A Warrior's Redemption
Page 11
Chapter Five
Cliffside View
Quietly I walked down the dimly lit dungeon corridor. Everything had proceeded better than I could ever have even hoped. After we had slipped into the city on the back end of a late night caravan, we had made our way to the citadel without being stopped. Using uniforms supplied by Rolf, who had adeptly procured them from two permanently resting soldiers outside the citadel, we had made our way into the inner workings of the citadel with comparative ease. Rolf was back up at the other end of the hall waiting in concealment in case, as he put it, ‘Any more throats needed slit’.
He was really a peculiarly gifted individual in the art of killing and more than once I was grateful that I had never faced him in a death match in the arena. Unwelcome memories rose up to overwhelm me, as I remembered the friends that I had been pitted against in death matches. The way the life had drained out of their eyes, as they lay on the arena floor, was an almost intolerable thing to bear in remembrance.
Stumbling on a loose stone I almost fell, but it helped me to regain my composure and pull me free from a past I wished had never happened. I had banked all my hopes on Larc being in one of the private cells, rather than the main dungeon holding area.
All the cells I had passed were empty except for the one where I now stood. Leaning close to the damp wood of the cell door I whispered, “Larc?”
I heard rustling from within the cell, as somebody got up and moved towards the cell door.
“Roric, is that you? Get me out of here!”
“Hang on, I’ll get you out of there, but be quiet!”
Drawing back slightly, I studied the door. It was old and showed signs of rot in places. The door consisted of vertical planks of wood for the main body of the door with two crosspieces at the top and bottom of the door. The crosspiece at the bottom was soft from rot caused by the continual dampness of the dungeon floor.
I used my sword to pry off chunks of the bottom crosspiece, until it was broken in half in one spot. Then I pushed on the bottom of the vertical board directly where I had chewed the crosspiece board away with my sword. It bent inward as I put pressure on it. Larc grabbed the board from the inside and pulled as I pushed. The board moved inward suddenly, and was accompanied by a loud squeak of protest, as the rusty nails pulled loose in the top crosspiece. I quickly looked around to see if the noise had alerted any of the guards. I paused for a moment and, hearing nothing, I turned back to the door. Pushing on it once more left a gap big enough at the bottom of the door for Larc’s skinny form to squeeze through.
Larc’s arms locked around my middle in a tight grip as he mumbled something incoherently against my chest. A warm sense of being needed coursed through me as I patted his back awkwardly, not sure what to do with the unfamiliar emotional embrace.
“Larc, let’s go. We need to get you out of here before daylight. Stick close behind me.”
Reluctantly, Larc broke contact and followed me back up the dimly lit corridor. Larc jumped like a startled rabbit when Rolf stepped out of the shadows at the end of the hall.
“I got this for the boy,” Rolf said, holding up a dark traveling cloak.
“Where did you get that?” I asked.
“The guards in the guard room had no more use for it,” he replied simply.
“I see. Let’s get out of here before you alter the population of the citadel too much!” I spoke with a smile on my face as I headed into the darkness of the night, eager to leave the confines of the dungeon.
I saw Larc take the cloak from Rolf and put it on, all the while keeping a wary eye on Rolf, as if he was a snake poised to strike. It didn’t help that Rolf smiled back eerily at Larc’s wariness of him, egging the boy on.
There probably wasn’t a living guard left anywhere in the confines of the dungeon. Larc stayed close behind me as Rolf ghosted up ahead of us. I looked out the open dungeon doors and there, as bold as daylight was Rolf strolling over to three horses, which were saddled and tied to a hitching post. They hadn’t been there before! I guess the plan had changed again.
Gritting my teeth, I walked as nonchalantly as I could towards the horses, followed by Larc. I hated improvising a perfectly good plan when it wasn’t needed. I had just lifted Larc up into the saddle of one of the horses, when a cry of pain rent the still night air. Wheeling around to face the citadel, I looked up in the direction of the cry, expecting to see guards swarming out of their stations, but no guards were visible. I looked at Rolf, who was already in the saddle; he too was puzzled that no one had responded to the cry.
“It was the cry of a woman, in a lot of pain I think. It came from up there,” Rolf said, pointing at a window three tiers up the citadel.
Turning back to Rolf and Larc, I addressed Rolf, “Take the boy and rendezvous with the others. Don’t wait for me. I’ll catch up with you.”
Rolf nodded and started for the small postern gate we had come through earlier, tugging on the reins of Larc’s horse in one hand as he urged it to follow along after him. Larc made as if to protest leaving without me, but I motioned him to silence.
“Go with Rolf. He’ll keep you safe,” and with that, they were gone.
Making my way up the various levels of the citadel, I was careful not to expose myself to any sentries. I closed in on the window the scream had come from.
Reaching the window at long last, I cautiously peered up over the sill and into the room. I sucked in my breath at what I saw. The room was brightly lit in the very center of the room where a stone table stood, but the rest of the room was in deep shadow. A woman I could barely recognize as Treorna was tied down, stretched out on top of the table.
She was covered in blood and had clearly been tortured for what must have been hours. Having seen many people die painful deaths, I could tell that she was near death herself. A dark robed figure stepped out of the shadows surrounding the table. I was disturbed that I hadn’t noticed the dark figure until now.
I could hear Treorna gasping for breath as the figure came and leaned slightly over her. From the sound of her breathing I could tell that they had broken some of her ribs. My fingers tensed as I grasped either side of the window. My intellect was struggling to hold my heart back from accomplishing its desire to wring the life out of anyone that could perform an act of such brutality and heartlessness, as the one I was witnessing.
Gaining some measure of control, I cautiously studied the hooded figure standing next to Treorna. I didn’t like the menacing aura that seemed to be emanating from him. His presence in the room added a palpable tension to the air that started to make me feel dizzy, as if I was losing control of the moment.
I had felt the feeling once before in the arena many years before. There had been an arena champion from the city of Rauel that had once been the most feared fighter in the entire arena world, by slave and guard alike. He had fought with unimaginable vigor and was utterly ruthless in his approach to killing. It seemed like he thrived both on the pain he caused to his adversaries in the ring and on the adulation he received from the bloodthirsty crowds. He would toy with other fighters, as if they were mice and he was the cat offering them no escape other than playful torment. The crowds had adored him.
Once I had been close to him in an adjacent holding cell before the onset of a series of arena games. He was sitting calmly on his bunk, as one who was at peace with the world, biding his time until his match started, when he noticed me examining him. He had turned my way and stared me directly in the eye. My eyes had locked with his and I had looked deeply into them searching for answers. At first there had been a flat glassy nothingness, which was disturbing in and of itself, but then his eyes had started to gleam as if from some unholy fire from within. I had felt like I was being seared by fire from the inside out. I’d had to break my stare and look away.
I had been soaked in sweat, as if I had just come through a grueling ordeal. My actions had seemed to amuse him and he had started to laugh with an inhum
an squalling cackle that was nerve jarring. He’d cackled insanely the rest of the time that remained before his match began.
Coming back to the present, I continued studying the hooded figure within the room, noticing the similarities I felt he shared with the crazed arena fighter from the past.
Suddenly, he spun in my direction seeming to sense my study of him somehow. I ducked below the window sill, and even though I was sure that I hadn’t been seen by him, I still felt exposed to the whole world as I clung to the side of the citadel beneath the window.
A pain filled cry emanated from inside the room, “Run Roric! Save yourself!”
After a brief moment of hesitation, I flung myself recklessly back down the way I had come, vowing to myself to avenge Treorna’s suffering, if it was the last thing I ever did. I leaped onto the remaining horse and raced out the side gate moments before it clanged shut.
I had barely made it thirty yards past the gate when I was almost knocked from my saddle by a blow to my back. Holding onto the pommel of the horse with one hand to keep from falling, I reached back and felt for what had hit me. An arrow shaft was lodged deep in my side.
I couldn’t do anything about it now. I had to get away from the city first. The whole citadel had suddenly come alive, like someone had kicked over an ant hill.
I made my way rapidly out of the city following the same route I had taken into it earlier in the day, only this time pursuit was close behind.