packed in there, easy. It's not built for more than two-fifty, to look at it.”

“We're certain it's two hundred guards,” Arken said stubbornly. “My sources don't lie.”

“No, I believe you,” Sasha agreed, understanding his caution that she might be engaging in undue optimism. “But that's their problem. Where do all the horses go? And the wagons? I remember when my family had grand functions in Baen-Tar, the crowds of people would jam all the palace ways, and gates that were meant to be barred and guarded stayed open. I don't see how their inner gates can be closed and guarded if they're bursting at the seams.

“They're expecting a serrin attack, see? They're scared of Saalshen's
talmaad
crossing the border and climbing mountains. The
talmaad
will scale their walls in the night and climb through their windows to slit their throats in bed. They don't expect an armoured thrust straight through their main defences.”

“No,” someone agreed, “because anyone trying it would be insane.”

“These far two quarters of the courtyard will be open,” Sasha continued, pointing to Arken's scratches on the rock. “I reckon this first gate beyond the main gate is closed, but the next two will be open to accommodate all those damn horses. Here, smell the air.”

They did so. The cold, wet air blew into their faces, directly past the keep. Sasha raised eyebrows at them expectantly.

“Horses,” said Arken, with a slow nod. “Lots of horses.”

“That's the smell you get when you've too many of them and you're not cleaning up properly after them all,” said Sasha.

“Not enough stable hands,” said Bergen with a slow smile.

“Because they don't have the space with all their guards,” Sasha agreed. They were understanding now.

“Too many guards is a good thing for us?” Eirden wondered. Well, most of them were understanding.

“It's not the numbers,” Sasha explained, “it's how they're deployed. At least one of their inner gates is not shut. The courtyard is crowded with horses. If attacked, they can't use the courtyard, it's blocked.”

“We can't use it either.”

“Yes we can, we have the initiative of attack, and we are fewer! Defenders need to make a line, attackers only need to get in amongst them and stop that line from forming.”

“The horses will cause confusion,” said Bergen, with growing enthusiasm. “We get to the main tower keep and once inside, it's man against man and their numbers mean nothing. We are far superior man-to-man.”

“Yes, but we need to get past the first and second gates,” Arken added with some frustration.

“It's dark,” said Sasha. “It's raining and thundering, and the wind is blowing. Guards hate it. If just a few of us can sneak in with the next wagon through those gates, we can hold open both gates for long enough that you can get through.”

“Who?”

“Me,” said Sasha. “Yasmyn is quick up a ladder and not easily seen. And Arken, your two best shieldsmen.”

“Myself and Danel,” said Arken.

Sasha nodded. “Good. Now we wait for a wagon. With all the men inside, I doubt they'll stop even for dark and storms.”

They waited. Wind howled across the mountainside, making the light rain sting. Sasha thought some more about her plans, then grew bored of that and lay on the rock, pulling Yasmyn down beside her so they both had some warmth.

Arken shook Sasha awake. Sasha rolled and crawled immediately to their viewing outcrop. There on the road winding up to the keep gates was a pair of wagons. Drivers carried torches guttered and flamed by the wind. Even now, the drawbridge was lowering with a rattle of rusty chains.

“Let's go,” Sasha whispered, and ran. Even through the clouds, enough moonlight lit the rocky trail to show them the way. Sasha, Yasmyn, Arken, and Danel scampered down the rocks. There rose no cry from the keep walls—in this weather the guards were inside, and would be lucky to spot dark shadows flitting across dark rock.

Sasha reached the keep wall and hugged to it, crouched and moving fast. Ahead, the drawbridge hit the ground across a ditch barely more than waist deep. The wagons began to clatter across it. Sasha leaped into the ditch, ducked low, and scampered directly under the wagons' wheels, and up on the drawbridge's far side. Atop the wagons, torch-wielding drivers with eyes narrowed against stinging rain looked only to the archway ahead, and shelter.

Both wagons crossed, and the drawbridge began to rise. Sasha jumped onto it and slid within the archway, aware that Arken was directly behind, Yasmyn and Danel on the opposite side. Above them, a portcullis was beginning to fall, a further grinding and clanking of chains.

The four infiltrators ducked beneath before it came down with a clang. Amazingly, there were no guards on the ground behind the entrance. The wagons clattered on ahead toward the second gate. All the guards, it seemed, were on the walls above, and not looking for shadows creeping along the ground.

There was a ladder up the wall to the drawbridge and portcullis mechanisms above. Sasha looked up, saw no activity high on the wall, and began climbing. She moved fast, Yasmyn just as fast behind her, as the two men in chain vests and with shields on their backs struggled. The winch mechanisms were under cover atop the wall, and guarded by two bored men in chain mail and helms.

Sasha cleared the ladder and slithered low on hands and toes, pressed to the shadow of a wall. In an instant, Yasmyn was beside her, darak gleaming in her hand. Sasha nodded at one man. Yasmyn nodded back.

They moved together, Sasha drawing her blade, sneaking three steps about the drawbridge winch, and striking off her target's head. Yasmyn's guard went down more messily, with a cut throat and flailing limbs. Sasha hated it, this brutal murder of unwatchful men. But the need for speed and silence left no other choice.

Yasmyn was already winding the drawbridge down, a huge handle for a small woman. Up on the trail, the other men would be moving now. Arken and Danel arrived—Sasha indicated for Danel to raise the portcullis, and stared at where this wall adjoined a fortified guardpost between them and the main keep tower. If men came rushing from there, as they might at any moment, this position would be overrun.

“Hold here,” she told Arken. “Keep them off until our people are in through the gate. Then fall back. I'll get the other gate.”

She turned and ran along the wall top, past archer crenellations to her left, and rounded the corner. Here was a long stretch of battlement to the second defensive wall ahead, and the guardhouse within which the portcullis winch was housed. These walls all made a box around the wagons below. Now paused before the second wall, the wagons were being inspected by guards who emerged from doorways. And here above them, two crossbowmen came from the guardhouse to stand, one on either side, and watch in case of trouble. If either happened to look up right now, Sasha knew she was dead.