The castle floated above them, wisps of white cloud streamed from the battlements, and standards wiped in the wind. Amidst the bright silver flashes of iron, there was the sudden gold of a horn’s bell catching the light as it was lifted in to view. Three long and mournful blasts followed.
Ethelred laughed, “It seems, sirs, that we are to rally to them. Hmmm, their position while very defensible would leave us trapped. Herald, sound the retreat!”
“Lord,” the Chancellor said, “while I appreciate the humour, what are we to do with them?”
“That is our largest problem Chancellor? Not that the keep is flying? Not that a whole mountain went missing, and not even that the edge of this pit is both inexplicably hard and sharp?”
“My king, these are indeed mysteries, but those soldiers will die without rescue.”
“True enough, Chancellor. Have you any ideas?”
“Does the keep move, Albert?”
“Nay lord, it only appears to from the sun’s wheel, and the movement of the clouds. It is stationary and over the center of the pit. It is perhaps four hundred man-heights above us, and a further three hundred above the floor of the pit.”
“Chancellor, can the architects build a structure seven hundred my heights tall?”
“I should think not, lord. Though I shall inquire, there must be some solution.”
“Indeed. Herald, find out how long they can survive.”
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