star cross'd (pt.3)

I pushed my light craft into the spooling black waters and felt the feather-touch of a snowflake on my cheek. In the mad passion of the moment I had neglected to notice the slow winter flurry that already caressed the high towers of Sparrowsgate and the ominous battlements of Layman's Chateau.

The water was black and thick -cold almost to the freezing point- and the light canoe barely scratched the surface. I had chosen the time of my travel carefully, for only in those hours shortly before the river changes fully to ice is its surface traversible by boat. A boreal wind came to my aid, pushing me across the broad and inky Muscatine, closer -ever closer- towards the towering moss-clung walls of the Chalkback Bluffs. Just below the surface of the river I could see the ridged backs of Muscatine eels as they carved through the water.

In my time of preparation I had carefully mapped out the exact locations of each rocky shallow and every stone outcropping. These I navigated by memory, my eyes closed to better read the map, the map I had spent many nights engraving in my mind.
Soon I could see the grate that covered the only unguarded entrance to the heart of the Chateau D'Voleur Couer. At one time it had been a natural cavern but since had been converted into drainage tunnel, collecting the runoff from the gargoyles and rain channels of the castle-keep.

At last I reached my first objective. Clinging to the snow-slick rocks of the bluff I gave a silent prayer of thanks to God and, drawing my sword, cut a fatal gash into the bow of the canoe. It sank silently and gratefully into the thickening waters of the Muscatine. My next obstacle was the stone grate that protected the tunnel.