Unwilling to Acquiesce – Part 20

“We are too few to retake the castle,” says the dejected commander of the stockade. The truth of his words is evidenced by the downcast eyes and leaden, broken manner of the men-at-arms who man the palisade and its surrounds. Their red and blue, De’Arnise household livery is torn from battle, covered in mud and, in too many cases, bloodstains. “Perhaps if we could get into the bailey we might be able to oust them, but we could not possibly storm the walls.”

Adamant and the others listen intently to the commander’s assessment of the situation, standing under the canvas of the makeshift command tent in the middle of the stockade. The flickering yellow torchlight seems forlorn in the shadow of the keep’s mighty granite bulk.

“What of the tunnel that Nalia says leads into the servants quarters?” Adamant asks. The commander looks to Nalia and then back to Adamant with a grimace and a shrug.

“I know of it, of course. Most of us do,” he says. “But the truth is that Lady Nalia is the only one use it in recent memory. None of my men can find the entrance from this side, I’m afraid.”

The companions look at each other in surprise, obviously wondering that a household guard officer could know of the existence of a secret way into the castle he defends but does not know its location. The obviously looks of surprise on their faces sting the pride of the officer, who straightens his shoulders and hardens his face.

“Even if I could find it,” he says quickly. “I would be loath to send my remaining troops into so dangerous a situation. If we were discovered before we could get sufficient numbers into the castle then it would become a slaughter. No, we won’t be using the ‘secret passage’!”

There is an uncomfortable silence which lasts for many moments as all present sink into their thoughts. The quiet is ended when Adamant makes an offer.

“If we can get the gate open for you, would your men be ready for an assault?” he says.

“Well enough,” says the commander. “We’d make a good go of it I think. But we’d have to be quick as can be; m’Lord and his sister are still in the keep, likely hostages. If we take too long, they may be slain in reprisal.”

“A reasonable supposition,” says Jaheira, who doesn’t notice Nalia’s involuntary shiver at the thought.

“We’ll have to move swiftly and create confusion,” advises Anomen. Adamant and Yoshimo nod, the freebooting bounty hunter glancing up at the imposing edifice of the keep.

“Have your troops ready,” Adamant advises and the commander nods in agreement. “As soon as you hear the drawbridge coming down, send them in. We’ll do our best to have the bailey cleared for you. Hopefully you’ll make the keep proper before they even know what’s happening.”

The commander heads off to marshal his troops, a look of weary determination on his face. Anomen watches him go and then feels a twinge of jealousy towards Adamant. Since he was a little boy, Anomen has striven to be a military man, a leader of soldiers; a knight. Yet, for all his efforts he has never inspired the natural loyalty that Adamant does. Even the commander of the De’Arnise house guard, who has never met Adamant before this night, accepts his advice and commands, almost without question. Anomen knows that jealousy is an unworthy emotion, but has difficulty shutting it out.

A runner in De’Arnise livery, a boy of no more than ten with eyes showing a spirit old before its time, comes up to the company bearing two full quivers. He stops in front of Nalia and with an adroit motion manages to tug his forelock without dropping the quivers.

“Beggin’ your pardon, mistress,” he says in a quiet voice. “The’s fire-arrows; cap’ain says ta give ‘em to you. Good for trolls.”

Nalia and Yoshi take a quiver of fire arrows each and the rest of the group checks their kit, preparing for their mission. When all are ready, Adamant gives a signal to Nalia, saying “We’ll follow you.”

“Yes,” chimes in Anomen strangely as Nalia heads off. “Because the best leaders also follow.”

No one else says anything, and the companions leave the stockade and head for the foot of the castle wall.

----

It is difficult to move silently through the dark tunnel, the clink and clang of armour and weapons echoing through the dank shadows. Following the flickering of Nalia’s torch, a sense of impending danger settles on the group.

“It is little wonder your man did not wish to try this path,” says Yoshimo cheerfully, in spite of the gloom. “We sound like an armourer’s shop with it’s smithy running hot marching through here in armour.”

“Oh I suppose it’s a reasonable excuse,” Nalia says over her shoulder.

“Excuse?” asks Adamant.

“Well, I don’t want to call him a coward,” says Nalia, unaware how brutally the word drops from her lips. “He’s only a servant after all.”

“Only a servant?”

“Well, yes. He doesn’t have the love for heritage and the traditions of this place, like I do.”

“Perhaps he is unwilling to give his life simply to restore your family to it’s seat of honour,” says Jaheira, one eyebrow arching.

“Exactly, that’s my point,” Nalia responds, clearly not hearing the tone in Jaheira’s voice as her eyes search the gloom ahead. “Not having the benefits of my birth, I can’t expect him to understand the depths of duty and responsibility like I do. This is why Auntie gets so impatient with servants. She doesn’t see that they don’t have what it takes to think like…hold on, here it is.”

She reaches out and presses hard against a single stone jutting from the wall. As the stone slides inwards, an audible click echoes through the tunnel and a section of wall slides inwards.

“This way. We must see if we can find Daleson. He’s head of the household staff and likely knows where father and my aunt are being held.”

----

After passing through several disused storerooms, the companions come upon a locked door. Yoshimo assures them that they will not need to force the door and, after fiddling with the lock and two long iron wires, the tumblers shift smoothly and the bolt slides away. Yoshi turns back to accept the praise of his fellows when a piercing shriek of terror and pain is heard from beyond the door.

Taking up his bow, Yoshi dives through the doorway, tumbling across the floor and coming up in a kneeling stance with an arrow drawn and nocked to his bow; one gracile motion. Adamant is through the door almost at the same time as Yoshimo. His motion is surprisingly fluid, managing to manoeuvre his armoured form without stepping on his tumbling ally or catching himself on the doorposts. He stands at Yoshimo’s side, the Chaos Blade ready in his hands. The others rush through the doorway, readying weapons as best they can.

The party arrives in time to see a servant, begging for his life, as a green-skinned troll tears at him with its wicked, taloned fingers. Even as they watch, the servant is slain, his fragile body torn apart in a spray of blood and gore. The troll looks up as Adamant charges forward, the Chaos Blade keening like a taut rope in a high wind. Flaming shafts fly past the charging paladin, launched first from Yoshimo’s bow, and then from Nalia’s. Jaheira and Anomen follow at Adamant’s heels, the warrior priest crying out as he charges; “For honour and glory!”

Surprised by the ferociousness of the sudden assault, the troll falls swiftly under a cascade of steel, as sword, mace and scimitar make short work of the beast. Adamant’s Chaos Blade cleaves the creature’s arm from its shoulder, even as the troll grasps him by the leg. He is shocked when he realises that, even cut from its body, the clawed hand continues to grip him, trying vainly to drive its claws into his armoured thigh. Other parts of the troll’s body also continue to live, the wounds knitting again and the teeth still gnashing wildly. Only the wounds caused by Yoshi and Nalia’s flaming arrows do not regenerate.

Knocking the grasping arm away, Adamant takes a lantern offered by Jaheira. Anomen likewise fetches a burning brand from the nearby fireplace which the servant was tending. Together they put the beast’s remains to the torch and the creature finally dies.

“They do not die easily,” observes Yoshimo.

“No,” agrees Adamant. He fixes his eyes on Anomen. “We need to focus now! No more battle cries. First we find out where Nalia’s family are and how many servants yet live. Then we get to the gate house and clear the bailey. Victory first; honour and glory later.”

All are grim, looking at the body of the troll; a powerful beast and so unwilling to be slain. If there are many in the castle then their mission may well fail. With Nalia giving guidance, Adamant leads the party deeper into the keep.