After that, he had traveled on foot and off of the roads. Groups of Lord Brach’s men were on keen alert for those who tried to sneak past their call to arms. It was no easy task to avoid them, but somehow, he had managed.
He had gotten to Lake Bottom only a week before the Zard had attacked Settsted. He had fought them when they came, but there’d been swarms of the slithery Skeeks, far too many to hope to overcome. Along with several others, his life was spared, and he was locked in the cellars. The rumor was that another Dakaneese slave ship was coming, and they, and several of the women, including Lady Zasha, and Lady Trella, were to be put on it in exchange for supplies that the Zard needed.
Wyndall enlisted the help of the young rider from Settsted, and a few of the locals, who were loyal to Lord Gregory. Together, they were about to risk their lives, as much for the two ladies, as for their own sake. The only thing that might hinder the scheme, the only thing that worried young Wyndall, was the ladies themselves. Already, their foolish desire to hold onto things from the past had cost them their freedom. He hoped they had learned their lesson, because what they could carry in a pillow sack was about all they could bring with them this time, and only if it was ready when he came for them.
That night was rainy and dim, which was all the better for their cause. Wyndall, and Bryant, the Settsted rider, huddled in the drizzle, the precipitation doing little to ease their nerves. The summer nights weren’t much cooler than the sweltering days around the lake. The rain though, did keep the insects away, and that alone was enough to be thankful for. Not to mention the fact that it made the two young men nearly impossible to see.
“There it is,” Bryant whispered harshly. A lantern was shuttered twice in a row in the stronghold’s kitchen window.
“I see it,” Wyndall confirmed. He took a deep breath, and checked to see that the rusty sword he had found hanging in old man Gander’s barn was still at his hip. “Set them off then.”
“I’ll see you at the boat, Wyn,” said Bryant. His eyes held Wyndall’s, searching for something. “You’ll wait for me won’t you?”
Wyndall smiled reassuringly. He understood Bryant’s concern.
“On my word, I’ll wait until we can wait no longer. That’s all I can swear to.”
“Aye,” was all Bryant could reply to that.
Wyndall waited until Bryant was gone, then he said a prayer. When he finished, he made the sign for luck, and moved toward a little supply gate at the rear of the stronghold. He counted thirty paces from it, along the wall to the right, and after a panicky moment of searching, found the tiny wooden door hidden there. A few moments later, he had the old rusty sword slid through the jamb, and was jimmying the bar loose.
Just as the Lion Lord’s ancient priest, who had died in the cellar cell next to him had told him, he found himself in the back of the stronghold’s chapel.
Outside the main gate, four men draped in cloaks made of burlap and goat hide, approached on jury-rigged stilts, howling, snuffling, and demanding entry. They growled, yelled, and pounded wooden clubs together insistently, trying to make as much racket as possible.
The Sarzard on command stood atop the wall and hissed at them.
“Comesss closersss.”
He was terrified of these breed giants that had defied the Dragon Queen’s orders, but he wanted to see how many of them there were. He wanted to see if the rumors were true, about them being twice the size of men. The Zardmen that had recently returned from Lakeside Castle had all been saying all sorts of things about the ferocious creatures they had seen there. The whole stronghold was astir. Already, a group of Zard was gathering in the yard, below the Sarzard Captain, making a clamor. Some of them had been ordered there. Others came out of curiosity and concern.
“Wilds savages at the gates,” a Zardman hissed.
“The ones from Portsmouths, that ates all those humans,” added another.
“Breeeds giants from Lakesides!”
The whole ordeal lasted only a few minutes. The savage breed giants cursed about the drenching rain, and finally gave up, when it was clear that the gate wasn’t going to be opened for them. They stalked away into the rainy darkness, leaving the Zards inside the walls hissing a breath of relief.
“Where’s Lady Trella?” Wyndall asked Lady Zasha, in an exasperated whisper. He had only found one of the women he was trying to rescue waiting for him in the chapel, and was furious about it.
“She had to get something while the lizards were distracted,” Zasha responded fretfully.
At the moment, Wyndall’s expression was easily as terrifying as the prospect of getting caught by the Zardmen.
“It’s important,” she added in a mousy whisper.
As terrified as she was, she couldn’t help thinking how handsome this brave boy was that Lord Gregory had entrusted with his dying words. Without realizing it, Zasha inched closer to him. He made her feel safe, a feeling she hadn’t felt in quite some time.