What passed on the road to Castle Dryman, and within the coolness of its ancient walls, Brody told me later, by firelight, in slow and musing words punctuated by long silences. The road went swiftly, Allastrial coursing beneath them with the grace of a fleeting shadow. Down the Riverway they sped, recklessly fast on the precipitous ground; but Allastrial never stumbled, never faltered, and by dusk they had reached the place where the Wideway branched away to the left, heading north. Here the road was flatter, rising more gradually, and in spite of the darkness their speed grew even greater. Humble farms raced by—dim, fecund blurs glimpsed and forgotten. As the moon rose, they came to a broad, sloping valley, where terraced farms crept up the faces of the steep hills on either side. The valley funneled them upward, like a triumphal avenue, and soon they could see the castle rising at its uppermost end. Built in the grim flush of a bloodline's triumph, the castle reared above the valley like a lowering bird of prey. Its great wings overspread the ridge on which it perched, and the upthrusting beak of its central turret pierced the sky with a lofty contempt. Behind it, the moon cowered like a bashful handmaiden, suffusing the landscape with an eerie, tremulous glow.
Allastrial now curved sharply to the left, mounting the valley's western slope, climbing above its highest farms, then surging forward along the border between harsh rock and yielding soil. If any sleepless farmer chanced to look out his window on that cool, luminous night, he might have glimpsed a familiar white mare, shimmering dimly in the moonlight, burdened by two slender shadows, who clung to her neck and to one another. But how could he say who these shadows were? And whom would he tell? The valley held many secrets. For all the likelihood of a local peasant disturbing the much-feared nobles with a night-born rumor, the boys might as well have arrived unseen.
As they came level with the castle, Allastrial slowed, and slowed again, until she was creeping forward on near-soundless hooves. At last, she halted completely, perched on the jagged ridge that rose up sharply to the west of the castle's seat. Below them, Castle Dryman showed squat, black, and forbidding, less like a bird now than a heavy-bodied spider, grossly sprawled across the ridge it called home.
Taking their cue, Shamus and Brody dismounted, and began picking their way down the treacherous slope. Allastrial stood immobile, not even switching her tail, watching the boys with keen, vigilant eyes, until they dropped out of sight behind the ragged black rocks.
Cressock had described three or four of the likeliest entrances, and they made their way to the one they took to be nearest: a small door set below ground level, known as the Night Portal, built for midnight deliveries and the occasional departing messenger. Two sentries guarded the door throughout the night, but any authorized movement in or out of it could provide enough distraction for the boys to slip through.
Wedging themselves in a cranny between two rocks, just above the carved-out hollow in which the door was set, my brothers settled in for their night's vigil. The night was cold, and they huddled together against the chill. The moon passed behind a cloud, and then a thicker cloud; the world around them was shrouded in blackness. This suited their plans, but it colored their thoughts. They began to see terror in the night's deep shadows. The time passed with cruel slowness.
The hours ticked by, and still there was no movement at the door. The sentries coughed, and stamped their feet, and told crude jokes between long silences, striving to keep up their spirits. Still no one came, from within or without. For all the activity it witnessed this night, the door might have been the door to a crypt.
Dawn began to glow beyond the battlements of the castle, and the boys' hearts grew more and more desperate. If they could not get into the castle before sunrise, where would they spend the day? Who would aid them? How would they keep their presence from being known? Two fleeting shadows on horseback were one thing; two flesh-and-blood strangers, caked in the dust of the road, were something else again. They could not afford to start rumors. But could they spend the whole day huddled between these rocks?
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The Mountain Queen
FantasíaThe Mountain Queen is a fantasy novel that tells the story of Silah, a precocious teenage girl who finds herself caught up in the intrigues of a powerful family of demigods. Through her friendship with Cressock, the most rebellious and unpredictabl...
