Dere peered over the edge of the wall and at the castle. It was square, ugly, and grey. In truth, castle might be a generous descriptor. There was very little about it that seemed habitable. No, the thing was a fortress. Ugly, sure, but almost impenetrable. Dere couldn’t decide which idea he liked less, living there or trying to take the damn thing. Behind him, Markus shook his head, equally impressed by the structure. “How do we get in?” He mused.

Dere looked the building over. Almost every part was impenetrable and sheer. The smooth grey walls didn’t grant any handholds. There was only once conceivable route in. “There.” He pointed to a window on the third floor about fifty feet from them, one of the castle’s few decorative elements. “Can the hook reach?”

Markus scratched his chin. “Sure, the hook can reach, but it would take some kind of throw. That little lip it’s got is all that the hook might attach to.”

“If you can get it there, I can get across. Can you do it?”

Markus shrugged. “Sure, it’s not my ass on the line.” He withdrew the hook from his bag and spun it around to build speed. Narrowing his eyes, he focused on the distant window. Then, with a casual flick, he sent the rope flying out over the wall and towards the castle. By some miracle, it managed to both get to the window and cling to the little edge on top of the glass.

Dere lifted an eyebrow. “I have to admit. I’m a little impressed.”

Markus’ stony face twisted into a smile, but, otherwise, he didn’t say anything. Dere walked past him and grabbed the rope, giving it a tug to test its steadiness. It held without too much visible shakiness.

“I suppose that’s good enough. Hold it.” Dere said. Markus nodded and crouched low, pulling the rope taut. Dere took a deep breath and another. After steeling himself, he took a few steps back then sprinted forward and vaulted off the wall. For several breathless seconds, he hung in the air. Then, outstretched feet made contact with the rope, and he let his momentum carry him forward into a full sprint. The rope bounced underneath him. He could hear Markus grunting with the strain. One light bound after another, Dere’s legs carried him forward. He was thirty feet away, then twenty, then fifteen. The hook shifted and moved. It was going to fall. Dere gathered his strength and bounded from the swaying rope with all his might. The metal hook broke off the edge, but Dere was already in the air. He hit the stone next to the window with a painful crash. His fingers searched desperately for a grip, for anything to arrest his imminent fall. Nothing. He started sliding, but then, his right hand found the top of the window and he clung to it for dear life. Slowly, he sidled over until he managed to place his right foot then his left on the window sill.

Now, at least somewhat secure, Dere started fumbling for a latch. He found one near the right side of the window. It was locked. He grabbed it and snapped the metal chain, allowing him to open the window from the outside. With a sigh relief, he entered the keep.

After quickly checking to see that there were no guards in the immediate vicinity, he turned around and looked back out the window. Markus waited on the wall, twirling the hook in a circle. Dere gestured, and Markus sent it flying again. The hook tumbled through the window. Dere grabbed part of the rope, and Markus tied the other end around the stone parapet. Cursing under his breath, Markus clung to the rope from the bottom and started sliding himself along. Compared to Dere, he moved agonizingly slow. Dere’s arms ached with the effort required to hold him up. After what seemed like an eternity, Markus dropped off the rope and looked around. “Couldn’t have gone any quicker?” Dere asked, rubbing his arms to alleviate some of the pain.

“And risk a repeat of your performance? No thanks.”

“I really did consider dropping you.”

“Yet, you didn’t.”

“Already regretting it.” To Dere’s surprise, Markus laughed. It sounded somewhat normal, actually, like the laugh of a man who did it often.

“Alright,” Markus said as his laughter died down. “What’s the plan?”

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Dere considered for a second. “I’ll scout ahead. You stick behind me at a distance.” Markus nodded in agreement, so Dere crouched low and crept down the hall.

The inside of the keep was as sparsely decorated as the outside. No paintings lined the walls. Plain lanterns provided the only light. The few windows it had were all square, ugly, and purely functional. The floor and walls were constructed of plain gray stone, without a single carpet or tapestry to break the endless monotony. It felt wrong, devoid of human life, or for that matter any life. No birds chirped. No bugs crept along and between the stone. No cobwebs threaded between the narrow hallways. The place was dead.

A chill worked its way into Dere’s bones, and he had to fight back a shiver. He glanced back at Markus, some fifteen yards away. He seemed even more ill at ease, looking around as if he expected something, anything, to jump out of the shadows.

For some time, they crept around the third floor, passing identical room after identical room. Then, Dere spotted something. A guard, appearing around a corner and approaching them. Dere turned and gestured for Markus to duck into a room. Markus obeyed without question. For his part, Dere slid into a nearby shadow, watching and waiting. The guard’s footsteps came closer and closer. His heavy strides went past Dere’s shadow, allowing Dere a closer look at the man. He seemed off. There was something wrong with the way he walked, the perfect rhythm that he marched to.

Dere shrugged it off as nothing and allowed the man to walk by. He marched past Dere without issue, but when he reached the room Markus hid in, he halted. Had Markus been found out? The guard walked over to the doorway, forcing Dere into action. He leaned in closer to the wall and disappeared into the shadow. A moment later, he reappeared behind the man, in a shadow cast by the flickering lanterns. With a breathless sigh, he drew his sword and plunged it through the man’s neck. The guard stopped moving, and Dere withdrew the blade, feeling oddly regretful. The kid back at the wall had thrown him off. Shaking his head, Dere started sheathing his weapon, until he saw the guard’s own blade whirling around at blinding speed towards his neck. Dere ducked under it and leapt back, shocked that the man could still move.

Discolored blood poured from a slit in the guard’s neck. No normal man could stay up with that kind of wound. Dere didn’t have time to ponder it much further, though. The guard lunged at him, sword seeking Dere’s unarmored chest. Dere held his sword up to block the cut. The force of the blades colliding numbed Dere’s sword arm and sent a shock through his body. Barely able to react, Dere dived back just in time as the man’s sword slashed at his neck again. It cut through the air where Dere had been a moment before. The momentum of the swing disrupted the guard’s balance and sent him staggering. Seeing a chance, Dere counterattacked. His numb arm lashed out and his blade bit into the guard’s leg, cutting open a heavy wound and spilling black blood onto the floor. Black blood? A disturbing revelation worked its way to the forefront of Dere’s mind. He looked up at the man’s face. He wore a helmet, but Dere could spot where the eyes were supposed to be. The man had none. Blank skin covered the eye sockets. The Faceless Men were in Karn.

Dere knew he had to finish this quickly. The thing came at him again, inhuman strength propelling its sword through the air. The blade missed a dodging Dere by half a foot. Dere let the blade soar past before slashing his own weapon downward, cutting off the thing’s sword arm in one easy motion. The monster didn’t even react. Instead, it tried to grab Dere with its remaining arm. Dere met the groping arm with another slash of his blade. The severed arm tumbled to the floor, limp and useless. Seemingly unbothered by its missing limbs, it charged forward, once more. Dere raised his sword, preparing to strike at the thing’s neck, but he never had the chance. Markus burst from the doorway and behind the creature. With one simple chop of his massive blade, he cleaved the thing in half. Fire flew from his slash and scorched the skin of the monster beyond recognition. Even still, it waddled around on the floor, no arms, no legs, trying desperately to kill the two of them. Markus stood above it, looking at the thing dead in its featureless face. With a grunt of contempt, he sent his blade down once more, flames flying outward from the sword. The thing’s head split and partially melted. Only then did its relentless assault finally stop.

Markus and Dere sucked in air. Neither spoke for some time. They each looked down at the beast, it’s various body parts strewn around haphazardly. “So, that’s what they are.” Markus murmured, through sharp breaths.

“Yeah.”

Markus shook his head. “How many do you think are here?”

“I haven’t the slightest clue. Might be one, might be a thousand.”

Markus pondered for a while, transfixed by the puddle of black blood pooling on the floor. “Doesn’t matter.” He eventually said. “We’re here for Marcella, and I’m not leaving without her. We get her, we get out, warn Maurius if we can. Forget Randas.”

Dere smiled. “So, you are capable of individual thought.”

Markus grunted. “The keep’s too big for us to stick together. You go up, I go down?”

Dere shrugged. “Fine by me.”

Markus offered his hand. “Good luck.”

Dere shook it. “Good luck.”