Val poked him slyly in the gut in reprimand, Bastian recoiling with a good-natured grimace. She opened her mouth to chastise him for the joke, feeling prickly she had been so vulnerable and he still took advantage of her, and was interrupted by loud, desperate bashing on her door.
They scattered to each side of the bed like startled rabbits. Bastian tugged his leather jacket straight and looked between her and the door indicating she should be the one to respond. Val rubbed her eyes and rose, the desperate pounding giving her haste.
She had only intended to crack the door but Lee’to spilled within, sobbing and throwing herself into Val. Her mouth was open with voiceless wails, her breaths shaken and frantic. Her hands signed a desperate garble of words Val could not follow and were ominously stained black. Val wrapped her in her arms as her first reaction, then her heart froze. With barely a thought she passed her to Bastian, who was already on his feet processing the sight of the crying girl as fast as she, and frantically thundered up the hall then the wing’s stairs to Dorius’ room, slamming the door open without knocking.
The chaos that greeted her brought her to a halt. Red and black blood alike was splattered on the walls and ceiling. An armoire had been tipped, Til’wane’s halberd stabbed through the back of the man with his legs trapped beneath it. A second man was half sitting against the wall, a gaping hole in his throat dripping red gore. Both were dressed in black. Til’wane’s body was collapsed in the center of it all, two stab wounds in the back of his shoulder though his padded gambeson between the gaps of his plate, a great pool of black blood clotted thick on the ragged edges of his neck, and nothing where his head had been. Lee’to dived under Val’s arms, collapsing hunched over Til’wane’s body without regard for the blood.
Val stepped over them, and swept the bedsheets up, bowing to check under the bed. As she wildly inspected the room, Bastian was already behind her, leaning out a window. He held two fingers to his mouth, and gave an ear-splitting whistle into the black night.
“He’s not here,” gasped Bastian as he passed, stopping at the doorway and repeating the whistle down the halls.
“Then where is he?!” replied Val, her eyes wide, collecting her axe where it had toppled in the chaos of Til’wane’s fight.
A whistle repeated back through the window, faint. Doors halfway down the hall opened and Company men undercover in servant blues were already emerging, some desperately pulling on clothes or swords as they responded to Bastian’s summons. Others repeated the whistle, calling the alarm throughout the wing or out the windows again. All subtlety and pretense was discarded as the Company responded.
Bastian barked orders at the top of his lungs, his voice cracking as he called for every room to be searched. Val surged out the hallway again, and men desperately tucked against the walls as she charged between them to the main staircase of the keep, seeking the dining room where she had dropped Dorius off only hours earlier. She vaulted the staircase and fell to the landing below, then repeated her rapid descent. As she thudded to the landing of the level with the dining room, her sudden appearance drawing a scream for a maid in Ivory, a whistle drew her ear. She bounced off a wall and galloped towards it, a voice calling to her as she rounded the corner of the hall.
“Fae-touched, I have him!”
She vaguely recognized the face of the woman in ivory, but her attention was immediately on the drooping figure in slate and gold she was helping up the hall. As Val fell upon them, scooping Dorius up in her arms, the woman matched her step jogging behind. “He’s not hurt, only shaken” she reassured, chasing after Val as a slim shadow.
Val was somewhat aware of Dorius moving in her arms, wrapping his arms around her neck as she ran, muttering her name into her throat. It was only on her return that she took note of hallways suspiciously empty of servants in green, even with the racket the Company alarm calls were making through the stone keep. She took the stairs in steps of four or five at a time, leaving the soldier who ran with her breathless to keep up. As they returned to Dorius floor, the soldier gave a breathy whistle of her own, and the men ducked into doorways to let Val pass.
She chose not to return Dorius to his own quarters, and ducked into the side room used by his body servants to prepare his things. Men formed up behind her, beginning to lock down the wing of the keep they had occupied for only days.
Finally coming to a stop, Val deposited Dorius in a chair that was partly serving as a cloth rack for his robes. She crouched, keeping him steady, and desperately searched his face and body for signs of injury. Dorius’ eyes were distant, and his hands shook.
“I want to see the body,” he said.
Val shook her head as she worked, wrapping Dorius’ shoulders in a spare robe. He grasped her hand firmly, and his clouded eyes cleared, “Please.”
“You found him?” asked Bastian, leaning in the doorway, “What happened? What are we doing?”
Dorius raised his head and repeated his command, “I want to see the body.”
Val turned to Bastian, watching his face twist as he considered the order. “I don’t know if that is a good idea…”
Dorius’ voice shook as he spoke, “It is my fault and my responsibility. I need to see him.”
Val gripped his hand back, feeling his fingers shake in her own. “I will take you,” she said, “But we need to know what happened, how to protect you.”
Dorius withdrew his hand, holding his right within his left to feel the rings on his knuckles. “We need to flee. Sylus has taken his revenge. I’ve underestimated him.”
Bastian gave a hard frown, and swallowed once as he watched the pair. Then he was off again to work.
Dorius rose to his feet on his own, and taking a nervous breath walked on his own to the side door that was the second entrance to his quarters. Val remained crouched, watching him, then rose to follow as he paused in the doorway. With a slow hand, she opened the door from over his head to reveal his quarters.
She had not had much time herself to process the death, her instincts had had only one target. But given a moment to catch her breath, she grimly surveyed the room. Til’wane had gone down fighting, tooth and nail and horn, based on the torn out throat. They must have poisoned him, or otherwise surprised him, Val could not believe he had been an easy target. She gathered, given Dorius already knew, that he had seen the missing head.
Lee’to was still bunched over his torso, tears running down her face as she openly wept. Val felt only bitter regret that this had been his fate in her care. But, death was not an unfamiliar visitor before she had been Dorius’ bodyguard full time.
Dorius stared, braced on the doorway, ignorant of the commotion in the hallways around him. “They were after you,” he finally said.
Val felt her stomach twist, felt the indifference she treated death with slip in one sudden whirl of guilt. Had this night gone any differently, she might have been here to help him fend them off.
“The Company will have your carriage soon,” said Val bleakly, in an attempt to set Dorius’ attention on the work that needed to be done now.
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“I got the story from the undercover operative,” came Bastian’s voice from behind them. When he had returned Val hadn’t noticed. She turned to him and in a pragmatic, business-like manner he gave an overview of the dinner, it seemed the maid had been present for the whole thing. In the background as they spoke, the alarm whistles had ceased, and enough of the Company roused that the regular chain of command was in place freeing Bastian to remain with them.
“My feeling is that Sylus has made his point, we can get Dorius and the most vulnerable members of his team out of here tonight, and take tomorrow to pack the rest. It will let someone clean up things in the meantime,” concluded Bastian, peering through the doorway past Dorius. Dorius had been silent while Bastian spoke, frozen in place.
“Can we take his body?” asked Dorius suddenly, his voice rough.
Before Bastian could even open his mouth to respond, Dorius stepped within the room to comfort Lee’to and continued, “I will not be someone who has others die for my mistakes.”
“This was not your mistake,” cut in Val, “I was not here…”
“We can play this game later,” interjected Bastian sharply, “Dorius, you need to focus. We might be able to collect the body tomorrow.”
“Can you get his head back?” asked Dorius, his hands on Lee’to’s shaking shoulders.
Bastian frowned, and softened his tone, “I will leave orders to try. We can do as we do with Company, bring a memento back for his…” Bastian trailed suddenly unsure, “Family, I guess?”
“The wolf pelt and beaded charm,” instructed Val. She realized how little she had known Til’wane, but those items had seemed significant to him. “Anette will know where they ended up.”
Lee’to sat up and rubbed her eyes. Her face was puffy and red, and her clothes and skin smeared with black and rust blood alike. The girl hung her hands limply, seeming confused how to begin now she had no translator, but there was an earnest resolution in her face. After a moment, without regard for appearances, she dipped a hand into Til’wane’s black blood and began to draw lines on an unstained surface of the floor, working with each finger in turn as she ran out of blood to use as ink.
Shocked at the unorthodox action, the three of them watched her without movement, unsure if this was some ritual of her species they shouldn’t disturb. It was Dorius who finally gasped sharply, the revelation shocking him from his stupor, “It’s a map of the keep!”
Bastian entered the room fully, and crouched at Lee’to’s shoulder to survey the drawing from her perspective, his head tilted as he studied it. “Is this a tunnel? How would she know?”
“Kal’fall is a Laon name!” Dorius was suddenly energized enough to actively participate in his escape, stepping back into the side room as he pulled his waist belt undone and shrugged off his outer robes.
“You want to use the tunnel?” asked Bastian from his crouch, hand to his chin.
“A small team. You, me, Val, Elias, Lee’to to lead. Have the body double take my place for the rest. Feign returning to Barth. Sylus cannot know I return to the Spine.”
“Elias is slow, are you sure?”
“I need his advice. Val can carry him if the going is rough.”
Bastian’s eyes gleamed, he wasn’t against the plan. “Is this the larder? Where does it lead out?” he asked, nudging Lee’to to continue her diagram.
Val followed after Dorius, taking his clothing, half listening to the questions Bastian peppered Lee’to with to understand the plan in more detail. She stripped her plate between handfuls of heavy robes, trading it for her leather armor that was thankfully piled in one corner. Dorius’ body servants had done a good job of keeping all his closest needs nearby. She spied her wolf pelt, gifted by the drone, on top of one of the crates and pulled it around her shoulders, pinned in place by the broach. If they were to take a Laon tunnel, they might be meeting them along the way.
Bastian passed by them, holding one hand out to grab their attention but not even facing them as he spoke, “Dorius, Company leathers,” he instructed. Then he was off again, waving down a captain he could pass orders through.
Dorius did as bid, discarding propriety and digging through the crates and trunks for the change he was instructed to wear. Val found him boots and a cloak in another crate, helping him sit and dress as fast as she could. While he fumbled with the ties of the boots, she gathered a pair of cloaks over her shoulder. She returned to Lee’to who sat on the floor, seeming drained and empty before her sketch, now marked with extra lines or circles she had drawn as Bastian had questioned her. Her hands were sticky with blood, hanging limp at her side, and her face hollow.
Val gathered the bedsheets she had disturbed, and knelt to wipe her face and hands clean with firm hands. “You’ve done well,” she said quietly, “Keep going.” Val wrapped one of the cloaks over her shoulder around the Laon as her eyes focused on her own. She drew Lee’to to her feet and pushed her through to join Dorius, then draped the bed sheet over Til’wane with gentle reverence.
Bastian had returned, and Hart and Elias with him. Hart was shirtless, having pulled on only some pants and his waist harness with axes in the rush up from the barracks. His mouth was set firm, and his hands planted on his hips. Elias seemed alert but was dressed in his night gown, hunched against his staff. Val deposited the second cloak she had over his shoulders, the older man pulling it tight with one hand and a nod of thanks.
Bastian was in the process of pulling on his own leathers and belting a quiver to his upper leg, finalizing his plans with Hart. “We’ll make a show of clearing the kitchens and larder of Ivory, pretend we are raiding for provisions while we get the carriage into position. We need to get Dorius down to the back of the larder unseen and find this tunnel. Then put on a grand show making a break for Barth. You can clean up and work out what to do with remainder of the Company here managing the pilgrims in the morning.”
“Sylus cannot know we are returning to High Haven,” instructed Dorius firmly.
“We’ll be careful sending scouts to make contact with you there,” replied Hart reassuringly, “May take a little longer if they keep off the road.” He clapped hands with Bastian, then gave Val a grim nod. “Careful now.”
True to Bastian’s plan, the hallways were cleared as they moved deeper into the keep into the servant areas. Sylus had no interest in stopping them, likely explaining that no one had challenged them, but they had to be cautious of what he observed of their exit. Bastian led their crew, and Val trailed behind.
The back of the keep contained an old larder, built into the cliff itself, the front half had barrels of food and wine in storage, but as they made their way into the depths of the room there was growing layers of dust and spiderwebs. Dorius coughed as they moved, covering his mouth. In the dark, they were all navigating blindly.
“Lee’to,” called Bastian as he reached the back wall, “Where is it?” Val couldn’t even see where he was in the dark.
The Laon slipped forward between them, and Val could hear a series of muffled sounds in the dark.
“Val, we need a hand,” hissed Bastian back a second time.
Val held Dorius’ shoulders as she moved up the line, they were pressed between a series of ancient casks.
As she drew close, Lee’to was trying to reach behind one of the casks. “Can you help?” asked Bastian in a hushed voice.
Val crouched, and gave the cask a try. It was heavy, but not the weight it would have been if it was filled with liquid. Whatever it had held was long dried out. With a groan, she lifted to allow Lee’to to climb beneath. There was a click, and in the dark a seam opened on the smooth stone wall, a strange blue light creeping through. The party moved through, and Val carefully lowered the cask again as she followed. On the other side, Lee’to pressed a mechanism recessed into the stone again, and the door sealed shut, the seam it left behind invisible to the eye and only barely felt by a finger as Val touched it curiously.
The cave they had entered was tall, tall enough for Val to stand easily. In places the edges were organic with white stalactites dripping from the ceiling. In other places sharp, smooth lines had been carved from the stone to widen the passage. The surfaces of the cave were moist, and a film of fluorescent blue cast a still, dim light. Enough to not stumble blind, but not enough to see very far down the path.
Val felt for her fire, and gathering her courage, bid to life the harmony that dwelt in her core. To her relief, it did not unfurl in a torrent of fire but was obedient and keen, and she was able to open her hand and hold high a tall, bright flame.
