Forest Kingdom Trilogy 3 - Down Among the Dead Men

the rain before them, and they had to stumble to a halt to avoid crashing into it. The wall gave some protection from the wind, but that was all. Jack shook himself like a dog, but it didn’t help much. He couldn’t recall having felt this wet in his life. The rain was so heavy now it even made breathing difficult.
    Hammer gestured for him to unsling his coil of rope. It was no use trying to speak; the rain and the thunder made it impossible to hear. Jack unslung the rope and checked the grapnel was still secure. He looked up at the wall, and the rain beat harshly on his face until he had to turn away. He took a moment to compose himself, blinking rapidly to get the rain out of his eyes, and then he snatched one quick look and threw the grapnel up into the air, aiming as best he could. It just cleared the battlements and fell to lodge securely somewhere beyond them. Jack pulled the line taut and looked at Hammer, who nodded for him to go first. Jack took a firm grip on the rope, checked it would take his weight, and began to walk his way up the wall. The rain made both the rope and the wall horribly slippery, and more than once only quick reflexes and a death-like grip saved him from a nasty fall. When he finally reached the battlements he was almost too tired to pull himself over them. He sat on the catwalk, breathing harshly, and then climbed reluctantly to his feet and tugged twice on the rope to signal it was clear for the next man. Wilde made even more hard going of the climb, and Jack had to reach down and practically haul the man up the last few feet. Hammer came last, making it look easy.
    They started along the narrow catwalk, heading for the steps that led down into the courtyard.
    Duncan MacNeil led his team through the fort, heading for the cellar. The constant roar of the storm came dimly to them through the thick stone walls. MacNeil and Constance carried lanterns while Flint and the Dancer held their swords at the ready.
    “I don’t see why we have to look at the cellar again,” said Constance. “We’ve already established the gold isn’t there.”
    MacNeil shrugged. “It’s got to be here somewhere. It occurred to me there might be a subcellar underneath the first, or even a hidden passageway.”
    “And if there isn’t?” said Constance.
    “Then we go through every damn room in this fort and take it apart brick by brick until we do find the gold. Are you sure you can’t See where it is?”
    The witch sighed audibly. “I’ll try again, Duncan, but I can tell you now it’s not going to work. Something nearby is still interfering with my magic.”
    She stopped, and the others stopped with her. Constance put her lantern down on the floor, massaged her temples with her fingertips, and closed her eyes. The low background mutter of the storm was a distraction, but she finally put it out of her mind. Darkness gathered, smothering her Sight. She shuddered as a bitter cold swept through her, and a feeling of unease grew and grew until it bordered on panic. Constance fought to control it, and as she did her Sight suddenly cleared and she Saw a single huge eye. It was staring in her direction, slowly becoming aware of her presence. Constance immediately broke off the contact and shielded her mind as thoroughly as she could. In that brief glimpse she’d sensed something she had no desire to See again. She huddled frightened in the darkness, but even inside her shield she could sense something awful prowling through the dark in search of her. It slowly moved away, and Constance sighed shakily and opened her eyes.
    “Well?” said MacNeil impatiently.
    “There’s something here in the fort with us,” said Constance directly. “I don’t know what it is or where it is, but it’s very old and very deadly.”
    “Don’t start that again,” said MacNeil. “There’s no one in the fort but us. You’re just feeling the strain a bit, that’s all. We all are.”
    Constance looked at him coldly but said nothing. With her Sight still clouded, he might just be right. But she didn’t think so. MacNeil started down the corridor again, and Flint and the Dancer followed him. Constance picked up her lantern and brought up the rear. Her hand trembled with suppressed anger, and shadows swayed menacingly around the team. MacNeil didn’t look back at her. Truth to tell, he wasn’t so sure Constance wasn’t right. He remembered how strongly she’d reacted to the cellar before, and much as he wanted to,