On and on, slowly, with many a halt, the remaining cords crept through my fingers. Now the fourth girl must be over the moat…must be over the parapet…must be well on her way to the rocks…my heart beat in my throat, half–strangling me…Gods—the sixth had fallen! "Another!" I groaned to Lur. "And another!" she whispered, and cast the end of a cord from her hand.
Five left…only five now…Luka, a temple to you in Karak—all your own, sweet goddess!
What was that? A pull upon a cord, and twice repeated! The signal! One had crossed! Honour and wealth to you, slim girl…
"All gone but one, Dwayanu!" whispered the Witch–woman.
I groaned again, and glared at her…Again the twitches—upon my fifth cord! Another safe! "My last is over!" whispered Lur. Three safe! Three hidden among the rocks. The fishing was done. Sirk had stolen three–fourths of my bait.
But Sirk was hooked!
Weakness like none I had known melted bones and muscles. Lur's face was white as chalk, black shadows under staring eyes.
Well, now it was our turn. The slim maids who had fallen might soon have company!
I took the cord from Lur. Sent the signal. Felt it answered.
We cut the cords, and knotted their ends to heavier strands. And when they had run out we knotted to their ends a stronger, slender rope.
It crept away—and away—and away—
And now for the ladder—the bridge over which we must go.
It was light but strong, that ladder. Woven cunningly in a way thought out long and long ago. It had claws at each end which, once they had gripped, were not easily opened.
We fastened that ladder's end to the slender rope. It slipped away from us…over the ferns…out into the hot breath of the cauldron…through it.
Invisible within that breath…invisible against the green dusk of the cliff…on and on it crept…
The three maids had it! They were making it fast. Under my hands it straightened and stiffened. We drew it taut from our end. We fastened our grapnels.
The road to Sirk was open!
I turned to the Witch–woman. She stood, her gaze far and far away. In her eyes was the green fire of her wolves. And suddenly over the hissing of the torrent, I heard the howling of her wolves—far and far away.
She relaxed; her head dropped; she smiled at me—"Yes—truly can I talk to my wolves, Dwayanu!"
I walked to the ladder, tested it. It was strong, secure.
"I go first, Lur. Let none follow me until I have crossed. Then do you, Dara and Naral, climb to guard my back."
Lur's eyes blazed.
"I follow you. Your captains come after me."
I considered that. Well—let it be.
"As you say, Lur. But do not follow until I have crossed. Then let Ouarda send the soldiers. Ouarda—not more than ten may be on the ladder at a time. Bind cloths over their mouths and nostrils before they start. Count thirty—slowly, like this—before each sets forth behind the other. Fasten axe and sword between my shoulders, Lur. See to it that all bear their weapons so. Watch now, how I use my hands and feet."
I swung upon the ladder, arms and legs opened wide. I began to climb it. Like a spider. Slowly, so they could learn. The ladder swayed but little; its angle was a good one.
And now I was above the fern–brake. And now I was at the edge of the torrent. Above it. The stream swirled round me. It hid me. The hot breath of the geyser shrivelled me. Nor could I see anything of the ladder except the strands beneath me…
Thank Luka for that! If what was before me was hidden—so was I hidden from what was before me!
I was through the steam. I had passed the cliff. I was above the parapet. I dropped from the ladder, among the rocks—unseen. I shook the ladder. There was a quivering response. There was weight upon it… more weight…and more…
I unstrapped axe and sword—
"Dwayanu—"
I turned. There were the three maids. I began to praise them—holding back laughter. Green and black had run and combined under bath of steam into grotesque pattern.
"Nobles you are, maids! From this moment! Green and black your colours. What you have done this night will long be a tale in Karak."
I looked toward the battlements. Between us and them was a smooth floor of rock and sand, less than half a bow–shot wide. A score of soldiers stood around the fire. There was a larger group on the parapet close to the towers of the bridge. There were more at the farther end of the parapet, looking at the wolves.
The towers of the drawbridge ran straight down to the rocky floor. The tower at the left was blank wall. The tower at the right had a wide gate. The gate was open, unguarded, unless the soldiers about the fire were its guards. Down from between the towers dropped a wide ramp, the approach to the bridge–head.
There was a touch on my arm. Lur was beside me. And close after her came my two captains. After them, one by one, the soldiers. I bade them string bows, set arrows. One by one they melted out of the green darkness, slipped by me. They made ready in the shadow of the rocks.
One score—two score…a shriek cut like an arrow through the hissing of the torrent! The ladder trembled. It shook—and twisted…Again the despairing cry…the ladder fell slack!
"Dwayanu—the ladder is broken? At—Ouarda—"
"Quiet, Lur! They may have heard that shrieking. The ladder could not break…"
"Draw it in, Dwayanu—draw it in!"
Together we pulled upon it. It was heavy. We drew it in like a net, and swiftly. And suddenly it was of no weight at all. It rushed into our hands—
Its ends were severed as though by knife slash or axe blow.
"Treachery!" I said.
"But treachery…how…with Ouarda on guard."
I crept, crouching, behind the shadow of the rocks.
"Dara—spread out the soldiers. Tell Naral to slip to the farther end. On the signal, let them loose their arrows. Three flights only. The first at those around the fire. The second and the third at those on the walls closest to the towers. Then follow me. You understand me?"
"It is understood, Lord."
The word went along the line; I heard the bowstrings whisper.
"We are fewer than I like, Lur—yet nothing for us but to go through with it. No way out of Sirk now but the way of the sword."
"I know. It is of Ouarda I am thinking…" Her voice trembled.
"She is safe. If treachery had been wide–spread, we would have heard sounds of fighting. No more talking, Lur. We must move swiftly. After the third arrow flight, we rush the tower gate."
I gave the signal. Up rose the archers. Straight upon those around the fire flew their shafts. They left few alive. Instantly upon those around the towers of the bridge whistled a second arrow storm.
Hai! But that was straight shooting! See them fall! Once more—
Whistle of feathered shaft! Song of the bow–string! Gods—but this is to live again!
I dropped down the rocks, Lur beside me. The soldier women poured after us. Straight to the tower door we sped. We were half–way there before those upon the long parapet awakened.
Shouts rang. Trumpets blared, and the air was filled with the brazen clangour of a great gong bellowing the alarm to Sirk asleep behind the gap. We sped on. Javelins dropped among us, arrows whistled. From other gates along the inner walls guards began to emerge, racing to intercept us.
We were at the door of the bridge towers—and through it!
But not all. A third had fallen under javelin and arrow. We swung the stout door shut. We dropped across it the massive bars that secured it. And not an instant too soon. Upon the door began to beat the sledges of the tricked guards.
The chamber was of stone, huge and bare. Except for the door through which we had come, there was no opening. I saw the reason for that—never had Sirk expected to be attacked from within. There were arrow slits high up, looking over the moat, and platforms for archers. At one side were cogs and levers which raised and lowered the bridge.