Chapter Twelve

From Beneath

We were walking in the footsteps of history when we entered the tunnel, although Owain the Spirit had had the good sense to leave the castle, not enter it.

At this end, the tunnel emerged into a stand of trees with an iron fence erected around them and a small plaque commemorating the event, almost grown over with ivy. It was one of those public monuments that people pass every day and think to themselves ‘ I wonder what that's about. I should really look it up one of these days ,' but then never did anything about it. The Gath was littered with statues to this war or that, to people who might be a public benefactor, celebrated actor or bloodthirsty tyrant—with the passage of years, the distinctions blurred and they all became just statues.

"This way," said Wylder.

"There really is only one way," I pointed out. "That's the nature of tunnels."

"You're not enjoying this as much as you should be," said Wylder. "How many times in your life do you get to overthrow a monarch? Ideally, it should just be the once, so you may as well enjoy the experience."

"I think you're enjoying it enough for the both of us."

"That is also possible."

Nicolo held up his torch to look at the tunnel ceiling. "Well, no one's been down here in decades, maybe longer, but it looks secure enough."

A thought made me shudder. "Are we trusting that the engineering skills of a group of freedom fighters digging in a hurry have held up over the last millennium?"

"No," Nicolo was quick to reassure me. "Seti II had the tunnel cleared and shored up when he dedicated that little memorial outside. He thought it was history worth preserving."

"We're grateful that he did," said Wylder.

"I suspect he'd have been more on Balduin's side," admitted Nicolo.

"Nobody's perfect."

The tunnel supports certainly looked centuries old, but they also looked capable of withstanding another few centuries. Seti II had built it to last. Which was something of a relief, as being buried alive was right near the top of my list of ways in which I desperately did not wish to die.

We stalked on through the damp, inky blackness, alleviated by the flaming torches we carried. It would technically have been possible to bring the entire revolutionary army in through the tunnel, walking single file, though it would have taken a very long time. More importantly, the whole point of this route of entry was secrecy, and fifty people lining up at the little fenced-off stand of trees, slowly vanishing one by one would likely have drawn the sort of attention we were keen to avoid. I'd suggested a diversion, as we'd used the night we rescued Arthur, but Nicolo thought that ill-advised.

"You created a diversion that night by attacking the place where Balduin was—fine work, by the way. This time, you're trying to draw people away from where Balduin is and that just won't work. At the first sign of danger, even if it's on the far side of the castle, Balduin will draw his guards in to protect him. That is, if he doesn't head straight for one of his escape tunnels."

As Nicolo had advised, we stationed our soldiers so they would cover the entrances of all those tunnels Nicolo knew about, so if the king tried to escape, he would be caught. But Nicolo was sure there were tunnels that Balduin had kept secret from him.

"Given that he was planning to kill me, I think I'd assume there was information he kept to himself."

So, watching the tunnels was important but probably useless. We needed to catch the rat in his lair, to deal with him there before he even knew there was a reason to run.

With these limitations, there were, therefore, just twenty of us. The twenty included our best fighters; Wylder himself, of course; Nicolo and me; Kaleb and his best man; two of the other chapter commanders; Gerda and Kerys; a giant of a man named Dolph who had to stoop to enter the tunnel; two of the guards who had defected with Nicolo and eight other men and women culled from the various revolutionary chapters, recommended by their respective commanders as the best of the best.

The rest of the best meanwhile had been formed up into a second thirty person group, ready to enter the tunnel when the sounds of battle from within became audible. By that time, being unobtrusive would be less important. Aside from them, there were people stationed at the various escape routes (with strict instructions not to go down as those routes were almost certainly booby-trapped) and another large contingent awaiting orders, posted in various locations close to the main gates. The time might come when this turned into the all-out battle we were fervently hoping to avoid, and in that event, we on the inside would find a way to get the gates open and let in the next wave of reinforcements.

It was an imperfect plan, but it was probably the best available in imperfect circumstances. All hinged on finding Balduin. His personal guard would be a challenge, as they represented the best fighters in the Gath, but we weren't really concerned with them. All that mattered was Balduin. As long as one of us could get through to the king and make an end of him, this wouldn't be in vain. Ideally, we needed some survivors to handle what happened next, but getting rid of Balduin was the object, and we'd take that as a victory. Whoever came next, they could hardly be as bad.

Or so one hoped.

"How deep are we?" I asked, as we walked on through the claggy darkness.

"Under the castle? Deep ," stressed Nicolo. "Remember, the dungeons go very deep, and we're below them."

"It's going to be a long way up to Balduin's chambers," I sighed.

"Worried about all those stairs?"

I laughed, which was a nice feeling right now. "I was more thinking about how we might end up fighting over every staircase, but now you mention it, that is a lot of stairs."

"We have to hope those guards who have been relegated to the dungeons don't feel any great loyalty to the king," said Wylder, just ahead of us.

"There are nasty ones down there," said Nicolo grimly. "Only the most sadistic guards get posted to the dungeons."

"Then I shall feel less guilt in killing them," mused Wylder.

"You feel guilt in killing soldiers?" I asked.

"No," admitted Wylder. "As a soldier myself, you understand. But I shall feel even less than none. And that means I shall quite enjoy it."

I didn't imagine I was going to enjoy it much, but if I had to kill people, then I was happier killing those who'd been mistreating and torturing prisoners than I was regular soldiers who'd been press-ganged in and were just following orders. To Wylder, it was ‘war', and what happened happened, but I couldn't help seeing the people behind the armor and wondering if they really wanted to be there.

"They dug all this in one night?" I asked.

"The legend may be mistaken on that point," Nicolo admitted.

"I suppose it makes a better story." I paused. "I wonder if anyone will tell our story."

"Depends how it ends."

"I'd quite like to be the subject of an epic poem."

"Or a ballad?"

"No… ‘ballad' sounds sad."

"You want to be the subject of a jig?" Nicolo laughed.

"Maybe."

It helped to talk, and we were deep enough that we couldn't be heard, but as the tunnel trended upwards, we fell into silence, partly for fear of being heard by guards in the dungeons now closer above us, partly because the somber purpose of the journey was now starting to hit, and no one much felt like talking.

There was no sense of the tunnel gradually reaching an end, it just stopped, and Wylder held up his torch to reveal a rotting wooden panel above our heads.

"Are we about to break into a locked jail cell?" whispered Gerda.

Nicolo shook his head. "The lower dungeons fell out of use years ago because they were subject to flooding in the autumn."

"Good to know."

"Is there a danger that Balduin has started using them again?" Kaleb asked. "He does have a number of people to imprison."

"I guess we're going to find out," said Wylder, who was more one for action than talking. "No way to do this quietly."

He lifted an axe to swing at the wood above our heads and froze in a spasm of pain.

"Damn shoulder."

"Is it giving you trouble again?" asked Gerda solicitously, again making me wonder if there was something between them.

"Never get old," advised Wylder, grimly.

"I think I'd prefer it to the alternative," I muttered. There was a reasonable chance this mission would end any of our chances of growing old in a very sudden and terminal way.

Gerda took the axe from Wylder's hand and, with a grunt of effort, swung it into the panel above our heads. The rotted wood put up no fight, splintering with a damp ‘ thunk' . For a moment, we were all still and silent, listening for any movement above that might indicate that someone had heard us.

No sound came.

Wylder gave a shrug and nodded to Gerda.

A few more blows of the axe and the wood could be pulled apart by hand.

"No wonder they don't use this cell anymore," muttered Wylder. "It's not exactly secure."

The state of the wood did make me think again about the wooden struts and beams we'd seen supporting the roof of the tunnel through which we'd walked, but we'd arrived safely so there was no sense in worrying about it now. We wouldn't be leaving by the tunnel; win or lose we'd be going out through the main gate, either on foot or in a box.

Taking the lead, Nicolo hauled himself up into the dark room above with muscular ease.

"Pass me up a torch."

He took a quick look around the room then put the torch to one side while he hauled up Wylder. I followed, jumping and nimbly scaling the rotted boards into the room.

"Very graceful," whispered Nicolo, with a smile.

Wylder put a finger to his lips. If these lower parts of the dungeon were no longer in regular use, that didn't mean the guards didn't come down here, perhaps to dump bodies or just for a quick smoke.

As the rest of the party climbed or were pulled up, Nicolo and I turned to the door. It was locked, which had always been a possibility. Nicolo looked at me and raised his eyebrows in question.

I knelt down and peered into the lock. It was rusted and seized by age but I'd had the foresight to bring oil with me, alongside the pack of lock-pick tools in my pocket.As I got to work, I was very aware of the growing group of people behind me, all relying on my skill with locks. We could break the door down, of course, but there was a limit to the amount of noise we could make.

Fortunately, with a little oil and a lot of brute force, the lock gave up and opened, though it did so with a high scraping sound that wasn't as quiet as I would have liked. But such noises were probably not uncommon in these dungeons.

With the door open, the chance of us being heard was increased and all speaking was forbidden, Wylder giving us instructions through hand signals. The plan was that we would stick together until we'd found our way out of the castle's extensive dungeons and up into King's Tower, then we'd split up to head for the various locations in which Balduin was most likely to be.

The first set of stairs took us out of the darkness of the damp, disused lower level and into the torchlit grimness of the floor above, still well below ground level.

The sound of footsteps made us duck back as two figures came in our direction. One a frail looking old man in chains, the other a burly jailer who was talking.

"You think you won't talk? They all talk. After they scream."

"But I don't know anything," the old man stuttered.

"We'll see," the jailer grinned. "We'll see. I have two whips, one is called Percy, the other is Mercy. I intend to lash you with Percy, which means without Mercy." Then he chuckled heavily.

As they passed us, I stepped out noiselessly behind the pair and slit the jailer's throat. He probably didn't deserve to die so quickly, but I wasn't as cruel as he was, and this way was quiet.

The old man turned with a stunned expression and Wylder clamped a hand over his mouth and put a finger to his own lips. He then removed the hand.

"Your Grace…" the old man breathed, looking completely stunned.

Wylder shook his head. "You have been down here a while. It's probably safest for you to stay here a bit longer."

"Sod that!" The man suddenly seemed considerably less frail. "Give me a bloody sword."

Wylder smiled. "You heard the man, give him a sword." Then he faced the old man. "It will be your responsibility to make it bloody."

The old man nodded. "If I had me a drink, why I'd drink to that."

We continued upwards. Every instinct within me pressed me to open every door we passed and release the poor wretches within, but I knew that every person we let out increased the chances of our discovery and decreased our chances of success. The best we could do for them was to come back for them, but it was hard to ignore the moans and groans from behind those doors.

Tough though he was, it was telling on Wylder too, and the next jailer we met, he beheaded in one well-aimed blow.

"You'll think me a monster, but I feel better for that."

"I don't think you a monster," I replied.

I could tell this place was getting to Nicolo, as well. He might not have been down here during his brief time as King Balduin's number two, but it had always been here.

A few more jailers came our way, but it was only when we'd gone up another two flights, into the highest of the dungeons, that we met guards in any number—the guardroom was placed between us and the exit.

Wylder made a face, as if coming to a difficult decision, then he held up a hand to indicate that we all should wait, before stepping into the guard room.

"Gentlemen, good afternoon. My name is Wylder, my friends and I represent the Revolutionary Army of Woodfall Gath. Today is the last day of your king's rule and I'm sure not all of you will be sorry to see him go. Thus, as far as I am concerned, you are either for us or against us."

Perhaps it might have been a more effective speech if one of the guards hadn't immediately grabbed up a spear and rushed Wylder. Nicolo was through the door like lightning, blocking the spear with his sword.

"It's the traitor!" one of them yelled.

Then the room erupted into fighting as we poured in to bring down the guards. We might not have had the full element of surprise, but they had certainly not been ready for a fight and we managed to take them all in short order.

Wylder sheathed his sword. "Irritating. You try to be nice and see what happens. The great god knows being nice doesn't come naturally to me. Now, at the top of these stairs…"

From the stairwell came a click and whoosh and Wylder's words were cut off by an arrow thudding into his chest. We all spun around to see where the arrow had come from, and caught sight of a guard sprinting up the stairs.

"Don't let him get away!" Even as he dropped to the ground, Wylder continued to give orders. "He'll raise the alarm." He looked right at me then, as if telling me I was the only one who could actually chase the man down and doing so was more important at this point than caring for him.

So, I ran as I'd never run before, dashing up the stairs. I remembered the hill run at the Assassins' Guild, considered the ultimate test of its kind. I'd won the race two years in a row but it damn near broke me. This felt like the most effort I'd put in since then. The spiral staircase meant I couldn't get a good look at the guard to put a throwing knife in his back. He was barely feet from the door when I lunged forward, catching his ankle and dragging him back down. He opened his mouth to yell, but I put my hand over it as I drove my knife into his chest.

Returning to the guard room with the body dragging behind me, I found everyone standing around in attitudes of deep concern while Tam, who had the most medical knowledge of any of us, stooped over Wylder. I remembered suggesting that we should bring a healer along, but Wylder had shaken his head.

"I will not chance the success of the mission by giving a warrior's place to a doctor. If we die, we die. Victory is all that matters."

The look on Tam's face told me this was serious, but Wylder was not done giving orders yet.

"Don't fuss. Even if you could fix me, I'd be useless in the attack and that is all that matters. Don't waste time on me." He looked up at Nicolo. "The Master is now in command. I know that many of you don't like or trust him, but he's the most experienced of all of you and he knows the terrain. My order is that you follow his. Gerda…"

Gerda stepped forward, clearly trying to control her emotions.

"You will take charge of my squad, heading for the dining hall. You'll be a man down but at least it's an old man with a dodgy shoulder. Now get going all of you and think not a moment more on me."

We didn't even think to disobey, because to help him would be an insult to him and to everything he stood for. Live or die, we served Wylder best by winning.

Up the stairs we went, passing into a small ante-chamber. Here we parted company, Gerda and her squad heading for the dining hall, Kaleb and his going to the Castle Garden where Balduin often spent a lazy afternoon. I was in charge of the third squad searching the throne room, and Nicolo was taking the last group up to the royal apartments.

Parting from Nicolo, knowing that it could be for the last time, was beyond hard, but we didn't hesitate. We didn't even say anything to one another—just gave one another a look and our eyes said everything that needed saying. This was for Wylder now as much as for ourselves, and the best chance for us to have a future together was to get the job done. The last I saw of him was when I turned to take one final look and caught him doing the same. A little smile passed between us, and then we were gone.

***

"Who goes!"

Naturally, I hadn't taken the main route to the throne room, but had instead, led my party through the servants' corridors, which I'd become familiar with during my time in the Great Castle as maid and squire. These routes were not so well-guarded, and the servants we passed just pretended we weren't there—whoever we were, it was none of their business. But as we reached the serving entrance to the throne room itself it was inevitable that we hit some guards.

"I am Charlotte, former squire to Master Nicolo," I explained. "Now part of the revolutionary army."

"The what now?"

There were three guards and at that moment, they all looked more confused than anything else, because attacking armies were not supposed to honestly introduce themselves at the door. Their training hadn't covered this.

"The revolution has begun," I explained, helpfully. "We are going to overthrow King Balduin, if we can. Where you stand on that topic, I suppose, depends on your politics and whether you think Balduin is a good king. Has he always treated you well?"

The three guards looked at each other, as if they were all trying to read each other's minds. Apparently, this experiment in telepathy was successful because as one man they lowered their weapons.

"He's not in the throne room at the moment," said guard one. "Or at least he wasn't last time I checked."

"I could have a look," suggested guard two. "It's no trouble. And it'd be less suspicious than you going in."

"Thanks," I nodded. "That would be very helpful." He could have been going to raise the alarm, of course, but the way in which the three men spoke made me trust them. This was what I'd hoped for, and quietly expected, from the regular palace guard.

"He's due to arrive in about an hour," said guard three, apparently privy to the king's schedule.

"You can wait here if you like," suggested one.

"We've got playing cards," said three.

Two came hurrying back. "Not down yet. Still due to arrive later."

"In an hour," three reiterated.

"Do you know where he would be now?" I asked.

"He'll be in his apartments."

There had always been a good chance of that and yet the words went through me like ice. Nicolo would be the one facing the might of the Royal Guard.

Wylder had given very clear instructions about what to do if we did not find the king where we were, none of which included going to help someone else. But I now had definite information and… and I couldn't leave Nicolo, knowing what he was facing.

I turned to my squad. "You stay here, just in case he comes down early."

"Where are you going?" frowned Tam.

"That's not important. Just wait here and if you can persuade any other guards to join our cause, that would be useful."

"What do we do?"

I shrugged. "Play a few hands of cards."