The Razed Ruins Part I: Ill Tides

Chapter 8: The Spies

Spies, thought Karloh uncomfortably as he and Praster crept through the dark brush, or even suspected spies, meet their end with their chests pressed against that rock. The stone grandstands in which fans of public execution came to witness the blood were encircled with steel pikes topped by the spoils of recent beheadings. It was said that some thirty pikes surrounded the Red Stairs and always fresh heads to keep each other company.

A stiff wind was blowing off the bay, groping like icy fingers. Karloh wore a thick wool robe over his boiled leather corslet to ward off the chill. A long knife hung from his belt and a ballshot with a pouch of thirty steel shots. He did not carry a sword. Too cumbersome, he'd decided before storing it underneath his bed back at the inn. Our success will be in stealth not combat. The only likely result of fighting of any type was a one way trip up the Red Stairs.

Moving silently but efficiently was difficult in the black of night despite the years of hard training. The distant bells at the godshouse rang twice, marking the hours it took to negotiate the treacherous terrain. The Tsar had walled in all of the land surrounding the castle grounds and soldier's field, shielding it from view behind tall mounds and high parapets. All approaching roads were barred and well-manned watchtowers stood sentinel over the entire outer border. It would not be easy for the two of them to complete this mission. 

And this will be cake compared to the second objective. But that was a problem for later....

They'd studied King Duquesne's Ahnalli maps, and Karloh had a good view from the pass before descending into the city. Mutually, they'd agreed their best approach was the brackish swamp lands along the coast. It would be messy going but it was dark, unpopulated and away from roads. Once they reached apex of the inlet, they would be directly below the assemblage of administrative halls on the edge of the field where House Calazar was gathering its armies.

When the rocky crags and steep embankments gave way to a softer strata, they found themselves quickly embroiled in deep meres of head-high grasses, sludge and cattails. Navigating away from the quagmire brought them dangerously close to the castle's main service road, which was still admitting the occasional carriage or squad of Dehnish infantry. They had no choice but to slog through the treacherous muck.

Lanterns glowed on the ship decks sailing up and down the harbor. Karloh rested after a particularly exhausting battle freeing his boots from heavy mud to watch a large and well-lit galley sail proudly out from the Royal Harbor toward open waters. Karloh tried to guess its size based on the lights. Call it one-hundred feet long and maybe thirty to the bridge. But whether it was for cargo, military or pleasure was impossible to say.

The two of them continued their slow progress.  

"This genuinely is shit," Praster grumbled a few minutes later. The sounds of the city gradually faded behind them. Karloh's eyes adjusted to a dim, orange glow ahead. After persevering for another quarter-bell, the light brightened, and Karloh was almost fooled into believing it was the dawn starting to rise. Have we really been crossing this quagmire that long?

Finally, the mudflat relented to solid ground and the two of them halted to catch their breath. "That light ahead is flickering," Praster stated. At first Karloh couldn't see what Praster was talking about, but as they drew closer, he saw his companion was right. It's a fire. A big fire.

Very quickly after this realization, they came upon the first wall.

It stood out: an blacker line against an already black background. Karloh dragged his fingertips along the flat surface. As with the Great Highway, the rocks were so expertly and closely set that it felt smooth to the touch. There was no place at all to sink a toe or slip fingers in a crack for purchase. Karloh paced twenty yards in both directions and found the construction uniform.