Chapter 16 — The Open Gate

Chapter 16: Chapter 16 — The Open Gate

Chapter 16 — The Open Gate

The road became worse beyond the bridge.

House Bell had repaired the crossing, but not the miles that followed it: rainwater had cut narrow channels through the road, roots pushed up from beneath the mud, and the trees grew close enough that branches struck the wagon covers whenever a driver moved too far from the center.

By noon, everyone had stopped admiring the forest.

Christopher rode near the front while Walter searched for ground firm enough to take the heavier wagons. Godfrey had sent Simon and Adam ahead before sunrise, and they returned separately every few hours, each bringing the same report: an empty road, old tracks, worsening ground.

Peter developed a fever that evening.

Mabel noticed it while changing his bandage. She asked Martha for more boiled water, told Thomas to hold a lamp, and was still working when Christopher came to check the wagon and found Peter lying with his eyes closed and sweat along his hairline.

"How high is the fever?" Christopher asked.

Mabel pressed the back of her fingers against Peter’s neck. "Not high."

"What does the wound look like?"

"Red around the edges. No pus."

Peter opened one eye. "You both speak as if I’m not here."

"Then stop pretending to sleep," Mabel said.

She washed the injury again; Peter gripped the blanket and said nothing while she worked, though his breathing sharpened when the cloth touched the stitched openings. Christopher remained until Mabel covered the leg.

"What do you need from us?" he asked.

"Clean water and time. After that, we wait and hope the fever falls."

Peter’s fever held steady through the night, and the convoy continued the next morning. They travelled less than six miles before the rear supply wagon struck a buried stone, and Christopher heard the crack from halfway up the line.

The wagon leaned sharply to one side. One wheel had split around the hub, leaving the iron rim twisted in the mud, though the driver managed to stop the mules before the axle dug into the ground.

Godfrey spread the guards along both sides of the road while Wat Cooper inspected the damage. The carpenter crouched beside the wheel, pushed two fingers into the split, and shook his head.

"Can you repair the wheel here?" Christopher asked.

"Not here, my lord. The hub has split too badly."

"We have spare boards and timber."

"We have boards," Wat said. "A wheel hub is not a board."

The wagon carried salt, lamp oil, tools, winter rye, and much of the dried meat purchased at Northgate.

"Move the load to the other wagons," he said.

Bennet had followed him from the front. "They’re already near their limits, my lord."

"Then spread it between all of them."

"You mean to load the supplies onto the settlers’ carts as well?"

Christopher hesitated; most of those carts carried everything the families still owned.

"Use whatever has room, but do not overload another axle."

The order sounded simple until they began opening the wagons, and sacks, chests and barrels had to be shifted throughout the convoy while families argued over what could be tied outside their carts.

Christopher tried to direct the work for the first half hour. He sent four men to the grain wagon, then discovered Bennet had already assigned six; he ordered a barrel moved forward, only for Wat to explain that its weight would strain a different damaged axle. Finally, Christopher stopped issuing instructions.

"Tell me what you need from me," he said to Bennet.

"Space around the wagon and men who listen."

"You have the space. I will make certain the men listen."

Bennet took over the unloading. Wat removed the broken wheel and examined the axle, Walter kept the apprentices out of the workers’ path unless something required lifting, and Bram carried sacks that normally took two men, though Bennet watched closely to make sure the boy did not tear them with his grip.

It still took most of the day. They stripped useful iron from the broken wagon and left the damaged frame between two trees, and Christopher hated abandoning something his grandfather had paid for.

That evening, Godfrey found Christopher staring back at the abandoned frame.

"Leaving the wagon behind was the right choice," Godfrey said.

"After wasting half an hour giving orders Bennet had to correct."

"Leaving the wagon was right. The first half hour of orders was less useful."

Godfrey’s face remained straight.

"You could pretend not to enjoy saying that."

"I could pretend, if that would please you."

"Are you going to?"

"No, my lord."

Christopher almost laughed, the sound catching him by surprise.

They camped only a mile from the broken wagon. The redistributed loads left little room beneath the covers, so three families slept beneath canvas stretched between carts.

Peter’s fever had begun to fall.

"Probably the wound rather than an infection," Mabel said. "Probably."

Christopher accepted the uncertainty in her answer.

Rain came during the night, too cold to fall gently and too warm to become snow; it struck the canvas in hard bursts, soaked the firewood, and turned the road into dark paste.

The convoy remained in place until midday. Walter and Ivo inspected the harness while Wat checked every axle, and Godfrey doubled the sentries because the rain hid sound in the forest.

When the rain weakened, Godfrey found Christopher beside the lead wagon.

"The ground will hold by noon," he said. "If the rain stops."

"And if the rain continues through the afternoon?"

"Then we stay until the road can hold the wagons."

Christopher eyed the grey sky. "Simple."

"Most choices are. Living with them takes longer."

The rain stopped before midday, and they moved again. Progress was slow, but the road rose onto stony ground where the wheels no longer sank, and near sunset, Simon found the first boundary stone.

It stood several paces from the road, half hidden by weeds and moss. The stone was taller than Christopher’s waist and carved with House Bell’s black tower; someone had struck the carving with a hammer during the war, leaving a deep fracture across its center. A second stone waited on the opposite side of the road. Beyond them, the trees had been cut back long ago, creating a clear strip that ran north and south through the hills, though young pines were already reclaiming it.

Walter dismounted and cleared moss from the base of the nearer marker.

"This is the eastern boundary," he said.

"Nettleby said three days," Christopher replied.

"He judged the wagons well."

Godfrey examined the road ahead. It continued between the stones, but the wheel tracks became faint on the other side, and nothing recent had passed except deer and one small animal Simon thought might have been a fox.

"Does another lord control the land beyond this?" Christopher asked.

Walter’s attention shifted to Godfrey before answering. "Several old claims overlap farther north. Most have not been enforced since before the war."

"Who patrols the road beyond the boundary?"

"No regular patrols that I know of."

Nettleby had already warned him, but the warning felt different beside the broken boundary stone. Too few soldiers watched the damaged country behind them, and the road ahead stood empty.

"We should camp on this side," Christopher said.

Godfrey nodded. "Cross in the morning with full light."

The wagons formed a tight camp between the road and the old cleared strip. Everyone stayed close to the wagons; Walter ordered the apprentices to wear their swords while eating, and both Bronze Knights walked the perimeter before darkness settled.

Bennet found Christopher while he was checking the picket line. The supplies from the abandoned wagon had been divided among six others, leaving the carts badly crowded.

"Wat says the weight will wear the axles faster," Bennet continued. "The road ahead will make it worse."

"If another axle breaks, what can we leave behind?"

"Nothing I would choose before seeing Dragonwatch."

"That gives us no choice at all."

"You asked what we could leave, not whether I had a pleasant answer."

Christopher let out a slow breath. "What do you suggest?"

"Move the heaviest loads whenever we stop. Check the wheels morning and evening. If another wagon fails, then we decide what matters least."

The plan added work each day and bought them time, and Christopher approved it. He went with Bennet as the clerk marked where the redistributed supplies had been placed.

At Peter’s wagon, Mabel was helping the apprentice sit upright. His face remained pale, but the fever had fallen, and Thomas stood nearby holding a bowl while pretending he had not been waiting to see Peter awake.

"How is the leg?" Christopher asked.

Peter shifted and immediately regretted it. "Still attached."

"Mabel intends to keep it that way."

"Mabel intends to drown me in boiled water."

"The water cleans the wound," she said.

"It tastes terrible."

"That’s because you’re not meant to drink it after I use it."

Thomas laughed into the bowl. Peter looked offended for a moment, then began laughing too, and stopped when it pulled at the stitches.

Christopher took Peter’s complaints as a good sign and left Mabel to work.

Christopher stood beside the boundary stone after supper, the damaged tower barely visible in the fading light. Dragonwatch remained days away; turning back would abandon the patent and waste the journey already made. He rested one hand against the cold stone.

The next morning, the convoy passed beyond it.

The road beyond House Bell’s boundary had nearly disappeared.

Grass covered its center, young trees grew from the ditches, and fallen branches forced the lead riders to dismount twice before noon. The wagons followed old wheel ruts only because the ground between the trees remained flatter than the surrounding forest.

Godfrey kept Simon and Adam well ahead of the convoy. Walter rode with the first wagons while Ivo remained at the rear, and the apprentices obeyed every change in formation. Beyond the broken boundary stones, even the least experienced understood that the road belonged to whoever held it.

Christopher looked back once during the morning. The path behind the final wagon curved between the trees and vanished. House Bell’s patrol might as well have been a hundred miles away.

They found the first Drake marker that afternoon.

The marker leaned beneath the roots of an ash tree. Walter scraped dirt from its face until a worn bird appeared beneath: a drake with folded wings. The carving was simpler than the crest used by House Drake in the south, but Christopher recognized it from old seals in Osbert’s study.

"Can you tell how old the marker is?" he asked.

Walter studied the stone. "Older than I am."

"That narrows it down to several lifetimes."

"I wasn’t trained as a mason, my lord."

The marker pointed northeast. Christopher had maps, but most had been copied from older maps, which had themselves been copied from something no one could identify, and a Drake road marker was better proof than faded ink.

"We follow it," he said.

The convoy made only five miles before sunset.

That night, the wind came down from the north and found every loose edge of canvas. Families slept close together, and the fifteen slaves received a second sheet after one of the older men began shivering.

Christopher walked between the fires wearing two coats. Meg and Elsie sat beside their mother near Martha’s cooking fire, Elsie holding a warm stone wrapped in cloth against her stomach. Meg had stopped watching Christopher whenever he passed, which he decided was an improvement. Bram sat a short distance away eating from a wooden bowl balanced on one knee.

The boy finished before anyone else and turned toward the pot.

Martha saw him. "No."

Bram lowered his eyes to the empty bowl.

"You had two portions," she said.

"I am still hungry," Bram said.

"So is everyone. There will be more food in the morning."

He accepted that without argument, and Joan quietly handed him the heel of her bread after Martha turned away. Christopher pretended not to see.

Peter remained inside the covered wagon. His fever had not returned, and Mabel allowed him to sit with his back against the grain sacks for part of each day, though he could not put weight on the injured leg.

"How long before he can walk?" Christopher asked.

Mabel was changing the bandage. "If it stays clean, maybe another week with help."

"How much longer before he can fight again?"

Peter answered before she could. "Tomorrow."

Mabel tightened the clean cloth around his thigh.

Peter hissed. "That was unnecessary."

"So was your answer. Hold still while I finish the bandage."

Christopher left them arguing in low voices.

On the following morning, the road divided. The broader branch bent east and descended between two wooded hills; the narrower one continued north across stony ground. No marker stood between them.

Simon returned from the eastern branch with mud on his boots.

"It reaches an old village," he said. "Stone foundations, a few walls. Someone has used it recently."

Godfrey looked at him. "How recently?"

"The fire was cold, but the ash hasn’t scattered. Less than three days."

"What tracks did they leave?"

"Five or six men. Boots. Two horses."

Christopher considered the east road. An abandoned village meant shelter, perhaps a well, and enough level ground for the wagons, but it also meant strangers who might still be nearby.

"Did they leave anything?" he asked.

"Bones. Broken bottles. A blanket too rotten to carry."

"Do you think they were bandits?" Walter asked.

Simon shrugged. "Could be hunters. Could be deserters. They walked north when they left."

Godfrey sent Adam along the northern road and took Simon east again. The convoy waited between the two branches with the guards spread through the trees.

Christopher disliked standing still; every delay consumed food while bringing them no closer to Dragonwatch, though moving blindly would be worse.

Adam returned first.

"The north road narrows after a mile," he said. "No wagon tracks. There is another Drake stone, but it has fallen face down."

Godfrey and Simon returned soon after, having found no one in the village and no fresh tracks returning to it.

"We use the village," Godfrey said. "It gives us walls on one side and a clear field on the other."

Christopher nodded. "Double the northern watch."

The village had once contained perhaps twenty houses. Only one retained part of its roof; waist-high walls marked the rest, and an old well stood near the center.

Mabel stopped a thirsty apprentice before he could lower the bucket.

"We check the water before anyone drinks from it."

Wat found the well lining intact. They drew two buckets, one after the other: the first carried dead leaves and insects, and the second appeared clear but smelled faintly of earth.

"Boil every bucket before anyone drinks it," Mabel said.

The order passed through the camp at once.

The recent camp lay inside the shell of the largest house. Six sleeping places surrounded the hearth, and strips of animal skin hung from a crude rack. Walter found a short length of rope, a cracked whetstone, and three crossbow bolts, made for hunting bows rather than military weapons.

"The bolts are not proof that the men were bandits," he said.

"No, but we will keep the watch doubled tonight," Godfrey agreed.

Christopher assigned the roofed house to Peter, Mabel, and the families whose blankets had become damp. The others formed camp around the old well, the remaining walls blocking some of the wind.

Bennet sat with Christopher inside what had once been a storage room. "The overloaded wagons are holding, but Wat wants the loads shifted again tomorrow."

"How much food remains?"

"Enough to reach Dragonwatch. Less than we planned to have when we arrived."

Christopher’s eyes went to the doorway. "Godfrey thinks three or four more."

"Then we should reach Dragonwatch with food still in the wagons."

"That’s not what I asked. How much food will remain when we arrive?"

Bennet closed the ledger. "We will have grain, salt, dried meat, and seed. We won’t have enough to sit behind the walls for a month while deciding what to do."

Christopher had planned to begin work at once, but the thin reserve still bothered him.

"Then we begin repairs and food gathering immediately," he said.

"That depends on whether there are roofs beneath which people can work and sleep."

"The walls are still visible from the road. Some buildings must have survived behind them."

"Walls alone won’t shelter anyone."

Christopher rubbed his forehead. "Thank you, Bennet."

The clerk reopened his ledger. "You asked."

They left the village at first light.

Simon found the strangers’ trail north of the houses. Five men had walked while a sixth rode one of the horses and the other carried packs, and their prints followed the old road for half a mile before turning west into the forest.

"They saw the convoy," Godfrey said.

"How could they have seen us without entering the village?" Christopher asked.

Simon pointed toward a rocky hill overlooking the village. "From there, most likely. Our fires would have been visible."

"Do you think those men will return with others?"

"Not while Sir Godfrey is riding with us," Walter said.

Godfrey did not look pleased by the confidence. "Men return with friends."

Christopher ordered the rear guard to watch the trail until midday. The road remained empty.

The next two days passed in quiet routine. The old Drake road climbed steadily, the settlers cut two fallen trees apart, and a mule with a swollen hoof was tied behind an empty cart.

They found more Drake stones along the road. Some had fallen; one had been split cleanly across the carved wings. Each pointed in the same direction.

Northeast.

On the afternoon of the sixteenth day from Northgate, Adam signaled from the ridge ahead. Christopher urged his horse up the final slope, and Godfrey reached the top before him, followed by Walter and Simon.

The forest opened below.

A wide valley stretched northward between dark hills. Dead fields lay beneath thin snow, their old boundaries still visible as pale lines, and a river crossed the valley and disappeared behind a ridge of black stone. Beyond that ridge, towers rose against the grey sky.

There were more than Christopher expected. Some stood broken; others remained tall enough to catch the last light. A long wall followed the shape of the ridge, disappearing into the mountain on either side. Distance softened the damage, and from here, Dragonwatch did not look abandoned.

It looked asleep.

Walter removed his helmet.

"House Drake," he said quietly.

Christopher touched the pendant beneath his coat without thinking. They had three days of road left, perhaps four if the valley proved difficult.

"Can we reach the river before dark?" Christopher asked.

Godfrey studied the slope leading down from the ridge. Trees hid most of the road, and the remaining light had already begun to leave the valley floor.

"The riders could," he said. "The wagons should not try."

Christopher wanted to keep moving now that the fortress was visible, but he studied the narrow descent and remembered the broken wheel they had left behind.

"We camp here and descend with the full convoy in daylight."

Walter sent men back to guide the convoy onto a patch of level ground below the ridge. Word travelled faster than the wagons, and settlers climbed the last part of the slope on foot to see what waited beyond it.

The settlers gathered in silence. Some stood silently; others pointed toward the towers and tried to decide which roofs remained. Bennet’s eyes stayed on the abandoned fields rather than the fortress, while Wat Cooper counted the visible buildings until distance made it impossible. Martha asked how far the river lay from the walls.

"At least the walls are standing," Joan said.

Meg narrowed her eyes at the distant ridge. "Most of them."

"Most of a wall is better than finding none at all."

Bram stared longer than anyone. "Big," he said.

Christopher could not disagree.

Godfrey allowed the people a few minutes before ordering them back from the exposed ridge. Smoke from a large camp could be seen from the valley, so the cooks used only the fires they needed. Simon and Adam descended far enough to examine the first mile of road, then returned before darkness.

"No fresh wagon tracks," Simon reported. "Animal prints near the stream. Nothing large."

"Did you see any sign of people near the walls?" Christopher asked.

"Not that we saw, my lord. We didn’t approach the gate closely."

The answer brought no relief: if armed scavengers had been using the old village, they might also know the valley, and Dragonwatch’s walls could hide men as easily as they hid empty rooms.

Godfrey placed a stronger watch facing north. Christopher remained on the ridge until the distant towers disappeared into the dark.