The Names Our Children Will Know

Howling Castle - Draft One

Howling Castle stood atop a gentle slope only a few miles northward. It was named so for the constant winds that whipped around it at all hours, creating a constant low keening wail. Many people said the castle was built by a clan of werians that had all been driven mad by the constant keening and each jumped from the tallest tower, right down to the youngest and their servants. The legend had really caught on when one explorer claimed he could still hear their screams echoing on the wind.

The castle itself was solid, blocky, and triangular, built more as an outpost for defense than for beauty like the Stormsong Palace. Three towers once stood on each of its corners, but the westernmost one had toppled inward, collapsing a whole side of the East Tower. Only the north tower, now christened the Lonely Tower, was still intact.

As the four travelers stared at the crumbling fortress, Mark voiced what they were all thinking with his usual dry humor.

"With our luck, the spellbook will have been in the West Tower."

Tessa, ever the optimist, stepped forward, determined to see the best of the situation. "Well, let's find out."

They crossed the empty plain surrounding the castle to the outer wall. It was stained and dirty from the constant rushing of the wind sanding it, but Tessa thought it had an ancient sense of solidity to it.

The courtyard was far less windblown. Scavenger birds called to each other, startled out of their nesting grounds by the appearance of the four travelers. The four of them stared at what was left of the Howling Castle.

The remains of the West Tower were overgrown and crumbled, lying across the courtyard like a fallen skeleton. Mark couldn't really even tell what he was looking at–was this wall inside or outside? Was this piece window or roof?

They picked their way through the destroyed courtyard. The wind was loud in their ears, masking the sound of their footsteps as they entered a front hall. Tattered tapestries hung askew on sandy-colored walls. The barracks room was directly ahead of them, but the entrance hall branched off to the East Tower.

The hallway here was just as eerily devoid of life as the front hall. Not even birds and mice lived here. They climbed as high as they could, but they finally reached a block halfway up the tower.

"Now what?" Jordan panted. The steep stairs were narrow, tightly curved, and steep, making the climb treacherous and difficult. Everyone was grateful for the rest when they made it to the top.

After reassuring himself that there really was no way to keep going, Mark said dejectedly, "We might as well go back. Cross your fingers it's in the North Tower, yeah?" He shrugged. "No point in staying up here."

With a murmured chorus of reluctant agreement, they all started downward again. Tessa pointed out the way the staircase spiralled to the left, so that an enemy forcing his way up the stairs would be more hampered by the turn than a defender.

Jordan drank in the facts that Wesson and Mark added. A left-handed defender would have trouble, but a left-handed attacker would have an advantage. If the left-handed defender was bigger than the attacker, though, he could just push him down the stairs. This topic kept them going from the top of the East Tower to the bottom stair of the Lonely Tower.

The conversation devolved from there into a hypothetical battle between a large right-handed defender and a fleet-footed left-handed attacker. Jordan had just decided that she would put her bet on the defender when they reached the top of the North Tower.

It was just one spacious, circular room. The walls were open windows looking out onto the destroyed courtyard below. In the center of the room was a square patch of floor that looked different from the rest. It was just two meters across, which meant that even Mark could lie flat on the square and it would still be wider than he was tall.