The Tears of Kas̆dael

As the two burst into the inner courtyard, the men preparing dinner looked up, startled. “Captain Marīltu?”

The pair ignored the men as they raced toward the gate that led into the outer courtyard, but they were not fast. A moment later, Sarganīl, the mage, and the bespelt men poured into the courtyard, hot on their heels. The old noble stumbled to a stop, his hands on his knees as he puffed from the unexpected exertion of running, but he managed to summon the strength to bellow an order. “Stop those traitors,” he commanded the cooks. There was no need for mind magic as the soldiers dropped everything to follow orders. With the precision of well-trained men, they swiftly split into three groups to complete all objectives - blocking the gate’s entrance, lowering the portcullis, and pursuing the fleers.

Marīltu cursed as he saw the men cut in front of them, blocking the entrance to the gate, and grabbed Ihra’s hand. “This way,” he commanded curtly, pulling her toward the northern side of the courtyard

Irritation flared within her, and she yanked her hand out of his with a scowl, but she followed him over to the northern wall, where a flight of stairs led up to the top of the ramparts. “What’s the plan,” she yelled as she followed in his steps. “You planning to jump?”

“Kruvas̆, no, the wards would kill us,” he fired back, “but there’s another way. Being commander of the castle does come with a few benefits, after all.”

But the guards at the top of the wall, few though they were, had not been blind to the chaos in the courtyard below. With alarmed shouts, they ran for the stairs to cut them off, but only one was close enough to make it in time. The guard paused at the top of the stairs, fumbling for his sword with a shaky hand. “Cap-Captain Marīltu - stop!” he stammered out.

With a burst of speed, Marīltu surged forward, clearing the last ten steps to the top of the ramp in a blur. Though the guard tried to draw his sword, Marīltu got there first, and the man crumpled as the captain’s fist buried itself in his stomach with enough force to dent his armor, followed by a swift strike to his neck that left the soldier gasping for air. “Sorry,” Marīltu muttered as he stepped over the guard.

The brutal display was enough to make the other soldiers hesitate, even for just a moment, and the captain seized the advantage. Grabbing Ihra’s hand again, he dragged her into the nearest tower just before the pursuers from the courtyard reached the top of the rampart.

Ihra glanced around the small room, which had almost nothing in it save for a winding flight of stairs that led both up to the roof and deeper into the castle, along with a small table and chairs, occupied by a hastily abandoned game of cards. “Up, down?” she asked the captains, as Marīltu ran over to the table, and grabbing a chair, wedged it beneath the hand of the tower door.

“Down.”

She bolted for the stairs, with him in hot pursuit, and they reached another landing almost immediately. “All the way to the bottom,” he added.

They’d made it two more landings before she heard the crackle of wood splintering above them.

“Kruvas̆,” Marīltu cursed behind her. A moment later, she screamed in indignation as arms wrapped around her waist and tossed her over his shoulder.

“What do you think you're doing," she protested, banging her elbow into his shoulder.

“Sorry,” he said, sounding completely insincere, “but I’m faster, and I’d very much like to keep my head.”

And, as much as Ihra hated to admit it, the captain quickly proved his words weren't an idle boast as he bounded down the stairs, clearing ten or more at a time, with agile leaps that made her feel as if they were almost flying. They passed three more landings in a flash before reaching the bottom of the stairs. The small stairwell had just doors, one to the west and one to the north, and Marīltu quickly charged through the western door, which opened into a cramped tunnel. The sound of their pursuers had faded almost to a whisper by now, and when the door slammed behind them, it was cut off altogether.

“I think you can put me down now.”

“Nope,” he shot her request down promptly. “Not till we’re in the passage.”

“Passage?”

“A secret tunnel,” he briefly explained. “One of the failsafes in case the castle fell, one known only to the commander of Dūr-Biḫurtu. I doubt even Lord Sarganīl is aware of it.” They reached an intersection, and he took the northern tunnel, which quickly dead-ended into a small warehouse. From the cobwebs stretched across the entrance and the thick layers of dust that caked everything in the room, it was obvious the place had long been abandoned. A cloud of dust followed in his wake as he raced through the room, and finally slid her off his shoulder as he stopped beside the wall.

“Where is it,” he muttered to himself as he ran his hands over the wall, looking for a switch. Even with her heightened perception, Ihra could spot nothing, but after a few seconds his hand paused, and a tiny flare of blue light brightened the dark warehouse as he pressed down on the switch. With a rumbling roar, a two-foot wide section of the wall pulled back about 18 inches, leaving a tiny gap for them to squeeze through.

A sudden shout echoed down the tunnel behind them, and Ihra realized their pursuers were catching up. Not waiting for his command, she twisted herself sideways and stepped through the gap. Marīltu tried to follow her but got stuck as his broad chest was a sliver too wide for the narrow opening. With a grunt, he wriggled free and retreated a few paces into the room. “Step aside,” he warned as he charged toward the opening, throwing himself to the side at the last possible moment. The momentum carried farther than he’d gotten before, wedging his body about halfway through the gap, where he stalled out.

“Selene’s grace.” With a growl he reached for the wall of the passage, fumbling for something to use as a grip to pull himself free, but there was nothing. The shouts echoed again, much closer than this time, and resignation flooded his eyes. “Go,” he commanded Ihra. “There’s still for you to escape. When you reach the tunnel’s end-”

“Shut up,” she commanded him and grabbed his hand. She steadied her footing on the damp, slightly muddy tunnel before bracing one foot against the wall.

“You aren’t strong enough, lass,” he started again.

“Shut up,” she grunted, activating The Still Pond as she pulled on his arm. An explosion of pain blossomed in the pit of her stomach, and quickly radiated through the rest of her body as she sacrificed a small but steady stream of her health in exchange for the boost in her strength.

*SCREECH* The man’s lamellar armor screeched against the rock as Marīltu was dragged a few inches forward, but he didn’t pop free. With a groan, she released the skill and took a moment to catch her breath.

“Lass,” he said softly.

“One more time.” Bracing herself against the wall, she activated The Still Pond Again. Her skin thinned and cracked as she pulled, blood weeping down her face and arms, but with a final screech, Marīltu was dragged free.

Spinning around, the captain quickly slammed the passage shut before turning to thank her. “Are you alright?”

She uncorked a healing potion and let the sickly sweet liquid flood her mouth before replying. “I’ll be fine.”

She noticed the skepticism in his eyes, but the captain didn’t press further. “Then we should go,” he replied simply. “I don’t think they know about the passage, but unfortunately that damn dust is going to lead them straight to the wall. It won’t take long for them to figure it out.”

Ihra finished the rest of her potion and shoved the empty bottle back in her pouch. “After you then.”

They jogged into the darkness, the tunnel being entirely unlit, and Ihra realized the captain must have some sort of night vision. Hers was simply the result of her high vision stat as an archer, but as a warrior, she wouldn’t have expected the captain to have nearly enough vision to manage. Yet, he deftly avoided the fallen rocks and timbers that occasionally barred their way on the ancient path, racing with an assured certainty through the tunnel.

“So who are you exactly?” The captain asked, shattering her ruminations. “Not that I’m not thankful for the rescue, of course. Just curious who I’m thankful to.”

“It’s complicated,” she replied.

The captain snorted. “Complicated? Relationships are complicated. Who you serve shouldn’t be.”

“Well, I don’t serve anyone. I'm an adventurer.”

“Someone hired you to help me, then?”

“Nope. Frankly, I don’t even know who you are. My party was sent here on a quest from a goddess,” she hedged, deciding it better not to mention Kas̆dael, “a quest, to protect a durgu prince from assassination. And, as it so happens, that prince was here on a mission from King Kabāni to keep an eye on Lord Sarganīl. We agreed to help him as part of our quest, but rescuing you wasn't part of the plan. A simple accident.”

“A happy one then,” the captain replied. “Wait.” He held up a hand as they reached a sudden branching in the tunnel. “Kruvas̆,” he cursed. “I know one of these leads to Dūr-Rabû and the other to an alley behind the market, but I can’t remember which is which.”

“What about those marks,” she asked, pointing to small etchings on the wall beside him.

“What marks?”

So he doesn’t have full night vision, she decided. Still, to see as clearly in the dark as he did, he must have invested a surprising amount of points in vision for a warrior; either that, or he was far higher in level than she had first assumed. Perhaps he’s over 200?

Kneeling, she ran a finger over the etchings, brushing away the dust that had almost obscured them. “Bāb-maḫirtu." As she read the first, she knew she didn’t need to read the second. “This way.”

She let the captain retake the lead as they headed down the second tunnel, and after a few minutes, she spotted a pin-prick of light ahead. The light slowly grew as they approached until she spotted its source. A dozen small shafts of light radiated through a grated cover at the top of the tunnel. It was about fifteen feet above them, but an old, rickety ladder was propped against the wall beneath it.

Marīltu paused at the wall and placed a hand against the ladder to steady it. “Ladies first,” he said, with a slight grin.

“I’m hardly a lady,” Ihra protested, but she accepted the offer nonetheless. Despite the healing potion, she still felt a little shaky after the sheer amount of health she’d sacrificed to The Still Pond - far more than she’d ever used before or ever hoped to use again. Although, somehow, I doubt I'll be that lucky.

“Truthfully,” the captain admitted, “I’m afraid the ladder will break if I try to climb it. Any chance you have some rope in that bag of yours?”

“Yeah,” she nodded, catching on to his plan. As she trudged up the ladder, she was careful to keep a firm grip on the sides in case one of the rungs gave out beneath her and, indeed, the captain’s apprehension proved correct. A handful of the rungs crumbled when she stood on them, the ancient wood no longer able to hold even her slight weight, but she managed to hold onto the sides long enough to get a foot on the next rung up and thus, slowly but surely made her way to the top, where a small landing had been carved out just beneath the surface, complete with a latched trapdoor.

Rummaging through her bag, she retrieved a rope and knotted it carefully around the rusty metal grate before dropping it into the tunnel below. “Should hold you.”

Bracing his feet against the wall, Marīltu quickly reached the top. As he rolled onto the ledge, Ihra used her knife to cut the rope free, and the captain promptly pulled what remained of the ladder onto the little landing pad. “Well, that should hold them, at least for a few minutes.” His eyes turned to the grate, through which the sunset's orangey, fading rays still streamed. “Never thought I’d use this place, certainly not to escape my own lord,” he said with a touch of bitterness. “But thank S̆ams̆a it exists. Need a boost,” he asked, offering her his hand.

Accepting his hand, Ihra climbed onto his shoulders and, with a heave infused with a touch of the Still Pond, she shoved the grate open. They'd escaped from Dūr-Bihurtu. Now we just need to get out of the city.