The Siege of Macindaw

33

Will stopped inside the door to the keep and looked warily around him.

The entrance hall and the dining hall beyond it were deserted. The garrison must all be on the ramparts, he realized, and the servants were probably cowering somewhere below, in the cellars and the kitchen.

Keren, he assumed, would have headed for the top of the tower. Will ran to the stairway now, set in the center of the keep hall. The keep at the lower levels was an expansive building, with the dining hall, sleeping quarters and administrative offices taking up the first three floors. Above this, it narrowed to the tower that Will had climbed, set back in line with the north wall and wide enough for only one or two rooms on each floor.

At the lower levels, centrally located, was a broad stone stairway that would be difficult to defend. Once he reached the tower itself, however, that stairway would be a narrow spiral, set to the left-hand side and twisting to the right as it ascended. In that way, a right-handed swordsman climbing the stairs would be at a disadvantage to a right-handed defender. An attacker would have to expose all of his body in order to use his sword, while the defender could strike with only his right side exposed. It was standard design for a castle tower.

He pounded up the first four floors, then swung left toward the spiral stairs, slowing down as he went. He couldn't see what lay in wait around the curved stone walls and it was only prudent to assume that Keren could have left men to delay any pursuers. One man could hold the stairway indefinitely, as attackers could only approach one at a time.

Will considered the bow in his hand and decided it was not the right weapon to use in this restricted space. He slung it over his shoulder and drew his saxe knife instead. Heavy enough to deflect a sword stroke, it was also short enough to swing easily in the confined space.

He paused at the entrance to the stairwell, letting his breathing settle. Silent movement would be his main advantage in this situation and it was hard to remain silent when your breath was coming in ragged gasps. He started up the stairs, moving carefully, his soft boots making no sound on the stones. He was grateful that it was a stone staircase. In some castles, the designers used wooden stairs, loosely fastened so that they squeaked in protest underfoot.

Carefully, he stole his way upward. The stairway was lit at intervals by torches in brackets. They created another problem for him. As he passed the first, his shadow loomed onto the wall above and in front of him, giving ample warning that he was approaching. If he were defending these stairs, he thought, he would wait beyond one of the torches, looking for the approaching shadow of an attacker moving upward so that he could…

A sword blade glittered bloodred in the torchlight as it flashed down at him from above!

He leapt back, managing somehow to retain his feet, as the blade struck sparks off the wall and steps. His heart raced. Apparently, the unseen defender agreed with him on the best place to wait for an attacker. He paused, waiting to see if the swordsman on the stairs above would show himself. But there was nothing. He heard a faint chink of metal on stone – possibly the man's mail shirt brushing against the wall as he changed position.

Seconds passed. Will frowned as he contemplated the situation. All the advantages lay with the man above. He could remain unseen. The shadows thrown by the torchl ight would warn him of Will's approach…

The torchlight! That was the answer.

He retreated a few paces down the stairs until he reached the torch in its wall bracket. Tugging it free, he started up the stairs once more, saxe knife in his right hand, torch in his left, held out as far as he could reach.

Stopping just short of the spot where the sudden attack had come out of the darkness, he tossed the torch underhand, up the staircase. It hit the outer wall and rebounded into the center of the stairs, its flickering, uncertain light now behind where the defender waited.

A giant shadow loomed in the stairway as the man above moved to retrieve the torch and throw it back down again. Will darted up the stairs, taking advantage of the momentary distraction. He had time to hope there wasn't more than one man waiting above him. There was a dark shape on the stairs, bent over to reach for the torch, blocking its light. The man saw him too late and swung an awkward, off-balance overhead cut with his sword.

Will deflected it easily, the sword blade shrieking off the stones, then he continued his upward movement and lunged, feeling the saxe knife bite into flesh. The man cried out in pain and stumbled forward. He crashed into Will, and the Ranger grabbed him with his left hand, just in time. There was a second man waiting, and he leapt forward now, cutting at Will with his sword. But the stroke was blocked by the body of his own comrade, slumped against Will. The first defender screamed again as the sword took him across the back, shearing through his mail shirt. Desperately, Will shoved him away and bounded back down the stairs, leaving the body between him and the second defender.

The wounded man lay moaning and Will saw another shadow moving, heard hard-shod feet on the stairs as the second defender retreated upward, placing the light between himself and Will once more.

The light on the stairs was dark and uncertain, with the torch lying on the steps, rather than placed high on the wall in its bracket. Will moved carefully upward once more, using the tip of his saxe to flick the fallen man's sword back down the stairs. It rang loudly on the stones as it bounced. He started forward again, moving infinitely slowly to avoid the slightest noise, his own ears searching the silence for the sound of any movement.

Then he heard it. Breathing. It was barely perceptible but it was there – the in and out breathing of a man whose adrenaline is running at full charge through his veins. He couldn't be more than a few meters away. Will paused, seething with impatience. Somewhere above him, Keren had Alyss and was doing god knows what with her while Will wasted his time playing tag on the stairs. He searched for an idea but none came.

Suddenly, he darted forward four paces, then quickly reversed direction and sprang back as another sword, wielded by an unseen defender, rang off the stones. The man was there. He was ready and waiting. He was alert. He was just around the next bend in the stairs.

An idea started to form.

Will estimated the man's position, his eyes measuring the curvature of the outer wall of the stairway. The defender would be just beyond that bend in the wall… so if Will moved backward a little, he could find a point midway between him and the unseen d efender.

Silently, he descended three steps. Then a fourth.

He sheathed the saxe knife and unslung the longbow from his shoulder. Carefully nocking an arrow, he studied the wall, picking a point that would be halfway between his position and that of the man who waited for him. He raised the bow and drew, aiming at the stone wall above him, pausing to estimate the right position.

Then he released.

And, in the rapid succession that only a Ranger could achieve, within a few heartbeats, he sent another three arrows after the first, all aimed at the curved wall, allowing a slight variation with each. The arrows struck and ricocheted violently from the stone, striking sparks as they went, flying around the curve in the wall in a sudden volley.

Above him, he heard a surprised cry, then a muffled curse and a clang of metal on stone as at least one of the arrows found a mark. But he was already bounding up the stairs, catching the startled defender by surprise.

The man, unprepared by the sudden volley of ricocheting shots, had dropped his sword as he tried to free an arrow from a painful wound in his side. He looked up in fright as Will appeared, then glanced to where his sword lay on the stones. It was that moment of delay that brought about his downfall – literally. Will grabbed his shirt front and heaved him down the stairs, sending him crashing into the outer wall, then tumbling head over heels down the staircase. The man shrieked in pain as the arrow in his side was driven deeper. Then he was silent, the only sound his inert body sliding a few meters farther down the stairs.

Will retrieved his other three arrows and inspected them briefly. The heads were slightly bent where they had skated off the stone wall, but they would serve for the same purpose again. In fact, he thought wryly, they might even be better suited to the task now. He continued up silently, alert for another sudden attack.

But there would be none. Keren's third man had listened as his two companions had been overcome by their mysterious pursuer. He had seen nothing. But he had heard the screech and clanging of swords and arrows on stone, then the ominous sounds of falling bodies on the steps. He waited at one curve until he saw the elongated shadow of whoever it was who had disabled his comrades, saw it moving toward him as the attacker moved upward.

And his nerve went. He could hear the cries of the Skandians in the courtyard. He knew the battle was over. He had seen the monstrous shadows in the night sky. Now he saw this other shadow coming after him – silently. He turned and ran up the stairs to the next landing, where a tower room offered him shelter. He plunged inside and slammed the door behind him, shooting the bolt across to keep intruders out.

Will heard the running footsteps. Heard the door slam shut. Throwing caution to the winds, he went up the stairs like one of Malcolm's rockets, taking them two and three at a time to get to Alyss before Keren could harm her.