Page 115 of King's Warrior

“The original keep, built into the mountain itself,” Cass explained, opening a door and lighting a torch. He led the way up circular stairs, higher and higher. No door appeared. Wherever they went, they took a direct route.

Finally, light shone from above when Cass pushed open an overhead door and climbed out. He turned, helping the others until they all stood on what must have once been a watchtower. A single cell occupied half the space, allowing prisoners a view of the world they could no longer access. Windows and a roof provided some protection from the cold. Far below, the combatants gathered.

Cass shoved Whreyn inside the cell, tossed in his cloak, locked the door, and pocketed the key. “Watch all your scheming and machinations fall apart, traitor.”

Whreyn smirked. “You have no idea the vastness of my reach.”

“Which won’t do you a bit of good when you’re dead.” Cass dropped through the trapdoor and waited on the landing until Rufe, Vihaan, and Draylon passed. Once they reached the bottom of the stairs, Cass led them farther into the older part of the structure, stopping by a surprisingly well-kept armory. “Chain mail or leather armor. Extra weight is a liability where we’ll be fighting, andwe’ll fight on foot. Take whatever you need.” An ample supply of clothing, footwear, and armor filled the room. Rufe searched for reasonably fitting clothing. Vihaan and Draylon required more time to find apparel to fit them.

Rufe stripped off his finery, donning an undertunic, overtunic, padded leather armor and adding a chain mail hooded tunic, unlike the plate armor he typically wore to battle for Cormira. He likewise added two warm layers under leather trousers, patterning his attire after Vihaan and Cass’s.

“You’ll also need these.” Cass handed Rufe thick gloves and a pair of armored gauntlets and settled a hooded cloak on him. Treated wool to repel moisture—and smelling strongly of sheep.

Draylon tied his own hood, similarly dressed. They both donned boots before pulling on gloves and gauntlets.

“Put these on your feet before we exit the caves.” Cass handed them each two strange items with teeth and straps. “Tie them to the bottoms of your boots to keep your footing in the ice and snow.” He took a pair for himself and handed Vihaan another. Based on Vihaan’s casual handling of the items, he wasn’t unfamiliar with their use.

“We have roughly an hour’s walk, as the way isn’t easy,” Cass said, storing the torch in a makeshift bracket of rocks. “We’ll soon join the excitement. I’ve long wanted to take out my frustrations on Craicians.” He stared at Vihaan for a long moment, some silent communication passing between them before he yanked Vihaan by the collar and slammed their mouths together.

“Ummmph!” came from Vihaan, but he didn’t fight. Rufe must’ve been way too preoccupied with Niam if he hadn’t noticed how deeply what was developing between these two men had grown.

Cass released Vihaan, grabbed the torch, and strode away.

Vihaan’s dazed expression lasted mere seconds. He shook himself, straightened, and followed Cass, cheeks stained pink.

“Interesting,” Draylon drawled. “I call myself observant. How did I miss that?”

“The same way I did.” Rufe clapped Draylon on the shoulder and hurried to catch up to the fading light of Cass’s torch.

The tunnel grew cramped, and Rufe bent to avoid hitting his head. A few moments later, the passage widened again, letting in fresh air from an opening in the cave wall. The setting sun left a lingering hint of orange over the mountains. They stood on a ridge, looking down on many torches in the gathering darkness.

“The enemy,” Cass said. “Put on your pattens, like this.” He demonstrated strapping the devices to his boots. “You may feel awkward, but trust me, you’re now much better equipped to fight in these conditions.”

“No helm?” Draylon asked.

Cass shook his head. “Visibility will be low enough already. The Craicians' helms will be a distraction to them.”

Men and women wearing Craician uniforms scurried about below. Breath caught in Rufe’s throat. For a moment, he saw his captors jeering as they tired him out for capture. How theyruthlessly murdered an innocent farmer and his family for no reason at all. He drew his sword.

“Wait!” Cass cautioned. From below, the scrubby trees obscured them. Footsteps approached behind them. Rufe spun, ready to strike.

“They’re with us,” Cass said, stepping aside to let two dozen archers through, some wearing Glendoran colors, some Herixian, others in the black and white of Delletina. They extinguished their torches before leaving the cave and took positions around the ridge. Rufe could barely make out their features when they passed by Cass’s torch.

Cass walked along the line, giving instructions and igniting arrows. He shouted, “Now!” The archers unleashed their arrows on the tents below. Flames caught, sending sparks into the twilight. Horses and Craicians screamed, soldiers running half-dressed from burning tents as terrified horses fled into the forest.

The archers aimed and loosed their arrows again, without flames this time. The screams grew louder, some cutting off abruptly.

“Captain Casseign. We’ve eliminated their commander,” one young woman in a Delletinian uniform said.

“Good work, Sergeant.”

Some Craician soldiers spotted their location and scrambled up the embankment.

“Back inside!” Cass roared, relighting the torches from his own. All the allies retreated, followed by Vihaan, Rufe, and Draylon.

A rumbling sounded outside, and more screams cut off. Cass caught up to them at a run. “It’s part of our defenses—a rockslide.”

Impressive. “What other unorthodox defenses have you planned?” Rufe asked.

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