McCloud Keep was grand and awe-inspiring, and once perhaps radiant. Some of that beauty still clung to the graceful carvings, the stained glass of some high windows, the lingering plant life. But a pall of gloom was slowly suffocating the entire structure, like an oppressive blanket.
"Lots of security," Falco muttered, eyeing the fifteen or so wall guards from where they crouched in some dense bushes.
"Andross knows this is our only chance," Peppy replied. "Should we fail, another opportunity won't come about for a hundred years, long after we're gone." Fox flexed his hand. It hadn't improved much overnight, but he couldn't let it bother him.
"Where's the chapel?" he asked. Peppy pointed to a tall-roofed structure.
"That's it. The passage is over here." They followed him around to a large rock cluster. After feeling around for a bit, he pushed and turned one smaller rock, and a part of the formation sank into the ground, revealing steps going down. "It doesn't appear tampered with. That's good. It means Andross doesn't know about it." Slippy's pack provided torches for each of them, and after a quick lighting with flint and steel they went down.
Peppy led the way, followed by Fox, Krystal, and Slippy, with Falco bringing up the rear. The natural tunnel was tall enough for them to stand upright, but not much wider than a person and thus felt tight, the air a tad bit stale.
"I've never liked being underground," Falco grumbled, on edge, "and knowing that we're walking into a Sharpclaw den doesn't help."
"Sadly, we'll have to wait here until the appointed hour," Peppy replied. "We can't risk being in the temple until noon. The chances of capture would be too high."
"You do realize," retorted the avian, "that Andross likely will expect us, and have an ambush set up?"
"All we need it enough time for Fox to shatter the ruby pommel on the alter before noon passes. After that, it's all in the hands of the gods." It was at that moment that all fully realized what this was: a potential suicide mission.
We might never get home from this, Fox thought. Though, I've not though I'd get home from several missions before, and I'm still here. He looked at Peppy. 'Hands of the gods,' huh? We never discussed religion much, my team. But, as they say, when on Katina do as the Katinans do. He took a deep breath. Whatever god or gods that might be up there, I've got a request. I don't really care what happens to me, personally - though I'd really like to be free and breathing come this time tomorrow, catch my drift? - but if my number's up, please keep my friends - and Sir Fox's friends! - safe, and help me not to screw up the plan.
After a small walk, they came to a rock door. Peppy put a hand into a groove on one side, then doused his torch, indicating for the others to do likewise. Then he pulled, and a crack of light appeared just enough to peek through, and enough to hear Sharpclaw voices.
"Seven," Peppy whispered in his softest voice, "and it's nearly noon."
"How can you tell that?" Fox whispered back.
"The sun hits a certain carving dead on at noon. I can see it from here." He shifted a bit. "The alter will glow for one minute when it's time. That is the signal."
"Where are the Sharpclaws?"
"Right around the after." Falco snorted quietly.
"Figures." Fox took a steadying breath, and felt Krystal slide her hand into his. He gave it a squeeze.
Abruptly there came banging on the unseen chapel door, then the sound of it opening.
"We're under attack!" a voice shouted, as the din of running feet and yelling followed.
"Is it that bastard Fox?" one Sharpclaw asked.
"Not sure. They're in the woods. If it's him, he's brought friends. Everyone is commanded to defend the keep." The seven left with their ally.
"They're gone," Peppy reported, a bit stunned, as he peeked through. Before he could react, Fox had reached around him to pull the stone door open.
"Lets move!" he commanded, as his team scrambled out. "Secure this room, and clear out any intruders." Falco raced to the door and closed it, sliding the bar into place to lock it. Slippy did the same to all the window shutters, as Krystal mentally searched for any Sharpclaws.
"Someone's out there giving them hell," Falco reported.
"The R-O-B?" Fox wondered.
"Perhaps," Peppy replied as he approached the alter, the top a gorgeous blue marble with flecks of quartz scattered throughout.
"No enemies inside," Krystal put in.
"Windows secure," Slippy finished. Just as he spoke, the alter began to glow. Fox approached it reverently.
"Just bang the pommel down onto it," Peppy said. "It'll shatter like glass, and then the king will awaken to lead his people again."
"Okay." Fox unsheathed the Archwing, grimacing a bit as the hilt bit into his burned hand, and raised it point up high into the sky, preparing the bring it down. "Here goes nothing."
"I wouldn't, if I were you," came a sudden, malevolent voice, followed by a whimper from Krystal. Fox instantly spun to see Andross and his partner, the familiar Scales, standing near the doors, appeared as if by magic. Scales had a firm grip on the vixen, and Andross' sword was to her neck.