As soon as his feet touched the ground, Kevlin yanked on one end of the rope with panic-driven strength. The other end snaked up over the wall and fell at his feet. He grabbed the rope, turned, and bolted away from the wall and the torch-bearing makrasha on top.
In his haste, he forgot that the ground at the base of the cliff was littered with stone. One foot slipped, sending him sprawling amid a clatter of rocks.
The makrasha rushed to the end of the wall and held the torch high, peering into the darkness. Kevlin rolled onto his stomach and pulled his hood down over his face, hoping the dark slicker would shield him from view in the poor light.
When no crossbow bolts slammed into his back, he risked a glance up. One of the makrasha still stood, its freakish hengaruk poised to fire the deadly crossbow.
The other was gone.
Coming to investigate, most likely.
Kevlin was tempted to hit himself in the head a few times with a rock. He could have been safely outside the wall, but had to spin the Wheel just one more time. Akillik was surely laughing.
Kevlin might be a fool, but dying wasn't a short term goal. Very slowly he rose to a crouch, painfully aware that any noise would be fatal. The distant torch didn't quite reach where he stood, but it was close enough that the thin veneer of concealment could part all too easily. He moved one foot and set it down only after feeling for loose rocks.
Shuffling forward like that proved difficult and the seconds ticked by with terrifying swiftness. He was stuck crawling along like a slug while the makrasha could appear at any time.
After a dozen agonizingly slow steps, he risked another glance behind. The Makrasha, still poised to strike, had turned its head to the side. Kevlin followed its gaze and noticed a faint flickering light that grew steadily brighter.
Someone was coming.
Time to move.
Holding his breath, as if that would somehow make him lighter, Kevlin increased his pace. He headed for the rear of the command building, angling away from the cliff face and the perilous rocks at its base. He cringed at each footstep, fearing the rattle of stone that would seal his fate.
He covered fifty feet before a dozen makrasha rounded the end of the nearest barracks and headed toward the end of the wall.
Kevlin was still too close.
With no alternative, he broke into a jog. Tension knotted his insides so tight he could hardly breathe. The makrasha drew closer and he ran faster, angling away. They would pass within twenty or thirty paces of him.
As they neared, he crouched low to the ground but kept moving, not daring to breathe until he leaned against the wall of the building. He sagged against the rough wood, struggling to keep from gasping for breath.
The makrasha began examining the ground along the base of the cliff. It had felt rocky, but if he’d left any tracks, they’d find him.
Only one possibility came to mind. Despite his panic-driven desire to run the other way, he crossed behind the command building and headed toward the outer wall and the rear of the barracks where the makrasha had passed. If any more of them came that way, he would be finished, but he could run into more of the beasts anywhere. That was the only place he was sure to find other tracks.
He paused at the corner of the barracks to glance down its length. It stood only ten feet from the wall and the gap was pitch dark. He jogged the length of the opening, hoping any tracks he might leave would be lost among the heavier footprints of the makrasha that had just passed through.
Kevlin reached the far end of the building without incident, crept around the corner and through the alley between the two barracks. He paused near the front corner where he could see the parade ground and four columns of makrasha assembled less than fifty paces away.
They stood quietly, ignoring the rain, watching their leader with their triple green eyes. Crouched so close to nearly two hundred of the disgusting creatures, the insanity of Kevlin's situation crashed home.
What was I thinking?
They might not be able to see any better than he, but could they hear him? Or smell him? It wasn't hard to smell them. The scent of the assembled creatures hung heavy in the air despite the rain: a cloying, musky scent that made him want to sneeze.
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He breathed shallow and tried to convince himself he was well hidden. Creeping forward, he peered around the corner toward the command building and nearly jumped out of his skin.
A makrasha stood at the corner, not a pace away.
Kevlin slipped back around the corner and pressed against the rough log wall, fighting to remain silent. It took several seconds for the rush of fear to ebb enough for his brain to start working again
After a moment, he risked edging back, leaning out just far enough to see the door of the command building. As he watched, four figures exited onto the narrow porch.
Their crimson robes had no hoods. They were not makrasha. Staring at them, fear spiked through Kevlin like a frozen blade.
Shadeleeches.
Four of them.
Despite their hulking size, the makrasha all bowed their heads in silent obeisance. A fifth man stepped onto the porch, and the others made way for him. Kevlin didn't have to see his face to know him. The icy chill of evil emanating from the man was enough.
The shadeleech from the inn. Their leader.
Kevlin shrank deeper into the shadows, but couldn't tear his eyes away from the five on the porch. Blood pounded in his ears and panic threatened to send him racing blindly away. Only with a supreme effort did he hold still.
I’m dead.
One shadeleech was more than he ever wanted to see. Five were beyond reason.
Just slip into a fort with a couple hundred makrasha and five shadeleeches? No problem. He fought down a burst of crazed laughter.
Two of the shadeleeches bowed to their leader. As the leader gestured toward the massed makrasha, his words carried to Kevlin through the deep silence. “Be prepared to strike on my order.”
The pair of shadeleeches bowed again and descended the stairs.
The leader turned to one of the other two, “Haraz, find me a bear.”
The shadeleech Haraz, an unremarkable man of medium height with sandy hair, bowed and left. The two shadeleeches who had already left the porch moved to the head of the four columns and mounted the waiting horses.
One of them gestured toward the wall and the main gate began to open with a heavy creaking. The two rode out of sight toward the gate, followed by the gigantic makrasha leader, with the hundred creatures under its command trailing behind.
Kevlin watched from the shadows, indecision adding another twist to the knots in his stomach. The enemy wasn't supposed to split up. He could not track them all.
The leader had captured Antigonus, so that was the shadeleech Kevlin had to watch. Besides, he had seen nothing of Rhea or Dhanjal in the party leaving the fort. Whatever that other group was up to, he couldn't worry about it. One more mystery added to the growing list of things to deal with later.
At least fewer remained in the fort. But then a terrible thought brought him up short. What if that departing force took the same trail as Ceren? If she stopped for the night, they would find her.
No one would ever alert Harafin.
He’d be left well and truly alone.
Hurry, Ceren, he thought. Hopefully she’d prove to be as cunning as Antigonus believed.
Settling back into the deepest shadows, he huddled under his slicker, cold and haunted by dark thoughts. A moment later the gates creaked ominously closed.
He had survived some pretty dangerous situations, but nothing like this. Kevlin waited several more minutes while most of the milling makrasha extinguished their torches and returned to the barracks with much growling and jostling. Welcome darkness returned, but the rain slowed to a barely perceptible mist, no longer shrouding him with its protective cloak.
He had waited long enough. This was the perfect time to slip away. Levering himself to his feet, he peeked around the corner closest to the outer wall and swallowed a curse along with the bile that threatened to spew from his too-tightly clenched stomach.
No more than twenty paces away, and approaching along the side of the building, were the same dozen makrasha that had been sent to investigate the noise Kevlin had made when slipping over the wall. They were advancing slowly, studying the ground. As he watched, one of the hulking creatures leaned down and touched its wide, fanged mouth to the mud. Then it looked up.
Right at Kevlin.
For a second, Kevlin gazed full into the three hideous green eyes that stared flatly out of the creature’s wide skull. He froze in terror and time seemed to stop.
His heart beat once. Then again.
The makrasha stood and the group proceeded forward at the same measured pace as before.
By the Lady's blessed temper, it hadn't seen him. Relief turned his knees to rubber and he sagged against the building. He savored it for a single heartbeat. They would reach the corner in a minute or two and notice his tracks or smell his scent.
He breathed deep to loosen his clenched muscles and forced calm on his racing thoughts. Fear could no longer help, so he pushed it away. He had to act, and act fast. There was too much at stake for him to fall tonight. He had to find a way out.
He jogged to the far end of the alley facing the empty parade ground. A single torch burned at the base of the far stair, leading up the perimeter wall, but a dozen makrasha still patrolled on top of it.
Kevlin walked out to the middle of the parade ground. The shadows were thick and only the most careful observer would notice his dark form. When no one challenged him, he spent a moment walking in random circles, backtracking and crisscrossing the muddy parade ground.
It was hard to breathe.
Despite the concealing shadows, his shoulders itched, expecting a crossbow bolt to slam home between them at any second. He willed himself to keep moving. Mixed with the hundreds of other footprints across the parade ground, the confusing trail might throw off his pursuers for a while.
Time to spin the Wheel.
Kevlin jogged to the command center, the squishing of his boots sounding loud in the darkness. Just as he reached the stairs, a high-pitched howl shattered the stillness and nearly stopped his heart.
The dozen makrasha who had been tracking him poured into the open space, growling and making those disturbing clicking sounds. Their weapons were drawn.
They knew.
The barracks doors banged open and more makrasha spilled into the parade ground in a disorganized mass, weapons drawn and teeth bared. Few carried torches, resulting in a confused mass of huge monsters rushing around without direction. Several started fighting among themselves, filling the parade ground with growls and yelps of pain.
There was only one place to go.
Kevlin dashed up the steps to the command building, crossed the porch, pulled open the door, and slipped inside.