The Staff of the Winds (The Wizard of South Corner Book 1) (19 page)

The day stretched into evening, and the soldiers seemed to be content to remain where they were in the castle. The guard on the prisoners, which consisted entirely of soldiers, never gorn, was changed at regular intervals, but the prisoners were left alone to make themselves as comfortable as possible on the dirt floor. No food was distributed this evening.

As the sky was slowly fading into twilight, a contingent of about a dozen guards entered the stable with torches, and separated out Aaron, Brad Stewart, Harrel Jenkins and Steven Patterson, all young men of about the same age.  Under close guard, they were dragged out into the square.  Once again, Aaron was amazed at the precautions being taken.  They were surrounded by spears, and at least six archers were on the walls looking down on them, arrows nocked and drawn. A large barrel-chested officer that had not been on the village raid—Aaron would have noticed the eye patch and deep scar down the left side of his face—was giving the orders.

A long thin rope was used to link the young men together, a slipknot around each neck allowed them to separate one from the next by no more than four feet. Heavyset guards were stationed with a firm grip on the rope at each end of the line. A column of men with spears was formed on either side. When they were thus bound and surrounded, the officer gave the order and the prisoners were marched into a wide street that led deeper into the fortress in the direction of the keep. Aaron looked around in wonder. He had never seen buildings made with quarried granite before, and never even imagined that buildings could be built so tall.

“Keep your head down and your eyes forward,” a guard growled, and struck him in the ribs with the butt of his spear.

Aaron stumbled under the blow and almost fell, but managed to catch himself before he went down. Falling while tied in this manner could easily crush a windpipe, so Aaron was careful not to anger the guards further. Even so, the wonder of this place to a village lad who had never before traveled more than ten miles from South Corner was such that with his head down he still tried to see everything he could.

When they reached the central keep, they were led in through a small door, around the corner into a narrow, twisting hallway and to a stone stairway that spiraled down into the rock beneath the keep. The walls of the stairwell were of large fitted blocks to the first level down, but then became roughly hewn from the native rock. Torches had been placed in brackets at intervals to light the stairs with a smoky, wavering light.

During the descent, the awe that Aaron felt, and the pride that his ancestors had built so magnificently in the past, was replaced by a growing dread. He began to feel the weight of all that heavy gray stone overhead. While it had stood for hundreds of years, he could feel it pressing down. Surely nothing could withstand that pressure; the foundations must crumble under that mass, crushing all and everyone beneath.

The prisoners were led to the third level down, where the stairway stopped at a heavy oak door that opened into a short rough-walled passage leading to a similar door at the other end. A small alcove had been hewn from the rock just outside that door to allow for a guard station.

They were led through the second door and down a short flight of broad steps into a dungeon. At the base of the steps there was an open area with a heavy wooden workbench to either side. An old metal brazier lay on its side to the left, and a rack with a number of rusty metal implements hung on the wall to the right. Ahead, was another doorway leading to a wide hallway with individual cells off either side. Aaron guessed that there might be eighteen or twenty in all.

The boys were marched down the hall between the cells, and the line was halted. The officer gave the order, and guards stepped forward and roughly seized the arms of the prisoners, one on either side. The rope that had joined them at the neck was removed, and they were propelled to individual cells on the left-hand side. Aaron noticed that no two prisoners had been assigned to adjoining cells. He had to stoop to fit into the low doorway, and as he did so the guards that held him stopped, cut the straps at his wrists, shoved him hard into the cell and tossed a single, thin blanket in after him.

Aaron was able to get only a brief glimpse of his cell as he stumbled in, trying unsuccessfully to retain his balance.  As he hit the floor against the far wall, the cell door was slammed shut behind him cutting off all light except for a small dim patch that came through an iron grid near the top of the door. Pulling himself to a sitting position against the wall, he waited for his eyes to adjust somewhat to the dim lighting. What he had seen as he came sprawling in was not encouraging. He was in a rock walled enclosure, maybe six feet wide by eight feet deep, with a floor covered with dirt that may at one time have been straw. There was no pallet to lie on, but he thought he glimpsed a wooden bucket near the door for a chamber pot. That apparently was to be his only furnishing.

When all the cell doors had been slammed and barred, Aaron could hear the soldiers file back out of the dungeon. The door leading to the hallway and the stairs beyond was pushed closed, and silence settled in. Fortunately, one torch was left in a bracket near the door at the dungeon entrance, which cast just enough light to allow the prisoners to make out the outline of the grillwork on their cell doors. It wasn’t much, but without it Aaron feared that he would have quickly become completely disoriented.

Around him the silence was almost complete. Only the occasional complaints of his empty belly and the faint sounds of someone crying softly in one of the other cells could be heard.

Shivering in his misery, Aaron wondered why he and the others had been singled out for this special treatment. The guards had said nothing to them to explain their situation, and other than the brief struggle the night of their capture, when he and his father had tried to come to the defense of Sarah, he had been as cooperative (helpless, really) as the rest of the captives. His only hope was that all would be explained to them in the morning. Thought of this darkened his spirits even further. There was no morning in a dark stone cell this far beneath the ground.

Jack shivered in the frigid morning air as the sky slowly lightened in the east. He had wedged himself with his cloak and his blanket into the same gap in the rocks that Marian had used to stand her watch, and the protection from the night breezes had helped some, but his immobility and the approaching winter cold had still had its effect.

The stars had become his only source of light not long after Marian woke him for his turn at the watch, and it had been difficult to make out any details in the little valley that separated them from the trees that the gorn had searched the evening before. Several times he had thought that he detected movement in that valley out of the corner of his eye, but each time, when he concentrated, he could see nothing but the vague outline of a small bush or a dip or boulder that appeared just a little bit darker in the landscape under the stars. More than once he felt that the enemy was sneaking around behind them and he had nearly decided to wake Marian and suggest that they flee further north, further from the gorn encampment, but he dared not lose contact with the enemy completely. It was vital to be in position to see which direction they moved come morning so that he could raise the proper warning. So each time he had controlled his anxiety and remained motionless on watch.

As the light slowly improved, he could see that a light frost had settled over the land during the night. Gradually he was able to verify that the frost lay undisturbed in the valley between his position and the trees. If gorn had crossed that space, they had not done so since the frost settled. That was some relief, at least.

With the improving light, Jack could make out the wood clearly now.  The trees stood silent and undisturbed.  He could see no motion for the little distance that his sight could penetrate under the trees, but he had already decided that they would not attempt to move back to their vantage position in the bushes across from the tower. There was just too much risk that the gorn would be patrolling those woods.

From his position on the little hill, he could look down to the east and see the valley that the gorn would use if they continued on toward South Corner. To the south and a little west, he could also see in the distance the path that led back to the castle. The enemy would not have sent such a large contingent of gorn just to man the watchtower, so unless they turned straight south this morning, staying behind the wood from his current lookout, he would know their intentions when they moved.

The morning wore on slowly. A small herd of deer, browsed quietly through the valley, but did not approach what Jack had begun to think of as the tower wood. Soon they were back into the trees to the northeast. Other than that, only a faint wisp of smoke rising from where the tower stood indicated that there was any life in the area.

Marian woke with the morning sun in her eyes. From her campsite she could just see Jack still in position on watch. They had left their mounts on long tethers well back behind the hill the previous night. They had left them saddled so that if they had to flee they could do it quickly. Marian gave them some water, then removed one saddle at a time, brushed the horse out well, then replaced the saddles, leaving the cinches a little loose. She checked their hooves for stones they may have picked up during their night ride, but all was well. They browsed contentedly on the sparse autumn grass and appeared ready for another day of travel.

Marian tied her bedroll in place behind her saddle, then climbed the hill toward Jack, keeping herself well to the back so that she could not be seen from the tower wood. When she was close enough, she spoke in a low voice, “Any sign of movement yet?”

“Nothing yet. They have a campfire going over by the tower, but I’ve seen no other sign of activity. Nothing on the edge of the woods, either. They don’t seem to be in any hurry to get to wherever they’re going.”

“They got a pretty late start last night. They might just be sleeping in. You hungry? I’ve got water and some biscuits if you’re interested.”

Marian handed Jack the provisions, and Jack nibbled on a biscuit while he kept his watch on the wood and the two possible avenues of travel that he expected the gorn to use.

“What do you think Owen was dreaming about last night?” Marian asked after a while. “He seemed pretty scared when we finally woke him.”

“I don’t know,” Jack responded with a sigh.  “It wasn’t like the night before when I woke him from that owl thing.  He seemed to be fighting something last night, and I don’t think that he was winning.  His shouts as he was waking up didn’t make much sense either.

“You’re going to have to keep an eye on him when you go back up there. I wish he hadn’t taken that blasted lump of brass from the Old Wizard’s cottage. The wizard’s magic is having some kind of effect on him, and I don’t think that it’s good.  The way he thrust the falcon’s head in his pocket when we suggested that he leave it behind was a little spooky too.  It was like he wanted to get it out of our sight before we could convince him that it was having some kind of negative effect on him.  Almost like it wasn’t really Owen who wanted him to have it.”

“Well he probably saved our lives from that gorn in the woods the other night,” Marian admitted, “but I know what you mean. He’s starting to act a little strange. He’s just my brother, and we’re just farmer’s kids. I don’t think that magic is meant for the likes of us.  I’ll see if I can’t get that staff head away from him.  If I just threw it in the river gorge that runs by the castle we’d never have to worry about it again.”

“That might be best,” Jack agreed. “But I think you’d better do it soon. Owen’s changing, and he might not be able to change back if it goes too far.”

They remained silent for a while as the sun slowly rose higher in the sky, each thinking about Owen, the enemy, and the serious trouble they were all in.

“I’ve got to stretch,” Jack said, breaking the silence. “Take over for me for a while… Wait a minute,” he hissed. “There they go.”

Marian crept on her stomach around the side of the hill until she could see down the valley to the east. There, in the distance, along the trail leading toward South Corner were the gorn. For being on foot, they were moving pretty fast.

“I can’t count them from here,” Jack whispered, “but it looks like most if not all of them to me.”

“I agree,” Marian responded. “Do you think I should creep back up on the watchtower to see if they left anyone behind?”

“No,” Jack responded strongly. “They had plenty of opportunity to discover our vantage point in the bushes, and if they left anyone behind, they may be on the lookout for one of us to come back to it.”

Slowly and carefully Jack backed out of his place of concealment in the rocks and edged over to where Marian lay. “Stay here and watch the trail back to the castle for another hour, then go back and find Owen. Stay out of sight from those woods when you leave here, there may still be somebody watching. I’m going to have to leave you now and get ahead of those gorn. Be careful, and take care of Owen. Remember what we agreed about that staff head. I’ll bring back help as soon as I can.”