Chapter 17 — Twelve Bedrolls

Chapter 17: Chapter 17 — Twelve Bedrolls

Chapter 17 — Twelve Bedrolls

Dragonwatch disappeared when they descended from the ridge.

The road dropped between thick pines, turning often enough that Christopher lost sight of the valley after the first hundred yards. Frost remained beneath the trees, and the lead wagon crept downhill with two men holding ropes tied to its rear axle while the driver kept the mules from moving too quickly.

Godfrey refused to send the entire convoy onto the slope at once.

"Three wagons at a time," he said. "Leave space between them."

Christopher eyed the line waiting behind them. "That will take most of the morning."

"A wagon rolling into the one below it will take longer."

Christopher gave the order.

Walter controlled the waiting line from above while Ivo took position below, and Wat Cooper inspected each wheel before its wagon continued.

Halfway down, one of the grain wagons slid sideways.

Its left wheels entered a strip of wet leaves and lost their grip. The driver hauled on the reins, one mule stumbled, and the wagon bed leaned toward the ditch. The men on the rear ropes shouted.

Bram reached the wagon before Christopher could move. He planted both boots against the road and caught the sideboard with his hands, and the wagon dragged him several feet through the mud, but it slowed enough for Ivo and two apprentices to reach it. Together they forced the rear wheels back toward the center of the road, and the mule regained its footing. For several breaths, nobody moved.

Bram escaped with a splinter in one palm; Mabel pulled it free while scolding him for standing in front of a wagon.

Ivo ordered the driver to continue, and the remaining wagons came down more slowly.

They reached the valley floor shortly after noon.

The open land looked larger from below. Old fields spread between the forest and the river, divided by drainage ditches and low walls, most of them covered in dead grass, thornbushes and young trees. A few remained open where grazing animals had kept the growth down.

Two older farmers examined the soil and the nearest drainage ditch. Bennet reminded Christopher that clerks counted grain rather than grew it.

"It was good land once," one said.

"Can this land be made productive again?"

The farmer looked across acres of brush. "With enough hands."

That answer had followed Christopher north in different forms. Enough hands. Enough time. Enough food while the hands worked. He took in the fifty farming families spread along the road, and against the abandoned valley, the entire convoy appeared small.

Simon and Adam returned from the river before the final wagons left the slope.

"The old bridge is gone," Simon said.

"Is the entire span gone?" Godfrey asked.

"Stone supports remain. Nothing between them."

Adam pointed east. "There is a ford about a mile upriver. Shallow enough for horses. I don’t know about loaded wagons."

They followed the riverbank.

The bridge’s center span was gone, leaving two stone piers in fast grey water. Part of the northern approach had washed away, and a worn Drake crest remained on one pier. Christopher thought of the timber bridge repaired by House Bell; this road had lacked such care for years.

At the ford, Godfrey crossed first. The water reached his horse’s knees near the center, and Simon followed on foot with a pole, testing the bottom.

"Stone beneath the mud," he called. "Firm enough."

The horses and riders crossed without difficulty, but the wagons were another matter.

Men unloaded the heaviest barrels and carried them across on ropes. Walter guided the first team through the current, and it took the rest of the day to move the convoy. Two sacks tied too low against a cart became wet before anyone noticed: one held oats, the other dried beans.

"Spread them tonight," he said. "If we leave them packed, they spoil."

Christopher studied the darkening sky. "Can they be saved?"

"Most, if the fires stay hot."

"Then spread both sacks beside the fires and save what you can."

Bennet was already calling for cloth sheets.

They camped beside the ford, too tired to move farther. Wet oats and beans covered every spare piece of canvas near the fires, and the smell of damp animals hung over the camp.

Christopher ate standing because his trousers were still wet from helping guide the final wagon.

Godfrey joined him with a bowl in one hand.

"How far can we travel tomorrow?" Christopher asked.

"The old road continues along the northern bank. If it has not vanished, one more day brings us close to the fortress."

"Close enough to enter the fortress before night?"

"Close enough to decide whether entering before dark is safe."

Christopher considered the ridge hiding Dragonwatch. Waiting another night felt unreasonable after seeing the towers, but he had also learned what happened when impatience began giving orders.

"Scouts first. We don’t take the wagons closer until we know what waits there."

Godfrey nodded. "Scouts first."

Peter tried to walk with Thomas and a rough wooden crutch. Mabel caught him after four steps and sent him back to the wagon, and Christopher supported her decision after one look at the mud and Peter’s stiff leg.

The beans dried. Most of the oats could be saved. One mule had developed a cough after standing in the river, and Martha gave it a blanket that had previously belonged to two complaining apprentices.

By morning, frost covered the canvas sheets.

The convoy followed the northern bank. The road became clearer as they approached the fortress: flat stones appeared beneath the grass, drainage ditches ran toward the river, choked but still visible, and they passed the remains of a roadside shrine and three roofless cottages.

Around midday, Simon stopped beside a patch of torn ground near the ditch.

The prints were broader than a horse’s hoof and split at the front. Several smaller tracks surrounded them, crossing the road from the river and entering the trees.

"Boar," Walter said.

Simon placed his hand beside the largest print. "A large one."

The apprentices watched the brush more closely after that. Wild pigs were common enough in Varenne, but Christopher had never seen a track that wide, and Godfrey examined a tree beside the ditch where bark had been scraped away nearly to the height of Christopher’s chest.

The prints might belong to a Magical Beast, but Godfrey refused to guess its rank from tracks; they knew only that it was heavy and travelling with smaller animals.

The convoy tightened without needing another order. Livestock were kept between the wagons, and the children who had walked beside the road were returned to the carts.

They passed another abandoned cluster of houses in the afternoon, larger than the village where they had camped. Stone walls stood around a central square, and the remains of a mill leaned above a narrow stream.

Several walls remained straight, and a headless Drake crest marked the largest doorway. Walter believed the orcs had broken it after taking the settlement, and several settlers stopped to look before Godfrey ordered the convoy onward.

The road climbed again as it approached the fortress ridge. Flat stones emerged beneath the grass until two wagons could travel side by side, and the ditches deepened, carrying cold water down toward the river despite years without maintenance.

"The road held better here," Wat said.

"Because the fortress needed it," Bennet replied.

Christopher kept his eyes on Dragonwatch’s towers, visible between the trees. The upper walls appeared dark and unbroken from this distance. Whatever waited inside, his people would at least have stone between them and the northern wind.

Near sunset, Adam returned from the forward watch.

"No people," he said. "No smoke. The main gate is open."

"Is the gate open, or are the doors broken?" Godfrey asked.

"The wooden doors are gone. The stone arch remains."

"What tracks did you find inside?"

"Animals. The boar prints continue toward the western side. I found droppings near the outer road."

Simon glanced at Godfrey. "More than one?"

"Several animals have passed through. Some of the tracks are much smaller."

Christopher remembered the broad print beside the ditch. "A herd?"

"A sounder," Walter said. "If they are ordinary."

Godfrey checked the lowering sun. "We don’t enter tonight."

Christopher wanted to argue. The gate stood less than two miles away, and they had spent weeks reaching it. Then he took stock of the wagons, the fading light and the forest below the walls. Entering an unfamiliar fortress after dark because he was tired of waiting would be the kind of decision Godfrey mentioned for months afterward.

"We camp here," Christopher said.

They chose an open field with a low stone wall on two sides. The wagons formed a tight ring, and the animals were tethered at its center. Walter placed an extra watch facing Dragonwatch while Ivo inspected the ground for more boar tracks.

The towers remained visible above the trees as darkness settled.

Christopher met with Godfrey, Walter and Ivo beside the lead wagon.

"At first light, Simon and Adam circle the walls," Godfrey said. "Walter comes with us to the gate. Ivo keeps the convoy here until we know the outer yard is safe."

"How many men will enter with us?" Christopher asked.

"Six apprentices. More will make noise without helping."

"And what do we do if Magical Beasts have nested inside?"

"Then Walter keeps you out of their way."

Christopher frowned. "I am a Black Iron Knight."

"Yes, but a charging beast can still crush you."

Godfrey offered nothing more.

Ivo crouched near the fire and drew the road, gate and visible western wall in the dirt. "The animal tracks enter here. If they nested inside, they will use the same opening when frightened."

"So we don’t stand in front of it," Christopher said.

"You’re learning to leave animals a path away from your men."

They agreed that the convoy would remain outside until the gate, nearest courtyard and one defensible building had been checked. The walls remained dark and silent throughout the night.

Once, something large moved in the trees below the road. The sentries heard branches break but saw nothing beyond the firelight. Godfrey forbade a search.

Christopher lay awake longer than he intended, listening to the wind move around the wagons. Dragonwatch had waited for House Drake for generations. In the morning, they would find out what had moved in first.

The fortress looked larger in the morning.

Up close, Dragonwatch rose out of the hillside in courses of dark gray stone. Its outer wall was broad enough for men to walk along the top, and bushes had rooted beneath the battlements, though the towers still stood.

The open gateway bothered him more than any ruin would have. There should have been two doors thick enough to stop a charging horse. Only rusted hinges remained.

"No one leaves the camp unless I send for them," Godfrey told Ivo.

Ivo looked past him toward the walls. "If you hear the horn?"

"Bring the mounted men. Leave the wagons where they are."

"And if no horn sounds?"

"Then you stay here and keep the families inside the wagon ring."

Ivo nodded. He had ten apprentices and the two scouts who had circled the fortress before dawn. Mabel had already ended Peter’s attempt to join them.

Christopher checked Edmund’s sword before mounting. It moved freely in its sheath.

Godfrey noticed. "If you draw it, stay near Walter."

"I know. I will stay near Walter if there is trouble."

"Knowing before trouble is different from remembering during it."

Christopher almost objected, then decided the man had earned the right to say it. "I’ll remember."

Their inspection party rode out as the campfires began to die behind them. Godfrey led. Walter followed with Christopher, while Simon Atwood and Adam Fletcher kept to either side of the road, and six apprentices came after them with spears, short bows, and round shields.

The road ended before the gate in a wide stretch of broken paving. Weeds grew between the stones, but there were no trees; someone had once wanted attackers exposed for the final hundred paces.

Godfrey raised one hand.

Everyone stopped.

The tracks were clearer in the frost. Heavy hoof marks crossed the gateway more than once, accompanied by smaller prints, and the ground near the wall had been torn where the animals rooted for bulbs or worms.

"Same beasts as yesterday," Simon said.

Walter studied the darkness beyond the arch. "They have been using the courtyard."

They left the horses outside with Adam and one apprentice. Godfrey entered first, shield forward and sword low. Walter went next. Christopher followed close enough to see the chips in the edge of Walter’s shield.

Inside, the air smelled of old dung and wet stone.

The outer courtyard was wider than Christopher expected. Roofless workshops leaned against the western wall. A long building stood to the east, perhaps once a stable, though half its roof had fallen inward. Straight ahead, another wall divided the outer yard from the fortress proper. Its gate stood shut, but the smaller door beside it hung crooked from one hinge.

The courtyard remained still.

Christopher stepped aside to make room for the apprentices. His boot scraped a fallen tile.

The stable exploded.

A warthog burst through the rotten boards with its head low. It was larger than a farm bull, its shoulders covered in coarse brown bristles stiff with frost, and curved tusks jutted from either side of its mouth. The boards struck by its body flew across the courtyard.

"Apart!" Godfrey shouted.

The apprentices scattered. Christopher moved with Walter, nearly tripping when his heel caught a loose stone.

The beast changed direction.

It came at them with shocking speed. Walter stepped in front of Christopher and set his shield. Before the warthog reached him, Godfrey crossed the space between them, silver light running along his blade. He did not try to stop the charge; he turned past it and cut behind the animal’s jaw. The sword sank deep, and blood sprayed across the paving, black in the early light.

The warthog stumbled, plowed through a pile of roof tiles, and crashed hard enough to shake dust from the wall. Its legs kicked twice before going still.

Christopher had barely drawn breath when Walter swore.

A second adult forced its way out through the broken stable front. It was smaller than the first but still enormous, and three ordinary warthogs and five striped young rushed behind it, squealing as they scattered across the courtyard.

Walter met the adult with his shield angled. The impact drove him back a full pace. His boots slid, but he remained standing.

"Left leg!"

Two apprentices thrust together. One spear glanced from the beast’s shoulder; the other went into its foreleg, bent, and tore free from the wielder’s hands.

Walter hacked down behind its knee.

The warthog lurched. Simon struck it in the neck, then jumped back as a tusk swept past his thigh. Another apprentice drove a spear behind its shoulder, and the beast twisted, throwing the shaft sideways and knocking Martin Pike into the wall.

Christopher took one step toward him.

"Stay!" Walter barked.

The Bronze Knight climbed onto the warthog’s wounded side, brought his sword down with both hands, and buried it at the base of the skull. The animal collapsed beneath him.

The smaller warthogs had lost all interest in fighting. They scattered across the courtyard with the striped young behind them, and one apprentice raised his bow.

"Do not kill the smaller ones," Christopher said. "Drive them back into the stable if you can."

Walter glanced toward the old stable. "If one of the pens still has a door."

The apprentices spread out with their shields and spears, driving the animals away from the open gate. Adam came in from outside to help. After several noisy minutes, they forced the ordinary warthogs and their young into an intact stone stall and blocked its weakened door with two fallen beams.

"If we keep them alive, they will need feeding and a stronger pen," Walter said.

"They can breed and provide meat later. That makes them worth feeding."

For a moment, the courtyard held only heavy breathing.

Godfrey wiped his blade on the dead animal’s bristles. "Count yourselves."

The apprentices answered one after another, Martin last. He had taken a spear shaft to the shoulder, but Walter found nothing broken.

Christopher’s attention fixed on the two carcasses. He had expected dangerous animals after seeing the tracks, but expectation had not prepared him for the speed of the first charge. If Godfrey had been ten paces farther away, Walter might have taken the full impact.

"Were both adults Tier One beasts?" he asked.

Godfrey nodded toward the larger animal. "Both. That one was close to its limit. The rest were ordinary."

"Is the meat safe to eat?"

"Most of it." Walter pulled his sword free. "Magical beast meat sells for good silver in the south. Knights buy it when they can. We will keep what we can preserve."

Christopher turned back to the carcasses. "Use what we can tonight. Preserve the rest."

"Were beasts like these always this close to Dragonwatch?" Christopher asked.

"Unlikely," Godfrey said. "The orcs withdrew, and most of the hunters are dead or gone. Creatures will spread wherever no one is left to hunt them."

Dangerous beasts had already settled near the fortress.

Godfrey placed two apprentices at the open gate and sent Adam to tell Ivo that the inspection continued. No settlers were to approach. The rest crossed the courtyard more slowly than before.

The fitted blocks had weathered, but the joints remained tight. The roofs had failed before the stone.

They passed through the crooked side door into a narrower yard. Here the paving disappeared beneath dead grass. A well stood near the center under a collapsed wooden cover. On the far side, a three-story stone building still had most of its slate roof.

"Barracks," Walter said. "Or it was."

Godfrey studied its windows. "Simon, with me. Walter, keep him here."

Christopher disliked the order, mostly because it made sense. He remained beside Walter while Godfrey and Simon approached the building, and two apprentices covered the upper windows with bows.

The door had been repaired.

Not well. Three mismatched planks crossed the old wood, held by fresh iron nails. Someone had also cleared the weeds from the threshold.

Godfrey touched the latch and looked back.

Simon had already lowered his eyes to the ground. He moved along the wall, crouched, and pointed to a patch of damp earth beneath a broken drain.

Bootprints.

Christopher could see several sizes even from where he stood.

Godfrey opened the door.

The room beyond had once been a common hall. Old tables had been broken for fuel long ago, but bedrolls now lay along one wall. A shallow firepit had been dug beneath a gap in the roof and covered with a sheet of hammered metal, ash still beneath it. There were bowls on the floor, a sack of oats in one corner, and a coil of rope that had not been there for decades.

Walter’s voice dropped. "Not travellers."

"What makes you certain they were not travellers?" Christopher asked.

"Travellers sleep near the gate so they can leave. These people chose a place where smoke would be hard to see."

Simon stepped inside and pressed his fingers to the ashes. "Cold. Not old."

Godfrey looked toward a doorway at the rear of the hall. It opened into a passage running deeper beneath the main fortress.

Something clicked above them.

"Down!"

Walter struck Christopher across the chest with his shield and drove him against the wall. A crossbow bolt came through the upper gallery and buried itself in the doorframe where Simon’s head had been.

An apprentice loosed an arrow. It struck the gallery rail.

A man in a patched gray coat appeared for an instant between two pillars, crossbow in hand. He did not reload; he turned and ran.

Simon started after him.

Godfrey caught the back of his leather coat and hauled him to a stop.

"Let me go. I can still catch him."

"No. You don’t know what waits beyond that gallery."

Footsteps retreated beyond the gallery. A sharp whistle sounded farther inside. Another answered from somewhere below.

Walter raised his shield toward the passage. "More than one."

"They know the way," Godfrey said. "We don’t."

Simon stared into the darkness, angry at being held and sensible enough not to fight Godfrey’s hand. "They’ll escape."

"Perhaps. Better that than losing men in a stairwell."

Christopher eased away from Walter’s shield. His heart hammered against his ribs. The crossbowman had not looked surprised to find armed men in the hall. He had been waiting, and that thought chilled him more than the wind outside.

"Could these be the people from the village?" he asked.

"Could be," Walter said. "Could be another group."

Godfrey released Simon and pointed toward the bedrolls. "Count what you can without touching anything. Then we leave."

"You want to leave the building without clearing it?" Christopher asked.

"We have too few men inside and too many people outside depending on us. We know there is an occupied section. That’s enough for one inspection."

Christopher gazed through the open door toward the inner wall. Dragonwatch was supposed to be his land. His grandfather’s stories had made it sound empty — a hard, cold inheritance, but one waiting to be claimed. It had been neither waiting nor empty.

"Can we at least hold the outer courtyard while the others come forward?"

"With the full force, yes. Not while the families are two miles away." Godfrey’s eyes cut to the gallery. "We bring everyone closer only after we clear the passages nearest the gate. Until then, they remain in camp."

Christopher wanted to argue that every delay consumed food, but he also remembered the bolt striking the frame above Simon’s shoulder.

"All right," he said. "We go back and make a plan."

They withdrew in order, shields facing the doors and galleries. The hidden occupants did not fire again. By the time they reached the first courtyard, the two dead warthogs had stopped steaming in the cold.

Walter glanced at them. "We should send butchers with the next party."

Godfrey nodded. "After we have enough spears to guard them."

Outside the gate, Christopher looked back at the sound walls, repairable roofs and courtyards large enough for the wagons. Somewhere behind them, the hidden occupants were still watching.