Lesson 33: Sometimes the Only Way Forward Is Through
The Liberators settled themselves in a thick grove of pines. They decided to wait till dusk to move on the castle. Between lightly frosted boughs they could see the crumbling facade of the derelict fortress. They remained silent, watching the darkened windows for signs of movement. The sun was setting at their backs, and Grielle couldn't hear a sound aside from the wind that carried away their ragged breaths.
Her heart pounded in her ears, her fingers tingling with the feeling she always got when danger was near. She flexed them and readjusted her grip on her sword, a repeated motion that settled her nerves when she knew she was going to have to pick up a blade.
Reyn and Talitha both shucked their heavy coats and weapons, carrying only their smallest of blades. Since they had the quickest feet and strongest senses, Grielle assigned them to run the perimeter of the ruins to ascertain the best point of entry.
By the time Talitha and Reyn returned, the sun had just dipped below the mountain's peak, casting the valley in shadow. They only had a little light left by which to infiltrate the castle.
"There is a large wooden door — on the southern side — the main entrance," Reyn gasped as she bent over to catch her breath.
"On the eastern side, there is a small door that must lead to the basements or barracks of some sort. It was left wide open," Talitha offered, looking largely unaffected by the run, except for a rosy tinge to her cheeks.
"Wide open you say?" Ludvig asked, scratching his jaw. "I don't like the sound of that."
"Me neither," Grielle said. It seemed too easy a way in. They wouldn't have been the first to discover this place. The ancient castle was too enticing for lovers of the dark — a corpse laden with the remnants of the Bane's Withering Magic, waiting to be scavenged by nefarious creatures. "A convenient weak spot... an open wound. It feels as if we're meant to find it. The main entrance should have a large hall on the other side. I don't want to enter the castle right into a pinch point where we can be picked off one by one."
Benedikt nodded. "I guess that leaves the front door then—" he stopped short as a long howl cut through the twilight air.
The sound made Grielle's blood run cold. She stiffened and drew her blade. "I hope that's not a fellgryll." She spat out the name.
"Never thought I'd say this, but I hope it's just wolves," Yorick said.
Grielle waved them on as they followed Reyn and Talitha to the main door. They moved quickly, scanning the woods with a healthy fear of what might be stalking them in the growing dark.
~
Benedikt didn't pause as his feet pounded up the crumbling stone steps to the castle's main entrance. The massive carved door in front of them bore deep scars from when some invading force had tried to get through the door. He grabbed the rusted handle of the wicket door, the smaller door set within one of the larger ones, and wrenched it open. To his surprise, it gave way—no locks. He wasn't sure if that boded well for them or not. The wood and metal made a horrible scraping noise as it dragged across the stone floor, the hinges protesting with an echoing screech.
Benedikt stepped into the darkness with blade raised, unwilling to disturb the stillness with even a breath. As his eyes adjusted to the light, he inched forward and the others followed. Grielle stayed within arm's reach. From the echo of every shuffle, every brush of fabric, Benedikt could tell they were in a very tall chamber. He could smell years of dust in the air and feel the grit of it under his feet.
His toe hit a step as they moved deeper into the castle and he began to ascend. He finally saw a beam of light ahead — a cool sliver of light from the passing day shafted through a narrow window. At the top of the steps, he passed through an archway and into a great hall. Slitted windows cast a dim but welcome light into the darkened room. Holes in the ceiling let in more... and the cold.
Benedikt swallowed hard. Nothing about the room felt welcoming, from the dark stone walls to the unfamiliar carvings and runes that marred the empty fireplaces that lined the hall.
He moved closer to Grielle as dark shapes caught his eye.
"Ben," she whispered.
Benedikt looked away from the runes that had been scratched into the walls to see Grielle jerk her chin towards the other side of the hall. A darkened mass lay huddled on the cold stone floor.
He sidestepped a large pile of rubble from the collapsing ceiling and moved towards the body. His eyes soon found another lying a few yards from the first. And then another. He recognized the trappings of a Stalvart warrior and hesitantly moved closer. Benedikt's stomach clenched as he knelt to the warrior's side and braced for the stench of death. When he didn't smell anything, he heaved a relieved sigh. He couldn't see any signs of injury on his fallen comrade so he held a hand to the soldier's mouth. A shallow breath whispered against his skin.
"Alive," Benedikt breathed. He motioned for the Liberators to check the other warriors scattered across the back half of the hall. They found the captain of the patrol slumped over on a flight of stairs that led deeper into the castle. Like all of her comrades, she showed no signs of injury.
Ludvig knelt to the captain's side and rolled her onto her back. He slapped her face a few times in an attempt to rouse her, but her eyes remained closed, a complacent smile on her slack face. "I think..." Ludvig began, his voice barely above a whisper. He eyed the other warriors where they'd fallen. "I think they're asleep."
Benedikt's brow furrowed. "Asleep?"
Ludvig didn't have to reply as one of the Stalvarts gave an almighty snore that shook dust from the rafters.
"They must be cursed," Talitha said.
Moose nudged Benedikt in the shoulder. "Would you like to do the honors?" He gestured to the hairiest of the sleeping warriors.
Benedikt frowned. "No!" he hissed.
The others snickered behind their hands.
Moose shrugged. "You just have the most experience with this sort of thing."
Benedikt cut Moose a glare before heading up the stairs and into an antechamber of whatever hall they had just been through. Judging by the sickened look on Yorick's face, they were getting close to whoever had cursed the Stalvarts, released fellgrylls on the village of Njord, and perhaps created mountain trolls in their spare time. With every step he took deeper into the castle, he dreaded the moment when they would come face to face with whoever that was.
He only stopped briefly to notice the diagrams of the heavens painted on the domed ceiling of the antechamber before heading up the staircase directly ahead of him.
"Slow down," Grielle whispered from behind him. "We don't want to stumble into a trap by moving with too much haste."
"We're so close." His heart knocked hard against the bones of his chest, drumming out a quick staccato. "I just know it," he said, ascending the tightly spiraled staircase.
He stopped at the topmost step. A wooden door prevented him from advancing further. He tested it, pushing it open slowly to make sure it wouldn't creak. The door opened on a long unlit hallway. Benedikt advanced with his sword raised. There was only one door at the very opposite end of the hall — the only way forward.
Talitha caught up to him. She had an arrow nocked to her bowstring, ready to release it at the first sign of danger. "I don't think I need to tell you this, but there is someone here."
"Someone with powerful magic?"
Talitha nodded.
The doorway at the end of the hall led to another flight of stairs. A sudden chill rippled over Benedikt's flesh as they resumed their ascent. He reached the top of the stairs and instead of a door, he found an archway that led into a circular, windowed room. He sidled into the open space.
Sword at the ready, he froze.
His heart skipped a beat as fear spread ice through his veins. Grielle stopped at his side.
Benedikt couldn't breathe. A figure stood framed in the far window: a tall, willowy woman with a mane of black hair that fell to the middle of her back. She turned around slowly — the stiff, white satin of her gown whispering as she rounded on the intruders.
Benedikt knew her face almost as well as his own. "Fanna?" he asked, unsure whether to believe his eyes. His cousin seemed so out of place standing in the ruins of Fell Forest.
Fanna tilted her head back and laughed. Benedikt tightened his grip on his sword.
"Benny," she purred, pulling off her white gloves to reveal long, pointed nails redolent of the fellgryll's claws that had pierced Grielle's shoulder. "I wondered if that was you crashing through my forest."
"Your forest?" he asked, moving deeper into the chamber to make room for the others.
She laughed again with the same cold smile. "I've claimed it. Suits me, don't you think? It's only temporary though."
Benedikt glared at his cousin. "What are you doing here?" he growled. "Why are Father's scouts asleep downstairs?"
"Who are your friends? I don't believe we've been introduced," Fanna said, her eyes falling on Grielle.
Benedikt took a step to stand between Grielle and Fanna. "I asked you first," he said, raising his sword to point towards Fanna's chest. "And you'd better answer me because this looks bad."
Fanna's lips pulled into a sneer that spread the width of her gaunt face. "This is no way to talk to your cousin," she scolded.
"Cousin?" Ludvig exclaimed from somewhere behind Benedikt.
"Benedikt she's a Witherwitch—" Talitha started to yell.
With a quick slash of Fanna's arm through the air, Talitha's struggling body lifted from the ground a smashed into the opposite wall of the circular room as if she had been thrown by a large, invisible hand.
Ludvig loosed an arrow, but with a wave of Fanna's hand, it dissolved to dust. She merely chuckled as the Liberators watched her with wide, fearful eyes.
They had found their Lady of the Mountain.