Goated Refresh Party

I sprint ahead along the marked stones, find the next patch of high, firm ground, and wave the others through. ‘Bramble, last one up. Keep Ilex moving—no stops in the runoff.’

I give the failing storm board one last shove with my shield, then let it go and retreat up Mira’s marked safe stones before the water cuts me off. I catch up to the others with my shield toward the flooded shrine. ‘Everyone’s clear—keep Ilex moving uphill. No one goes back for the board.’

Mira tests the uphill stones with her dagger. The first bend is firm; beyond it, runoff has eaten a handspan from the outer edge. She marks the safe side with a strip of cloth and waves the keeper through. The keeper and Fable carry Ilex past the bend; Neri follows with empty hands in sight. 'They're high!' Mira calls. Below, another blow travels through the flooded cut. Bramble's shield catches the storm board as its lower wedge jumps loose. Water spills across the shrine floor, but the marked path back to Mira is still open. Bramble can fall back now; holding the board longer will only cost him ground.

I slip ahead up the shrine path, checking the next few steps for washouts or tripwires, then wave the keeper and Fable through with Ilex. ‘Clear trail. Move now—Bramble, I’ll call when they’re high.’

I plant my shield flat against the shuddering storm board and set my shoulder behind it for the next impact. ‘Keeper, take Ilex and everyone uphill now. Mira, clear their path—I’ll hold this line until you’re safe.’

Bramble's second wedge bites. The leak thins to a cold thread, but each rush from the cut makes the board shudder against his shield. Neri keeps both hands open. 'The blow sounded beyond the gate, on the side away from the wheel. I did not touch the chain. I heard it jerk before I reached the sluice; I saw no one else there.' Neri glances toward the darkening path. 'That is what I heard, not what made it.' The keeper sets a basin under the remaining drip. Another impact rolls faintly through the flooded cut. The board holds this one; the next is coming.

I leave Bramble to brace the seam and face Neri, watching their hands. ‘Which side of the gate took the blow? Did you touch the chain or see anyone else at the sluice?’

I take the keeper’s second wedge and drive it into the storm board’s leaking lower seam, bracing the timber with my shield while keeping Neri in view. ‘Hold, old door. Mira, watch the cut.’

Mira scrapes the last grit from the channel. The storm board drops into place with a solid wooden knock, and her wedge holds as the first sheet of runoff strikes it. Water still beads through the lower seam: the shrine is dry for now, not safe for the night. Bramble stands shield-side of Ilex, keeping Neri and the traveler's open hands in view. From the cut comes one distant metallic jolt, then only rushing water. The keeper reaches for a second wedge. They can shore up the seam now, or use this brief shelter to press Neri about the sluice.

I help the keeper set the storm board, checking its channel for grit before sliding it home and wedging the bottom tight. ‘Bramble, eyes on Neri. I’ll keep the water out.’

I set my shield by Ilex and hold Neri in sight, well clear of the body. ‘Mira, help the keeper bar that door. Neri, stay where I can see your hands.’ I stand ready at the threshold while they fix the storm board before the flood reaches us.

The traveler steps into the lantern light and pushes back a wet hood. Their hands are empty. Mira sees a small sheathed work knife at the belt, but no metal token in sight. 'Neri,' they say. 'I followed the rising water to the sluice. The chain jerked; then something struck the far side of that gate. I never saw what.' Their name and account are unverified. From outside comes the sound of water running over the shrine path. The keeper reaches for the storm board: 'If that cut spills across the threshold, help me set this now.' Bramble can keep Neri in view while Mira helps board the door, or they can press Neri for more before the path floods.

I slip beside the keeper as Bramble brings our guest inside. Lantern light on their hands and face, I watch for weapons or a token, then ask quietly: ‘Name first. What were you doing at that gate?’

I plant my shield beside the shrine door and tell the keeper, ‘Aye, they came with us. Let them in before the cut floods.’ I usher the cloaked bearer inside, keeping myself between them and Ilex’s body, then ask in the lantern light: ‘Show us your face, friend. What do you know of the gate and the rising water?’

Mira spots the marked wire in the fading light and takes the cloaked bearer around its safe side without disturbing it. Bramble follows with his shield toward the flooded hatch; no one pursues them through the cut. They reach the crossroads shrine before dark. The shrine-keeper opens the door to Mira and Bramble; inside, Fable and the infirmarian remain with Ilex's body. The bearer stops on the threshold, lantern held low, still refusing to show a face. Behind them, water begins to trickle into the mouth of the drainage cut. The keeper asks, ‘Is this traveler with you?’ The party can bring the bearer into the light and ask what they know, or question them outside while the route they came by slowly floods.

I scout the dry cut ahead, spot our marked wire, and guide the cloaked bearer around it without touching it. I keep us moving to the shrine before dark, with Bramble guarding our backs. No detours.

I point Mira and the lantern bearer down the dry cut. ‘Mind the marked wire—same safe side as before. To the shrine, now.’ Shield raised toward the flooded hatch, I take rear guard, shepherd them around the wire without touching it, and hurry to Ilex and Fable before dusk.

Mira finds the solid left edge beneath the water and guides the lantern bearer past the loose third tread. Bramble backs down after them, shield toward the upper gate. The stop-bar takes one more blow and holds; a fresh scrape follows from the far side, but nothing comes through. They reach the uphill hatch while the stair behind them disappears under the rising stream. The bearer gets through with the lantern, still cloaked and unnamed. The route back to the gate is now unsafe. At the hatch mouth, the bearer points toward the dry drainage cut: “If we are going to the shrine, go now.” Beyond the hatch, the marked wire still lies in their path and dusk is gathering.

I give the scored gate one last wary glance, then slip down the marked solid edge ahead of the lantern bearer. I test each wet step, guide them toward the hatch, and keep our escape route clear while Bramble covers the rear. No touching the bar.

I plant my shield toward the groaning gate and call, ‘Bar holds, but the stair is flooding. We leave now.’ I send Mira and the lantern bearer down the marked solid edge first, keep myself between them and the gate, then follow as rear guard toward the hatch and the others at the shrine. I do not touch the scored stop-bar.

Bramble reaches the upper landing behind Mira, shield up; the bearer stays back as ordered. At the gate’s left seam, Mira hears a scrape, then a hard tap in time with the water surging below. The stop-bar is seated, but fresh bright scoring rings its socket: something on the far side is pressing it, releasing, and pressing again. She sees no wire or trigger at the near threshold, though she cannot see beyond the gate. A thin stream now crosses the lowest safe stair. The bar holds for the moment. They can brace it, risk a closer look through the seam, question the bearer, or take the marked route back before the water reaches it.

I slip along the gate’s left wall, out of the lanternlight, and listen at the seam while I inspect the stop-bar and threshold for traps or movement. I touch nothing yet; one hand points Bramble back to our marked escape stair.

I follow Mira up the stair, keeping to the solid left edge of the loose third tread. I put myself between the bearer and the upper gate, shield raised, and stop just short of its stop-bar to inspect what is striking it before anyone touches it. ‘Mira, watch our way back. Bearer, stay behind me.’

Bramble locks the pin and gives the chain a careful tug. The lower catch holds. Mira takes the stair first: the third tread shifts under her testing foot, but she finds solid stone along its left edge and marks it for Bramble. The bearer follows, lantern shaking. “I don’t know what struck it,” they say. “That sound came from beyond the upper gate. Its stop-bar should be fixed.” Water laps one step higher below them. Then the metal knocks again—closer, or louder. The stair remains passable for now. Mira can lead them up to the gate, or they can retreat through the hatch while Bramble still holds a dry route.

I slip up the stair ahead of Bramble, testing each step for a wire or loose stone and keeping the dry route in sight. Over my shoulder: ‘Bearer, what made that knock? Keep moving.’

I keep the lower catch steady and seat the release pin firmly in its locked position, then give the chain one careful tug to be sure it holds. ‘Mira, take the stair before the water does. Stranger, come with us and tell me what made that knock.’ I stay between them and the open hatch.

Mira feels the release pin give a quarter turn. The pawl lifts clear of the bent tooth; the chain settles onto the lower catch Bramble is holding, without slipping. A narrow trickle runs into a side trough, but water still presses up the stair. From deeper beyond the open hatch comes one hard metallic knock. The cloaked bearer flinches and says, ‘That wasn't the wheel.’ With the load off the damaged tooth for now, Bramble and Mira can secure the pin, ask the bearer what made that sound, or get out before the rising water cuts off the stair.

I brace beside Bramble, check which way the release pin turns, then twist it steadily with my thieves’ tools while he holds the lower catch. I watch the pawl and chain; if either slips, I stop at once. ‘Easy. Let the load come off the tooth.’

I plant my boots, lock both hands on the lower catch, and bear its weight so the damaged tooth cannot slip. ‘Mira, turn the release pin now. Stranger, hands in sight—and step back from the wheel.’ I hold firm until the strain comes off the chain.

The lower catch bites with a hard click. Mira's careful tug draws the chain taut; it holds even as Bramble eases his shoulder a fraction. The wheel stops lurching, but the bent tooth and Mira's wedge are still taking strain, and water keeps pushing at the stair. The cloaked bearer leaves both hands in sight. 'There's a release pin above the wheel,' they say. 'It will take the load off that tooth, but someone must hold the catch while it's turned.' The hatch remains open behind Bramble. They can secure the release together, question the bearer while the catch holds, or retreat before the rising water steals the choice.

I keep my wedge and thieves’ tools pressed against the slipping pawl while Bramble seats the lower catch. I watch for the catch to bite, then give the chain a careful tug to test the lock before anyone eases tension. My eyes stay on the bearer’s hands. ‘Hold still. We’ll talk when this holds.’

I keep the chain taut with my shield and shoulder, then reach beneath the wheel and drive the second catch firmly home. Only when it locks do I ease my pull a finger's width. "Mira, watch the pawl. Stranger, keep those hands where we can see them."

Mira finds the trouble: a bent tooth has the pawl skating off the wheel each time the chain jerks. Her wedge bites, and Bramble's steady pull holds the chain for now. Water still climbs the stair, a finger's width at a time. The cloaked bearer points to a second catch under the wheel. 'Lock that one before you ease the chain,' they say, keeping their other hand visible. 'Then ask me anything.' The wedge buys a moment, not a repair; Mira and Bramble can secure the lower catch or press the bearer while the water rises.

I keep the cloaked bearer in the corner of my eye and crouch by the slipping wheel. With my thieves’ tools, I probe the teeth and chain for the jam, then wedge the pawl into its catch while Bramble holds tension. ‘Point to the catch. Now.’

I climb onto firm stone, seize the wet chain, and haul it taut against the slipping wheel, bracing it with my shield to keep the sluice from giving way. "Mira, keep eyes on our stranger. Where is the catch?"

Bramble's axe haft catches the hatch before the bolt seats. Water shoulders at his boots, but the opening holds. Mira slips past the cloaked bearer and takes the upper landing, blade low, blocking the path out. The stranger freezes, shutters the lantern, and raises an empty hand. 'No one sent me down. The sluice chain's caught. If it lets go, this channel floods.' Beside Mira, a wet chain jerks against a wheel set into the stone; she can see its teeth are slipping, but not why. The bearer has not shown a face or token. Bramble can get clear through the wedged hatch now; Mira can keep the stranger in sight while they decide whether to question them or secure the wheel. The water is already climbing.

I dart up the rungs while Bramble holds the hatch, slip past the cloaked bearer, and plant myself at the top to cut off their escape. Blade low, I say, "Easy. Who sent you down there?" I watch their hands and lantern, ready to duck rather than strike first.

I duck past the marked wire and drive after Mira through the grate. Shield first, I shoulder into the stone hatch before its bolt seats, wedging it open with my axe haft. "Mira, stay behind me!" I hold the way clear against the rising water and the cloaked stranger, without striking until we know who they are.

Bramble lifts the loose grate bar and holds it above the marked wire. Mira slips beneath it without touching the trap. The culvert opens just enough for her to see a shuttered lantern ahead: someone in a dark, rain-stiff cloak is climbing the iron rungs toward the uphill stone hatch. She cannot see a face or any token. Mira gives Bramble the agreed signal. Above them, the hatch bolt begins to scrape shut; water is rising around Bramble's boots. They have a breath to follow the bearer, stop the bolt, or fall back together. The abbey connection remains unproven.

I slip under the bar Bramble holds, ducking the tripwire. I follow the lantern click through the culvert in silence, keeping to the shadows; if I spot its bearer, I signal Bramble before closing in.

I mark the ankle-high wire for Mira, then plant my shield over us and wrench the loose lower bar up. "Through the grate—stay behind my shield till you are clear." I hold it steady for her, keeping my eyes on the shuttered lantern and my body between her and the unseen bearer.

Mira's hand catches Bramble's shield before either boot finds the wire: a thin cord runs ankle-high across the drainage cut. Beyond it, the oil trace ends at a low culvert grate. A shuttered lantern clicks once on the far side; someone is moving away, unseen. The grate has a loose lower bar, wide enough for Mira to squeeze through if Bramble holds it, while the cut continues uphill toward a stone hatch. Water begins to trickle down the channel, stirring the heel print. Follow the sound through the grate, take the hatch, or pull back to the barred shrine—but choose before the trail washes out.

I slip into the drainage cut beside Bramble, staying low while his shield covers the path. I follow the fresh heel scuff and lamp-oil trace, scanning ahead for a shuttered lantern, tripwires, or a hidden turn; if I spot movement, I signal him before closing in.

I ask the keeper to bar the shrine and Fable to stay with Ilex and the infirmarian. Then I join Mira at the fork, shield raised. We follow the fresh heel scuff down the drainage cut together, keeping close enough to cover each other and watching for the shuttered lantern.

Mira finds a fresh narrow bootprint at the fork, its heel scuff turning off the abbey road into a shallow drainage cut. A drop of lamp oil darkens the stone there; the lantern was likely shuttered, but she sees no bearer and cannot tell whose boot it was. She signals the route to Bramble rather than following alone. At the shrine, Bramble's challenge brings no answer from the dark. Behind his shield, the infirmarian finishes beneath Ilex's collar: no second wound, no hidden token. She folds the brass shaving into her case. 'I can compare this with the abbey's fittings and ledger, not name its owner tonight.' The last road bell sounds. The cut is still trackable now; by dawn its loose gravel may tell them nothing. Bramble can escort the infirmarian and secure Ilex, or he and Mira can follow the cut together while the keeper bars the shrine.

I slip through the shrine’s side shadow while Bramble holds the door. At the fork I crouch low, check the gravel for fresh tracks and the vanished lantern, then signal what I find back to Bramble without chasing anyone blind.

I set my shield between the shrine door and the infirmarian, boots braced on the threshold. 'Finish your examination. Mira, watch the fork and tell me what moves; I will hold this door.' I listen for the gravel step and challenge anyone approaching before they cross into the shrine.

The infirmarian follows the wound Bramble describes, then checks the gear where Mira points. She lifts a fine brass shaving from a torn cloak seam and folds it into paper. 'The fatal cut fits a heavy blade. This dust says his cloak brushed brass; it cannot tell me who, if anyone, touched him afterward. I see no second wound, and I won't promise a way to bring him back.' She asks the keeper to hold the screen steady while she checks beneath the collar. Outside, a lantern moves along the abbey road, then vanishes at the fork. The keeper hears gravel shift beyond the shrine door. Bramble can keep watch while Mira looks, or they can let the infirmarian finish undisturbed; the night will not hold still for both.

I crouch beside the infirmarian, keeping the shrine door in the corner of my eye. 'The Iron Sentry struck Ilex down among the humming machines. We carried him here; the keeper screened him. I saw no one alter him after that, but I won't claim what I couldn't watch. Check his wounds and gear for brass dust or a mark from the machine—I'll show you exactly where we lifted him.'

I lower my shield and answer the infirmarian plainly. ‘Ilex fell while we fought the Iron Sentry among the ruin’s humming machines. We carried him out to this shrine; the keeper confirmed he was dead and kept him screened here. I know of no other alteration to his body, and I will not guess at what I did not see. Please examine him now. Mira, help me recall any detail I missed.’ I stand guard at the screen while she works.