The Staff of the Winds (The Wizard of South Corner Book 1) (39 page)

With that, Marian handed Aaron her heavy work knife, then turned to examine the wall of the hallway they were in. It was very roughly hewn stone, with many cracks and crevices. It was also damp and slimy just as her brother, Owen, had described. Where, though, was the recess that he told her to look for; there were many likely candidates, some of them too high on the wall for her to reach into.

Marian had just begun her explorations when Aaron hissed, “Someone’s coming.”

Marian quickly smothered her torch against the base of the damp wall, and everything was thrown into total darkness. Gradually, a faint light grew at the crack in the doorway, but that went out as well as Aaron slowly eased the door shut.

Aaron stood just inside the door, listening for the sound of the soldier’s boots to pass on the landing and toward the next section of stairs downward. When he judged that the soldier was just past him, he threw open the door and with a yell lunged at the man with Marian’s knife. He had misjudged his timing, however, and his knife did not strike the soldier until the very end of his extension where most of the power of his thrust was already expended, and the knife skittered harmlessly off of the soldier’s boiled leather cuirass.

The soldier quickly turned to face his foe, while reaching for his sword with one hand and swinging his torch with the other, but Aaron continued his momentum forward ducking under the torch and rammed his shoulder into the soldier’s chest. Brad Stewart was right behind Aaron, and the two of them managed to knock the soldier off of his feet and down the stairs with the soldier on the bottom and the two boys on top of him. Edith, who had been being pushed along in front of the soldier screamed but managed to step out of the way of the tumbling men as they went by.

When they reached the bottom of the stairs, the soldier managed to throw off the much lighter and weaker young men, and in the guttering light of the torch at his feet, with his back to the stairs, he drew his sword. “Bastards,” he cursed, “I’m going to carve you up good for that.”

Just then, Edith raised the heavy wood bucket she had been carrying high above her head; ignoring the water that cascaded out, she ran down the stairs.  Before the soldier could turn, she smashed the bucket as hard as she could down on the soldier’s head. As he crumpled to the floor, his skull already deformed by the heavy blow, Edith jumped on his back and still screaming smashed the bucket over and over and over down on his bloody head.

Aaron stood shocked by the violence of this attack, and it took him a moment to regain his composure. Finally, he stepped forward, grabbed the bucket from Edith’s hands and threw it off to the side. Taking her hands, now drenched in the soldier’s blood, he held them so that she would stop pummeling the body beneath her. “He’s dead, Edith,” he said loud enough for her to hear above her screaming.

Edith seemed to come out of a trance at his words. Her screams were abruptly choked off, and she began to sob. “He hurt me,” she cried. “He hurt me. They all hurt me.”

“I know,” Aaron said softly, dropping to his knees and taking Edith in his arms, “but he can’t hurt you now… not ever again.”

“I killed him,” Edith said in a surprisingly strong voice. “I’ll kill them all.” That last came out in a low growl, so guttural that Aaron could hardly believe that it had really emanated from her slight frame.

Marian had joined them at the bottom of the stairs, and told Aaron, “Let me have her now,” and she helped Edith to her feet. “You killed him, Edith, and you likely saved all of our lives; but we have to go now. Come this way.” Marian led Edith now completely docile back up the stairs, while Edith continued to repeat under her breath: “They hurt me. I’ll kill them all. They hurt me. I’ll kill them all…”

Over her shoulder Marian told Aaron, “Take his clothes and bring the torch, but leave the body. Let his friends find him just the way he is.”

“I’m not taking his clothes,” said Harrel, “that’s just sick.”

“Look,” Marian responded, “it’s a long walk back to South Corner through some difficult country, and winter is coming.  His clothes aren’t doing him any good, and you are going to need them.  You might want to leave his small clothes, though,” she continued, squinching up her nose, “I think that he’s shat in them.”

Other than the blankets the soldiers had given them when they threw the boys into the cells, they were only wearing what they had worn to bed the night they were taken from the village, and, being boys, that was not much. Marian found it hard not to blush when a blanket flared open, except when it was Aaron; she’d never noticed before just how fit and good looking Aaron was, although he could sure use a few good meals now.

Marian tried to give the soldier’s cloak to Edith, even though it was way too big for her, but she would not take it. She also refused to continue to wear the soldier’s coat that she’d had on when she’d entered the keep, leaving her in just her thin, tattered shift. She was willing to take Marian’s cloak however, and just being covered down past her knees after weeks of living in her shift made a tremendous difference to her.

Aaron took the soldier’s sword.  He found that the belt for the scabbard was so long on him that he had to tie it in a know around his own much diminished waist.

The group climbed the stairs back to the next landing, gathering the spilled food that Edith had been bringing to the prisoners, and Marian resumed her inspection of the corridor wall, enlisting Aaron’s help to examine the depressions that were too high for her to reach.

“I’ve found something,” Aaron said after several minutes of searching. “It feels like an iron lever of some kind.”

“Good,” Marian said, “that’s it. Can you move it?”

“I don’t know. It’s pretty rusted. I’m trying, but it doesn’t seem to want to budge, and I’m afraid I might break it off.”

“It should pull towards you. At least that’s how Owen explained it to me.”

“Owen’s here? Where is he?”

“It’s a long story. Just keep pulling.”

With a groan from Aaron, there was a click and a creak that they all heard, and a section of the wall they were facing moved. Marian and Aaron put their weight against the stone, and slowly the opening widened until the gap was enough to allow one large man to pass at a time.

Marian picked up the torch that she had discarded earlier, and led the way into the revealed passage. “Bring Steve, and put him down in this tunnel. Edith, you take this torch, she said lighting the second one, “and keep guard over Steven. Aaron, Harrel, Brad, we need to make a false trail on down this hallway for a ways.” Marian then led the boys down the damp, dusty hall, through the door at the other end, then on into the lower regions of the keep. They passed several large store rooms, all of them empty, until they reached another stairway that led up. At that point they headed back to their tunnel, walking backward to confuse any trackers. They closed the door that connected to the landing where all of the action had occurred, then all filed into the tunnel and jammed that stone securely shut.

“Okay,” Marian said, “bring Steven and let’s see where this passage leads.”

“You mean that you don’t know where this goes?” Aaron asked as Marian, torch in hand, led them down the passage.

“Nope. If I did, I would have had you all out of here weeks ago.”

“But if you don’t know where this goes, then how did you know… Never mind, I know, ‘it’s a long story’,” they both finished together and laughed.

When they reached the end of the tunnel, they found it closed off with a heavy wooden, iron-clad door that they could not budge.  Time and the elements had sealed it shut.  They could not go back the way that they had come—the dead guard had likely been found and the alarm raised by now; there would be big, angry, armed men searching the whole castle for them—so they set to digging their way out through the dirt and roots at the side. Their hands were torn and bloody and it was full dark by the time they managed to open a hole large enough to fit themselves and Steven’s litter through.  Looking around, Marian saw that they were in a low depression in a small copse of tress.  She was sure that she and Owen had searched that spot days ago, but they had failed to find the tunnel entrance there.  Even now, knowing that it was there, she could not tell where the hidden door lay.

Once everyone was out, they covered their exit with some fallen branches and leaves so that the soldiers would not discover their trail.

The moon was just setting by the time they were done, and Marian whispered, “It will be dawn soon, and we need to be into the forest before it turns light. Follow me, and keep as quiet as you can.”

Marian led the group into the woods and to the spot where hers and Owen’s horses were on long tethers.  The animals had access to water, but the grass that they had browsed on was completely gone. She dug the tack and provisions out of the brush where they had been hidden while the boys transformed Steve’s litter into a travois. They were all exhausted by then, and Marian let them eat some of her meager rations and drink their fill from the nearby brook—the water tasted wonderful to her after her days of drinking from ditches in the fortress of Carraghlaoch—and rest on the forest floor for a short time.

“Where is my father and the rest of the village,” Aaron asked.

“They were all taken across the river. The way is guarded by the castle. We can’t get to them now. We’ll have to head back to South Corner for help.”

“We can’t just leave them,” Brad objected, “they’ve still got my mum and da. Surely we could figure out some way to rescue them.”

“I’m sorry, I really am, but they are across the river, and the only bridge is guarded by the castle.  We’d have to walk up that ramp, right under the walls, and cross the drawbridge in full view.  Even in the dark we couldn’t pull that off.  Even if we could, there’s more than twenty well armed soldiers over there with them. Owen and I studied this problem for weeks, and we just cannot do it without more help.”

“Can’t we go back and kill those soldiers in the castle?” Edith asked.

“They’ll be on their guard now. There is no way that we could sneak up on them and overpower them as weak as we are,” Aaron said, true regret in his voice.

“You keep mentioning Owen as if he were here,” Brad interjected. “Where did he go?”

Marian had to stop and think before answering that question. After assuring them all that no one could just walk up the ramp and over the bridge without being caught, she could not now confess that that is exactly what Owen had done … not without telling them some of the other things that Owen could do.

“It’s a long story,” Marian cringed when she heard herself say that again, but quickly went on, “and I’ll tell it all to you on the way back to South Corner, I promise.”

After they’d had a short rest, Marian got them all to their feet and began to lead them on the long, cold walk back to the village of South Corner.  She and Edith were actually in the best physical shape, so they did most of the walking, while the boys took turns riding the horses.  The odd man out carried the sling and kept on the lookout for rabbits, squirrels or anything else they could make a meal of at the end of the day.  Around a fire over dinner each night—sometimes adequate, sometimes not—Marian told her friends installments of the tale of the chase by Owen, Jack and her, as well as the experiences that Owen had with the headpiece of the Old Wizard’s staff.  Much of what she narrated was greeted by hoots of laughter, but she was not offended and told it as it happened nevertheless.  They needed something to laugh about to keep their spirits up.

Aaron found himself admiring the way that Owen’s little sister had taken charge of their party and worked to keep them from dwelling on their many problems. He’d never paid much attention to Marian in the past, but it seemed that she had grown up during the weeks of their captivity to become quite a remarkable young woman. He’d never noticed the musical quality of her voice before, and although her figure was still nothing special, as those things were evaluated by young men his age, she had a grace of movement, strength and stamina much to be admired. He enjoyed being near her and working with her, and was surprised and pleased by a warm sense that the feeling was mutual.

Steve woke up before noon of the second day, and despite the considerable pain he was in, he was in great spirits once he realized that they had been rescued, although he could not believe that Marian had saved them all by herself. When he’d asked how she had managed it, he was greeted by a general chorus: “It’s a long story.”

THE END

To the reader:

If you enjoyed this book, please take a few minutes to give it a favorable review. Your expressed interest is what keeps authors working diligently at their keyboards, and it also makes this and similar works more and more available for our mutual enjoyment.  If you did not enjoy this book, let me say that I am impressed with your fortitude to make it all the way to the end, and that you also have my heartfelt apology.

You may be interested to know, that I am working on a sequel to this book that will follow Owen across the stone arch in pursuit of Sarah, and much, much more. There is still much to tell, and no matter how hard I tried, I could not make it all fit into one volume.

About the author:

William Meighan was born and raised in Spokane, Washington.  Educated by the Jesuits, he earned degrees in Physics and Applied Statistics.  He served as an officer in the US Air Force during the early development days of drones and stealth; then later worked as a Program and Quality Systems Manager and Consultant with advanced electronics firms in the US, Europe, South America and Asia.  He is now retired and living on a small ranch in the Mountain West of the US with his wife, two dogs (his), three horses, a pounce of barn and house cats, and a goat (all hers), where she keeps him busy hauling hay, and building and maintaining barns and fences. At every opportunity, he disappears into their library for hours at a time to write.