A Hero may not fight against members of the Royal Family, nor take on any hire that is likely to lead them into conflict with the Crown.

-Hero’s Guild Book of Rules

Rule # 65

   The view outside didn’t look good. Soldiers were busily removing rubble from around the castle entrance and it didn’t seem like it would take them too much longer before they’d have the entrance unblocked. Feral and Will stood, looking out a narrow window overlooking the inner courtyard. Feral’s head was still a little foggy but it didn’t seem to be getting any worse and the bleeding had mostly stopped. The pain in his left leg was another story. He could feel each arrow shaft distinctly and every time he took a step pain coursed upwards from each wound.

   “We need to stop them, right?” Will asked as he peered from behind Feral.

   “Yeah, we do,” Feral replied.

   “Well let me take some shots at them.”

   Will edged Feral over and began trying to get a good angle to shoot at the men down below.

   “Aim to wound, not kill,” Feral instructed.

   “Okay,” Will said, “but why?”

   He loosed his first arrow and struck a man in the thigh. He’d been in the process of helping to lift a particularly large piece of masonry and as he ducked down to clutch at the arrow now sticking out of his leg he let go of the masonry. The chunk of stone was now too heavy and unbalanced for the remaining soldiers to manage and it tumbled from their hands. The stone landed with a thud and then rolled sideways, crushing the legs of two other men. At once the soldiers stopped working on moving the rubble and began helping their injured comrades while others began looking around for the source of the arrow.

   “A dead soldier can just be moved off to the side but an injured soldier requires help,” Feral pointed out.

   Will nodded and took aim once more, this time striking the shoulder of the soldier who seemed to be taking command of the situation.

   “We should move to another place,” Feral said, “If they find out where we are they’ll be able to guard against us.”

   Together they moved further along into the castle. They hadn’t found General Jernagin, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t there. Castles were often built a little like mazes, with certain sections only being accessible from specific stairways or such. They’d been finding meeting rooms, small banquet halls, and a spare kitchen, but no bedrooms. They’d also not found any other stairs. That meant the staircase they used to reach this floor was their only way back out. The soldiers would know that. That would explain why none of them had followed them up. They didn’t need to. Feral and Will would have to go back down to them if they wanted to do much more than fire off the occasional arrow at the soldiers down below.

   “Feral?” Will asked after they’d checked what was probably the last room they could access on the second floor without going back down the stairs.

   “Speak,” Feral prompted when Will didn’t immediately continue with his question. He was beginning to feel the slight nausea that accompanies blood loss and didn’t want to waste time or energy with lengthy discussions.

   “Even if we can stop the soldiers out there from clearing away the stones,” Will began, “Won’t the soldiers inside just clear it away anyway?”

   Will was right. Feral hadn’t given them enough thought. They’d need to deal with them if they were going to have any sort of chance for success. Feral sank down onto a nearby chair to both rest his leg and to help clear his mind. Having to fight again was seemingly more and more inevitable, but doing so with the arrows in his leg would certainly not work. He’d have to get them taken out and the wounds properly dressed and that would take time and materials he didn’t have.

   “Feral,” Will began tentatively, “I might have an idea.”

   Feral waved for him to continue, grateful for any idea at this point. Even if it wasn’t a good idea, it could potentially spark a dialogue that would lead them to their solution.

   “Well,” Will said while looking out a narrow window, “Lord Fesser must have housed his soldiers somewhere, but the castle doesn’t seem large enough to house them. Instead, I think it must be one of the smaller buildings in the inner courtyard. I can see one of them out of this window and I’m only seeing soldiers going in and out of it.”

   “Are you wanting to see how many soldiers you can hit before they stop using their barracks?” Feral asked. It wasn’t a very good plan. If the building was indeed their barracks then it probably had direct access to the walls and so they wouldn’t need to keep using the entrance Will had spotted.

   However, Will shook his head. “No, like you said it wouldn’t take them very long to figure out where the arrows were coming from. Instead, I was thinking I could shoot a burning arrow into the roof and light the building on fire. They’ve got wooden shingles and it’s been pretty dry for a while. They should burn pretty well.”

   Feral nodded. A fire was always a good distraction.

   “But how are you going to light your arrow and keep it burning hot and long enough to not only reach the roof, but to catch it on fire? I don’t exactly have a barrel of pitch handy.”

   Will grinned.

   “The spare kitchen,” he said. “I noticed they had a number of oil lamps in there. If I wrapped an arrow with a cloth soaked in lamp oil, I bet that would do the trick.”

   Feral grinned as well.

   “I think you’re right. And that gives me an idea for how we might be able to distract the soldiers downstairs as well.”

   Together they made their way back to the kitchen while Feral began to explain his own idea.

   “The more fires you can start,” Feral explained, “The harder it will be for the soldiers to get them under control. Start with some tents, maybe some of the stacks of supply barrels, and then begin lighting the buildings. Fire off a couple arrows from a window and then move on to a different part of the castle so they’ll have a harder time figuring out where you’re going to be shooting from next. The windows up here are narrow, but don’t forget that they still have a good number of archers down there and it’ll only take one good shot to make it through the window.”

   “What about you?” Will asked.

   “I’m going to get my leg back into fighting shape,” Feral said.

   “So we’re going to just fight our way back downstairs once I’ve started the fires outside?”

   “Oh, not quite,” Feral chuckled. “They’ll be expecting that.”

   “What’s the plan then?”

   “I’m still working on the details,” Feral told him. “Let’s just get you set and ready to go light some fires and while I’m redressing my leg I’ll get the rest of the plan fleshed out.”

   Will nodded and they began tearing the thin kitchen towels they’d found into strips and winding them around arrow shafts. Feral also got a fire going in the hearth and placed the long iron poker into the middle of the fire. He also set a kettle of water over the flames.

   “Take a lit lamp and this oil vessel with you when you go,” Feral instructed Will. “Dip the arrow into the oil, then light it with the lamp. That way you aren’t carrying a dozen oil soaked arrows around with you, risking lighting yourself on fire.”

   As soon as Will was gone, Feral began undoing the bandages Will had tied onto his leg. Will had done a good job and Feral hoped he wasn’t making a mistake. There were several strips of clean towel left over from when they were wrapping the arrows and it was these that Feral intended to use to redress his wounds once he’d removed the arrows.

   Removing arrows was tricky work. Arrowheads were shaped in such a way that if they are pulled straight back, they will catch and tear even more tissue on their way out and make the wound even worse. Some times it was better to just force the arrow the rest of the way through and out the other side.

   Inspecting the three arrows in his leg further, he found that the arrow in his calf muscle was nearly already through to the other side. That one would be pushed the rest of the way through without too much additional discomfort. Of the two in his thigh, on of them was shallow enough that he could pull it out and only cause superficial damage. The third arrow, however, was deep. What was more, Feral was pretty sure it was in line with one of the vital areas he’d taught Will. The arrow could have pierced the vital area, but then the pressure of the arrow and the bandage could have prevented him from bleeding out. If that was the case, then as soon as he removed the arrow, he’d begin to bleed out at an alarming rate. On the other hand, if the arrow hadn’t yet pierced the vital area, it became a question of whether the arrowhead was above or below it.

   There was a third way of dealing with arrow wounds. It was also his least favorite since it caused the most pain and had the potential of really messing up his leg. Unfortunately his options were limited and he didn’t have time to waste. He’d deal with that third arrow last.

   Feral took a cutting board and braced it against the back of his shin where the arrowhead was already trying to poke through. He then took a flat, wide pan and, using it like a hammer, pounded the arrow shaft with a swift blow. The arrow punched into the cutting board and Feral pulled the arrow out and through. The wound didn’t bleed terribly.

   The water in the kettle Feral had placed over the fire earlier was now boiling and he dipped a strip of cloth into it. Once soaked, Feral took the cloth and cleaned the wound. Then he bound the wound once more and turned to the second arrow.

   He knew what he had to do, and he knew it would hurt…a lot, but that the actual damage would be minimal. With that in mind he stuffed a wad of cloth into his moth to bite down on, took hold of the arrow shaft with both hands, and yanked outward along the direction of the arrow itself.

   He grunted in pain and warm blood immediately began oozing from the wound. Once again Feral dipped a cloth in the boiling water and cleaned the wound. The bleeding didn’t last very long and he wrapped it up in fresh bandages.

   Only the third arrow remained.

   Shouts from outside the castle began to reach Feral and he allowed himself to be distracted for a moment. It was a good idea, starting fires to distract the soldiers. He’d have to make sure to tell Skemm about it so she could properly praise Will for his part in all this…and he’d have to make sure Will was there to receive her praise.

   It wouldn’t take Will very long to fire off his arrows and return and Feral didn’t want Will to have to witness what he was about to do. Will had done well so far with the violence and gore he’d seen, and Feral liked to think it was at least in part to the training he’d given Will. But it was different when it was your allies who were being cut up and bleeding.

   With that thought he took a large carving knife from the counter and, wad of cloth still clenched in his teeth, began cutting his leg beside the arrow shaft. He had to go slowly and carefully, pulling back the skin and muscle of his thigh as he went to make sure he wasn’t cutting into any vital areas. Blood pooled in the wound quickly and he had to tilt his leg so it would run out and he could keep working. Great beads of sweat ran down his face and his hands wanted to shake as the pain and horror of cutting so much and so deep into his own flesh wore on him. A few times he felt as though he might faint but each time he was able to push through it all and keep himself focused on the task at hand.

   At last he felt the knife tip scratch against the metal of the arrowhead. Using the knife as a lever, he pressed open the wound until he could see it more clearly. The point of the arrowhead rested just to the side of the throbbing vein. If it had been just a hair to the one side, he would have no way of removing it without serious risk to his life. As it was, he was able to hold open the wound wide enough that he could lift the shaft out. He then wiped out the wound with yet another cloth that had been dipped in the boiling water. This wound was too wide for simple bandages to hold closed, though. He’d known that that would be a possibility and it was for that reason that he’d placed the iron poker deep into the fire.

   Withdrawing the iron poker, its tip glowed faintly red. He hoped it would be hot enough. He’d only ever done this on other people, and had let the poker sit in the fire for much longer. He didn’t have such luxuries as time, however, so he did what he could.

   As he pressed the pieces of his leg back together he ran the hot iron along the wound as well, melting the skin as he went. The melted skin on either side of the wound mixed and cooled quickly, resealing the wound as a result. The air was heavy with the stink of it, but it worked. It wasn’t the tidiest job he’d ever done either, but considering the circumstances he wasn’t about to complain. The muscle within his leg was still in tatters but he could now at least bind it properly without risking his muscle just spilling out of his leg.

   That done, Feral took a large drink of water and then sat back and focused on breathing, bringing his mind and body back into a calm state. Already his leg was feeling much better without the arrow shafts inside of them.

   The voices outside were becoming more frantic and he could smell the smoke from the fires now. With any luck the chaos would be enough to keep them all busy for quite some time. Now all he and Will had to do was deal with the soldiers inside. Some of them may be distracted by the fires outside, but it was unlikely to make much of an impact inside the castle.

   Fire was a wonderful distraction, nonetheless, and Feral had an idea for how they could still use it to their advantage inside the castle as well as outside. He rested a few minutes longer and then set to work. He gathered up the small crockery that was generally used for storing spices. They were like fat little bowls but had narrow necks. He poured out their contents and began filling them instead with oil from the remaining lamps in the kitchen. Once they were filled, Feral stuffed a strip of cloth into the mouth of the pot to block it up. In this way he was able to prepare a good dozen or so of the small pots. He laid them out on a tray along with a lit lamp in the middle.

   He left the tray in the kitchen and moved out into the hallway. Lord Fesser seemed to be fond of placing chairs and small tables along his hallways. Feral didn’t understand the thought behind such furnishings besides as a way of showing off wealth. Regardless, it wasn’t these chairs and small tables that Feral was after. Beside the kitchen was a smaller banquet hall and inside there was what Feral was after. Each banquet table was made up of a series of freestanding supports upon which was placed a long, wide, wooden board. To make storing those tables easier, the tops were not secured to the supports. Instead they had interlocking wooden blocks that held them to the supports while in use but allowed them to be lifted straight up and off when they needed to be stored away. This made for slightly unstable tables, but as long as everyone knew not to lean on the tables they worked fine.

   Feral picked up one of the table boards and held it up in front of himself. It was about as tall as he was, and perhaps a bit wider than his shoulders. The wood was solid but not so heavy that he couldn’t carry it on his own. The wooden blocks that normally attached to the supports made for decent grips as well and allowed him to carry it with one hand. Feral grabbed a second one and returned to the kitchen.

   Will joined him in the kitchen a moment later, his face flush with success.

   “They’ll be busy for a while!” Will exclaimed.

   “Good job,” Feral replied. “I’m just about ready here.”

   “You figure out your plan?” Will asked as he began looking over the tray of crockery.

   “I did,” Feral said brightly and he lifted up the table boards, one in each hand, as though they were shields. He brought them in front of himself until they formed a ‘V’. “I’ll go in front” Feral explained, “using these to shield us from any arrows while you light and throw those little fire pots. That should give us enough of a distraction that we can get out of the main hall and into some more defensible parts of the castle. Maybe then we can find General Jernagin.”

   “Okay,” Will said uncertainly. “But aren’t we trapped inside the castle?”

   “Yes, we are.”

   “And couldn’t the castle catch fire from the fire pots?”

   “That is kind of part of the plan.”

   “So we’re going to burn ourselves with the soldiers?”

   Will was certainly not liking Feral’s plan. For his part, Feral wasn’t sure he liked it all that much either but it was the best he’d been able to come up with.

   “The soldiers will stay and fight the fire,” Feral assured Will. “Most of the main hall is stone anyway and so won’t burn very easily. At most the fire will delay a good portion of the soldiers and buy us more time.”

   Will was still uneasy with the plan but didn’t argue further. Instead he slung his bow over his shoulder and picked up the tray.

   Feral looked down at Will, so willing to trust and follow him into what was obviously a terrible situation with, at best, a shaky plan, and felt a surge of pride and gratitude. He reminded Feral of when he was younger, and he wondered how things might have been different if his Master had been…well, had been different.

   “What?” Will asked. “Shouldn’t we be going?”

   “Yes,” Feral agreed, “We should. Stay close behind me, and once you’re out of pots, throw the lamp. Then feel free to start using your bow again.”

   The stairs weren’t far from the kitchens and together they descended the spiral stairs. To Feral’s disappointment and relief, the chairs and suits of armor he had thrown down earlier had not piled up against one another and were quite easy to step over and get passed. As they stepped out into the main hall Feral heard soldiers shout out in their surprise at seeing Feral’s rather large makeshift shields. Feral separated the two boards ever so slightly so he could see what was ahead of him.

   The archers were all backed up against the far wall near the entrance whereas the sword and spearmen were flanking along the side walls. A couple of arrows thudded into the table boards but the wood stopped them easily. Feral smiled as the remainder of the archers stood as though baffled by what they should do.

   “On our left,” Feral prompted Will who was preparing to throw his first fire pot.

   Will lit and threw the pot, sending it crashing against the wall where it shattered and rained down flaming oil. Without having a clear view of where exactly to throw Will hadn’t hit any of the soldiers. That didn’t matter, however, as the men who had been advancing halted immediately.

   “Another, slightly further forward,” Feral prompted.

   This time Will struck true and a good handful of men were showered with burning oil. Will could hear them now and didn’t need Feral’s guidance as he threw the third fire pot. This one landed right in the middle of a bunch of spearmen and their legs were coated in the burning oil. Meanwhile, Feral and Will advanced steadily up the room. Will threw a few fire pots in random directions from time to time to add to the uncertainty and chaos within the room and was occasionally rewarded by shouts of men as they were caught in a shower of burning oil.

   “Throw one straight ahead,” Feral told Will.

   “Last one,” Will said and he let it fly.

   Through the slit between the boards, Feral watched as the pot arched through the air. Most of the soldiers had fallen back to where the archers stood, but none of them seemed to know quite what to do. Several of the archers were poised, ready to loose their arrows, but didn’t have any decent target to aim for besides Feral’s table boards. Will’s last fire pot crashed down into the midst of the archers.

   Hemmed in on all sides by burning men and oil, the soldiers blocking the doorway finally broke and fell back, screaming as they swiped at the burning oil on them.

   “Hurry!” Feral cried out and he broke into an uneven jog towards the doorway, his left leg still reminding him of his injuries.

   As they reached the hallway beyond, Feral swung the table boards to either side of him. Arrows thudded into them, the archers having fallen back and then prepared to pepper him and Will as soon as they were out of the main hall. Men cursed on either side and Feral began side stepping towards the right and away from the direction he and Will had already been earlier that day.

   Without prompting, Will threw the lamp down the hallway to their left. It splashed oil all over the soldiers as well as the furniture and draperies that ornamented the hall. Everything in that direction was an inferno within a matter of moments. The soldiers who weren’t caught in the blaze fell back and retreated out of sight but now Feral and Will had a new problem. The fire was quickly spreading and they were going to be caught between the burning hallway on the left and the soldiers on the right.

   “CHARGE!” Feral shouted with as much guttural resonance as he could muster before rushing towards the soldiers. His left leg screamed in agony as he ran but he knew he couldn’t afford to show any weakness. He parted the table boards just enough to allow the soldiers to see his face as he ran them down, hoping to further intimidate them.

   Will took a moment to realize what Feral was doing but as soon as he caught on he sprinted to catch up. The soldiers held their ground, at first. Feral reached the first line of spearmen and, using the momentum of the table boards, bashed them to the ground. A few more arrows thudded into the wood and Feral closed the gap between them to ensure no luck shots made it through. He continued to surge forward. Every time he met resistance he would turn his weight towards whichever table board was being pushed against, and would pivot to bring the other table board around and smash whoever had gotten in his way.

   Pretty soon the soldiers had wised up and began pulling the tables and chairs into the middle of the hallway to slow Feral’s advance.

   After the third such barricade, Feral had to stop and rest. He could feel fresh blood running down his left leg and his arms were nearly spent from carrying the table boards for so long. The fire was still spreading but wasn’t immediately on their heels anymore. Will was clutching a stitch in his side but looked otherwise alright.

   “How much further?” Will asked with concern as Feral worked on refitting his bandages to stem the bleeding.

   “We passed another hallway back there,” Feral whispered. He doubted the soldiers were close enough to hear but he wanted to make sure. “We’re going to leave my shields here and sneak back to explore that way.”

   The table boards were wide enough that, if positioned correctly, could almost block the entire hallway. Feral shifted them carefully and then used some of the furniture to brace them in place. They weren’t the most stable, a couple of well fire arrows could probably knock them over, but they just needed to stay put long enough for them to get away. After that, any additional time spent distracting the soldiers was a bonus.

   “Alright,” Feral said after he’d done what he could with his bandages. “Stay low and move quickly.”

   Together they scurried back the way they’d come until they reached the other hall. The fire they’d started was growing closer and there didn’t seem to be anyone fighting it. Feral wondered if they’d been too successful with their initial attack in the main hall but he knew they didn’t have time to worry about that now. Either the soldiers would fight the fire or they wouldn’t. He and Will had to focus on causing chaos, not calming it, all while searching for General Jernagin. With any luck, they’d make it through to tomorrow and be able to welcome Skemm and Riven when they arrived.