Hugh J. O'Donnell

The Freelance Hunters stood on a hill overlooking the castle’s outer wall. The night was cloudy and chill. Mist rose from the lake beyond, and the air held the promise of the coming autumn. The gate stood against the water like a dark bulkhead.
“So this is Isleheart Castle,” Bingo said, his slim, four-foot tall Hillfolk frame was shaking with excitement. “I can’t believe we’re actually going to crack it!” He was manic, practically giggling at the thought.
“The keep’s a long way to go, Master Proudfoot. This is just the outer gate.” Their patron, a finely dressed Hillfolk man of about middle age said. “And there isn’t much time left before sunrise.”
“We’ll get you to your meeting on time, Ambassador Peacebridge. But I must admit, I hadn’t expected the need to assault the defenses. Isn’t the gate supposed to be open when the Council of the Five People is gathered?” Glory the magician asked. She fixed him with a shrewd gaze.
“Normally, yes. Which is why I have hired you to escort me back inside. I couldn’t raise a guard, and I feared for the safety of my fellow ambassadors. I fear something is terribly wrong.”
Joachim, the warrior of the group, looked down at the three of them and frowned. “How is it that you happened to be out at this time of night, Ambassador?” Peacebridge had the decency to look embarrassed.
“Well, I received a letter…” He trailed off sheepishly.
“And when you returned from this promised rendezvous, the gate was shut and locked?” Glory surmised.
“Exactly, Magus.”
“I see. But why don’t you just wait until they open the gates at dawn?” Joachim asked.
The Ambassador gasped at the suggestion. “Young man, the Renewal Ceremony begins promptly at first light! The Human kingdoms might not take the alliance seriously anymore, but for the rest of us, this is a sacred tradition! If even one of the councilors is not present for the ceremony tomorrow morning, it will be considered a grievous insult. Twelve-hundred years of cooperation dashed, and before long, all of Elanterra could be at war!”
Joachim looked out over the still, black water. “Can we boat across?”
“They didn’t put a castle here for the view. The waters are cold as a hag’s knickers, and the currents are deceiving. It’s a quarter mile deep, and loaded with feral krakens. No one who’s put a boat out has gone more than twenty feet in before being tipped in and shredded.”
“Alright then, the boat’s out. But I don’t see anyone guarding that gate. Could we just climb over it?” Glory asked.
“There aren’t any fires, but someone is surely in that gatehouse. I can feel it,” Joachim said.
“It wouldn’t work, anyway. The surface of the wall makes climbing impossible, and whoever’s in there’d be on us in an instant!”
“Bingo, what is it with you. You’ve been practically bouncing up and down since we took this job.”
“Joachim, this is Isleheart Castle. Out beyond that gatehouse is the Big Bridge, the most famous mile in all of defensive lore!”
“And?”
“And in the twelve-hundred years this castle has stood, it has never, ever fallen. During the war against The Enemy, it supposedly held off a siege that lasted for a decade! This is the tightest drum on the island! Nobody’s been mad enough try it since, but it still holds an ubeaten record as having never been infiltrated, ever. It’s an unpopped cherry, mate! We’ll be famous for this one.”
“So how do you suggest we get inside?”
Bingo paused, stood perfectly still for a moment, and finally shrugged. “We could Knock?”
“Fine. Glory, cover me.” Joachim marched up the winding path to the bridge gate. He met no resistance along the way, and out in the night, there was no sign of anything amiss. There was a bell, presumably for service, set in the wall next to the iron-banded oak. Joachim rang it in a long and loud peal. Soon, a shadow poked its head from between the crenellations.
“The gate is closed,” a high raspy voice said. Joachim couldn’t see the speaker, but he could guess who it belonged to. This might be interesting after all.
“Closed by goblins?” He called up. “They don’t have a seat on the Council. By what right?”
“By right of conquest. We claim this castle for our lost god. You will not enter, dale man. We are the Wolf People, and our pack is strong. You dare call me ‘Goblin?’” The figure was barely a silhouette in the night, but Joachim heard the sneer in its voice. “We remember the god that yours bound, because they feared his power. We keep the laws that you forget, because you are weak. You cower in stone houses and claim land you cannot see. We take nothing we cannot lift, or carry on a wolf’s back. Our ways are the pack’s ways, and they make us stronger than you. Begone.”
There was a ragged cheer. The leader had his pack behind him. That was to the good. If Joachim could insult the alpha badly enough, he’d have to come down and fight, or else get ripped apart by challenges from his own ranks. He cleared his throat.
“You are far from home, and I see no wolves here. You squat in a stone house made by the hands that bound your fallen god. Why are you here?”
“Vengeance. Justice. We have forsaken our wolf pack and come to the soft lands to break them.”
“You’re a fool if you think the Council will do anything but kill you when they find you playing on their doorstep.” A pebble flew over Joachim’s head. He pretended not to notice.
“Maybe, but your alliance is a fragile thing, made of promises and paper. If those pretty words failed, who would they kill first, us, or each other?
“So your plan is just to hold the gate and hope you aren’t discovered by morning? Too bad you’ll be dead long before then.” A few more rocks, and some sticks came down. They all missed him, but the pack’s aim was improving.
“You can’t reach us, unless you grow wings, human.”
“Maybe not from up there, but I can make a lot of noise if I want to. A shout can carry, across a lake like that. Unless, of course, you agree to a formal challenge.” A single rock whizzed past his ear, and then the barrage paused. The buzzing crowd on the gate was silent.
“A human has no right to challenge. Besides, your master would never allow himself to be discovered in this way.”
“I’m not his vassal. I’m just a hired spear.” Joachim reached behind his back, to where his spear was wrapped and tied. Incisor came free instantly, and Joachim could feel the unearthly pressure of the magical weapon in his hand. The runes on the fang-like head glowed icy blue in the darkness. There was a sharp intake of breath as the goblins recognized it.
“You are Joachim Verne, the Dale Knight, Wolf-killer and pack breaker.”
“You’ve heard of me? Open the gate and fight me.”
The figure climbed to the very top of the gate, and Joachim could see him for the first time. He wasn’t tall, even for a goblin. He didn’t stand more than three and a half feet high. His skin was a pallid gray-green, and his long hair was tied back and woven with small bones and charms.
“Foolish, Dale Man. I am Kor-fu son of Ak-ron, and I am the chosen of my dark lord’s people! I do not need to open the gates to fight you!” A ball of red fire appeared in the goblin’s hand, lighting up the battlements. With a grunt, he threw the fireball down on Joachim.
“Glory, shield! Shield!” The magical fire reached a point a few feet above the warrior’s head and stopped. It seemed to bounce like a child’s colorful toy before breaking against the barrier spell and flowing out in all directions in jets of scarlet flame before it disbursed. Kor-Fu cursed and withdrew from the wall. The gates opened a moment later.
The rest of the crew drew up as the gate reached the ground. They braced for a rush of goblin fighters, but nothing but darkness lay beyond. Bingo clapped him on the back, as high as he could reach. “Nicely done, Joachim. Now all we have to do is get past whatever traps they have waiting for us.”
“I don’t know. He claimed to have godly powers.” Glory glared at him like he were a slow student.
“Joachim, the Enemy is sealed away. That was just magic.”
“I’ve never seen a goblin use magic before. They consider it civilized.”
“Me neither. He certainly wasn’t Academy trained. He must be a hedge wizard.”
“It ain’t a bad con,” Bingo said. “Go off and learn a few flash spells, then come back and play prophet to your tribe of rubes.”
“Could take him, if it came down to it?” Joachim asked Glory.
“Did some other wizardry doyen save your life when I wasn’t looking?”
“Good. You should protect the client, then. Bingo, you know this place better than either of us do. You sweep for traps, I’ll sweep for goblins. Right?”
“Just don’t spook, Dale Knight.”
Joachim led the way inside. They were only a few feet into the castle before they hit the first ambush.
“We dedicate these deaths to the God of the Pack!” A pair of high voices shouted from above them. There was a great commotion as something tipped, and a steaming oil came streaming down from hidden holes in the stonework. Glory raised another shield, and the hot oil began to pool in the air above their heads.
“Move, I can’t hold it up for long!” the magician shouted. Joachim burst through the doors at the end of the hall.
“Don’t step on the white stones!” Bingo called as they moved forward. Bingo pulled the ambassador through with him, and Glory followed. The shield buckled just as she did, and hot oil splashed onto her boots, making her wince. By then, Joachim was already cleaning off his spear. The hidden crawlspace was now marked in blood.
“A strong defense from the front, but not from the other side,” he said. “Are you alright, Glory?”
“I’m fine.”
“They’ll be hidden all over the bridge, anywhere they can get a shot at us.”
“Is that your warrior’s intuition?” She asked. Joachim seemed to have a sixth sense for enemy strategy. He glowered.
“Just good tactics. Bingo?”
“This room’s clear.”
Joachim opened the gate at the far side of the room, careful to only step on the square black stones of the checkerboard floor. They got their first good look at Isleheart Castle’s famous bridge. It was mostly made of wood, rather than the stone Joachim had expected. The path snaked between a line of gatehouses which jutted from the water like stones in a stream. The castle keep stood on an island not more than a few hundred feet away, but the twisting bridge was at least a mile long.
“No wonder they call it the big bridge,” Joachim said. He took his first step, but bingo put out a hand. He paused. The cracksman tossed a rock out instead. Where it struck, a section of planks tilted, rose, and flipped over, tipping the stone into the water with a plop.
“The lake’s full of wild kraken, eh?”
“So they say.”
“Never seen one of them.”
“Stop by the Caribos docks some time. A few of the madder Riverfolk use ’em as draft horses. Bingo wedged a stick underneath the bridge, jamming the mechanism. “This one should be safe now.”
Joachim and Bingo forged ahead, treading cautiously in the darkness. A pair of goblins attempted to hold the second gate with javelins. Joachim kept them busy at the front while Bingo climbed around the side of the tower. A few busy minutes later, Bingo opened the second gate for him. This one was a little smaller than the first.
“Well done, Bingo.”
“Thanks. The bridge is designed to hold off a superior force, but the goblins don’t seem to have even the numbers for that. What were they thinking?”
“This is a suicide mission. Maybe Kor-Fu didn’t get all the recruits he was hoping for.”
Glory and the ambassador moved into the second gatehouse while Joachim and Bingo cleared the rest of the bridge. They quickly fell into their established rhythm. Bingo would back up Joachim as he fought the goblins from the front, and Joachim would watch Bingo’s back while he disarmed the multitude of hidden blades, tripwires, and counterweighted floorboards built into the bridge. Once a gatehouse was clear, Glory and the ambassador moved in and the mage protected their rear. The system worked, but the sky was getting lighter all the time. Dawn would come soon, and they were running out of time.
Joachim was astonished by all the different ways the builders had thought up to flip, twist, swing, and tilt sections of the planking. Bingo didn’t miss a single one. When Joachim mentioned this, he modestly admitted that most of the defenses were famous in burglary circles. Since the Alliance was established, no one had ever actually tried to assault Isleheart Castle up until now. It was used by cracksmen as a sort of primer on how to spot and get around traps.
The path narrowed as they went along, from the width of a horse cart at the first gate, down to where they had to march single-file on the last leg. That’s where they found Kor-Fu waiting for them. He’d changed into an ornamented suit of armor, cobbled together from a half-dozen sets and brightly painted to look like one piece. Joachim surmised that the original owners had been humans or dwarves ambushed by Kor-Fu’s tribe, as the gaudy iron breastplate was a bit too large for him.
“I’m impressed that you made it this far, but you’ll never get past me in time. I didn’t need to take the castle, just the unprotected bridge. In a few minutes, your treaty will be dead, and the alliance with it!” The goblin sneered at them from under a lopsided visor. Pointed teeth stuck up from his lower jaw. Joachim thought he might be right. It was nearly dawn. It would be a bright, clear morning, and the Council’s ceremony would begin when the first rays peaked over the horizon.
Joachim dispensed with banter and thrust Incisor in a precise jab, aiming for a gap in the armor plates. He felt a curious sensation of weight, and the head of the spear stopped, just a fraction of an inch from the metal. Bingo fired a bolt behind him, and it actually hung in the air for a second before dropping to the planks, robbed of all momentum. Joachim pulled back, but it took nearly all his strength, as though the spear were stuck in glue. Kor-Fu laughed.
“You didn’t expect me to just rely on armor, did you? This suit is well enchanted.” He pulled a thick, black sword from behind his back. “Your spear will make a fine trophy.”
“Bingo, go get Glory. I’ll hold him here.”
“Right.” The Goblin lunged, and Joachim stepped back, parrying the attack and fighting to keep the distance between them. He had to buy some time for Glory to get there and undo whatever spell he was using. Time they did not have. The goblin wizard was not a skilled fighter, but he didn’t have to be. The magic armor ensured that if Joachim made so much as a thrust against him, his weapon would be trapped. Joachim was far less well protected. He pushed at Joachim with a set of wild slashes, and Joachim parried and stepped back, looking for a way to disarm him.
“Your witch won’t be able to undo this spell. Any force fed into it just makes it stronger. I am as living iron.”
“It must be heavy,” Joachim noted, turning aside another clumsy strike. Kor-Fu found this comment particularly amusing.
“Fool, I don’t have to outrun you, just outlast you. In minutes, the Sun will rise, the Ambassador will be missed, and a thousand years of oppression will be undone!”
“You can’t honestly think that one treaty will change anything,” Joachim said.
“Twelve centuries breeds contempt, and hatred. Even with the alliance, small border wars and disputes rage. The River Men will take revenge on the Hillfolk who dump their waste upstream. The Humans will again war with the dwarves for gold and iron. And what will the Elves do, from their remote and hidden forests?”
As mad as he was, Joachim knew the warlock was right. He’d fought in a few of those border wars, and they were ugly things. The only thing that prevented outright war was the tradition of the Alliance. If it broke down, Elanterra would bleed out in the wars that followed.
Korfu pressed Joachim back further along the bridge until Joachim’s retreating step brushed against something, nearly tripping him.
There was no time to think about it, as Kor-Fu brought down is blade in triumph. Joachim dodged it by a hair’s breadth, and sunk into a crouch. He saw Bingo had placed to keep this bridge section in place.
“I hope that suit doesn’t rust, Kor-Fu,” Joachim said, and kicked the makeshift support away. The Goblin leader had only a moment of confusion before the great weight of his magic armor shifted the section of planks, and the bridge unceremoniously dumped him into the water below. The splash echoed across the water, and was so loud that it soon sent staff from the castle running, just about the same time Glory, Bingo, and Peacebridge opened the gate from the other side.
“Sorry,” Bingo said. “The gate came down after me and it took me a minute to get it open again. What happened to Kor-Fu?”
“He went for a swim,” Joachim said.
The Freelance Hunters rushed the ambassador to the ceremony, whose celebrants were none the wiser about the attempted invasion the night before. They made it with moments to spare. Bingo and Joachim opted for a hearty breakfast and a nap instead. Although the servants of the castle plied them with questions, they kept stoically silent. They had yet to collect their fee, after all.
That evening, the corpse of a freshwater kraken washed up agains the shore of the lake. A cursory examination showed that it had choked on a large metallic object. about three feet in diameter.
The Freelance Hunters were not on hand to provide an explanation. Peacebridge had already paid them and sent them on their way.