by Sean J Leith
Asheron spoke to the guard before walking over. The guard asked him when they would finish fixing the jail floor, mentioning its renovation. Another armored individual emerged from the stairs—similar height and build to Asheron, but his armor was a bloody crimson.
Grandis Prison, she recalled. She’d caught word that an old, abandoned temple of Shiada was under renovations recently—to become Grandis prison. A temple she once visited.
Without answering, Asheron sauntered over to the cells, the crimson soldier close behind. “I see you’re finally awake.” His icy, resounding voice echoed throughout the hall. His armor was a pure black that seemed to suck the light from the room. His helmet fully covered his head crenellations all along the front, the only gaps for his eyes, which seemed like an abyss with no end.
“What do you want?” Kayden growled as she shook the bars, clenching her teeth.
“Aggressive,” he began, chuckling.
The crimson knight spoke up from behind. “I’ll have fun with you, little one. We’ll see each other—soon.” He let out a deep laugh before turning to leave. Asheron simply turned and walked away, his knights in tow.
“Wait,” Lira rushed to the bars, and called out to Asheron. “Is this Grandis Prison?”
Asheron stopped as if time paused with him. Turning his head, he simply nodded. “I prefer to call it a ‘re-origination center.’ To convince individuals to change their ways.” Turning back, he and his soldiers passed up the stairs and out of sight, metal clattering on the stone.
The torchlight brightened once more, and Magnus’s worriful eyes met Lira’s.
Lira crept up to the bars. “What happened to you three?” Lira asked.
“A shakedown, my lady. Soon they may grow more severe,” he said plainly. Stretching his arms, Magnus winced. His sharp grey nails were broken and bloody from the torture. Lira was scared to think she and Kayden were next.
Hopefully we can get out. The others seem afraid, but Kayden doesn’t seem worried at all, Lira thought.
Vesper was in the fetal position. His thick, grey moustache and beard were askew. “I cannot take that again,” he whimpered. “It was as if they were inside my head, using my own nightmares against me. Who do they think they are, using these tricks?”
Domika was huddled in a ball at the corner of her cell. Her shoulders shook as she quietly sobbed.
The group glanced at each other and exchanged shrugs, except Kayden, who scratched her shoulder and winced.
I can’t sit here. I can’t be caught like the other prisoners. I won’t find my brother if I become one of them, Lira thought. She stood up, and nudged Kayden. “We have to get out of here. We’re next, and who knows what else will happen to us.” She tried to whisper it as confidently as possible, not to embarrass herself.
Kayden raised a brow, and a sly grin formed along with it. “And do you have a plan?” she whispered back.
Lira scratched her head. “I thought you might know how to get out, because—”
“I’m a criminal?” Kayden chuckled. She tapped her foot for a few seconds, looked at the guard, and sighed. “All right, let’s get this over with. I’ve probably pissed the guard off enough. Stand back,” she whispered. She repeatedly rattled the bars, clanking and clattering. The guard attempted to ignore it, but after a minute of constant shaking and general annoyance, he frustratingly rushed over.
“What? What is it?” he asked.
Kayden’s gaze on him was softer than Lira had seen. It was strange, and a little frightening.
“I’m lonely,” she pouted. Her tone was soft as silk, and she stuttered her words. “I get really anxious in the dark.” She took her hands through the bars and fidgeted them nervously.
“Hey, get away,” he pulled back cautiously. “You didn’t seem like this before.”
“I’m scared.”
Even Lira knew better than that.
“I don’t know how to handle these situations alone. Please, can you at least put me in the upper cells? I hear they have light up there. I’ll tell them anything! Please!” She drew her lower lip in and bit it. A tear formed at the corner of her left eye as she stared the knight down.
Until then, Kayden had been anything but sad, frightened, or lonely.
The guard shook his head abruptly and turned around. “No. I can’t do that, you little witch.” The guard clenched his fists. “I don’t like prisoners trying to mess with me, you little—”
Suddenly, Kayden leapt onto the bars and wrapped a thin, metallic string around the guard’s neck she’d hidden beneath her mass of hair. The knight struggled for his blade, drew it, and swung back toward her head. She deftly dodged around it but took two small slices on her left forearm. He quickly passed out and slid to the ground.
“Damn it,” Kayden growled, gripping her bloody arm. “Well, that was easy. What’d I say, princess?” She snorted a laugh as she wrapped a bit of her dirty linen clothes around her sliced arm. She quietly picked the keys off the guard and unlocked her cell, carefully snuck the door open, and unlocking the others.
“Oh thank you, thank you!” Domika exclaimed, jumping at Kayden with a hug.
“Get off of me, you idiot!” Kayden whispered, shoving her away. “Be quiet. They’ll hear us.”
Lira carefully tiptoed down the hallway and noticed a door beside the guard’s desk. The spiral staircase to the upper floor sat across from it. She moved to open it but stopped short. What if there are more guards? she thought. Lira was cooperating with a jailbreak, something she thought she’d never do. Kayden walked right past her and opened the door carefully. “Kayden, wait! You shouldn’t go in there.”
“Hey, here’s our stuff. What a bunch of morons for leaving it here,” she whispered with a laugh. She began to rummage through the chest to find her things. Kayden didn’t seem to have much care for caution sometimes. “What? I heard them talking about storage while you were napping.”
Kayden quickly threw her outfit back on over her tattered clothes. It was sleek but loose fitting, a dark russet tunic and long pants, with an old, tattered teal wool scarf around her neck. She strapped on her deep black leather armor lined with dark silver studs, which ran from the top of her neck to her boots. She picked up her two light blades in a sheath and fastened them to her belt, along with her throwing knives.
Lira went in after Kayden and carefully picked up her light brown leather jerkin, then her bow, and held it close. It was given to her by her brother before he passed, along with her book of divine magic and silver ring. She turned to Magnus. “Please be careful, your armor is a bit—”
“Clunky,” Kayden butted in. “Keep it down, or I’ll slice you.” She held her one of her blades at him.
He slowly ran his fingers through his thick hair and rubbed his rough-stubbled chin. He was a large man; broad in the shoulders, but not in intelligence, it seemed. He didn’t talk much, and always looked like his thoughts concerned simple fare. Lira and Domika clumsily helped him assemble his steel armor, as Kayden took it upon herself to be the lookout. He grunted and winced as they helped him put it on. He was still weak from the torture he underwent at the hands of the knights. He had burns, bruises, and multiple cuts, at least on his hands. He’d clearly gotten the worst of it.
“Thank you.” Magnus smiled weakly at Lira and Domika. He strapped two swords in scabbards to his left hip, and his heavy steel kite shield to his back. Domika threw on her golden yellow dress, flowing below a cover of chainmail, and picked up her scythe. She was dangerous but oddly beautiful on the battlefield, spinning, almost as if dancing while she sliced her enemies. Lira and Domika nodded at each other, then noticed that someone was missing.
Vesper was nowhere to be found.
“Where is that idiot?” Kayden whispered harshly.
He popped up from behind the chest wearing his long, pale violet robe. His beady blue eyes examined his belongings carefully. “My my, these people are so clumsy with my things. Do they not understand each materia
l must be kept separate, and this could cause a problem with finding things in the future? Why would they—”
He glanced to the group to get their agreement, only to receive looks of irritation, bewilderment, and shushing motions.
Lira felt bad. Vesper seemed to be an orderly person, and he didn’t understand that they had to be quiet. He didn’t even seem affected by the torture anymore, and Lira found it very peculiar. He had a one-track mind, which may have needed a shake.
“What? What did I do to offend you? I was only speaking about the disorganization of these foolhardy knights. Do they not understand the importance of organization? How can they not comprehend these important ideas when all they do is sit in this prison and wait?”
Kayden quickly walked to him, grabbed him by the neckline to pull him in. “Shut up,” she hissed, clenching her teeth. Panicked, his eyes shot around person to person, focused on Kayden again, and nodded feverishly. She let go of his robe as he gasped for breath. Kayden grabbed her left forearm, the cloth now laced with red.
Lira caught her letting out a brief whimper before returning to her steely demeanor. “Here, let me help,” she said, reaching for Kayden’s arm.
Kayden pulled her arm away. “Your magic doesn’t work here, princess,” she said.
Lira frowned. Tough or no, now Kayden was just being silly. “And you are going to continue bleeding. It will fester if you don’t let me sew this up. Just because I heal with magic doesn’t mean I don’t know how to treat a wound. Since you haven’t tried to yet, you probably don’t know how to sew a cut with one hand.” Lira was surprised with herself; she normally didn’t stand up to people like her. She held out her hand and stared into Kayden’s sharp amber eyes. “Arm.”
Surprisingly, Kayden sighed, looked away, and held out her bloody arm. Lira pulled out her kit of herbs and tools and began working away.
Vesper, Domika, and Magnus organized what belongings they could find and looked around while they waited. Lira deftly sewed the wound and treated it with some natural remedies she had in her bag. “There, all done. How does that feel?” She smiled sweetly.
“Better,” Kayden said coolly. She looked down at her arm. “Uh, thanks.” She seemed reluctant to show gratitude, but Lira took that as a huge compliment and secretly congratulated herself.
Most would have found Kayden irritating and difficult to be around. Lira’s limits were definitely being tested, but her father’s words rang through her head. ‘Everyone has a story, Lira,’ he would say. ‘Some people may be evil, but some have simply had an arduous life. There is a difference.’ She missed her father, now a monk in the Orinde monastery. It was south of her home in Solmarsh, and he left after her mother Aya passed years ago—‘To live in peace and harmony.’ She went to visit when she could, since he didn’t leave the monastery much. She still regretted being away when her mother passed.
Lira longed to see him again, since he was one of the few family she had left. Her parents moved to the Loughran forests from the Deserts before Lira and Noren were born, and it was only the four of them—or three, at least, for now.
Kayden smirked devilishly, ready to move. Each person looked at each other as if they’d just ran into battle without a plan or any gear. Lira contemplated the situation. She knew there were guards upon guards above. A deathtrap, clearly, she thought. Sure, they’re good at fighting, but we were all caught before.
“Well, do you have a plan?” Domika snapped at Kayden.
“Shut it. I’m thinking.” She eyed the stairs. “Could be a lot of guards up there—”
They sat below the surface in the lower dungeon of Grandis prison, a repurposed…
“Temple,” Lira said aloud, astonished.
“Pardon, my lady?” Magnus asked. Everyone turned to her curiously.
“Temple,” she said again. “Grandis is being renovated from a temple I worshipped at ages ago. There were pathways under the temple to a couple of nearby areas. They’re changing it due to the higher volume of captives but sealing off the rest of the floor.” She looked past the four to the stone wall behind them. She shoved the wall, and it didn’t budge, but it just seemed out of place she could have sworn years ago, that the lower floors had a worship room…
“Lira, we shouldn’t mess around,” Domika whispered.
She didn’t listen. With enough of a pull on one larger brick, she fell back to the stone floor, hurting her leg. The brick clattered to the ground, revealing darkness beyond.
Kayden crouched beside Lira, who watched the hole in awe. She slapped Lira’s shoulder and shook her. “Nice work, princess. C’mon, let’s move some bricks but be quiet.”
Each of them removed large bricks until they could move through the wall. Lira was surprised that the roof itself didn’t cave in, but the wall seemed recently worked on. A weathered hall lay before them.
“But my friend, what if there is no way out that way? What if they catch us? What if there is devious, dangerous magic in there?”
Lira shrugged. “There isn’t, though It’s been awhile so I may not know the pathways. It could be a dead end.”
Everyone looked to her, then each other. Kayden held her chin high. “Well, I’m taking the chance. What do we have to lose?”
Chapter Five
Foreboding Visions
Jirah Mirado
The soft blaze of the large campfire in the center of Wolf Camp warmed Jirah’s face as he gazed toward Gorkith Kildath with disdain. Gorkith’s rough, stone-like skin did not move, emotionless as a Terran was. The shadow of the broad oaks and jilani trees surrounding them hooded the men like a cloak with their enormous leaves.
“I assure you, sir,” Gorkith said in a gravelly, monotone voice. “I did what I was told. I gave the five of them the message from you, as you commanded.” His face moved less than the mountains themselves; his character was bland, and his words were to the point. He was exactly what Jirah needed, for a grunt.
“Well then,” Jirah began in a rough voice, “why don’t you tell me why my five new recruits—” he bared his teeth, and his black hair burst with flames to match the campfire. “—Are missing?” he roared.
Gorkith showed no signs of guilt—or of anything else, for that matter.
The others nearby jumped back, gasping. Although they seemed afraid, Jirah knew it wasn’t his size. He only stood at five feet and four inches. Then again, it may have been the curved, burning great blade upon his back that scared them, or the thick scar across his left brow. What he lacked in stature, he certainly made up in prowess. He paced around the fire. “They could be dead. What does that say about us? We’re trying to give people hope, not take it away!” he yelled.
Only the blowing of humid winds, crackling of fire, and the crunch of leaves under his feet could be heard in response. Jirah chose this as a more forward camp, a few days’ ride from the capital. There were several other camps: Bear, Mantis, Dragon, and more. Each camp housed about twenty or more at any one time, but some up to a hundred. He would always keep a few soldiers in the camp to be sure no one returned to an empty home. He kept the other camp locations secret from nearly everyone, ensuring that if there was a traitor in his ranks, only he and a select few knew the location of their specific camp.
Jirah was brash but intelligent, able to keep large numbers of names, places, and orders all in his mind, perfectly organized, and he prided himself on it. He was a man of lists. Direction.
Stephen Felkar stepped forward begrudgingly. His inconspicuous size caused Jirah to tower in comparison. “Um, sir?” He gave an awkward smile. “Maybe they—aren’t dead?”
Jirah quickly snapped back to him, his pupils darkening. “What?” he growled. “Oh, you’re right, Felkar. Maybe they’re just being tortured.” Without pause, he grabbed Stephen by the neck. “My sister is being tortured!” he yelled. The flame across his hair burned brighter with every harsh word. Jirah sighed and looked at the frightened members of his camp. His expression loosened, realizing what
he had done. “I apologize. I don’t like losing people. Miss Kaar joined because her brother was taken. My sister was in that group as well.” Jirah brooded over the situation.
He looked to the dense woods that surrounded the camp. The trees were as thick as two men, blackness on either side from impenetrable forest canopies. The moon shone bright upon the camp, and wolves howled frequently at its glow. His eyes returned to his allies in the camp, person-to-person, seeing the unsettled look in each pair of eyes.
“This doesn’t make any sense. The mission was supposed to be simple.” Gorkith remained still as a mountain. Jirah didn’t believe it to be his fault. Gorkith was loyal, or so he suspected. Jirah had a great way with people, able to read their loyalties from the first meeting. “Gorkith, Felkar, Alexandra, Pali, fall in.” Each member called lined up in front of him.
Jirah eyed each of them closely. “I want each of you to head to a different town near here. Gorkith, you scout near the capital. Felkar, you head to Wyrwood. Alex, to Solmarsh. Pali, to Deurbin. I want you to gather information on the five we lost. Find out what happened and where they went. If you can’t find any information within one day, get back here as quickly as possible. As always, see if anyone needs our assistance.”
“Yes, sir!” they said in unison before going off to gather their equipment.
The other members of the camp relaxed. It was as if he was back in the military again. The grand old days, he thought. He missed the times when things were simple, and Bracchus sat on the throne. He plopped back onto the ground and stared into the fire. The flames soothed him.
He prided himself on his ability to read people, assess their loyalties, and lead them. His many victories during the Dragon Obelreyon’s attacks on Renalia proved as such. Times had changed now, and the good soldiers were forgotten. Now was a time for betrayers and cold-hearted warriors.
He himself felt betrayed by his kingdom. It all started with the sickness of the late king. Something never seemed right to him, about the way he fell ill at the young age of forty. It was unusual and said to be incurable. While Jirah gave little mind to the power of gods, he pondered what powers were at work. Only time would tell.
