Alan Foster - The Icerigger Trilogy

September was whispering to him again. “I’ll take the fat one on the far side, lad. You take the other.” He was fumbling for the small axe at his belt. Ethan would use a dirk. He hoped they wouldn’t need to use beamers. Not that they would make any more noise than axe or knife, but the intense beams of light might be visible to someone within the fortress.

He crawled back next to the giant. Together they started to make their belly-scraping way toward the guards, keeping to the shadowy regions close by the wall. The wind helped to hide the noise of their passage; the Tran had excellent hearing.

Triangular furry ears flipped in their direction and one of the guards turned, squinted. The two humans became part of the landscape.

“Be that you, Smigere?” The guard’s double eyelids flickered against the wind. “You are not due on watch for three vate .” Ethan held his breath. The curious guard took several steps toward them. “Smigere, are you sick?”

Although the sentry was staring straight at Ethan, he apparently still couldn’t conceive of the possibility that any enemy could be behind him. The other guard was looking curiously at his companion.

There was no time for antique weapons. At such close range, it was impossible to miss with the beamers. Both Tran were punctured by thin ropes of azure light. Smigere’s friend went down with an expression of surprise and hurt on his face, as if he couldn’t quite believe what was happening to him. He looked down at the hole in his chest, dropped his lance, and stared curiously into the shadows. His eyes closed and he fell over onto his side. His beamed colleague had stumbled backward and tumbled over the side of the cliff.

After another glance at the moonlit ramparts above, September rose, walked over to the remaining body. He examined it briefly, then picked it up by one arm and leg. A single swing consigned it to the night and the ice. Wind and distance combined to prevent them from hearing the corpse strike the surface far below. That was fine with Ethan, though he wondered absently if the falling shapes had accidentally struck any of the waiting attack party. No time to worry about that now.

They ran to the doorway. Entrance to the fortress was blocked by a single outward-opening door of thick wood. It was large enough and wide enough for Tran to enter only in single-file. Any opponents fortunate enough to survive the stairway could be picked off one at a time if they tried to force their way into the keep.

Their task was only half finished. It was reasonable to expect a gatekeeper posted inside, if not another pair of guards. But no one had appeared to question the sudden manifestation of blue lights in the night sky. The sentries’ demise had gone unwitnessed.

September had replaced the beamer at his waist, redrawn his small axe. “No chance we can use beamers inside,” he murmured. “We’ve been lucky so far, but someone’s sure to see any lights inside the wall.” Ethan had his knife out already.

“What now? Do we just walk in and check for guards?”

“Mebbe we do just that, lad. No reason for them to lock the door. Plenty of time to do that when the stairway guards give warning.”

Ethan moved to stand with his back pressed against the wall flanking the door. September put a gloved hand on the horizontal lock bar of the gate, slid it out of its wall socket slowly. To Ethan it produced an abnormally loud screeching sound in the darkness. As soon as the bar was clear, September grabbed the single handle and pulled. When nothing happened, he pulled again, harder. Hinges creaked, but the door didn’t budge.

“Locked from the inside after all. Damn!” He was heaving with the effort he’d expended on the handle. “One more good try.” He handed Ethan his axe. Bracing his legs against the wall, he put both hands on the handle, pulled and shoved simultaneously.

Metal hinges groaned again. The door moved outward a couple of centimeters. Something went ping on the other side. The door came open a half meter, then a full meter… and metal flashed in a bath of moonlight.

“Lookout!”

September let go of the handle, fell back onto the paving as Ethan stepped clear and fumbled for his beamer. No time for a knife, since he couldn’t tell how many swords might be behind that gate. The giant was already on his knees, ready to confront whoever came charging out the forced door.

“I’m sorry… it’s hard to see in this light.” Elfa Kurdagh-Vlata put up the sword she was carrying, stared at the pair of startled humans.

“You!” Ethan blurted out.

She turned, glanced back at hidden sights, then looked anxiously from one man to the other. “I don’t see anyone inside. Where are the two sentries?” When neither human replied, she made a curt gesture of understanding. “Good. I’ve been huddled inside for ten vate, trying to decide what to do. I knew they were out here and could not conceive of how to cut two throats at the same time without raising the alarm. The guard will be changed soon, but now we have time.” She appeared to encounter a sudden thought.

“Forgive my preoccupation, Sir Ethan. I am remiss in manners. My thanks to you both for rescuing me.”

“I wouldn’t take credit for somethin’ you seem to have practically pulled off by yourself,” September replied. “’Pon my word, you’re a resourceful gal.”

“I do my best, Sir Skua.” But she was gazing at Ethan as she spoke, her yellow eyes glittering in the dim light.

He turned away hurriedly. “We’d better get moving. No sense tempting luck by hanging around.”

“One moment.” While Ethan and September exchanged questioning glances she vanished into the unseen courtyard. To Ethan’s immense relief, she returned a moment later. Something bulky and indistinct was slung over her right shoulder. Two extensions hung slackly from the rest. Arms.

“What… who’s that?” he asked.

“I was granted the opportunity to take a prisoner.” If the weight of the body was troubling her, she didn’t show it. “I believe he is a squire or higher. Would you not wish to learn who attacked us and why?”

“So you don’t think it was common piracy either?” September smiled at her, though she couldn’t see his grin behind the mask, not in the poor light.

“I do not know for certain, but I would like to.”

“So would I.” September started toward her. “Let me take him.”

She glared at him. “Do you not think I can manage a simple load?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if you couldn’t handle anything you wanted to, m’lady-cat. But you’re not designed for descending steps, and we’ve a helluva lot of ’em to make our way down in the darkness. If we were on open ice, I wouldn’t have opened my mouth. Do you not think,” he finished, mimicking her, “that we can make better time?”

She hesitated only an instant before passing the limp form over. “Rightness of your words, knight.” Her attention turned back to Ethan. “So brave of you to challenge the fortress alone.”

“We were the ones best built for climbing,” he said uncomfortably. “Let’s go.”

It was Elfa who had the foresight to close and bolt the damaged door behind them.

“QUIET.” HUNNAR MADE SHUSHING gestures at the sailors assembled behind him. He peered around the curve of the pinnacle at the base of the stairway. “Someone comes.”

The noise of feet on stone sounded for a few minutes more, inaudible to human ears but clear to those of the waiting Tran.

“I recognize Sir Ethan!” one of the squires said, and then they were all rushing from concealment to greet the Landgrave’s daughter and her saviors. As they crowded around her, exchanging words and jokes, Ethan mused again on the informality between ruler and subject that was common among the Tran. In fact, he thought some of the joyful embraces between Elfa and sailors overly familiar. Hunnar didn’t take exception to them, so Ethan kept his peace.