"Get your sword." His words echoed in my head, hissing in my ear like a frigid wind. "The wonder is, after all the trouble you've been, you still might actually turn out to be useful for something at last...You've got that little toothpick of yours tucked away somewhere, don't you? I want you to get it, and come back to me. Quickly you hear?"
I dropped to my knees at the edge of my bed, throwing the covers back, and lithely slid underneath. The stone of the floor felt cool, refreshingly so. It's smooth surface pressed against the soft skin of my hands, as I slid through the cool blackness that lurked beneath my bed. No dust had gathered on the stones of floor, for I often crawled underneath my bed, and none had been able to settle.
Pushed into the far back corner, away from easy reach, where the shadows congregated most thickly, was a tangled bundle of velvet. It was cut out of one of my old dresses that was now too small to fit me, a dark burgundy color that almost seemed to melt into the surrounding shadows. But as I reached out and pulled it toward me it was heavier than a bundle of fabric, and more than just fabric bumped together inside.
Quickly I slithered backwards, emerging from under the bed with the bundle I had retrieved. Carefully wrapped inside were several of my most precious objects, who's location I desired to conceal, and I handled them reverently as I laid them out on the bed one by one. The longest and most unwieldy object was Traitor, lying cold and unused in it's sheath, with it's sturdy leather belt wrapped close around it. This I laid aside, not bothering to check the sharpness of the blade, for I knew it would be sharp enough.
Lying under Traitor was a small bundle of plain clothes, easy to wear with comfort. High waisted trousers, one of my old fencing shirts, and a pair soft soled knee high leather boots, good for when you wanted to walk a little gingerly. Wrapped up in the baggy shirt was the small (almost dainty) dagger that Ivan had given me in it's own sheath, and I carefully laid it beside Traitor on the bed.
But most treasured possession of all, carefully tucked and folded at the bottom of the bag, smelling faintly of dust: a worn set of simple leather armor. The armor my mother had trained in, when she was young. For months I hadn't dared to take it, afraid that someone would notice it's absence, but now I had it hidden safe under my bed, exactly where it should be. It was worn but hardened, well used, and well maintained. The spicy odor of old leather clung to it, and it smelled like Mother would smell: sharp and biting.
It was the smell of war. The smell of war was in everything today. The air had been thick with it all morning; when I rose from sleep, when I dressed, when I went down to breakfast. It hung like a heavy veil over the dinning room table, lurking like a low mist among the plates and dishes, and shrouding the dimly guttering candles.
We had risen in the black hour before dawn, and the candles were the only source of light. Everyone was awake, and present at the table, even though it was a much earlier hour than everyone's usual time for rising. I had been placed next to Lady Briarwood, who sat toying with her meal, lost in thought. Silas had also risen to eat with us, though he usually didn't rise until after the sun had gone down, Anders was sitting at a distance looking sullen, and Anna contentedly ate as if there was absolutely nothing different about this particular meal. But none of us felt much like talking, and the morning meal was eaten in deep silence.
"Perhaps you should begin your preparation my dear." Silas said to his wife, shattering the fragile stillness, and pulling her from her reverie. "You have quite a bit to do, and it will take some hours to complete..."
"Yes." Lady Briarwood said, as if she had just been shaken from sleep. "Yes of course darling."
Quietly she rose, still lost in abstraction, and left the room, followed by several of the undead attendants. We watched her go, eyes following her until she closed the door behind her, all except Anna who still daintily managed her knife and fork, and didn't seem to mark her exit. As soon as she was gone Professor Anders looked expectantly at Lord Briarwood.
"Shall I take Cassandra back to her room for you sire?"
"No, no." Silas said, speaking of me as openly as if I wasn't in the room. "I'll be wanting her in a moment. Anna?"
"Yes?" Ripley said, looking up from her plate, and either forgetting, or intentionally leaving out the 'my lord.'
"I have a busy day ahead of me, there is some interesting business to attend to outside the castle wall, and I think you might be particularly suited to it..." Silas said. "If you have anything in your room of an explosive nature, would you be so kind as to fetch it, and meet me out in the garden?"
"Of course..." Anna said, almost reluctantly, clearly signifying that she would have liked to finish her meal undisturbed. But she left her plate, and exited the room.
"Quite finished?" Silas said, looking at me sternly.
As his tone heavily implied that I should be, I nodded, pushing my plate away, and wiping my lips on my napkin.
"Then come with me."
Lord Briarwood shoved back his chair, striding quickly from the room, and I leapt to my feet to follow him. He moved quite purposefully, forcing me to almost run in an effort to keep up with him, but he paid me no attention as we walked. Flung back over one broad shoulder was a fine dark green cloak, and it billowed behind him as he moved, giving him a regal, almost kingly, appearance.
Footsteps echoing in the silence, we crossed the wide foyer. Silas planted both his hands against the castle's double doors, and with hardly any effort, flung them both wide open, as if the aged wood weighed nothing. Skipping down the flagged stone steps, I quickly followed him as he strode out into the castle courtyard.
The sun had not yet lifted over the Alabaster Sierra's towering white peaks, but light filtered over them into the valley. Clearly the sun was just rising over the earth's horizon, even though it was not yet visible over the mountains. It was not much light, only enough to provide an early morning gray, but I saw Silas hunch his shoulders against it. He did it very subtly, but I still noticed the slight change.
At the the foot of the castle wall on the eastern side Lord Briarwood stopped, and turned to face me. Towering directly overhead, gleaming pale in the gray light, was the east tower, one of Castle Whitestone's small watchtowers. Apprehensively I looked up at it's crown where, like so many places in this castle, I had loved to play so long ago...
"I want you to go up to the top of the tower, and wait upon my wife." Silas said, then his face became stern as he added, "You must not, under any circumstances, allow someone to disturb her. Understand?"
"Yes sir."
"Good." And he unceremoniously shoved me up the wall's steps. I stumbled over the bottom step, falling to my knees on the stairs, but Lord Briarwood had already turned away, walking swiftly back towards the castle.
Recovering myself, I mounted the steps, catching up my skirt and scaling them two at a time, as was my habit. Moving along the top of the wall, running my hand absentmindedly along the top of the rampart, I reached the base of the east tower. The entrance stood at the wall's very corner, a small wooden door leading into the tower's round interior, and I pushed through it.
I had always loved climbing up and down the steps of this tower. It was the skinniest of the castle's watchtowers, and mounting to its top always felt climbing the slope of a giant corkscrew. Still climbing two at a time, I skipped up the tower steps, at last pushing up a trapdoor that led to the tower's top.
Up here the wind, which had only been a gentle breeze down in the courtyard, was much stronger, flowing down from the Sierra's peaks like a wave. I shivered slightly against the chill, settling my resolve to the cold. It was unpleasant, but there was nothing I could do but accept it, something that long years in this chilly landscape had taught me.
Silent in the center of the tower's round top, lost in deep concentration, was Lady Briarwood; sitting crouched on her knees, shoulders stiff, hands splayed out on the flat stones, hair hanging loose about her face. In front of her was a dark black crystal, its round surface dark and featureless, un-illuminated by the growing light of day, and as she sat her eyes stared blindly into its depths. Lying across her lap, half hidden by her loose dark hair, was a jagged dagger, crafted from dark green crystal.
I paused with the trapdoor in my hand, afraid that if I moved I would disturb her, but she made no move, and I wasn't sure she had even noticed my presence. Quietly I dropped the trapdoor, and Delilah sat inert, so still she might have been carved out of the castle's stones herself. Reassured, I crossed the tower's top, turning my back to Lady Briarwood, and leaning on the battlement.
Empty void gaped beneath me, and I felt my stomach heave just looking down. The ridge top on this side of the castle was sheer, the castle's wall constructed on the cliffside's very edge, so that even from the top of the wall it was a very deep drop. With the tower's additional hight, it was dizzying. I pulled back from the edge, and turned around, sliding down to a sitting position with my back against the battlement. For a moment I struggled with my cloak, pulling it closer around me, then I became lost in staring at Delilah, as absorbed in watching her as she was in watching the dark crystal.
Time was lost on me, and we could have sat like that for hours or mere moments, and it would have felt the same to me. But at last my concentration was broken by the sound of the trapdoor being lifted. Remembering Lord Briarwood's order to keep his wife undisturbed, I hastily rose to my feet, crossing the tower top at a half run.
Professor Anders was just pushing the trapdoor back when I reached him, and I seized its edge, preventing him from lifting it farther. Cautioning him with a finger, I slipped through the narrow gap, and gently lowered the door back down. Anders watched all this with a scowl, and his face darkened as I turned to look at him.
"What do you think you're doing?" He demanded angrily.
"I can't let you see her." I said, bowing my head slightly, and speaking submissively. "Lord Briarwood instructed me to keep her completely undisturbed."
"Get out of my way." Anders said, trying to brush me aside and push up the stairs.
I felt a flash of anger run through me at the gesture. Silas himself had told me to guard Lady Briarwood, and I was determined to obey him. I flung the Professor backwards with all my might, shoving him back down the stairs, and crouching protectively between him and the door. For a moment we both crouched angrily, sizing each other up, caught in a tense stalemate.
"No matter...I only wanted to give her this, but you can do that for me, I suppose." The Professor said at last, straitening and brushing himself off. With a swift movement of his arm, he threw a canvas bag at me. It was such a savage throw, I only just managed to catch it, seizing it with both hands. Something inside the bag squirmed, startling me. Before I could fully recover my balance, Anders gripped a jagged handful of my hair, pulling me so close to him I could feel his breath across my face as he spoke.
"I won't forget this little girl."
"I won't either." I growled, shoving the bag into his face, and forcing myself free.
For a moment I could see deep hatred flash in his eyes, and I prepared myself to receive his retaliation, but he made no move. And at last, after a long moment, he silently turned and retreated down the stairs, leaving me alone. Half afraid he was going to come back, I waited for a moment, catching my breath. But he didn't return, and I looked back down at the bag in my hand. Hesitantly I opened it, peering down inside.
Sitting hunched at the bottom of the bag, sides heaving, with its ears laid back, was a small fat rabbit. The poor thing looked very frightened, and I knew better than to touch it, or it would probably bite me. Instead I closed the bag again, trying to move it as little as possible. Moving slowly I retreated back up the stairs, quietly lifting the trapdoor, and slipping back through the gap.
Lady Briarwood was still sitting in the exact same position she had been before, still staring blindly at the black crystal in front of her. The wind rushed over the stones, blowing in her hair, and though she was completely oblivious to it, I could see that she was shivering slightly. It was cold even for me, and I had lived here all my life.
"My Lady..." I said softly, hesitantly approaching her, and holding out the canvas bag. She made no move when I spoke, and after a moment I circled in front of her, kneeling down and speaking to her face.
"My Lady?"
At last she stirred, as if she had been asleep, and her eyes unwillingly broke away from the stone to look up at me. For a moment she stared at me blankly, without the slightest sign of recognition, and I could see in her eyes that for a brief moment she had no idea who I was. Then realization glimmered in her eyes, and the faintest traces of a smile crossed her face.
"Cassandra..."
"Professor Anders wanted to speak to you, but I wouldn't let him up, and he told me to give you this. It's a rabbit." I held up the canvas bag for her to see, and her eyes drifted down to look at it. Slowly she took the bag from my hands, opening it, and looking down at its contents as I had done.
A strange smile lit up her face, so dark that it was almost fierce, very different than the one that she had given me, and she murmured exultantly under her breath. I didn't recognize the tongue she used, but it sounded foul. The words had a lilting resonance, that warped her voice with their elegant darkness, and I shivered at the hideous change.
She pushed the bag back into my hands, still chanting under her breath. Lying concealed in her lap, next to the knife, was a small leather pouch, and she opened it, emptying its contents into her lap. Inside were two pieces of hardened charcoal, and as she drew them out she tossed aside the bag, rising to her feet. Her whole body seemed to have come alive, and she moved with a lithe, almost unnatural grace, tracing a giant circle across the tower top.
As if she were following the intricate steps of a ritualistic dance, she glided across the stones, her fingers tracing out shapes with the charcoal. She was still chanting, her voice much more forceful now. There was a strange harmony to the words, a veiled power behind her voice, and some primal part of me knew, without being able to explain how I knew it, that these were not her words. There was a dark Other to this voice.
The rabbit suddenly began violently kicking inside the bag, struggling with desperate fierceness to escape my grip, and I clutched it to my chest. Trying to be firm but gentle, I squeezed it until it was forced to lie still. I could feel the warmth of its body through the material of the bag, its sides still heaving under my firm grip, clearly terrified.
Clutching the rabbit protectively, I pulled back from Delilah, retreating outside the circle she had drawn. I sank into a ball at the base of the tower battlement, shushing the rabbit, trying in vain to comfort the poor thing. The ceaseless rhythm of Lady Briarwood's chanting was spellbinding, and both the rabbit and I sat frozen under her words.
Suddenly the endless chanting came to an end, leaving ringing silence in its wake, and slowly Delilah straightened, flinging the charcoal away with a convulsive movement of her arm. She was breathing heavily, standing half bowed, hands shaking, her windblown hair hiding her face. I shivered under the weight of the silence, looking from Lady Briarwood's shrunken form to the circle she had been drawing.
It was savagely drawn by a heavy hand: a giant outer circle, encompassing several smaller ritual circles. Each of the smaller circles were lined on the inside with text in some language I couldn't read, and there were four larger glyphs that I could recognize as being drawn from arcane ritual magic. Though I could not, based on my very slight understanding of the magical arts, place what they were used for. And sitting in the perfect center of it all, the focus point of the entire ritual, still dark and totally featureless, was the crystal orb.
"Cassandra." Delilah said quietly, her voice like cold frosted steel. "Bring me the rabbit, if you would please."
Hesitantly I rose to my feet, approaching her with the rabbit clutched tightly against my chest. The creature began to shift nervously as soon as I moved, growing more agitated the closer I drew to Lady Briarwood. As soon as I crossed the edge of the ritual circle the rabbit began to struggle fiercely, and I had to hold it almost cruelly, to keep it from worming its way out of my arms. I paused, hesitating, feeling almost protective of the small frightened bundle.
"Give me the rabbit, my dear." Lady Briarwood commanded, and though her voice was still gentle, there was a silent force to it that made me shudder.
Still hesitant, but too frightened to disobey, I relaxed my hold. I couldn't bring myself to let go of it, but the slight release was all Lady Briarwood needed. Her hand reached out, firmly seizing the rabbit, and she pulled it away from me. The creature squealed as soon as she touched it, thrashing desperately as she wrenched it out of the bag, and I flinched at the horrible sound, shrinking back.
Moving slowly, rhythmically chanting again in that Other voice, Delilah knelt down in front of the dark crystal, within one of the small ritual circles, still holding the struggling rabbit. Forcing the rabbit onto its back on the ground, she seized the jagged green knife that had been lying in her lap, and was now resting cold on the stones. With one swift savage movement she drove the point of the blade into the rabbit's chest, dragging the knife down with one white knuckled hand, cutting its chest open.
The rabbit let out a thin tearing scream, kicking it's feet, and I let out a gasp of pain, feeling hot tears blur my vision. I dropped to my knees, my chest throbbing with pity for the poor thing. Pain stabbed through my ribcage where those three arrows had pierced me, that miserable night when Cassandra had bled to death in the snow, and I could almost feel the rabbit's pain, intertwined with my own. After a moment the poor thing stopped struggling, going limp and lifeless in Lady Briarwood's grip, and aching silence fell.
Laying down the knife, Delilah smeared two of her fingers with the rabbit's blood, the red stain of it contrasting sharply with the paleness of her slender fingers. Slowly, her breathing deafening in the stillness, she drew a final circle of blood around the crystal with her smeared fingers. This final task done, she rose to her feet, still grasping the crystal dagger in one hand, and there was a flash of white light as all the blood burned away from the knife and her hands, leaving her skin spotlessly clean.
"Come to me, my dear." She said very softly, that magnetic gentleness of her voice drawing me to her, the windblown curtain of her hair obscuring her face from me. As on the day she had taught me piano, she held out her hand to me.
I was quicker to come this time, eager to be near her, and without hesitation I took her offered hand.
"You are so kind, my dear...So willing, so eager, to give your kindness away..."
She drew me closer to her as she spoke, a thoughtful smile hovering about her mouth, stroking my hand, and turning it over to run her fingers across my palm. But after the words a shadow crossed her face, and when she spoke again her eyes were almost sad. She was teaching me a hard truth, one that would hurt, yet I had to learn it anyway.
"Every victory has its price, and all debts must be paid. Keep your heart my love, but know that for every gift of power, there will be a sacrifice, and someone, like the rabbit, will have to pay it."
"Yes my lady." I murmured obediently.
"There will always be a price..." She mused over my hand for a moment, then she lifted her head, her voice growing stronger. "But you will have great power should you choose to bare the pain, and the greater the sacrifice, the greater the reward. Understand?"
"I understand."
"Good girl." She said, smiling again, and she gave my hand a comforting pat.
Her fingers moved up to my wrist, wrapping around my arm with a thin clinging grip, her fingers bitingly cold. Still moving slowly, without looking at me, she drew out my arm, and laid the edge of of the crystal dagger over my skin. I flinched back nervously, afraid of what she was going to do.
"Stay still." Lady Briarwood said firmly, keeping a grip on my arm. "This will hurt a little, but it is a small sacrifice, and it will not hurt long."
Before I had time to say anything in return, she drew the blade swiftly across my arm, slicing a thin shallow cut into my skin. I let out a gasp as the stinging pain hit me, convulsively clenching my fist. Blood welled from the wound, spilling over, and trickling down the sides of my outstretched arm.
Lady Briarwood held my arm over the dark orb. My blood, thick and dark dark red, dripped down onto its featureless surface, looking even more vividly colored against the dull background. Delilah let out an involuntary hiss, closing her eyes, and a shudder either of intense pain, or intense pleasure, rippled through her.
I stood still, my blood dripping down my arm, and spattering over the crystal. After a moment Lady Briarwood opened her eyes again, her face a cold mask, and she released my arm. Quietly she knelt down in front of the blood covered orb, sinking back into the same position she had been in when I had arrived.
She began to chant again, and the sound of her voice had a new resonance to it that hadn't been there before. As soon as she began to speak I felt my stomach flip. The air was oppressively hot, or I was ice cold, and it was so heavy I could hardly breath. Every word Delilah spoke reverberated through the stones, through the air, through everything that stood within the giant circle she had drawn. This whole ritual circle was one giant focus, and anything within that perimeter was affected by its power.
Hardly able to breathe, trying only to escape this torture, I shied away from Delilah, utterly terrified of her. Overcome by the ringing power of the ritual, I dropped to my knees, unable to stand without feeling giddy. Nothing could have forced me to move except the knowledge that escape lay beyond the perimeter of the charcoal circle Lady Briarwood had drawn.
I blindly crawled in that direction. Weakly I dragged myself over the edge of the circle, sucking in a jagged gasp of free air, and I collapsed on the stones of the tower, glorying in the sharp chill of the air. Released from the ritual's influence I stretched out on my back, simply breathing.
"Get your sword..." Silas's voice commanded in my mind, recalling me back to reality, standing frozen with Mother's armor in my hands. "You've still got that toothpick of yours tucked away somewhere, don't you? I want you to get it, and come back to me. Quickly you hear?"
I gave myself a shake, pushing those events from my mind. That had been hours ago, several long slow hours in which Delilah had done nothing but chant unceasingly, and the gray morning had faded away into the shadows of a long gray afternoon. But time was pressing, and there were other things to think about.
Briskly I changed into the functional clothes within my pack, pulling on the boots, strapping Traitor around my waist, and fixing the dagger to my belt. This done, I carefully replaced Mother's armor back in the bundle, and slid back under the bed to deposit it in the corner. Safe and out of sight, exactly where it should be.
I pulled the blanket down, hiding the space under my bed, and pushed out of the room, jogging down the hallway towards the foyer. Silas was waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs, and seized my wrist as soon as I reached the bottom. Moving quickly, without speaking, he dragged me towards the back of the castle. I felt my stomach drop as we stepped into the main hall of the servant's wing, moving resolutely towards its end, and when we stopped at the top of the stairs that led down into the dungeons I glanced at Lord Briarwood apprehensively.
"This is simple." Silas said, taking me by the arms and speaking to my face. I cast my eyes downwards as he spoke, unable to look him in the eye. "A band of your rebel compatriots is on its way from the city, and they're going to be sneaking into the castle through this entrance. All you've got to do is get them all well inside the tunnel, without them suspecting any danger, we'll do the rest."
I tried to pull away, but as usual Lord Briarwood was far stronger than me, and he kept a firm grip on my arms, regarding me calculatingly. He was measuring me in his mind, deciding the exact total of my worth, and I shivered as he examined me.
"You're a liar Cassandra." Silas said gently, his face almost pitying. "And we both know that, you and I. But those men out there, foolish as they are, they trust you anyway, and that is something that you can use to your advantage. I'm choosing to trust you with this Cassandra. This is a chance to redeem yourself, efface the past, repair your broken confidence, prove yourself worthy of trust in my eyes. I want to put faith in you, show me that you are worthy of it."
I nodded silently, eyes downcast, and stood shoulders hunched waiting to be dismissed. Silas smiled, tilting my head up until my eyes met his, and he laid his hands on my shoulders.
"Now tell me." He said, as if he were my teacher, asking me to review a lesson "What would you do, to protect me and my wife?"
"I would do anything, sir." I said simply. I didn't need to say anything other than that, for it was true. It was a truth that defined me. Silas and Delilah were my family, I would do what ever it took to keep them safe, even if it meant fighting for them to the bitter end.
"That's right." Lord Briarwood answered. "I ask no more of you than that."
He gave my shoulders a last squeeze, gently turning me to face down towards the dungeon, giving me a gentle push forwards.
"Prove your faith." He said, as his hands released my shoulders.
Moving now out of my own volition, I descended the stairs, slowly, and running my hand cautiously across the stonework. The walls felt cold and and almost wet against my fingertips, the fine gaps between the stonework little more than a whisper against my hand. As I descended downwards, the air grew colder, taking on the clammy chill of being underground, and it was pleasantly cold. For a short space light filtered down the stairs from the hallway above, then it curved left, and the light was cut off.
In the dim light I continued down, only vaguely able to make out the steps before me, then the stair took another turn, leaving me in complete darkness. This time I had to rely on touch alone, and I hugged close to the wall, running my hand along the smooth stonework. At last, after another short descent, I felt the stair ahead of me curve a final time, and I followed the bend. Spilling around the corner I could see flickering torchlight, and as I stepped out into it I was able to make out the last stretch of stair, then smooth stone floor where the descent came to an end.
Reaching the bottom of the stairs, I found myself in the same low dungeon where Percy had been imprisoned all those years ago. The cells opening in front of me, the hallway to the left, and the second room full of cells, even the same torch flickering in a steel ring on the wall. It was a place full of memories. They whispered in the walls, every shadow held its phantoms, and as I looked in the cells there was a veiled pile of bodies in every one.
When I reached the back of the dungeon, I scrambled over the piled boxes and crates that hid the tunnel's entrance, and dropped down next to the whitestone statue that barred entry. It was in the exact same place it had been resting before, with a dark gap just wide enough to squeeze through. Gracefully I slipped through the gap, hugging my legs up close to my chest, and supporting myself with my arms. It felt like those games years ago, when I was only a child playing hide and seek, and I could still manage to squeeze myself into the most godforsaken places.
On the other side of the statue I dropped down into a low crouch, hands splayed on the ground. I was totally blind, sitting coiled in the dark, listening for the slightest sound with my head bowed. Only velvety silence greeted me, and my shoulders relaxed. Carefully I made my way downwards, staying low to the ground, and slinking along like a wary animal.
The journey downwards felt like an age. Moving in complete darkness, with nothing to mark the time. The smell of cool dry earth hung in my nose, and the dirt floor of the tunnel felt pleasantly cool, fine silky dirt brushing against my hands. Impenetrable darkness blanketed the air, pressing against my eyes like a blindfold, and as I moved it almost felt like I was passing through something solid, like the air was filled with a kind of insubstantial water.
Any light, even half light, was blinding after such darkness, and as I rounded the last curve of the tunnel I blinked, stepping out into it. Faint illumination was spilling through the bushes that obscured the tunnel entrance, providing enough light to see by, and as I looked around I could make out faint objects around me. The stone walls were smooth, half remembered footprints smeared in the loose earth of the tunnel, and the bushes at the tunnel's entrance looked almost black against the light.
It was a dreary day, heavy dark storm clouds blanketing the sky, and as I stepped out of the tunnel and looked up, it was impossible to make out where the sun was through their mass. Snow lay in piles over the ground, the trees looking dark and threatening against the pureness of the color. A strong wind was blowing, shaking the snowy mantles from the tree's branches, and the clouds overhead swirled darkly. There would be a storm tonight.
Early evening shadows were beginning to close in, by the time I sensed any change. The hairs on the back of my neck prickled instinctively, and looking up I saw the dark shapes of men, slinking toward the tunnel entrance. I stood up, raising a hand in greeting, and one of the shapes broke off from the rest, raising their hand as they came.
He was an impressively tall man, with dark green hooded eyes, scruffy day old stubble on a strongly defined jaw, and unkempt greasy brown hair that fell past his shoulders. Most of his finer features were obscured by the shadows of a deep hood pulled up over his head, and his gear was muffled by a long thick dusty green cloak, but even through the cloak I could make out the shape of a longsword strapped to his belt. All of his gear looked rough, and he himself looked weathered.
"Greetings." I said as he reached me.
"Greetings." He answered grimly, giving me a sober nod of recognition. Though we had never met before, I could tell that he already knew who I was: after all I was Cassandra de Rolo the last of my bloodline, he couldn't avoid knowing me at least by name.
"Are these all your men?" I said as the others came creeping out of the forest to join us.
They were far from being an army, but most of them seemed to have decent gear, if not better than their leader's, and they all had good weapons. Most of them were men, of varying hight and respectability, but among them I could pick out the slimmer build of two women. Probably they were sisters, for they were both similar to each other, and both had Shortbows.
"These are all we could gather." The leader said. "All the best fighters we could muster, we're few but fearsome, it will be enough. Geru is my name."
"I must admit, I had hoped for more..." I said soberly, shaking the hand he silently offered me.
"We were the best to be found."
"And the bravest I hope? You'll need a sturdy pair of legs, to face what's waiting for us up there."
"All of us here have done our fair share, fought out battles, and proved our hardy hood. It's no joke, living the way some of us have lived. If sturdy men is what you ask for, than you'll find no better men than these, --saving those two of course." Geru said, with a dark smile, and a nod at the two women.
"Good." I replied with a dark smile of my own. "The best is what I need."
It was frightening how easy I found it to converse with him. How quickly I slipped into my role, played my part, and pulled the blindfold over his eyes. Here I was, standing in the midst of my family's enemies, and yet none of them sensed something wrong. I was far too good at this.
"Quickly, we must move now." I said, beckoning the others, and moving towards the tunnel entrance. "I've been watching the signs all day, and there's some devilry at work with Lady Briarwood, up in the east tower."
The men silently passed me, pushing into the darkness of the tunnel, and I followed last. At the entrance I paused, looking back over the empty woodlands. Lord Briarwood said to lead them inside, and he would take care of the rest, but the trees were empty, and there was no sixth sense warning me of danger.
Geru kindled one small torch, and carried it in front, leading the others up the darkened pathway. Quietly I retreated after them, moving stealthily, with my hand to the wall, taking advantage of the shadows at the back of the group. I felt safer in the shelter of the darkness, made deeper by the contrasting torchlight.
The deep echo of a familiar explosion trembled in the stones overhead, and I froze, knowing exactly what had made the sound. Ripley had set off such explosions in the garden more times than I could remember, and this was exactly the same. The sound of falling rock, like a miniature avalanche rumbled in the passage behind us, earth shuddered, dust drifted down from the ceiling.
"What was that?" One of the men whispered warily.
Geru pushed through then men to the back of the group, holding out the torch into the darkness behind us.
"I can't feel the air moving anymore." One of the two women said, voice heavy with apprehension, and she tilted her head to the side, as if she were listening to something the rest of us couldn't hear. "The flow at the end of the tunnel's been blocked..."
"I don't like this." Geru muttered, his eyes glinting dangerously, and he took a step away from the rest.
A shout of alarm at the front of the group broke the silence, followed by the unmistakable cry of a dying man.
"Geru!" A voice shouted urgently, and the ringing clash of swords filled the passage. Dark shadows were leaping out of the blackness, and the pressing voice was overwhelmed. Geru ripped his sword from its sheath, a ringing sound filling the tunnel as he did, and he charged back up the slope of the tunnel. The shadows writhed with the half formed shapes of men, struggling desperately, and I slithered into the fray, dancing to the front of the group.
"Come on!" I shouted over my shoulder, dodging under the heavy mace of a half formed assailant. "We can't stay here, follow me to the courtyard."
With the desperation of trapped animals, the men pushed forward, forcing through the ambush, and pouring out of the tunnel into the dungeon. It was utter chaos, and it the confusion I could only keep track of Geru, his lanky figure standing out among the rest, and together we pushed forward, struggling through the thickest of the fray and heading for the dungeon stairs.
It was much easier to see in the servants wing, and as soon as we reached the top of the stairs, the ragged men left broke into a dead sprint. Desperate to to reach the courtyard and open air. By this time it was no longer a fight, but clearly a retreat, and nobody paused long enough to exchange blows.
Dull sounds of shouting reached me through the thick stone walls of the castle. The servant's wing was completely deserted, the living corpses that guarded the halls, or stupidly followed one monotonous order, had all abandoned their posts. Nobody molested our escape.
I pushed through one of the doors into the kitchens, dodging around the tables and places for preparing food. Through a door at the far end of the room I knew there was a side door that communicated with the dinning room, and after the dinning room the only thing that stood between us and the courtyard was the spacious foyer where I had first met Silas and Delilah all those years ago.
The sounds of distant conflict grew much more distinct as I shouldered through the small back door, bursting into the empty dining room, vaulting the corner of the table. Long windows of thick glass stood at one end of the hall, and through them I could see the wild motion of battle in the courtyard.
"Where now?" One of the men asked as we reached the foyer, and burst through the double doors of the dining room, stumbling onto the wide open floor.
As soon as we entered the foyer, and overwhelming wave of noise and confusion washed over us. Sound was pouring in through the double doors into the castle, which had been flung back, and through them I could see out into the castle courtyard.
The castle gates had been torn from their hinges, the splintered wood, torn, burned, and scored with the grooves of blades. Guards peppered the wall tops, raining arrows down into the courtyard, and more battled on the stairs trying to hold the tide of enemies back from the wall. Through the broken twisted wreckage of the gate, reckless men were flooding in, brandishing axes, sharpened pitch forks, and any other makeshift weapons they had. Clearly these men were not as well equipped as Geru's had been, and many of them were totally unarmored. Nothing more than simple peasants fighting for their lives, with the little they had.
A stiflingly hot wind was blowing, flooding through the doors of the castle, ripping at hair and clothes, howling over the stones. Through all the confusion I could just barely make out the sky, which was overcast with roiling black clouds, and the darkness of the weather, combined with the deepening shadows of evening, made it almost oppressively dark.
Strangely enough the castle's front hall was completely empty, and nobody followed us through the door we had entered. It was as if the chase had suddenly been completely abandoned. We all braced ourselves, waiting to meet our pursuers, and when nobody came Geru and I glanced at each other. Neither of us had any idea what was going on.
Silas had instructed me to trick the men, and I had done as I was commanded. Instinct told me to stay close to Geru and the others, and I couldn't decide if I was trying to protect them or not. But even if I wanted to help them, there was nothing I could do, for I had no idea what Lord Briarwood might be planning.
"Everybody stick together..." Geru commanded, setting himself back to back with me.
"You couldn't have chosen a better time to appear, my friends. " A suave voice echoed out, filling the entire hall, and a shiver of pleasure rippled over me in response. "Everything is ready for you..."
Silas was standing at the top of the grand staircase, smiling down at us. His cloak was thrown back, revealing a wine red waistcoat, and I could see the hilt of his sword behind his right shoulder. All the men looked up at him, Geru next to me gripping his sword more tightly.
With one slow elegant movement Lord Briarwood drew his blade, its surface dully catching the light, and dark smoke swirled from the hilt. I felt the same thrill of fear run over me as my eyes ran down the impossibly long blade, and I recoiled from the memory of the last time I had seen it. The long scar across my chest throbbed with remembered pain. He set the point in front of him on the carpet, and black smoke lazily spilled downwards, drifting towards the ground like a thick mist, and began to creep down the staircase.
"However, as much as I've enjoyed your unwanted little visit, I have other more important things to attend to than a skulking band of thieves who break into my basement." Silas said, and his voice, which had been welcoming, hardened. "I've arranged proper entertainment for you..."
A drop of water hit my arm, and I looked down at it, smearing it away with my finger. It was more slimy than water, spreading a thick sheen of clear liquid over my skin. I looked up to see where it had come from, and froze, petrified.
Clinging to the ceiling, impossibly, horribly, grinning down at us, were human beings. They looked so totally wrong, the way they were clinging to the roof like twisted spiders, and their splayed arms and legs looked unnatural. Every one of them had a beast like look of craving shining in their eyes, glittering in the semi darkness of the hall, and it was clear to see that these things couldn't be human. As I looked up another drop hit my arm, and my stomach twisted as I realized what it was.
It was drool...
"Consider this a proper reward for unwelcome guests." Silas said, and a cruel smile lit up his face.
"Go!" I screamed, backing away towards the castle doors, pure instinct forcing me to try and save the men. "Get out of here."
Like a small stone dislodging from the ceiling, one of the creatures let go, plummeting through the air, and landing on the stone floor with a twisted thud. Another let go, and another. The one that had fallen first, flipped over onto its hands and knees, like some kind of agile lizard, eyes alight with feral instinct.
"RUN!!!" Geru roared, his voice tearing through the terrified tumult of the men, and the feral screams of the half human beasts. "FUCKING RUN."
Following his own advice, Geru seized my arm, dragging me after him. I wasn't in danger, but he didn't know that, and he pulled me after him as he carved a path through the fray with his sword. All around us men were fleeing, falling, struggling desperately to reach the courtyard.
A heavy weight suddenly slammed into me, ripping me from Geru's grip, and I toppled backwards. Aching pain throbbed in my shoulder blades as my back was slammed into the stone floor, the wind escaping from me in a gasp, and I struggled, bruised and disoriented. One of the things was crouching on top of me, bony fingers, with long impossibly sharp clawlike fingernails, slicing into my shoulders. It hissed, fangs dripping with saliva, and I tried to escape its horribly clinging grip.
The thing tried to bite me, striking at the air like a snake, and I shielded myself with an arm, closing my eyes. I heard it let out a shriek of pain, its weight vanishing from my chest, and Lord Briarwood's strong arms suddenly gripped me, dragging me backwards. I desperately clung to his arm, breathing hard. Insatiable desire blazed in the creature's eyes, and for a moment it looked like it was going to pounce on me again. Then he hissed at it, fangs fully bared, and it backed away like a beaten cur, terror in its blinking eyes.
Geru had turned to help me up, and had seen the whole thing. For a moment I saw confusion on his face, his eyes flicking up to Lord Briarwood, who had his arms wrapped around me protectively. Then his eyes hardened, confusion replaced by silent understanding. He knew exactly what I was, and he turned away, pushing out through the double doors into the courtyard. I shivered, twisting in Silas's arms and supporting my forehead against his shoulder.
"You've proved your faith." He said in my ear, allowing me to cling to him. "You've done well."
It was small praise, but I glowed at the words.
"Now get up." Lord Briarwood said. "The battle isn't over yet, there's still work to be done."
He released me, the moment of reward past, and his brief approval vanished. I felt a twist of pain as he pulled away, craving more. But one embrace was all I could have, and I silently understood that I must please him again, if I wanted to earn another.
"Follow me," Silas commanded. "I want to have you near, in case I should want something, and this is hardly a time for you to be roaming around by yourself."
"Yes sir."
Slowly Lord Briarwood stood up, his form towering over me, and looked around the hall. The frenzied activity was over by this time, all the men dead or fleeing into the courtyard, and the twisted creatures crouched over the fallen, squabbling over their prizes. As Silas rose, they all fell silent, looking up at him, as if by unspoken command. For a moment all was dreadfully still, and they gazed up at him with widely staring eyes. Then he raised his arm, pointing out at the courtyard where the battle still raged.
The creatures leapt across the stones, rushing to obey his silent command. Languidly, completely unconcerned, Lord Briarwood walked down the castle steps, his minions flooding past him into the battle. I followed him, gripping Traitor tightly, and plunged after him into the fray.