The Crusader's Crown (Tales of the Brotherhood Series Book 1) by James Mercer (ink ebook reader txt) 📗

realised the obstacle was too dangerous to risk. By its appearance it was either going to break away or he would likely fall to his death trying to climb over it. He then thought of Jimmy who was following him up. He needed to make a detour now or his friend may well waste his energy following Robert when he could navigate an easier route.

  He started to slowly shift to the right of the large rock ledge. Suddenly the small footing in which he had depended on began to break away. Using all his strength in both his left arm and leg to hold himself in place, he quickly drew his Brotherhood dagger and jammed it deep into a small fissure between the rocks. His heart was beating so fast he thought he was in the middle of his first battle again. Slowing his breathing, he began to look for another foothold for his right foot. The angle of the moon and the shadow of his body prevented any chance of being able to see any type of purchase. His only option was to gently shuffle his foot amongst the uneven rock spaces.

  After a few minutes and still no luck, he started to look for an alternative. Looking up he saw a foot or so above him was a small ledge, just large enough to place his hand. Taking a deep breath he carried out the manoeuvre he would have to do over again and again. Lifting off with his left foot and pulling himself up with his right arm, relying on his Italian blade to hold his weight, he was able to grab a hold of the ledge above. For a few seconds he was hanging by his hands until he managed to pull himself up and his feet made contact again. He steadied himself and slowly prised his blade free.

  Repeating the process, in what seemed like another hour, which was only actually twenty minutes, he made it to the summit. Saying a quick prayer of thanks he looked across to see that Jurgen had just reached the summit as well. He too was saying something in his native language which could only have been some sort of thanks to whichever god would listen to a rogue like him.

  Without another thought he unwrapped the short length of rope that was bound over his shoulder and across his chest. Stepping over to Jurgen he saw that his friend was doing the same.

   “Who’s closer?” asked Jurgen.

  Robert quickly peaked over the edge. The sight was even more terrifying when looking down.

   “Cherik by a couple of feet.”

   “Then let’s get him up so we can deal with Jimmy.”

  Tying the two pieces of rope together, the two of them lowered it down to Cherik. They felt two tugs on the rope, indicating that the warrior was about to put his full weight on the rope. Prepared, the two of them held firm until a hand appeared over the edge of the cliffside.

   “Help him, don’t worry I’ve got the weight.”

   “What? This fat bastard … the extra exercise would do ‘im good,” grunted Jurgen as he pulled his brother up onto the flat plateau.

  Cherik breathed heavily for a moment, saying nothing.

   “Come on man, give us your rope, we have to get the others,” whispered Jurgen.

   “Yes, I’m fine, thanks for asking,” snapped Cherik, unwrapping his length of the rope.

  The three of them soon had Jimmy up to join them and then as quickly as possible, with the additional lengths of rope, Athaelstan and Ridley. The six of them crawled from the cliff edge, their hearts thumping and their breath racing.

   “Never again. Never fuckin’ again,” said Jimmy quietly, as he started to regain his breath.

   “I second that,” answered Ridley. “Give me a shield wall with overwhelming odds any day.”

   “’As anyone got any water? My water skin tore on the climb,” asked Jimmy.

  Athaelstan leaned forward and passed him his water skin.

   “You sure Athaelstan, there’s only a drop left?”

   “Then we better get over this wall and refill it,” he replied.

   “Now you’re talking,” whispered Cherik. “Dearest brother. If you’d be so kind?”

  Handing the rope to Jurgen, his brother tied the rope to his pickaxe. Once attached securely, he started to swing the rope in a wide loop, the weight of the pickaxe giving it perfect momentum. As he let it go the pickaxe and rope flew over the wall. When he started to pull it back it caught on something for a moment but when he tugged harder it came away and ended up thumping back down on their side of the wall.

He swore quietly, but tried again.

  After two more attempts, Jurgen succeeded. The axe had found something to hitch on to and was secure.

   “Fancy doing the honours?” Jurgen whispered to his brother.

   “No. I’ll go first. Don’t follow me up until I give the word,” ordered Robert.

  As he scaled the town wall he could tell that it was in poor condition. Just a few strikes with a ram or a single shot with a trebuchet and the wall would likely collapse. He neared the top and could feel the pickaxe shift a little. To relieve the full burden of his weight, he grabbed hold of the top of the wall and slowly pulled himself up. He eased his body over and gently placed his feet on the thin parapet.

  He crouched in the shadow listening for any sign of movement. There was nothing nearby but in the distance he could hear scraping and sharp bursts of metal striking stone. Securing the axe, so it would not shift again, he leaned over the wall to summon his comrades.

Once they were gathered on top of the wall’s