The Razed Ruins Part I: Ill Tides

Chapter 8: The Spies

"How tall is it?" Praster asked quietly.

"Maybe twenty feet." He exhaled slowly. "Silent and invisible," he whispered and Praster understood: they would use hand signals from here on.

Climbing the smooth wall was not easy. Using a small hammer and chisel, Karloh tapped hooked, iron pitons as thin as daggers into tiny crevasses between stones. Once the piton was in place he looped a hemp ladder onto the hook and stepped as high as he dared, trusting the piton would hold. Delicately balanced, he would repeat the process: hammering in the next piton, attaching a second ladder and transferring off the first one. It was a time-consuming progression, but the only way to climb anything too smooth for handholds. 

After what seemed an eternity, Karloh finally reached the top and tugged on the rope three times: their signal everything was clear.

Praster followed slowly, clearly struggling in his boiled-leather armor. After a protracted battle, he rolled onto the top, panting with exhaustion. Karloh straddled the narrow wall with one leg dangling over each side. Praster cursed as he tried to emulate his captain, nearly falling twice. 

Caution! Danger! Karloh signaled quickly. Understood, returned Praster, after getting himself situated. The glimmering firelight they had seen earlier was closer now, just behind a large hill crowned by trees. If they could make the top of that rise, Karloh guessed they would get a good, up-close look at House Calazar's fortress. The prize or which we've come all this way....

Silently, Karloh retracted the rope and flipped it over the other side. He made the signals for travel, this direction, silence. Praster formed his hand into the response, understood. Praster went first; Karloh keeping careful watch as he lowered himself cautiously. Here they were vulnerable; a single stray eye their direction and it was to the Red Stairs for them both.

Karloh felt three tugs on the rope and started down to join his partner. He was more nimble and descended much more quickly. Once on the ground, he led Praster through the grass to the summit.

Peering through the shrubbery, the castle was revealed at shockingly close range. The sheer scale stole Karloh's breath. It could be a city just on its own. Numerous lamps and torches illuminated its convoluted walls giving shape to the monster even in the blackness of the cloudy night. Numerous structures and towers were interconnected by a web of footbridges and wooden catwalks. At the far end, the network of stone masonry contoured up the mountain that stood guard like a god behind it.

Even more breath-stealing, however, was what lie between them and the castle.

Fires of all sizes—small cookfires to massive, roiling bonfires—could be seen all across the vast field. The soldiers of Dehn scuttled through it like ants. There was a great deal of movement in the open ground adjacent to the sea of canvas tents. Karloh fished a spyglass—one of the rarest of King Duquesne's treasures—from his satchel for a closer look.

His jaw fell open as the image swam into focus.

Rows of slaves, chained hands and ankles, we being led in a long, snaking line to the training pitch. Some were crucified to tall posts and filled with arrows like grotesque hedgehogs. Others were unbound at the ankle so they could run free only to be slaughtered by mounted warriors for sport and practice. The few who remained were gruesomely burned or mutilated, though for what purpose Karloh couldn't fathom. Horrifying screams pierced the night from all points of the pitch.

Karloh remembered why the Boshovo were so feared, why even saying that word in certain parts of the realm was a faux pas severe enough to get you thrown out of a tavern or even into a fight. Karloh counted the fires to estimate the number of men gathered in the field. I'd call it ten thousand and feel good telling the King to his face. But why so many here now? He handed the spyglass to Praster who took a brief look before handing it back in disgust. 

 Perhaps a hundred feet from their hiding spot was the cluster of low, stone buildings surrounding a forty-foot watchtower. Karloh counted three silhouettes in the tower's upper turret.He signaled for Praster to follow and crawled low through the grass, their hooded heads just high enough to peer through where the blades thinned at the top. 

Karloh got Praster's attention: Let's move, that direction.

Understood.

They moved at an excruciatingly slow pace until they reached the edge of the grass. They dashed across the shadowy gap to reach the outpost. In silence, Karloh pressed his back to the nearest stone building until Praster arrived at his side. Soundless as stone, they worked deeper into the shadows until they were beneath a small window.

"...dark as a waikan's cloak out there tonight. We're running night drills on the slough with J-squad. Lord Pettrahl is overseeing."

"Good," growled a deep voice.

Karloh felt a tap on his shoulder. Plan?

Listen.

"Lord Pettrahl, Lord Ukohl, and Lord Solloh are to move out in three days' time. They must be ready."

"Is it so soon?" the first voice asked uneasily.

"The Five Years Fair has begun and the Tsar wants the Northern Highway secure for the envoy's return."

"Oh, is that why?"

"It's not for me to question the Tsar, or you. The men are to march to Edmonton and establish camp just outside the city."

The second voice went silent for a long moment. "The White Throne might not approve of this, captain."

"That is between the White Throne and the Tsar."

"We could all be bravahli for the crows if it goes wrong."

Praster shifted his weight and tripped over something in the dark. Karloh seized him by the cloak and yanked him back into the shadows.

"What was that?" said one of the voices. 

"It sounded like it came from outside."

Move out, Karloh signaled. He'd seen and heard enough. It would not do Rocklands or The Pike any favors if two Elects were caught on the royal grounds of House Calazar. Such a thing could be seen as provocation for war.

Keeping their heads low, they backtracked hastily to the rope. Karloh's blood roared in his ears when they arrived at the base of the wall. Much more quickly than before they were back up and over the wall. Karloh removed the pins from the rock as he downclimbed. Once at the bottom, he whipped the rope out of the open hooks on top with a flick of his wrist, and it slithered down to join them.

"Will someone notice those hooks on top?" Praster asked.

Karloh shrugged. "We'll be long gone one way or the other."

"Did you see everything you needed?"

"And then some. But there'll be more to see by day."

Praster nodded grimly. "Looks like they're ready for war. But why?"

Karloh shook his head. He didn't know. "The Pike must have suspected something, or they wouldn't have sent us up here." They looked at each other grimly. "Let's get back and get some sleep."