Rudimentum: Oracle

Chapter 25

The following night, as the bell at the distant temple chimed midnight, William farewelled his captain for what he hoped was not the last time. The day, although busy with preparations, had weighed heavily with anticipation. All day William's mind had reminded him of every possible outcome and as night had dawned his head ached with a pounding pulse.

He and Swift left the deserted inn, a sword and dagger at both their hips and their hoods drawn low. The night air was cool and not a cloud veiled the sky as the stars cast long shadows. William led the way through the streets towards the castle walls. He noticed the reversal's absence from his pouch like one would notice the absence of one of their limbs; the heaviness was gone but the phantom remained. He thought it best to leave it in the locked room in case anything happened to him, but he still carried its burden in the cracks of his heart.

As they passed a cat perched on a barrel, it bared its teeth and hissed as if their mere presence harassed it. "We are not even the bad guys," muttered Swift.

"I guess he smelled you," said William.

Swift chuckled. "I cannot believe you just made a joke. I taught you too well."

"How is your leg? If it comes to it, can you run?"

"Aye, if it comes to it. What about your hip?"

"No worse," he said. He shifted the thick rope that was slung over his shoulder and laid a hand on the healing wound. He could still barely lay on that side, and he had not even tried running. He had accepted the fact that he may reopen it or make it worse, but it was a small price to pay for success. The previous night, as sleep avoided him, he had accepted that even his life, if it meant victory, was not too high a price.

They stopped at the edge of the square, a few streets away from the castle walls. It was a small open area, the well with its small roof in the middle and a small Myrtle tree near it, its pink flowers dark in the starlight. A nearby street candle burned dimly above a wooden bench near the tree.

William glanced around and listened. An owl perched on a roof hooted, but there were no signs of guards patrolling the area. He motioned for Swift to follow him into the open. The nearby windows were dark and lifeless though it still felt like there were hundreds of eyes spying their every move.

William lifted the bucket out through the opening of the old wooden lid. It took both him and Swift to raise the lid and the sound of it scraping against the stone echoed down the streets. Gently, they laid it down. An irrational voice in William's head told him it would roll away.

Shaking his head, he tied his rope to the thick wooden beam. He tested its strength with a few rough pulls. He said, "Once we have climbed a few feet there should be handles along the walls. Then further down there will be an opening along the wall. That's where we are going."

Swift looked down into the well. Its darkness swallowed all sight. "After you," he said.

William removed his hood and grabbed a hold of the rope. He climbed over the side. After a deep breath, his heart trembling against his ribs, he took the rope and lowered himself from the wall. His feet clamped the rope and his hands grappled it in tight white fists. His right forearm, still healing, pulsed with his quickening heartbeat. He shuffled down, sweat pricking his forehead. Darkness enclosed him.

For a few metres there was only darkness. Until the glinting of a silver handle along the wall caught his eye. He reached out and grabbed a hold. His feet quickly found one below. He looked up to see Swift's face in a circle of stars.

"You can go," he called up to him.

Swift took a hold of the rope and followed him down. William lowered himself and waited for Swift to find the handles.