“The landscape is much changed,” Serillion agreed. “But you would find it. You’re the Captain after all.”
Jerrol made a mental note to interrogate the Sentinals when he had a chance. So much history! The scholars were going to be in their element. “The Waystone will be useful once we’ve found it. When we’ve finished here, you can show me where it is. But for now, we need to circle that hill and come in from the east down the river valley. Nothing lives up there except sheep and more sheep. The guards tend to pay little attention to the east perimeter. I’ve slipped in that way before now.”
The Sentinals looked at him with interest and Jerrol waved a hand. “We’ll swap stories over an ale another time.”
Tagerill’s eyes brightened, and he shared a grin with Serillion and Birlerion. “Deal,” he said with a firm nod.
Jerrol cast about for a stick and then knelt in the dirt. He opened his left hand; the silver glow dispersed the gloom and lit his face, casting his features into shadow. The Sentinals murmured in surprise and gathered round as he began scratching a rough map in the soil. Ari popped into view and meeped as he hovered over him. Ari chittered more sternly and Birlerion opened his hand for the little Arifel to perch on. He wrapped his scaly tail around Birlerion’s wrist and leaned forward, watching with interest.
“This is the main entrance,” Jerrol said, pointing at a gap in the south wall. “It leads into a central courtyard, barracks and stables which are in the west wing. There are three levels, and the King’s chambers are at the top of the south tower. The Prince’s rooms are in the north tower.
“We need to distract the guards long enough for me to reach the south tower and find the King. Then protect him until the rangers arrive, and preferably capture the Prince alive on the grounds of treason.”
“How many men does he have?” Darllion asked.
“At least two units, about fifty.”
“If we can secure as many of the guards as we can in the barracks, we can even the odds,” Birlerion suggested.
“Darllion, you take Fonorion with you and see if you can befuddle the guards for us. You need to be inside the palace gates to be most effective, no quarter given. Give us two hours to go around the back, then start up the road. It will take you an hour to ride up the switchback. It is further than it looks.” He squinted at the sky. “The storm should be here by then; even if there is a lookout to the east they will suffer the brunt of the bad weather.”
Jerrol was surprised when Fonorion spoke. He was the quietest of all the Sentinals and hardly ever said anything, preferring to let the others talk. “Serillion would be best to go with Darllion. He can sweet-talk Guerlaire into parting with his money, even if Guerlaire knows better,” he said, his voice low and measured.
Darllion chuckled. “I concur, Captain. Fonorion is right. Serillion is our best befuddler.”
Jerrol acquiesced. “Alright, Serillion, you are on gate duty with Darllion. Fonorion, you’re with me, Tagerill and Birlerion. We come in the back door and surprise the rest. Anything else? Questions?”
The Sentinals looked at each other. “See you on the inside!” Tagerill said with a broad grin as they split up.
The remaining Sentinals followed Jerrol down the track and circled behind the hill, approaching the palace from the rear. They left their horses sheltered in a small copse of trees, before working their way up the steep valley, following the little stream that burbled its way merrily through the deep grass.
The storm overtook the last of the daylight. The roiling black clouds made the air heavy and the darkness oppressive. A flash of lightning lit up the fields, followed by a deep rumble that echoed around the hills. Blinded by the rain and the unexpected flash, they stumbled over tufts of grass and hidden dips.
Tagerill cursed under his breath. “In this light, they wouldn’t have seen anything,” he grumbled.
“Not worth the risk.” Jerrol gripped his cloak tighter as the rising wind whipped the rain, driving it against the palace walls.
“If you’ve entered this way previously, Captain, why didn’t you warn the King?” Birlerion asked as they struggled through the tall grass. They reached the base of the palace walls and crouched in a ditch, surrounded by uninterested sheep snuggled against the wall for protection.
“He rarely comes here.” Jerrol wiped his face. “And when he does, he stays in the south tower, which is more secure. And anyway, I know about it, so we are always prepared.”
Tagerill and Fonorion hunkered down next to them, hair plastered against their heads as the rain suddenly got heavier. A louder rumble of thunder growled across the sky. “The best way in, Captain?” Tagerill peered through the gloom at the high stone walls.
“There is a storm drain at the base of that tower. It’s going to be a bit tight, but you should fit.”
“We can’t get any wetter,” Tagerill complained.
Birlerion started chuckling. “You can go in the middle, Tage. That way, one of us can pull you, and the other can push.”
Tagerill grunted. “If I get stuck no one else will get through. You puny fellows had better go first.”
“Be careful who you call puny, you may need us later! Or we could just leave you there.” Fonorion slicked his hair back, which made him look a lot younger.
Jerrol watched them. Their enthusiasm made him feel old, yet they were all about the same age. “Come on, let’s get out of this rain.” Jerrol climbed out of the ditch and ran towards
