Chapter 27. Rescue

hey were soaked to the bone and exhausted with cold when they finally drew the boat up on the beach and disembarked. They had fallen afoul of the shoal and it had very nearly cost them the boat, let alone their lives. Armagil, Morisedd’s cousin, was numb with cold, having been pitched into the water by the sudden crash of the boat’s keel against the stones. In truth, Uriel was grateful the fishermen had been with them for she was certain the vessel would have been dashed to pieces if it had not been for their swift actions and backtracking to safer water.

But backtracking had meant letting their quarry go at a time when it seemed they might catch up. Of course, the villains had known the waters around the island. This was no doubt their lair. The fishermen were also a valuable source of information. They knew of a man named Willem Scarlenni and his partner Robert Grune. They were recent arrivals to lawless Kryta and preyed upon unwary travelers for ransom money. As much as Uriel despised the White Mantle, at least they had kept banditry to a minimum and had enforced a level of order. Her homeland was a mess and it was difficult at times to know whether Ascalon or Kryta were in worse straights. From now on she would travel nowhere without an escort. She should never have been alone on the docks at that time in the afternoon. Poor Lemony.

It was eventually decided that the fishermen would go home with Armagil while Uriel and Morisedd would spend the night on the island to do some early morning scouting. Armagil would return at dawn with help. So it was that she found herself rooting around in the depths of a thicket for dry branches amid the thick forest duff. Morisedd soon had a fire started and built a crude shelter of bent branches covered over in leaf litter and twigs. They shared dried meat and fruit from his pack as they dried their clothes beside the low flames. Uriel wondered if he went anywhere without his pack full of essential items for a night under the stars. It amused her to think of him carrying those things through the streets of Cantha.

“Think they can see our fire?” she asked him as he spread out his outer coat for them to sit upon.

“Not unless they were close at hand. I’ll let it burn down and then we’ll sleep.”

“Like old times,” she whispered, smiling at him as their clothes dried.

“Aye,” he said, grinning.

Once they had sufficient dried clothes for sleeping, he put out the fire and the two of them curled together within his crude nest. Neither of them would sleep well, but that was to be expected. She alternately dozed and lay awake listening to the sound of rain rustling through the foliage. A few times she thought she saw something large moving in the shadows or heard snuffling, but Morisedd had been careful to sling their remaining food inside his pack up into the branches. If he was troubled by these sounds, he did not show it. When dawn broke gray and cloudless, he rose stiffly from her side and donned the remainder of his clothes, urging her to take his dun-colored outer cloak. She gnawed breakfast as he broke apart their shelter and disguised all signs of their stay. Now it was light enough to see his tired face and the sad state of their clothing.

“I think I saw buildings to the south atop a hill. Let’s start there,” he said, shouldering his pack and urging her to follow. They would return in an hour or two to meet up with Armagil and whoever he was able to muster. Until then, it was time to get a look at the landscape and what they might be up against.

Morisedd went on ahead of her, preferring to keep several dozen paces in front of any party, regardless how small in this case. As usual, Uriel was in awe of his skill and glad to see him in his element. Despite the thick layer of duff on the forest floor, he moved lightly and made hardly a sound as he scouted. They moved steadily upward, ducking and stooping past low branches and vines. At times the canopy was so thick there was very little growing in the leaf litter, but as they approached the crest of the low hill sunlight pierced the ceiling of twined branches and thorny scrub and bracken sought to halt their progress. To this, Morisedd drew out his trusty machete and forged a narrow path, hacking and chopping until they perched among mossy boulders and wiry madrone at the top of the hill.

There was a dwelling to the south, a vast old fortress that was falling into ruin as the forest reclaimed what man had taken so many years before. There were four round towers, two of which were squat and warded the only visible gate. The whole was surrounded by a long outer wall that curled to the lip of a cliff on its far side. It perched on the highest of the five hills surrounding the forested valley below them.

Down in the valley, the forest grew lush and thick, its canopy pierced only by a long crescent lake that perfectly reflected the sky. A waterfall tumbled in a long white plume near the base of the fortress, issuing into a defile below a stone bridge and wending into the lowland. It was a beautiful place, Uriel decided. What a shame it was tainted with bandits.

“I could live here,” Morisedd murmured.

With a sigil, they could live anywhere. Uriel smiled, cheered that he had arrived at the same conclusion.

“All we have to do is weed out the scum and the garden is ours,” she replied with a chuckle.

He nodded grimly.

“If there are too many of them, that fortress is going to be hard to take. There is no way to approach it without being seen. I would not celebrate too soon.”

“I wonder who built it and why bandits were able to take it over?”

“I have a fair idea,” Morisedd replied.

“Oh? Do tell?”

He held out a scrap of cloth to her, a badge or insignia as might have been stitched to a military uniform. The emblem upon it was highly stylized, five points, almost floral. She recognized it immediately.

“Orr? What were they doing here?”

“My guess is the undead after the cataclysm must have swarmed across the sea, hit this island, killed the people dwelling here, and then moved on to the mainland. The numbers of them were almost overwhelming at first and if this was one of the earlier places to be struck… it’s remote and they probably couldn’t muster help. Probably couldn’t leave, either. Three years later the bandits find an abandoned castle and move in.”

Uriel nodded. Kryta was still reeling from the invasion of undead. Their royal family had perished after the White Mantle had taken over and now even they were fractured now that their false gods turned out to be the evil Mursaat. Possibly no one would notice if her people took over the island and became a force for good and order in the region. The locals might even thank them for ridding the area of the bandit nuisance.

“Let’s get down to the beach and wait for the Dunvael clan to show up. It will take us a couple hours to reach the fortress and I’d rather do it with numbers to back me up.

By the time they arrived at the beach, Uriel was heartened to see four boats hauled up onto the shore. The sun was blazing brightly, warm upon her back and shoulders as she watched the men and women of Dunvael get organized and plan their next move. Red cloaks ablaze in the breeze, they were a welcome sight and she could not help but smile. Twenty-five had come, mostly rangers, but she recognized Eynrhew, a monk, and long time friend of the guild, as well as Kalys, a fellow elementalist. Old Sywno was even there, dignified with his silver mane and eager for battle.

Within an hour they were ready to move out, lightly armored and prepared as they were. Uriel stayed back with Eynrhew and Kalys while the rangers filed quietly ahead of them, bows at the ready. Morisedd had the honor of blazing the trail when the foliage became too thick. Once more they crested the hill overlooking the valley and started down, winding between ancient trees and occasionally tripping on massive roots hidden by years of accumulated duff.

Near noon they began the ascent of the fortress’ great hill, moving cautiously now and waiting occasionally as one of their number ran ahead to scout and take note of their foe. Oddly, they saw no sign of habitation. No one appeared to be manning the walls or towers. As they inched toward the fortifications, the scouts drew lots for the honor of going on ahead and getting a closer look. Armagil won and was soon dashing up the hill, straying dangerously into the open as he skirted the outer wall and neared the bridge. He crossed the raging waterfall and approached the gate, vanishing from sight.

For many long anxious moments they waited. Sywno began to pace, worried about his grandson. Morisedd offered to go in after him but the elder ranger forbade it and ordered them to take a break while he perched just inside the shadows of the trees to watch the curve of the overgrown road to the castle.

At last Armagil returned, but with a distinct lack of stealth as he dashed toward them.

“No one is there!” he announced, panting and enthusiastic.

“How can this be?” Sywno demanded.

“They left in haste. A boat pulled away from the dock on the other side just as I arrived.”

“Any sign of prisoners?”

“I could not tell. I fear they saw our approach through the forest and fled ahead of us.”

“Let us go, then. Beware of traps. They may have left some behind,” Sywno said, waving them onward.

They now rushed into the open, eager to catch the departing boat if they could. As Armagil had reported, once they entered the courtyard, they could see the place had still been largely unoccupied even while the bandits had taken up residence. The young ranger led them across the courtyard through a narrow gate that gazed out over the ocean to the west. A long stairway wound down the cliff to a little dock and they could see a boat with a single mast drifting away from the island.

“By the time we get down there, they’ll have a good head start on us and we have no vessel on this side of the island to pursue them,” Morisedd growled.

Uriel’s stomach clenched in fear as she imagined poor Lemony among those rogues being carried off to gods only knew where. What were they to do? She had little time to contemplate this, however, for Brioc ran breathlessly up to Sywno.

“Grandfather, there is singing coming from the tower near the gate!”

Without thinking, Uriel rushed after them, silently praying it was Lemony, for she knew her penchant for drinking songs. Sure enough, as they drew closer to the squat tower, they could just make out the sound of two voices raised in raucous singing. She blushed, recognizing the tune and therefore recognizing the lewd words that were being variously shouted and giggled.

Morisedd found a ring of keys hooked outside the tower and used it to unlock the door. Once inside, the singing was clearly coming from beyond a battered hatch in the floor. Uriel had to bite her lip to prevent herself from laughing out loud even as tears flowed down her cheeks. One of the voices was definitely Lemony in full glory. Morisedd drew back the hatch.

“Uh oh, we have guests,” Lemony cried from the depths of the prison, “better keep your voice down, Mog.”

“Lem!” Uriel exclaimed, “Are you alright?”

“Uriel!” the monk shrieked with delight and they heard her feet scrambling up the stone steps. She emerged from the darkness, tousled and squinting, but clearly unharmed. She put Uriel in mind of a gopher poking its head out of a hole, “Murdi!”

She bounded out of the dungeon and flung herself at Uriel, embracing her tightly.

“I knew you’d come. Poor Mog! They destroyed his pipes!”

Morisedd was already on his way down into the darkness to free the mesmer. Uriel grinned mischievously, not daring to mention her opinion about the loss of the man’s noisy instrument. A moment later, the ginger-haired scoundrel loomed into view, disheveled and weary but no worse for his ordeal. The two former prisoners seemed to be in alarmingly high spirits given their brush with death.

“I figured they’d run away,” Lemony said flippantly, “I told them Dunvael and Crystal Palm were coming. And look, now we have a castle and an island. It all worked out for the best.”

Uriel squeezed Lemony tightly, not sure whether to be infuriated or delighted by the little monk. It was good to see her back to her old self.