| Author: |
Ashley Augustus |
| Dated: |
Thursday, February 12 2004 @ 07:01 AM EST |
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1716 times |
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The long stone passage fell silent as a shadow passed, undetected, beneath the narrow archway at its far end. Moments later, three fully armoured guards clanged noisily into the passage. Broadswords and daggers hung impotently at their sides as they scraped and ground their way down the passage. Having just finished a long and uneventful duty shift at the gates, they were looking for nothing more than the castle kitchens and the meal they would find there. They did not notice the figure in the shadows of a doorway, as they passed through the low archway. The guards faded into the darkness of the passage beyond, and into the shadows of a long staircase which wound down into the bowels of the castle. The figure in the shadowed doorway watched them go, then, reaching back and silently clicking the door open, slipped through into the room beyond.
There was a streak of red, tousled hair in the light of the flickering torch, just inside the room. In the corner, there was a bundle of clothing and dirty laundry, just visible in the shadows. Upon closer inspection, it appeared that the bundle was breathing in the slow, steady rhythm of sleep. The red haired figure moved towards the heaving bundle and poked at it surreptitiously. All at once, the bundle came to life in a flurry of movement and spun around to face the intruder. a maturing male voice yelled:
“Keep your hands off me, you filthy —” but he stopped short as he came face to face with the red haired assailant.
“You –– you’re a girl,” he stammered.
“An excellent deduction,” she replied, eying him.
“Who are you?” he asked, catching his breath.
“My name is Kas Egil. I’m here to get you out of this place.”
“Out of here?!” the boy blurted.
“Hush,” Kas said, quickly clamping a strong right hand over his mouth. “Do you want to get us killed?”
“Yeah,” he replied bitterly. “Like we won’t be killed anyway. You can’t escape from here, there are guards everywhere, and even if you get past them, all the doors are kept locked and barred. Beyond those there’s the moat, and beyond that, the Fen!”
By this time, the captive’s anxious chattering had backed him into a corner, quite literally. He stopped his hysterical babbling only when his back hit the cold rough surface of the stone wall.
“Easy there,” Kas said. “I wouldn’t have come all this way if I didn’t think I could get you out.”
The boy slid his way down the rough surface of the stone and came to a rest upon the cold flagstone floor, exhaling deeply.
“Go on, then,” he sighed in a tone which defied her easy confidence.
“No,” she said simply, sitting down beside him, then added, “we have to wait until the midnight guard change. So while we’re waiting, you can tell me how you ended up in this place.”
“Let’s make it an even trade,” he answered. “You tell me who you are and how it is you seem to know me, and I’ll recount the events which led me to this miserable stoney tomb.”
“Deal,” said Kas, the hint of a smile twitching at the corners of her mouth. “Only, to start off, I don’t know you, I only know of you. That is to say I was recruited from Salcreet and hired to liberate you from your prison.” She half opened her mouth, as though to add something more, but closed it again quickly, apparently thinking better of it. Instead, she eyed the boy sitting next to her, taking in his features; his slight build; his budding masculinity; and the emergence of the strong lines of his jaw. He seemed, from her vantage point, to be desperately pushing the bounds of manhood, at least physically; mentally he was still very much a boy.
“Your turn,” she said, coming out of her reverie.
The boy looked past her for a long moment, as though trying to recall exactly what circumstances had brought him to this sorry state.
“My name,” he murmured finally, “is Rown Ayr. I hail from Krae where my father was a carpenter and my mother ran a small tavern at the south end of the city.”
He paused, seeming to gather himself, then continued. “About a year ago, my mother decided that a life among a band of Mercs who frequented her tavern would be more interesting than raising a family.” A note of bitterness, bordering on hatred had crept into his voice. “She ran off with them one night,” he continued, “and my father ran after her. I haven’t seen either of them since.” He paused, gathering himself. He drew a deep breath. “Within a week, I had been evicted from my parent’s lodging. I had to beg for my food, and when that produced nothing, I turned to stealing. This proved much more lucrative and I found that there were certain shops that would trade my ill-gotten goods for coins; no questions asked.”
There was a pause. “What happened?” Kas asked, without looking at him.
“I just picked the wrong pocket,” he replied in a flat monotone. “It was a really heavy purse. I could tell this guy was loaded. My fingers ached, I just wanted to touch it. I could see it hanging there, a potent bulge, hanging just below his belt.” Rown paused to rub his sweaty palms on the sides of his trousers. “Well,” he continued, “I wasn’t as good at the game as I thought I was. As I fumbled around, trying to lay my hands on it, I suddenly realized that I had roused his attention. He grabbed me roughly by the scruff of the neck, and the last thing I remember is my face colliding with his sword.”
Kas waited patiently as Rown collected himself enough to continue. It took him several moments.
“The next thing I knew,” he said finally, “I was in a supply wagon which was jostling its way down an unusually bumpy roadway. I got up on my knees and peered over the side of the wagon. I could tell immediately that we were traveling through the Maesar Plaines, also that we were fairly far east of them since I could see the shadow of the Shard to the north and a dim, grizzly haze on the horizon ahead of us that I took to be the Eris Fen. I fell asleep under the merciless sun. When I awoke again, I found that we were within the Fen and traveling more quickly. I could see this despicable structure in the distance and when we got within a few leagues of it, we were joined by two guards from the outer boundaries. They sat in the wagon, looking at me, or perhaps through me, with stoic expressions on their faces. As we passed through the outer wall of this fortress, I was dragged from the wagon by three or four castle guards who proceeded to brutalize me, presumably for their own entertainment. I was finally given the relief of this cell, as well as some bread and water, and that was the last I saw of the outside world. I have been here the last six months.” Rown finished his story with a deep sigh, as though expelling the anguish of those six months into the stagnant air of this unwanted home.
Kas let the sigh settle into the damp silence of the cell while she considered Rown’s story.
“Do you have any idea why I was sent to rescue you?” she asked, finally.
Rown shook his head absently.
“I mean, “ she continued, “I don’t come cheaply. And from what I just heard, you’re nobody special.”
He looked at her sharply. Kas seemed not to notice but continued, as though merely thinking aloud.
“There must be something you don’t know about yourself,” she murmured. “What use is a pickpocket? What could they want him for?”
Kas seemed to come out of her reverie just as quickly as she had entered into it. She looked at Rown for a moment, then stood up and moved to the door, listening. She spent several minutes in the same position, with her eyes wide open and staring straight ahead at nothing in particular, but listening intently to the sounds on the other side of the door; her ear pressed close to the rough grain of the heavy door. As she straightened and moved away from the door, Rown, who had been watching her intently from the corner of the cell where he still sat, now cleared his throat.
"So,” he began. “Are you a Merc, then?”
“No!” came the immediate and emphatic reply. Then her expression softened. “That is,” she continued, “I’m not any more.” She sat back down on the floor next to him and smiled. “I suppose it’s only fair that I tell you my story since you shared yours with me,” she said.
“I was born on the Maesar Plaines, not far from that terrible pit known as Dreag Chasm,” she began. “I grew up in the nomadic life,” she continued, “thieving was an integral part of that life. I became a master. I also learned many of the other skills common to all Mercs, such as the ability to navigate through towns and buildings undetected. As you probably know, Mercs tend not to go into populated areas, at least not in large numbers. But often, a band of Mercs will camp outside of a city or town and send one or two scouts in to gather food, supplies, or information. I was always sent on these reconnaissance missions.” Kas paused and looked at Rown. She seemed, again, to be holding something back.
“Well,” she continued, ”there came a time when I was sick of being bossed, and I was sick of the disgusted looks and demeaning comments made by others towards me for no other reason but that I was a Merc. So I left. I made my way towards the Fenlands, and then south into the city of Salcreet. It had been a number of years since the Mercs had been that far south, so I knew that I would be safe from being recognized. I found a room to rent, made some connections within the city, and let rumour do the rest. I have been there for about five years now. I still work as a mercenary, but I’m not a Merc.” She spat these last word out as though Rown had accused her of being a Merc after all. When Kas saw the apologetic look on Rown’s innocent face, she almost burst out laughing. Instead, she looked into the far corner of the cell as though she would find composure there. “That’s a difference the people of Salcreet can appreciate,” she mumbled.
Once again, silence descended on the tiny room. Kas and Rown looked at each other through a fog of memories, each sliding in and out of the past. Then Kas opened her mouth.
“The midnight guard is about to change,” her voice whispered, sweeping aside the vague feelings of nostalgia within the cell to reveal, with perfect clarity, the reality of their present situation. Rown, who had been so enthralled by her story, had temporarily forgotten his surroundings; so, when Kas had mentioned the guards, the whisper had sounded oddly out of place. But now, as Rown played back her warning, the whisper seemed to echo and reverberate in his memory until it was so loud that he had to cover his ears.
When Kas glanced over and saw Rown doubled over with his hands clamped firmly over his ears, she ran over to him and tried to pull his hands away, but they would not move. Quickly, she slid the index finger of each hand under Rown’s palms until she felt the cavity behind his earlobes. With one gentle but firm movement, she pushed up and in towards the cavity. Rown’s eyes popped open, and slowly, he removed his hands from his ears and looked at Kas.
“Cell madness,” she said simply. “I’ll explain later, right now we have to go.” She got up and again moved to the door, listening intently. She shifted her eyes momentarily to look at Rown.
“This is it,” she whispered, a smile of encouragement flickering across her face.
Rown moved in behind her as she opened the door a crack. He reached for the torch in the wall bracket behind him but Kas grabbed his arm and signaled him to douse the flame. when all was black inside the cell and not a flicker of light could be seen coming from the passage without, Kas opened the door just wide enough for her slight frame to slip through. Once in the shadows of the doorway, she reached back and closed the door behind her just enough that she could beckon Rown when the time was right. Just then, Kas heard the distinct rattle and scrape of well worn armour being trudged along on the bodies of tired and hungry soldiers. As they clattered and grumbled their way down the passage, like large beetles droning their way forward, unthinking, the slight form concealed in the doorway motioned for Rown to join her. Kas closed the door behind him, then stepped out of the shadows and into the dimly lit, long narrow passage with three fully armed guards in front of her and an impetuous boy in tow.
In the darkness of the recently occupied cell in a series of cells, within a fortress surrounded by the wild and ruthless Eris Fen, a shadow detached itself from the wall, crumpled to the floor and melted into the cracks between the flagstones.
The enigmatic substance reconvened in a drainage pipe which couriered the condensed moisture from the damp building out into a number of rain barrels in the courtyard. After a moment in the drainage pipe, the sleek, dark substance took on the consistency and clarity of water , thereby becoming indistinguishable from its surroundings.
It flowed through the dips and curves of the pipe as it ran its course through the walls and passages of the great fortress, emerging, with a splash, into a rain barrel just as the night cook was filling her cooking pots for the midnight guards. The cook, being rather thirsty from working in the smothering heat of the kitchens, leaned over to fill a drinking gourd for herself and took a long swallow.
The last of the water-like substance settled in the pit of the cook's stomach, forming into an insidious ulcer of hatred, wrath and vengeance. The cook, unaware of what had happened, threw down the gourd, breaking it on the barrel’s edge, snatched up her pots and stalked angrily back into the kitchen.
There was a sharp tinkling along the passageway as a shiny piece of metal fell from Rown’s hand and collided with the flagstones. Before the boy could even blink, Kas had snatched up the glinting object and pulled Rown into the shadows of a nearby doorway with one hand clamped firmly over his mouth. The three guards ahead of them turned and stood perfectly still, listening. They remained that way for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, the guards continued on down the passage, the grumbling of their stomachs evidently more important to them than the tinkling of metal in a deserted passage. Kas, peering from the shadows, exhaled slowly as the three cumbersome forms plodded down the stairs and out of sight. She then released her hand from Rown’s mouth, which promptly fell open as he took several deep breaths. Kas suddenly realized that her anxiety had manifested itself in a stronger than usual grip on Rown’s mouth; not only keeping his voice in, but keeping the air out. She half smiled at him.
“Sorry,” she said quietly. “I, um...I got a little uptight just then.”
Rown, having regained his composure, nodded and smiled back. It was a broad, goofy looking smile; all teeth, with a sliver of pink tongue protruding between two of his bottom teeth where a third would have been, and punctuated by a scar that tore through his lower lip to the left side of his chin; reminding Kas that this boy had had some life experiences.
As they stepped back out into the passage, Kas looked down at the shiny token in her hand, realizing that she had not yet given it back to Rown. It was a strange looking token, at first glance appearing to be metal, and yet with a translucency that defied explanation. Not wanting to pry, she silently handed it back to Rown and decided not to say another word about it.
Continuing down the passage, they came to the winding stone staircase which led to the castle kitchens.
“Where there’s smoke, there’s fire,” Kas said, without turning. Then she stepped briskly forward and started down into the inky black darkness of the stairwell.
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