Elyn thought long ere answering. “There is this, my friend: We have not been attacked by any creature since we fared forth from the Wolfwood, hence the nugget seems to have warded us from Andrak’s scrying. Too, neither we nor the Vulgs could sense the Wolfmage when he willed it otherwise. And if it thwarts the senses of Andrak, and be-fools eyes such as yours, such as mine, and, aye, such as those of the Vulgs, then surely it will keep us safe from the gazes of whatever warders stand along the bulwarks of Andrak’s holt.”
“Would that I had your faith, Princess,” responded Thork. “But heed me. To break into whatever stands before us, I would rather keep to tried and true. It is not that I misdoubt the Wolfmage knowing his art; rather it is that I do not trust Andrak when it comes to seeing through the protection of the stone; for the Wolfmage reminded us that Andrak is a Mage as well, and like unto see past the warding of this token.
“Mayhap Andrak has the eyes of a Dragon, for among my Folk it is said that a Drake’s gaze cannot be fooled by aught.”
“Aye,” responded Elyn, “they tell that in Jord, too. In spite of such, I was hoping that this token would aid us against Black Kalgalath’s senses, as well as those of Andrak, for my People also say that a Dragon knows when any come within his domain, and I would hope that somehow we could come upon him unawares, mayhap with the warding of the stone. Of course, it is not certain that I will be bearing this device when we approach Kalgalath.”
As Thork cast a quizzical eye at Elyn, she answered his unspoken question: “Forget not, Thork, the Wolfmage foretold that there would come a time when I would hurl the stone from me. I would rather that it come later than sooner.”
Thork took another bite of crue, then shook his head. “Neither you nor I can puzzle out that cipher, my Lady, hence we will deal with that when we come to it. But today I deem we will face Andrak’s holt, and must needs think upon a strategy for it.
“This I advise: that we gain entry at night, cloaked by darkness, scaling the walls where best suited, if walls there be, else finding some other means to covertly gain entrance.”
“But if such are not available, Prince Thork, then what say you?” Elyn rolled the blankets and tied one to each of their backpacks.
“Then we have no choice, my Lady,” answered Thork, finishing the last of his crue biscuit. “We must in that case trust entirely to the stone.” Thork paused. “Still, should it come to that, I deem that we must heed the warning of the Wolfmage and strive to stay out of Andrak’s sight.”
“Done,” agreed Elyn, standing and shouldering her backpack, waiting as Thork shouldered his. And together they struck out once more toward the north, following a snow-laden valley twisting between two peaks.
All that morning they broke trail northward, and bit by bit the way became easier, for the wind of the blizzard had scoured the valley, and in places it was clear of snow. And as the day slipped past, the depth of snow they encountered diminished until in general it was less than a foot deep. It was as if the target of the storm of days past had lain southward, back in the direction they had come from.
In early afternoon they rounded a shoulder of mountain, and there in the near distance before them they could see a dark crag thrusting upward, like a black fang bursting forth from the floor of the valley. And atop this ebon spire stood a walled fortress.
Little could they tell of the strongholt, for they were still some six miles distant. Even so, they could see that a dark tower jutted up within the bulwarks, as well as a large, black-roofed building-perhaps the main holt. The stone of the fortress was dark, too-“Mayhap basalt,” growled Thork.
Onward they pressed, while the distant winter Sun crept down the cold sky. As they drew nearer they could make out more detaiclass="underline" To the left they espied another smaller crag, lower and broader at the base, a thin line of light between the two upjuts showing that they were separate, though virtually joined. A road twisted upward out of the valley coiling about this companion, eventually to cross from one crag to the other upon a span of some sort, they deemed, though no such span could they see.
“Kruk!” spat Thork. “I did not bring my climbing gear.”
“We have ropes, Thork,” commented Elyn.
“Aye, Princess,” responded Thork, “but they are not all we need. Rock nails, jams, climbing harness, hammer: that is what is wanted here, for the topmost two or three hundred feet are sheer, and without those aids it will be most difficult to free-climb the final reach.”
Closer they drew, slipping among boulders and moving behind ridges, keeping always to the cover of the terrain even though they bore the silveron nugget, for they knew not what eyes scanned from atop the ramparts. And now they had come near enough to see that the fortress walls had an overhang, an outward arch specifically to thwart wall climbers and scaling ladders.
“Siege engines cannot come at this castle,” Elyn commented. They lay upon their stomachs atop a spine of land and peered upward across the space between. “Oh, mayhap catapults could be placed atop the smaller spire, but towers cannot be brought to bear upon the ramparts, nor can rams of any size be placed to knock upon their gates or walls.”
“And look, my Lady”-Thork squinted at the place where the road would cross the gap between-“that be where a bridge must span between the spires, yet none be there now. A drawbridge, I ween, or mayhap a swivel.” Thork’s voice fell silent, but his thoughts ran on: Mayhap we will have to free-climb the stone after all.
Downward slid the Sun through the afternoon sky, and the two pressed onward, slowly drawing nigh their goal. No more could they tell of the fortress construction than they already knew, for it stood high above the floor of the vale, perhaps as much as a thousand feet, and the angle was too great for them to glean aught else.
As the Sun began to slip below the horizon, Elyn and Thork came to where they could see the road twisting down from the companion spire, winding about the crag on the steep upper part, switching back and forth here and there upon the lower slopes, at last to spill out into the valley and swing to the north to disappear among the stony ribs of nearby mountains.
Cautiously, in the fading light the two began to aim for the road; for it was clearly the only reasonable pathway up, for to free-climb the vertical rock of the fortress spire would be an arduous task, even for a Dwarf, who clambered up the stone inside Mountain Châkkaholts nearly every day. And though Thork deemed that he could manage it, he doubted that the skills of his plains-bred companion were up to the task. So they headed for the road and the easy way up, trusting to the power of the silveron nugget to somehow conceal them upon this open way. Even so, they knew not how they would cross the gap between spires, yet they knew that they must scout it out, for perchance they could use the rope that they bore to get from this side to the other.
Darkness fell, and torches were lighted atop the ramparts. Still the walls were too far and the angle too great for the pair to see the watch patrolling the bulwarks.
As they drew closer, they cut scrub and began brushing away their own tracks behind, for the stone they bore did not conceal this trace of their passage-footprints in the snow-and they did not wish a chance patrol to find evidence that strangers were about.
Now they drew nigh the road. But ere coming to its surface, in the distance they heard voices shouting; and from afar there came a great rattle of gears, as of winches being spun and ratchets stuttering ’gainst iron teeth, as of a barbican being raised; gates boomed open; more voices shouted, and more gears chattered and a span thrust outward across the gap, bridging between the spires. Then with a clatter of hooves and a thunder of wheels, a troika-drawn chariot hammered out the gate and boomed across the drawbridge, the driver lashing at the trio of beasts in fury, the creatures squealing in pain.