The Return of the Dragonhawk

Chapter 12 - The Heart of Dys

"A fine piece of womanhood you be," Jeannet giggled. "Jest keep that scarf on yer head so's to hide yer hair."

Rhoz twirled to show off the dress Jeannet had just finished shortening for her. She curtsied to Roland, fluttering her eyelashes in her most seductive manner.

"Foolishness!" he blustered. "The worst kind of foolishness. Stay put and wait for word from the Dow'ger!"

"She don' know where to find me," Rhoz said, brazenly stretching the truth.

"You be caught," Roland predicted gloomily. "Anyone can see yer no girl!"

"He be passable enough," Jeannet said. "So long as he waits 'til there be others passing through the gates."

Rhoz picked up the basket of rose hips Jeannet had provided for her. "I can' delay -- they close the gates at sunset."

"Go well, boy," Roland said. "We won' know peace 'til we lay eyes on you again."

Rhoz bowed. "The Dow'ger Kyn be thanking you both."

She strode resolutely towards Muktarshold, carrying a bundle with her leggings and boots in one hand, and the basket of rose hips in the other. She felt uncomfortably exposed in women's clothes, but it was the safer way. The stable boy Pym would be slain on the spot or consigned to the dungeon as a deserter. It was unlikely that anyone would recognize the Akyna Rhoz in peasant garb and mud coloured hair. After all, her demise had been officially mourned four moons past.

The four soldiers guarding the outer gate of Muktarshold took little interest in the passing traffic. Rhoz kept her head down as she crossed the moat. She veered away from the smell of rotting flesh and walked along the outside of the inner wall, planning to enter by one of the lesser gates, as was expected of common folk. The first gate was barred; so was the second. A quick inquiry verified that the garrison commander had ordered all the gates locked except the central one.

She retraced her steps, gathering what information she could without gawking conspicuously. Muktarshold had become a community of women and children, with a sprinkling of ancient or hopelessly crippled men. Once there had been soldiers everywhere, watching balefully over the citizenry; now, only a handful were posted on the outer wall, while two guarded the inner gate. There were no beasts of burden in sight, save foundered nags and ageing donkeys; and precious few sheep and goats. The women were carrying on as best they could, repairing the damage to their gardens and caring for the animals that remained; but they looked about them as if they were expecting disaster to strike at any moment.

Muktarshold be a fortress of women now, with barely enough men to guard the outer gate, Roland had said. Iffen the Dragonkeeper attacks now, it be his fer the taking. Perhaps he was right. The Shadow Warriors had been bold enough to attack Muktar's troops on the march. If they knew who lay in Muktarshold's dungeon, they might venture to try the fortress.

Rhoz shook her head. She was grasping at straws. Muktarshold was secure against anything less than a full-scale army with siege equipment. Once the outer gate was closed and barred, a few dozen archers could hold off a thousand men.

If an assault force miraculously breached the outer wall, the defenders could retract the bridge, catching the invaders between the wall and the moat. The moat was bordered with a high fence of sharpened stakes to keep cattle from falling in, and broken scythe blades were wedged between the rocks on the bottom. Anyone sufficiently bold and lucky to pass these obstacles would still face the defenders on the inner wall.

It was hopeless -- unless someone on the inside kept the gates open and the bridge in place.

Her heart beat faster. If they could get a message to the Shadow Warriors, some could infiltrate the fortress disguised as women and free the prisoners in the dungeon. Even women and children would fight fiercely for the chance to live.