Having secured the doors, Argyle climbed back up the ladder to the space above them. Echoing down the hall came the unmistakable sound of the spear-trap going off: clack-clack shooop clang. Argyle smiled, that'll teach 'em. Then he climbed the rest of the way up the ladder, found his straw pallet, took a swig of his 'tincture' (a mixture of his own making), and went back to bed.
His acolytes rushed to the end of the gatehouse and tried to peer down the sloping hall, but the slope made it impossible to see what was going on. They were afraid to leave the gatehouse (where they had been posted) because the consequences could be severe. After listening to a cry, a crash, and some muffled voices, (none of which they could clearly make out), they returned to their duties, shaking their heads.
* * *
Terrus finished clearing the spears, with Kelley piling them off to the side, as Lorenn put Torbin in the back of the wagon, and tightly bandaged his wound. With a good tight bandage, Torbin felt he could put weight on the leg, but they covered it with a blanket so as not to be obvious on possible future inspection.
"We need to get moving" suggested Lorenn, as serious as anyone had seen him, "They can't possibly have not noticed that."
SnorLoska jumped back up in the driver seat, clucked at the horses, and drove the wagon past the skull-carvings, around the corner, and began to descend down another ramp-hall.
* * *
Siobhan had intended to check on the prisoner when she had heard noise up the gate-ramp. She knew that a wagon of mercenaries were supposed to arrive by nightfall, but she was a stickler for discipline, and she knew anyone approaching by that way should know how to disarm the spear-faces. She immediately gathered a small group of cultists she trusted, and returned to the entry-hall to see what would arrive...