DragonKnight - Donita K. Paul [123]
The view, when they got the window opened and cleared, was exactly like what they’d seen from the other side.
Bardon frowned and shouted. “This castle blends into the mountain so that you can’t tell it’s here.”
“Makes our mysterious castle all the more mysterious.” Regidor looked outside. “The barrier is torn between here and the falls. I’ll repair it in a moment.” He turned to the back of the room. “We have windows on two sides instead of just one. Let’s see what is out there.”
Now that they had experience opening the stubborn windows, it didn’t take long to throw open the sash. The first window they opened had let in the roar of the waterfall. This window let in the roar of grawligs at play.
42
VIEW FROM A TURRET
“So, we’ve found them after all,” said Regidor as he slapped Bardon on the back.
The squire squeezed to one side so his friend could lean out of the window and examine the courtyards.
Regidor scowled. “I haven’t spotted Bromptotterpindosset, have you?”
“Over there, by the fire pit,” Bardon said. “I hope that doesn’t indicate they’ve chosen him for their next meal.”
“You can never tell with grawligs.” The meech jumped down from the windowsill. “We better find a way out of this castle so we can rescue him.”
They dashed down the wide, curving staircase and tried the doors to the outside.
“Warded,” said Regidor, “just like the doors in the other wing.”
“Let’s try reaching the top of one of the turrets. You can fly out, and I can probably climb down those vines.”
They sprinted back up the staircase and then climbed the twisted steps inside a small, stuffy tower. When they reached the top, they spotted a trapdoor in the ceiling. Bardon climbed the remaining steps built into the stone wall and felt around the edges for a latch. When he found nothing securing the square door, he put his shoulder to it. Surprised when it did not move, he tried again, grunting. The trapdoor did not give way.
“Warded,” he said as he stepped off the ladder and onto the last platform at the top of the turret.
Regidor reached up and placed his forefoot on the wood. “Yes, it’s warded. But the ward was cast from the ground floor. This is probably the weakest point, being farthest away from the origin. Let me try to break through.”
Bardon waited. Twelve tiny windows spaced evenly around the circular wall gave him views in every direction. Out of one he saw the waterfall. Out of another he saw the opposite wing of the castle and had to look carefully to see that it was not just a sheer cliff face mostly covered with heavy vegetation. He saw the sun setting to the west. He saw the grawligs cavorting in the courtyard below, and he saw another stone mountainside behind their festivities.
“Regidor, I believe there is yet another wing to this castle.”
The meech dragon grunted. “Busy.”
Bardon stared at the wall he suspected to be manmade and not nature’s cliff until he could make out a few of the windows. He looked at the skyline, and after some study, he could distinguish the turrets, a battlement, and twin towers.
“That’s done,” said Regidor as he lifted the door.
The hinges creaked, and dirt, dried leaves, and dead bugs rained down on their heads.
“I’m glad I wasn’t looking up,” said Bardon.
Regidor sputtered. “I was.” He stepped down and slapped at his clothes, knocking the debris away. “It has not been a good day for my wardrobe. Blood and dirt. Unacceptable embellishments to sophisticated attire.”
Bardon blinked as Regidor’s apparel vibrated at enormous speed. When the activity ceased, the meech was clean.
Regidor swept an open forefoot toward the ladder. “You may go first, Squire.”
Bardon, in his grimy clothing, climbed out of the turret and peered over the chest-high wall. Regidor joined him. Below them the grawligs participated in a wild rumpus, beating drums, hooting in what might be considered a song, and dancing that consisted mostly of jumping up and down.
“They’re certainly happy about something,” Bardon observed.
“The simple pleasure of having stolen one of us