For Whom the Bell Tolls (2/2)

...and Threadbare relaxed again, as the ship vibrated slightly, but the engines stayed silent. The mufflers were doing their work.

They lifted off, and the loudest sound came from the trees they brushed against as they exited the forest canopy. Birds scattered in all directions, but in the combined darkness of dusk and the cloying curtain of mist, he thought that they were unlikely to draw much notice to their location.

Then it was east, across the town to the cathedral. Which Threadbare was really, truly hoping would be the end of it.

It was the place where Anne was supposed to hand over her captive. It was also the place Chase had seen in her visions, after Threadbare had sent a decree back asking Garon to check on it.

But they couldn't just walk up to it. Anne's contact had been specific on this point; the Cathedral was said to be haunted, and forbidden to all, any handoff would have to happen under the cover of darkness, and with great delicacy.

The team had to assume that the Phantom had the entire city in his pocket. And that any hint of shenanigans would draw repercussions quickly. And so the plan had been forged around the knowledge they were dealing with a powerful and clever individual on his own turf.

The first part would be the meeting at the cathedral ruins. Anne would have to be there, of course, along with Celia. Threadbare, Zuula, Thomasi, and Missus Fluffbear would be along for that particular event.

The second team was in position over at the Bad Still. Cagna, the Muscle Wizaard, Kayin, Renny, and Glub would wait and watch for the garrison. In the event they were roused, they'd distract and slow down the soldiers to buy the other teams time to escape. Threadbare really didn't want another mess like Queen's Ford had been. If all went well, they'd get out of here without any innocents harmed, and team two would be helpful there.

The third team would take the airship up a few thousand feet and wait to extract the other teams and lend support as needed. The rest of the crew were on that team, and Madeline had joined them as well. Partly because dragons did very well in the air, but also to make sure the airship didn't go anywhere inconvenient 'unexpectedly.'

It was very much a gamble, to split the parties so. But they simply didn't have the manpower or the resources to keep everyone together. Not without risking disaster, or collateral damage.

Silently the ship drifted through the night, engines low and sails down. They slid through the mist like a knife through loose snow, barely disturbing the stuff. Zuula had done a good job; even at this height, the stuff was thick.

“Two points south,” Anne whispered.

“Two points south, aye,” Stormanorm muttered back, and the ship eased slightly, dodging a high steeple as it swung past in the fog.

“Back one north,” Anne said, pacing out to the edge of the bow, peering into the fog... and seeing through it.

Her level thirty-five Pirate skill had been a thing called Fogcutter. No fog, mist, cloud, or even inclement weather could stop her sight. It was a small thing, but it had paid many, many dividends over her raiding years, and they had been glad to work it into their plans.

And when she swore and pulled out the spyglass, Threadbare and the others got ready for trouble.

“There be a light high in the ruins,” Anne said. “Some bunny's placed a lantern, looks like.”

“They know we're coming? Or perhaps it's been there every night, waiting for us,” Thomasi said, pulling his goatee. “I don't see that this changes our plans.”

“It doesn't,” said Threadbare. “It's very likely he had his own Clerics and Oracles divine when we would arrive. We shall just have to see this through, and hope we can find a peaceful solution.”

Anne and Zuula snorted simultaneously, then glowered at each other.

It seemed like it took an eternity, to cross the pool of fog that covered the city. But it wasn't a large city, as they went, and the tension made up the bulk of the anxious time. Threadbare peered over the railing, trying to see what he can, but the best he got were round balls of light that had to be streetlamps glowing through the mist. Occasionally he heard a snippet of conversation from below, but for the most part the streets were empty. The night, the chill, and the mist had driven most of the residents indoors.

Finally, it loomed out of the darkness, old and burned and crumbled but standing high nonetheless, its two stout towers not unlike the ears on a rabbit's head, straight up and listening for danger. And sure enough, a light glistened at the top of the northernmost tower.

“Take us up,” Anne said. “Fifty feet above that there light, slow as she rolls.”

“Aye captain,” Stormanorm whispered.

The airship slowed and turned, raising as if on a wire. Threadbare felt a small surge of pride for how they'd managed to repair the engines. This was a far call from the shaking, shuddering flight that had been the bulk of his experience on the Cotton Tale before Celia had arrived to take matters in hand.

Once they were settled, Anne led the way down the ropes, swinging with the ease of a Pirate born. Threadbare took a second to mumble “Swinger,” before he went, and got a skill up for his trouble. The rest picked their way down with varying degrees of skill and caution.

And no sooner had they all gathered on the top floor of the broken tower, when a hatch groaned open from underneath. Anne moved like a flicker of lightning, pressing a pistol to the head that emerged...

...and then snorting, and pulling her gun back as they saw who it was. Jean, the actress, spy, and former prisoner was once more back with her captors and uncertain allies.

“Ah, tis ye,” Anne sneered, as Jean raised a hand in surrender. “Yer no threat. Barely a nuisance.”

“I am not here as a threat. My punishment is to be your guide,” Jean said, lowering her head, her ears hanging low.

“I'm glad you survived,” Threadbare said, and Jean raised her head, then her lantern, peering at the forms spreading out around the roof.

“Celia?” she gasped, almost dropping the light. “You should not 'ave come!”

“This man tried to kidnap me, DID kidnap my bear, and stole one of my best friends away. I'm going to make sure he never tries that again,” Celia said, folding her arms.

“He knows. He knows that you are here as a trap for him.” Jean covered her eyes. “Gaston got here first.”

“I'm a little curious as to how you beat us here. We were on an airship, after all,” Thomasi asked, peering nervously down at the ground far below.

“The Phantom arranges supply caches at every major town. We only had to sneak into Queen's Ford, and use the waystones hidden there to return here.”

Threadbare shared a look with Celia. “He's had two days to prepare.”

“Dis be a trap?” Zuula asked, perking up and pulling out her spear.

“I do not know,” confessed Jean. “I have been ordered to take you to the catacombs. After that, I am released from his service.”

“The catacombs?” Fluffbear squeaked. “Oooh, do we get to beat up undead?”

“It is the place where he has made his lair,” Jean said. “It is a dungeon.”

“Even better!” Zuula said. “Fighting AND treasure. Been too long. Need some sensible violence,here.”

“We know the secrets of dungeons well,” Threadbare said. “But I imagine he does, too. He knows Cylvania's history and he still went in there to face us.”

“Doesn't sound like we're for havin' a choice,” Anne said. “And the original contract still stands. I'll collect me payment, regardless.”

“He told me to assure you he would have the payment ready in full,” Jean nodded. Then her face grew long, as she stared again at Celia. “You are certain you wish to do this? I have been told nothing. I have been kept in a cell until tonight.”

“I am. Even if he told you you were free to go after this, I don't trust him to not do something horrible to you later. I need to meet this Phantom, and figure out how much and how hard I need to kick his rump,” Celia finished.

“Then follow me, and may the gods have mercy on your soul.”

Jean led them down the tower, through ruined rooms, and past holes in the wall that roiled with wafting mist. In places the stairs were still intact, and where they weren't, she had set ladders and tied off ropes to help with the descent.

It was an old place, built to withstand a siege, sturdy stone molded around metal struts. It reminded Threadbare a bit of the last ruin he'd had cause to explore. Sadly he didn't have enough reagents along to pull the same trick twice.

It didn't take long to leave the tower, and then it was a short trip across the courtyard to a hole in the ground, a rough tunnel where the cellars had crumbled down from damage and erosion. And there in the darkest corner of the cellars, flanked by enormous barrels that had once held enough wine to fill a small house, was a door into a plain and dusty hallway.

“The Catacombs lie just beyond,” Jean said, bowing her head. She tied the lantern to the belt of her trousers, and drew a rapier. “And though I do not blame you if you forbid me, I would welcome the chance to come with you.”

“Jean...” Celia said, moving over to her and reaching up to take her free hand. “This isn't your fight.”

“It isn't, but you are right. If I flee here, I will live my life wondering if he will come for me. At least here I may have the chance to save you.”

Celia gazed up at her for a long moment, glass eyes shining in the swaying lanternlight.

“We'll talk after this,” she said, giving her hand a squeeze, then drawing her own small sword. “All right. Everyone ready?”

Threadbare was about to say 'yes,' when a very unexpected message flashed before him.

GARON HAS ISSUED A NEW DECREE!

Watch out! Help! All free RAGs to the castle! Stop the assault!