Welcome to Deep Cove

Jack sat on the grassy hillside enjoying the heat of the summer day. Hundreds of feet down the slope, the channel waters lapped at the rocky shoreline. There were vessels on the water: small boats mainly and most likely other families enjoying the warm weather. Jack’s eyes sought out his wife and she turned to gaze at him. She wore the yellow sun dress he had purchased for her. She twirled in the sunlight, her smile wide and loving. Small arms were draped around his shoulders and the words ’daddy, daddy’ were giggled into his ear. His daughter he knew, and he sighed with contentment. The thought occurred to him that his daughter was only a week old when he had left home. Now, here she was big enough to walk and talk. He dismissed the thought as quickly as it had come. All that mattered was that they were together again.

“I said wake up, pig’s breath,” came the voice again. This time, his dream was washed away with the harsh words and the kick at his leg. Jack rolled onto his side, blinking in the unaccustomed torchlight.

“What …what time is it?” he asked lamely. He looked into the light and made out three figures standing in the opening of his cell. Unkind hands grabbed him by his shirt and hauled him to his feet.

“It’s time you shut your mouth, Vellian dog.” The guard shoved Jack toward the door and the other two men stepped back. “Get the other one,” he continued and pointed to Rowgar’s cell. Jack risked a glance into Rowgar’s pen and saw the soldier staring back. He looked like a caged cat Jack had seen at the carnival as a boy – ready to tear out the throat of the first man he could reach.

Jack felt his knees go weak and he stumbled. His bowels turned to water with the realisation that their dreams for escape had vanished with the arrival of these men. Tonight was supposed to be the night they fled. One more day and they would have been free. The image of Jack’s wife on the hillside flashed through his mind and he felt hot tears running down his cheeks. ’I wish I could have looked upon your face,’ he thought, referring to the daughter he had not seen in over two years. ’I bet you look like your mother.’

“Look, Buck, he’s crying like a baby,” laughed the guard holding the torch. Jack scowled at the man and wiped his face on his arm. He now recognised the man as Dom, a mean spirited fellow who had enjoyed tormenting the dignitaries once held in the cells with Jack.

“He’s sad to leave us,” said Buck in a singsong voice. “I wouldn’t want to leave either, if I was treated so well.”

“Yes, I’ve been treated like a prince,” snapped Jack, angry at himself for showing weakness.

“You’re alive, ain’t ya?” said Dom.

“Not for long!” squealed Buck and both guards laughed.

“Be quiet!” snapped the man holding Jack. This was Toma, their superior. He had been just as cruel over the years, but today he was all business. “Bind his hands and then get that other cell open. Be careful with that one, he was a soldier.”

“We ain’t stupid,” said Buck. “We know he was a soldier.”

“Then you should take your job seriously and be ready to take him into custody,” returned Toma in a cold tone. Buck thumped Jack hard on the back as he grabbed for the man’s rags. He grunted in displeasure and spun Jack around to tie his hands.

Dom moved to Rowgar’s cell and inserted his key into the door. Rowgar lay on the floor watching him. “That’s right, soldier boy, don’t you move a hair or my friend will stick you in the guts.”

Jack realised the men were speaking in Ponce and Rowgar wouldn’t understand them. He also knew that living on the border of the two great nations, all government officials were bilingual by law. “Where are you taking us?” he asked in Vellian. “Are we to join the other soldiers?” Dom stopped halfway into Rowgar’s cell. He glanced at Jack, the curious question registering. Dom’s surprise reminded Jack that he was not supposed to be aware of the other prisoners.

“Shut him up,” returned Toma in Ponce. Jack felt a blow to the back of his head and he hit his knees.

Instantly, Rowgar was on his feet and lunging for Dom. The guard reeled back, his hand going to the knife on his belt. Rowgar stepped in to Dom, his right hand closing on the man’s wrist and stopping him from pulling his weapon free. Rowgar’s left fist took Dom in the eye, rattling him against the steel bars of the cell. Rowgar grabbed at the torch and wrenched it from his opponent’s grip. He thrust the burning brand into the jailor’s face and Dom screamed in pain. Pulling the blade from the man’s belt, Rowgar rammed the knife into Dom’s neck.

Jack watched breathless from his knees. He had heard both Buck and Toma draw their swords, but he could not tear his eyes from the awful visage of Rowgar. His friend’s face was twisted with rage. There was no trace of humanity in his features as he turned the blade in Dom’s neck.

Ignoring Jack, Buck raced to the cell and tried to spear Rowgar through the bars. Rowgar rolled to his right, closing the cell door and pinning the sword between the metal posts. Buck’s blade was snapped clean off. Rowgar’s next strike lashed through the lattice of steel, taking Buck high on the inside of his thigh. Buck fell away screaming, his blood splashing Rowgar.

Rowgar wrenched the door open and took two steps and stopped.

Jack felt the blade come up under his chin and Toma’s fingers ripping at his hair as the man yanked him to his feet. “Drop that knife,” hissed Toma.

The torch flew through the air and Jack was certain it would hit him square in the face. Toma’s sword swept out instinctively and knocked the blazing missile aside. The torch thumped into the wall with an explosion of sparks as Toma gurgled and released Jack’s hair. The dungeon was smothered in darkness. Behind him, Jack heard Toma hit the floor, the man’s sword clanging down beside him. He did not need to see the body to know that Rowgar’s knife had taken him in the throat.

Rowgar was beside him in an instant, his hands working on the rope. “Are you hurt?” he asked.

“I’ll be okay,” returned Jack, pulling his hands from the bindings. He heard metal scraping on stone as Rowgar retrieved Toma’s sword. The hilt of the blade was pressed against his palm. “Kill without hesitation, Jack,” breathed the elite soldier into his ear. “If ever you want to see that little girl of yours, the next few minutes will decide our fate.”

“I know.”

“Good. Our plan is now forfeit, Jack. It will be daylight above. Once we have drawn the guards off, it is up to you to get to the southern griffon pens. Your main concern is remaining invisible. Once you get there, I am relying on you to get the beasts saddled and ready for flight. Remember, we need eight griffons ready to carry the sixteen of us.”

“Eight,” repeated Jack. He heard rustling noises from where Buck continued to bleed out on the floor. Rowgar’s footsteps approached the man and the rustling ceased. The soldier worked in the darkness and Jack heard something fleshy slap the stone. Rowgar returned and passed over the balled up jailor’s uniform. It was wet through with blood.

“Put that on,” said Rowgar. Jack swallowed as he heard Rowgar stripping Toma down. “I will strike for the eastern compound and our boys. They may already be on the move and there is no telling how many guards are with them. I want you to promise me that if I am not at the stables in twenty minutes, you will ride on without me.”

“I can’t do that,” said Jack. He felt a lump rising in his throat.

“You must,” growled Rowgar. “Do it for your daughter.”

“But I owe you,” said Jack, his voice cracking. “We said no one gets left behind.”

“Then do it for me! You must get out of here and bring my story to the King. If I do not show at the stables, then I am dead.”

Jack hugged the blood soaked clothing to his chest. “I will do it for you, Chief,” he agreed.

* * * *

Jack and Rowgar waited in the dark tunnel on the first floor beneath the guard room. This echelon of the chateau contained only a few deserted cells and had, to Jack’s knowledge, never housed any prisoners. Instead it was used for personnel that misbehaved or had a little too much to drink during their off shifts. No one had been detained here for months.

“Why isn’t it going off, Chief?” whispered Jack.

From the blackness beside him Rowgar answered. “I left a good length of fuse. It will be soon.” He had barely spoken the words when a potent explosion rocked the compound. The floor and walls shook under the powerful detonation of the black powder. Seconds passed and a wall of dust washed through the tunnel. Then the door to the guard room opened and a man carrying a torch burst through the opening. Two others were right on his heels, swords drawn.

“Are we under attack?” yelled one of the men, but if his comrades answered him, their words were lost in a second blast that shook the prison with even more force. The men halted as a second wave of dust and debris rushed up from the lower tunnels and washed over them.

Jack eyed the men from the darkness and felt his heart hammering in his chest. What if they were too frightened to continue down into the lower tunnels? What if he and the chief were forced to hide here all day? Surely they would search the prison when Toma and the others did not return. Two more soldiers exited the guardroom and all five of them ran toward the deeper tunnels. He breathed a sigh of relief.

“Let’s go,” rumbled Rowgar into his ear. Jack felt his friend grab the front of his uniform and pull him forward. Then he was running for the opening and had no more time for contemplations.

They entered the deserted guardroom and Rowgar wasted no time. He hefted a backpack onto the table and filled it with knives and quarrels. He grabbed a sword belt from the wall, buckled it on and then fit two more swords alongside the first blade. On the right side of the belt, he added three throwing knives. Shouldering the pack, he motioned Jack to come and help him. “Get that crossbow and tie it to my pack.” Jack did as he was told as Rowgar carefully fit two more swords under the pack and across his back. “Get yourself a belt and put that sword on it. You remember how to use the crossbow, like I explained?”

“Yes,” agreed Jack, trying to latch a swordbelt across his hips. His fingers felt numb and he glanced to the tunnel behind them.

Rowgar’s hand settled over Jack’s hands and the soldier pulled the belt from him. “Breathe,” he said calmly. He offered Jack a second strap that had both a scabbard and a quiver on it. “For the quarrels,” he said and helped Jack to tie the leather around his waist. “Stay on my heels,” he warned and then he was running again. Jack grabbed a crossbow from the wall and followed.

There was only a short tunnel and three administrative rooms left to navigate before they arrived outside. They encountered no one in the building and Jack somehow felt braver when they came to the row of windows in the last hallway. Sunlight filtered into the building and Jack’s heart was lifted knowing he was minutes away from freedom.

The escapees rounded the last corridor and stopped abruptly in the doorway leading to the main courtyard. Crossing the open ground, two guards were rushing toward them, swords drawn. Jack almost collapsed from fear, but Rowgar stepped in front of him. Peeking over Rowgar’s shoulder, he could see a line of cannons along the far wall of the compound. The two men had been cleaning one of the large guns. It was pulled from it’s mooring on the wall and was aimed into the courtyard. Jack noticed that what he had mistaken for a sword was actually a ramrod carried in one of the men’s hands.

“What was that?” called the first of the men. “It sounded like an explosion.”

Jack was speechless. Then he remembered the uniform Rowgar had made him don. Still hidden behind his partner, he lifted his crossbow and readied its draw.

Rowgar said nothing and stumbled from the doorway. He held one of his knives hidden against the back of his leg. The two men reached him as he fell to one knee. The blood drenched uniform signalled his need for medical attention and both men slowed. Rowgar struck with the speed and ferocity Jack had witnessed in the lower tunnels. His knife flashed up through the first man’s uniform. Under the ribs and straight through the heart; Rowgar’s aim was deadly. Wrenching the blade free, he spun on his knees, forced the second man’s sword out with his left hand, and slammed the blade into the guard’s femoral artery in the thigh. Jumping on the downed man, his hand covered the guard’s mouth as he stabbed him twice more. Rising, Rowgar pointed to the south and the griffon pens. “Go,” he yelled and then sprinted for the eastern compound.

Jack swallowed his fear and dashed across the courtyard. He ran to his right, along the wall of the fortification. The ramparts were interspersed with cannon and ammunition every twenty feet. It was these guns he knew that had brought the king’s balloons down. Stopping at the cannon that had been removed from its moorings, he was surprised to see the fuse had been set. Beside the cannon, a barrel housed a metal pan and a slow burning match cord. The unfortunate man with the ramrod must have been training on the use of the gun.

Continuing along the wall, he raced south and came to a set of twelve steps. At the top of the stairs, a stone statue depicted a saluting soldier. The subject’s back was rigid and he wore the light armour, curved sword, and longbow of a Ponce Griffon Jockey. A plaque was inset at the base of the sculpture, but Jack did not stop to read it. He could see the rooftops of the griffon pens from here, and he could smell the rancid odour of the beasts.

Bounding down the steps, he came to a fenced off enclosure. He opened the latch on the gate and stepped through, his eyes watchful. At least forty pens had been constructed along the upper cliffs. Six to eight wooden posts had been sunk into the ground for each, and a slanted, shingled, overhang had been secured over these. From within the pens, the giant griffons lounged on their straw beds, their intelligent eyes assessing him as he passed.

Jack was sweating now, and he wasn’t sure he could muster the courage to enter a cage with these creatures. He stopped in front of the nearest beast, his fingers caressing the crossbow. An eagle’s head with its powerful razor sharp beak gazed back at him. Between the creatures folded wings, rested the sleek muscled body of a hunting cat. The griffon’s lengthy tail swished from side to side in agitation. How on Earth was he to saddle one of these without getting killed?

Rowgar had spent two days lecturing him on how the process worked, drawing diagrams on the floor when Jack could not follow the instructions. ’Around each wing, across the chest, and under the belly. Be firm and assured, and the beasts will not harm you.’

Jack turned from the pen and headed for the central building, a large structure two storeys high that housed the feed and tack for the griffons. He was almost at the door, when a man in overalls walked outside, a bail of hay resting on his shoulder. “Hey, you can’t be down here,” said the worker when he saw Jack striding toward him. He stared at Jack, his eyes taking in the blood stains covering the uniform. He turned for the hangar and Jack’s crossbow clicked. The quarrel punched through the groom’s side under his arm. The man was lifted from his feet, the bale of hay tumbling to the ground.

Jack was still. He didn’t remember aiming the bow, and yet, the man was dead. He cranked the filament back and reset another bolt. They stole two years from him. He wasn’t about to be stopped this close to freedom. He ran into the hangar, his anger building. A gray haired man was working at a bench punching holes in a strip of leather with an awl. He looked up as Jack ran across the floor, his crossbow raised. This time the bolt missed his target and punched into the wall behind the bench. The man leapt from his stool and ran, and Jack threw the crossbow at him. This also missed, but he was close now and drew his sword. He had never used a sword against another man before, but he dared not stop to question his abilities or his resolve now. He rammed the blade into the fleeing man’s back. Yelling incoherently, he brought the weapon down for a second blow. He stood over his victim, his breath rattling in his throat, his eyes wild and searching. He looked everywhere for another target, anyone who would dare to try and stop him, but except for the bodies and the griffons, he was alone.

Dropping the sword, he went into the back room and located the stored saddles. Hefting one above his head, his look was determined as he made his way outside to the pens. Balancing the contraption on his shoulder, he lifted the latch on the first gate and entered. He scowled at the beast as it raised itself up on all fours. Looking the creature in the eye, he surprised himself when his voice remained calm. “If you so much as squawk, I’ll de-feather you myself.”

* * * *

Jack tied off the eight griffons to a hitching post located on the fringe of the stable yard and overlooking the ocean below. He then returned to the storeroom and retrieved his sword and crossbow. The minutes trickled by and he cracked the knuckles on his right hand as he reached another five-hundred count. It had been thirty minutes since he had left Rowgar’s side. He cursed to himself and was about to mount the stairs to survey the courtyard, when he heard footsteps and light conversation drifting down from above. Drawing his sword, he retreated to the nearest griffon and loosened its reins. He almost mounted the beast in his panic, but he forced himself to remain calm, his head canted to the side and his breathing shallow as he listened to the voices drawing nearer.

Jack knew the instant he saw them that the newcomers were the soldiers captured in the balloon attacks on the chateau. The men were dressed in soiled prison uniforms, and many of them were bandaged and had sustained awful wounds. They helped each other along and were armed with the weapons Rowgar had stolen.

Dropping the reins, Jack rushed to assist them. “Where’s the Chief?” he asked, guiding the men to the line of griffons.

“He chased that pig Etan through the main gate,” said one of the men.

“He was like a devil, the way he cut through those guards,” added a second man. “He killed three of them without blinking, and then tossed Jona the keys to our chains. He barely took the time to give us directions before racing off.”

“Damn it,” swore Jack. Sheathing his sword, he pointed to the griffons. “Mount up. Two to a bird. I’m going after him.” He passed his crossbow to one of the soldiers and handed over the remaining bolts he carried. “I’d prefer it if you waited for us, but if you deem it necessary to flee, you have my permission.”

One of two men supporting his comrade removed himself from under the wounded man’s arm and stepped forward. “I am Jonas, first mate of the Red Tail. We owe you boys our lives.” He took Jack’s hand in both of his and looked him in the eye. “We will hold this ground until you get back.” Jack nodded and sprinted for the stairs.

Arriving on the landing, he slowed to survey the main courtyard. Espying the cannon that had been pulled from the wall, he hid behind it. The two bodies remained in the dirt where they had fallen and there was no sign of anyone. The large double gate was open and he could see the green grasses of the cliff tops beyond.

Suddenly, a screech filled the air, and Jack hunkered down behind the large gun. Spiralling from the sky, a griffon descended into the square. Glancing skyward, Jack swallowed in fear as several more of the giant beasts circled low over the walls of the keep. Counting to himself, he was horrified to identify eighteen more of the beasts and their riders. Descending in order, they touched down behind their leader.

The commander of the unit dismounted from his griffon, and was quick to send two of his men to investigate the bodies. He then dispatched four soldiers into the main complex. Removing his gloves, he turned his gaze upon the gaping main gates. He took a step toward the gate and was in the process of issuing another order, when two figures walked through the barrier.

Jack watched sickened as Rowgar marched Etan through the opening in the wall. Etan’s arm was bent behind him and Rowgar held a knife to the man’s side. Seeing the complement of griffons and men, Rowgar shoved his hostage to the ground.

“What is this?” demanded the griffon commander. “Where are my prisoners?”

“It’s him,” screamed Etan, worming forward on the ground. “He’s killed our men and freed the prisoners!”

Jack knew that even if Rowgar fled through the gates he would be caught in a matter of minutes. He also knew that fleeing was the last thing on Rowgar’s mind as he watched his friend draw a second knife from his belt.

Circling the cannon, Jack had to act fast. He knew the fuse had been set and prayed that the procedure was to load the shot first. Continuing his circle, he came up behind the cannon and grabbed onto one of the iron wheels. Straining against the weight of the artillery piece, he almost panicked when it didn’t move. Throwing his entire weight into it, he managed to heave the gun an inch to the left. Twice more he exerted all of his strength into turning the gun. Latching onto the elevation wheel, he began to lower the barrel.

Across the courtyard, the soldiers had fanned out before Rowgar; some of them had their bows drawn and aimed at him. Fearing Rowgar would react before he could execute his plan, Jack yelled out as loudly as he could “HEY!” He was not surprised when everyone turned to look his way.

“You there,” called the commander. “Get away from that gun.”

Jack finished lowering the trajectory of the artillery. His arm reached out for the length of match cord burning in the metal pan. There was barely anything left of it. Touching the ember to the fuse he covered his ears and walked backwards.

“Shoot him!” screamed Etan pointing at Rowgar.

Rowgar’s arm snapped forward, burying a knife in his enemies’ chest. Etan crumpled to the ground and the remaining soldiers leapt into action. Arrows flashed through the air and Jack watched horrified as a shaft brushed Rowgar’s cheek. The elite warrior jerked away holding a bloody gash but otherwise unharmed. Several of the griffon jockeys were rushing him, and Rowgar braced himself for battle.

A massive roar filled the courtyard and everything in Jack’s line of sight was blanketed in thick smoke. As the haze cleared, he could only marvel at the havoc he had caused. Men lay scattered everywhere, and for a second he thought he might be so lucky as to have killed them all. Then the soldiers began to rise and he knew they had fallen to take cover. Griffons squawked and flapped across the yard, and several of them had taken to the sky. The wall behind the men housed the evidence that the cannon had indeed been loaded. A large section of mortar was dislodged from the barricade and a spider web of fractures covered the area of impact.

Jack watched Rowgar sprint toward him, and without realising it, called for his friend to run faster. An arrow whistled past his ear and a second shaft ricocheted off the wall to his right. Jack turned and sprinted for the stairs as more arrows flew past him. The shafts ceased falling as he descended the stairs, but he did not slow his pace. His heartbeat hammered in his ears as he raced along the outer wall. He reached the prisoners and shouted for them to mount the griffons.

Taking the reins of one of the animals, he waved at the other men. “Get into the sky,” he yelled at them. “There’s a regiment of riders in the upper courtyard!” He pointed to the southwest. “Make for Vellia and the walls at Fort Temang.” Jona nodded at him and kicked his griffon into action. The bird squawked and reared before hammering its wings downward. Leaping over the detaining wall, the beast soared down and away to the west. The others were quick to follow. Jack scrambled into his saddle and turned as Rowgar appeared running along the wall. Jack leaned out and offered his arm as the soldier arrived at the griffon.

“Thank the gods you made it, Chief. I had my doubts.”

Rowgar grunted and pulled himself onto the bird behind Jack. “So did I, until you fired that gun. By the way, you missed.”

Jack smiled but did not respond as Rowgar’s arms encircled him for support. He slapped the griffon’s neck and the animal pawed its way forward. He felt his stomach clench as they dropped from the wall. Glancing behind them, he noted a handful of their pursuers retreating for the upper courtyard. The Griffon’s wings extended and pushed downward, pulling them from their shallow dive. “How long will it take to reach Temang,” he called above the wind.

“Too long, riding double,” yelled Rowgar. “I hadn’t planned on being pursued when we drew up the plan.”

“What do you mean?” asked Jack, fear gnawing at his elation.

“We’ll never reach the fort before they catch us,” informed Rowgar. “We’ll have to land somewhere defensible and make a stand before they shoot us from the sky.”