The Turnstile raises the Bridge
Running ahead the boys clamored up the spiraling stairs of the gatehouse tower. Soon Kaspar hollered to them that all was clear and they began dropping the iron gate. With the clattering of chains and resounding crash it was set in place. Unsure of themselves, they looked over the turnstile that raised the drawbridge. Kaspar had showed them how to pull the iron pin that held the turnstile firm. But upon doing that, they would have to put their backs to the work. With each turn, the pin had to be pulled and then replaced back into its hole. Otherwise the bridge would crash down hard if they let go of the turnstile. Not having done this task before, Tate and Platov again looked over the turnstile. Tate pulled the pin, and then they put their backs against the bars. With a great grinding and creaking sound the bridge broke loose from the mud and rose but a foot or two. Tate struggled to get the holes lined up while Platov held his weight against the bar. Then once pinned again, Tate and Platov caught their breath while they grinned at each other. Now they felt ready to turn the turnstile one more revolution. Platov struggled with the pin while Tate trembled as he held back the weight of the bridge. The effort was monumental as they soon turned it into a game for each revolution of the turnstile. They fought for each success as they continued to raise the bridge up a few more feet at a time. By the time the bridge was snuggled against the tower, both boys fell back in complete exhaustion. Outside, the storm had come and a heavy cold sleet was tumbling from the sky. The boys slipped on the icy sleet balls as they dragged themselves across the courtyard to the smokehouse. Outside the wagon was by the door.
“The moat be filled,” Kaspar chuckled. “We be seeing what Wraith intends to do about that.”
…
Throughout the night the storm raged with high winds and the sleet changed to buckets of rain. The wind howled through the narrow arrow slots driving rain that splattered on the floor of their tower chamber. Covered under heavy blankets, they tried to sleep, but the anticipation that Wraith would appear kept Platov nervously vigilant. More than once, he saw a small elf on the ledge of the narrow slot. Frequently, Platov slipped out of bed to peek out the narrow slot. All was black outside while the sound of the howling wind and rain was fierce.
By morning, the forest was covered in a thick fog. The wind and the rain were gone and now replaced with a drizzly mist. Just as Kaspar predicted, the moat was filled with water that flooded out into the forest and even over the road. In the thick fog, Platov saw faint wispy figures floating in the air over the flood waters. Pointing them out to Tate they watched as the indistinct figures swirled over the newly created swamp. With no sun to break through the dense fog, the day remained dreary. But to keep busy they were put to work in the smokehouse. A hot fire was built and then covered with green firewood that sizzled in the heat. A great cloud of smoke filled the house. Pouring out from under the eaves, the wood smoke clung to the castle and grounds thickly. Frequently, more green firewood had to be brought in and placed on the smoldering embers. Kaspar said it would take days to smoke the meat thoroughly. He promised them the wait would be worth it, what a flavor they would be treated with!
Still the foggy day dragged on with no sign of Tancred or of Wraith. Elves were about, some having taking up on the curtain walls while others were spotted in the orchard and near the stables. The elves rarely came close and darted away quickly when they were spotted. Ominously a new muffled sound filled the air, that of wings beating, but certainly not those of any ordinary bird. The boys rushed to the kitchen window. Peering into the thick fog that shrouded the grounds with a thick gray blanket, the boys searched for the source of the sound. A massive and dark figure suddenly broke through the fog and could be seen as it circled the castle. Fire from its snout attested to what the visitor was. Platov and Tate dashed to the kitchen door fearful that Scorch had arrived. But then they stopped to watch as the dragon landed on the single tower over the keep. With a blast of fire the dragon settled on its perch proudly. Then a gray figure stepped out of the fog at the base of the tower. Platov and Tate stared at the approaching stranger. Dressed in a faded silver-gray robe with a pointed hat, the figure carried a silver Staff.
Almost at once a host of wizards began arriving out of the fog banks. Tancred was among them, he had finally returned to protect his castle. With a great deal of boasting around the massive hall, few thought that Wraith would be much of a concern. The castle was well-armed with not only a dragon, but a dozen wizards, and an army of elves. The general notion was to taunt Wraith into making the first move. Pressed into service helping Quintus serve the visitors, Platov was the subject of much interest. He was the prize that Wraith was after along with the Sage and Stone of Cuore. With much boasting and posturing, the wizards were making plans and even considering going so far as to roust Wraith out of his cave in a bold preemptive strike. The wicked wizard was not much respected by any of Tancred’s companions. Then the wizards began telling the boys many tall tales of the great campaigns, each account far more remarkable than the previous tale. Lasting well into the evening, the men and the boys sat around the fireplace.
Platov and Tate finally exhausted retired to their chamber. Hardly locked inside the gatehouse chamber, they heard something landing on the roof. A great blast of fire lit up the darkness as the dragon settled in for the night. Of little comfort to either Tate or Platov, the dragon decided to call the gatehouse tower roof its perch. Throughout the night as the dragon slept with its snout over the battlements, the air outside the narrow slots lit up with fire and smelled foul of sulfur. The dragon snored too!
Chapter 14: The Agents of Wraith