Fistandantilus Reborn - Douglas Niles [94]
“I guess that makes sense,” Danyal admitted. “It’ll be dark in an hour.
Why don’t we rest here awhile, then move in after sunset?”
The others agreed, and they waited for the seemingly interminable interval as the sun vanished over the horizon and the sky slowly faded toward black. Danyal’s suggestion of rest, he realized, was wishful thinking; instead, he studied the mountaintop stronghold, looking for some weakness in what had clearly been designed to act as a small fortress.
There were many windows, but they were all high in the stone walls. The only hopeful sign was that there seemed to be no guard posted at the bridge.
By the time full night had descended, Dan hadn’t found anything else even remotely hopeful, but neither did he want to delay any longer. The trio started out by descending to the road, then held to the uphill edge of the narrow track, close beside a shallow ditch that just might offer them shelter if they needed to suddenly dive for cover. Still, they all knew their best chance lay in remaining undiscovered, so they concentrated on moving with stealth as well as speed.
It took a surprisingly long time to reach the bridge, and when they did, Danyal saw that the edifice of Lore-loch was even larger than it had appeared from across the valley. At least there was still no guard posted at the terminus of the span, nor had anyone bothered to plant any torches or lanterns outside the cluster of hovels and small, enclosed pens that huddled around the stonewalled manor.
Crouching beside one of the low walls flanking the bridge, the three companions moved cautiously onto the narrow, low-walled crossing.
Danyal had never been so high above the ground as he was at the middle of the bridge, and he had to suppress a wave of dizziness when he looked over the rampart into the ravine below.
But then they were across, with the first of the rude shacks just a dash away and the bulk of the manor rising beyond. Most of the smaller buildings were dark and silent, though candles flickered in a few windows.
Lights flared from many high windows on the manor wall, and sounds of shouting or raucous laughter occasionally wafted through the still air.
“It’s almost midnight,” Foryth said, after a look at the stars. “I wonder if things will quiet down in a little while.”
Danyal didn’t want to wait, but he had to admit that the place sounded terribly active right now. This was a stark contrast to his village, which had invariably settled into slumber within an hour of two after sunset.
Still, he was about to suggest that they move closer when Emilo spoke in quiet agreement with the historian.
“Let’s give it another hour or so. I’d suggest you two go around to the right. Maybe you can find that scullery door. I’ll take the other side and see if there’s something I can do along the lines of creating a diversion.”
The intruders crept around the few ramshackle outbuildings near the end of the bridge, finding a small ledge below the line of sight from village and manor. Knowing they could wait here without fear of accidental discovery, they settled about making themselves comfortable while they stayed silent and low. Time ticked by interminably, but when they finally lifted their heads to regard the edifice, they saw that many of the torches had gone out. Listening carefully, they heard no further sounds of revelry.
“I’ll wait for a while before I make a racket,” Emilo said. “No sense in stirring things up too soon. But if it sounds like there’s trouble, I’ll try to lure them away from you.”
“How?” Danyal asked, but his only reply was a noncommittal shrug from the kender.
Stealthily the youth led Foryth around the edge of the steep mountaintop. They heard sounds of loud snoring coming from one of the huts and made as wide a detour as possible around the place. It took them fifteen minutes to move beyond sight of