THUNK. THUNK. THUNK.

  Crossbow bolts zipped past the pair as they leapt across the rooftops. It hadn’t taken the guards long to find them — impressive, given how dark it was now. The dart-like projectiles came thick and fast, but the tubheads still had to contend with the low visibility of night and the raw speed the boys were going.

  ‘Keeping moving!’ Roland shouted, urging Holsley on.

  ‘Where to!?’ Holsley shouted back from about ten feet behind. ‘This place is like a maze. A maze where you can see above the walls. Who designs a building like this!?’

  The Old Stone Keep was far from a traditional castle. At best, it could be described as five different castles nestled under a trench coat made of scaffolds. It seemed to change its architecture at the spur of the moment, leaping across cultures in the span of a few feet, but the basic form somehow managed to remain the same.

  The keep still had walkways and battlements, and there were towers of every kind of variety haphazardly placed between wall intersections. Where there were no walkways, battlements, or towers, there were either large gaps or tiled roofs, and it was across these mismatched rooftops that the pair now scurried.

  Roland reached the end of their current roof and abruptly stopped. The ground, as in the proper ground, was about one hundred and ten feet down — a sure death if they were to drop it. Fortunately, there was another rooftop below, which sat at the base of a series of solid-looking scaffolds that ran right up along the wall to where Roland now stood.

  ‘Fifty feet,’ Roland mumbled, calculating the distance to the next roof. Roland’s eyes ran the length of the rooftop to its next edge. Thirty feet, he guessed. If they wormed their way down the scaffolding and found a way off this next roof, they’d be sixty feet from the ground. ‘Better than nothing.’

  Holsley stumbled in, nearly knocking Roland off-balance. Roland quickly recovered himself. Another arrow thunked into the rooftop next to Holsley’s foot. The bard let out a yelp as if it had hit him.

  ‘Bet I can make it to the bottom first,’ Roland pointed down.

  The young bard peered down at the various wooden planks, ladders, and railways that made up the scaffolding. Another arrow thunked nearby.

  ‘I don’t know if I’d take that bet,’ he said warily. ‘You’re a pretty fast climber.’

  ‘I’m stuck with this,’ Roland replied, lifting his stone hand. ‘You’ve got the advantage here, Holly.’

  ‘Didn’t stop you from doing that backflip earlier?’ Holsley took another look down. ‘Alright, same bet as usual then?’

  ‘A single gold crown?’ Roland smiled. ‘First to reach the rooftop at the bottom of these scaffolds is the winner. No jumping.’

  ‘You’re on!’

  Roland playfully pushed Holsley aside and stepped onto the scaffolding. He didn’t even bother with the ladders. Instead, he climbed down on the outside of them by using the railings as footholds. Holsley came stumbling after, but the bard did make use of the ladders, taking the steps two at a time to keep up.

  ‘You’re falling behind, Holly!’ Roland shouted with a roar of laughter. ‘Do you want me to slow down for you?’

  ‘I’m giving you a head start,’ Holsley replied breathlessly. ‘And I’m being very generous with it.’

  Even with the stone hand he was nursing, Roland was clearly the fastest. Leaps and bounds ahead of the bard, who was still struggling to touch halfway down the scaffold structure when the rogue landed both feet on the lower rooftop.

  The young bard was disappointed, but he couldn’t say he was surprised by the results. Roland could’ve been missing both arms, and he’d still have no chance. In truth, the rogue would probably have been just as graceful. So, knowing this was inevitable, the bard simply smiled back at the rogue as he celebrated his victory.

  Roland’s joy didn’t last long, however.

  Clap. Clap. Clap.

  The boys turned their heads just in time to see eight tubheads clamber over the lower roof’s edge and approach with raised and loaded crossbows. The clapping was coming from none other than that over-bloated tubhead Kythos Ravenpeak.

  The smirking Kythos stepped towards Roland, and in addition to the two-handed mace he was hefting over his shoulder, he also came loaded with a smug grin and a proud chin. ‘You really thought you could escape that easily?’

  ‘It wouldn’t have been surprising.’ Roland drew the rapier from within his belt and levelled it towards Kythos. ‘Let me guess. You’ll let me go if I tell you something about something. Otherwise, you’ll kill me, right?’

  There was a click above Holsley’s head.

  When the bard looked up, he saw, to his dismay, that there were more tubheads trained at the top of the scaffolding. Through the gaps in the planks, he could see them with their crossbows dutifully aiming down.

  They’d walked right into a trap.

  ‘Oh, I think you’ve got that a little wrong, Roland,’ grunted Kythos before pointing his mace up towards the scaffolds. ‘Besides, I don’t want to kill you. I don’t even want to kill him. I’ve been contemplating a solution to a little pest problem I’ve been having as of late, and I wonder what would happen if I took both of you alive. How long could you stand his screams before you started spilling your secrets?’

  ‘You leave him alone!’ Roland warned. ‘He’s got nothing to do with this!’

  Kythos smiled. ‘Now we’re getting somewhere.’

  Roland, suddenly furious, dove into action against a prepared Kythos. The tiefling brought up his mace and deflected the brunt of the rapier. He returned with a brunt of his own. The two-handed weapon came around with a crash of thunder and would have knocked the consciousness clear out of Roland’s head if the rogue hadn’t been so quick to dodge back from it.

  Roland ducked under the charge with his own retort. His rapier gently cut the air, as it would in any trained professional’s hand, and went in for a slice of the tiefling. Kythos brought his left pauldron down, sending the blade bouncing off his steel armour, and barged into Roland, sending him backwards.

  Kythos straightened and turned his head towards his minions. ‘Leave Darrow to me. Just focus on taking the bard.’

  The line of tubheads behind Kythos shifted their crossbows upwards, aiming at the scaffolding behind Roland. He was helpless to stop the barrage of bolts that followed the clicks of their triggers. He listened carefully as he kept Kythos at bay. Pangs hit the stone wall and the wood of the scaffolding, but thankfully, there were no screams of pain.

  Roland doubled down on his next attack, pushing forward with the rapier as he went on the offensive. To his credit, Kythos was a skilled combatant. Roland would sweep scratches into his armour, but the tiefling would never let him find a weakness.

  After the latest volley of rapier slices, Kythos found an opening and used it to bring the base of his weapon into Roland’s chest. The attack forced Roland back. He rolled end over end but managed to right himself quickly. It had knocked some of the wind out of the rogue but hadn’t weakened his resolve.

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  ‘You shouldn’t have come back.’

  ***

  Holsley had avoided the first volley of bolts with a bout of pure luck.

  Upon hearing Kythos’s command, he had thrown himself against the floor and used the redrose lute as a shield. Out of the eight or ten arrows that sunk into the scaffolding around him, only one would have found his head, and it had deflected harmlessly off the lute.

  He knew that, eventually, his luck would run out, and he needed a better plan.

  The tubheads above him didn’t step on the scaffolding, and Holsley understood why. The young bard had been set up as target practice. The only role those tubheads served was to ensure he couldn’t escape by going up and over. They wanted him trapped, knowing an arrow would eventually find its mark.

  Holsley thought on his predicament.

  If he ran up, the tubheads would bash his head in. If he ran down, he’d be an easier target to hit. If he stayed where he was, a lucky bolt would eventually find him and either end his life or cause him excruciating pain. There were very few good options. If Kythos had planned this ambush, then he reluctantly had to admit it was good.

  There wasn’t even a window to escape through. The wall the scaffolding was pressed against was blank.

  Drawing the only weapon he had, Holsley stood and ran as another volley assailed him. None hit. With lute now in hand, he ran through his options. He could charm a guard, which wasn’t impossible, and looking at the circles on his finger, he had…Holsley stopped. He missed a breath. No, wait, he didn’t have any spells left.

  ‘Damn it!’ he said loudly.

  He’d spent his last spell speaking with the cat still slung over Roland’s shoulders.

  ‘Ouch!’

  Holsley reflexively grabbed his arm. A bolt had skimmed it. The point hadn’t dug in, but it had left a tear in his shirt and a sizeable scratch as it had passed by. He ducked just in time to dodge another volley, which bounced off the stone wall. He held his hand fast against the blood that was beginning to pour from the wound.

  This wasn’t good.

  ***

  Swerving the swings of the giant mace was the easy part. Roland could do that all day. Finding a chink in the warden’s armour, though, now that was tricky.

  He lunged with his rapier, biting at the metal scraps covering Kythos’s body, but once again, it never quite found the right spot to land a strike. The only bit of Kythos that was exposed was the tiefling’s head, which was a difficult thing to hit when Kythos threw himself into every one of Roland’s attacks.

  Gradually, the rogue was being forced towards the scaffolding. Each bout came with a loss of about half a foot of tiled roof. Roland batted back at Kythos but didn’t gain any ground. Short of throwing himself off the roof, Roland didn’t have many ideas either. They needed to get past the tubheads, but with these odds, he doubted it.

  Short of throwing himself off the roof.

  An idea occurred to him — how far was it again to the ground?

  Kythos threw another mighty strike his way.

  Acting in the moment, Roland brought up the flat of his rapier, forcing his stone hand behind the length of its steel. The mace struck this makeshift bar, ringing the rapier like a bell and causing the rogue’s hand to vibrate painfully.

  Roland withstood the pain through clenched teeth, but the manoeuvre had bought him what he needed. The tiefling was sent reeling backwards. The risky trick would provide a single second of distraction, just enough for Roland to do something reckless.

  The rogue jumped back.

  The mace rumbled forward, seeking the side of his head, and Roland dodged it by ducking low and rolling to the side. Kythos had recovered quickly. This adroit dodge, however, came with an unintended consequence. The bludgeoning device missed Roland and instead hit the scaffolding. Hit it hard. One of the wooden beams that held up the construction bent at the attack, sending a shudder across its body.

  ***

  Holsley was midway through dashing towards the next ladder down when he felt the entire structure shake. The bard fell backwards, tripping over his clumsy feet, and the lute spun out of his hands and across the wooden plank.

  ***

  Kythos received a kick to the head that threw him back.

  ‘You little bastard!’ He barked, grabbing his now bent and bleeding nose.

  Roland jumped onto the scaffolding and started climbing. Unfortunately for everyone on the roof, including himself and Holsley, the rogue had just come up with potentially the worst idea of his criminal career.

  He quickly examined the structure and discovered something quite important. The scaffolding was secured to the old keep by way of rope bolted into the stonework behind it. Three single bits of rope held the scaffolding at the bottom, middle, and top. That’s all that kept the structure secure.

  Roland clambered up as Kythos swore vengeance and screeched for his men to open fire. He didn’t stop until he found Holsley, who was scrambling about on the floor in an attempt to get his lute. Roland put out a foot to stop the instrument in its tracks and handed it back to the bard.

  A bolt thunked into the railing beside Roland’s hand.

  ‘I have an idea,’ said Roland. ‘You’re not going to like it.’

  ‘What are we going to do?’

  Roland hopped over the railing and ducked down low.

  ‘CRAP!’ he shouted out in pain as one bolt in the next volley of arrows found its way into his shoulder. He could feel it was buried deep, too, meaning he would have to leave it in. Fortunately, he could still use his arm, and double fortunately, it had missed the still unconscious cat.

  ‘Climb up and wait.’ Roland took out the dagger Merhim had given him back in the pub. He found the length of rope on this level and quickly cut it. The middle rope was gone. The rogue didn’t stick around to explain his plan. Instead, he was up and out of sight before Holsley could realise it.

  Holsley didn’t know what he was up to but knew he could count on him. So, the young bard ascended the ladders, rushing as fast as he could to reach the top of the scaffolding and only occasionally slipping as he did so.

  Roland let out another yell as a bolt bit into his upper thigh. This didn’t stop him, and he continued climbing despite the injury. Eventually, he made his way to the top, just under the sight of the tubheads standing above.

  None of them had seen him, and another cunning idea had come to mind.

  ‘Holly!’ he yelled at the top of his voice. ‘Get up here! Quick!’

  The rogue wasn’t sure if the bard had heard him, but he was sure the tubheads had. They stepped onto the decking just above his head. Clearly, they couldn’t resist the opportunity to take Roland for themselves.

  Too bad for them.

  Taking the dagger again, Roland cut the rope that secured the top of the scaffolding, leaving only the bottom rope still in place. The scaffolding didn’t move, not even a wobble, so Roland had to help it along. Wedging himself between the wooden plank and the stone wall, he pushed the scaffold away with his legs.

  The entire structure lurched as it came away from the wall as if unstuck, but it didn’t fully leave yet. Instead, it trembled, hesitating to fall either way.

  A rumble above him told him that the unsuspecting tubheads had fallen for his ploy, which had caused each of them to stumble and fall back. He heard them grunt as they hit the roof or the plank above him.

  ‘Get away!’ one called, and he heard the others retreat from the scaffolding. They couldn’t get the pair now and wouldn’t dare either.

  ‘You okay, Holly?’ Roland shouted down towards Holsley.

  ‘This is the worst idea in the history of ideas!’ Holsley shouted back at him. The young bard had finally figured out what Roland was up to, and he didn’t like it one bit but had still managed to reach the next plank down.

  ‘I know,’ Roland shouted back. ‘Hold onto something, quick!’

  ‘Wait!’ Holsley urged, but Roland was beyond reason.

  With a grunt, the rogue pushed off the wall with all his might, forcing the scaffold structure to do more than simply sway. It unbalanced itself, tipping towards gravity, and began to slowly fall as the cut pieces of rope unravelled themselves from around it.

  It was heading for the lower roof.

  Holsley braced himself.

  He put the redrose lute about his shoulders and tightly clutched one of the wooden beams, wrapping his arms and legs around it. Then, he closed his eyes. The scaffolding was falling towards where Kythos and his crossbow-wielding thugs were. Since the scaffolding and both Roland and Holsley were higher than the lower rooftop’s length, he guessed that one of three things was about to happen.

  The first was that the scaffolding would simply shatter when it hit the lower rooftop, and the pair would be sent to a premature death. The second, and maybe worse, was that it wouldn’t shatter, and they would be left dangling over their premature deaths instead, completely at the mercy of anyone who had managed to keep a hold of their crossbow. Third, and equally as bad, was that the scaffolding would go completely over the roof, and they’d be sent to a premature death.

  Holsey didn’t need to wonder for long — it was the second one.

  Gravity changed in the moment the scaffolding lost its footing and went over. The bottom rope, still securing it, became devilishly taught and prevented the structure from going completely over when it hit the lower rooftop. Unfortunately for Kythos and his thugs, it didn’t prevent the structure from hitting them.

  With a crash, the secured scaffold came down on top of the tubheads and crushed them. Some went bounding for cover, but there was none, and they were stuck on a tiny roof with nowhere to go. All they could do was watch as this thing piled on top of them.

  Holsley and Roland were forced to change their positions in accordance with gravity’s new policy. They grabbed the wooden beams hard, clutching at them for dear life. When it was all over, they were left dangling over a perilous drop of almost certain death. Roland was secured by a single hand, whose knuckles had gone white from the grip, while Holsley had secured himself with two.

  Roland let out a maniacal laugh.

  ‘That’s one gold crown you owe me, by the way,’ he said. ‘I’ll get it from you later.’

  ‘Hate to change the topic,’ replied Holsley, looking down at the flagstones patiently awaiting their arrival. ‘What now?’

  ‘I’ll be honest,’ said Roland. ‘I didn’t think that far ahead.’

  ‘AHHHH!? WHAT IN THE NAME OF GOOD IS HAPPENING!?’

  ‘Oh,’ Holsley said, spying a frantic furry head over Roland’s shoulder. ‘The cat’s awake.’