“Well as dungeons and prisons I have had the pleasure of dwelling for a time, this is fair. Most stink of human decay and disease. Moreover, one does not close their eyes. Vermin will chew on exposed flesh. I see no spore of those wretched, furry four-legged pests that would normally inhabit a place such as this.”
Diane and Amari have found a smooth raised stone bench to sit.
The former Nix once bound to the seas speaks aloud. Her voice echoes throughout the chamber as she says. “What are we to do? When she hears the reverberations of her words, she lowers her voice. “Do we wait for the dark evil witch to come and bring us to our end?”
Gareth still stands at the door. “Maiden, I am not afraid of death—faced it many a time. This is no way for warriors such as us to die. I will not go willingly to the axe man’s blade.”
“Fear not,” the Maiden says while looking to the giant of a man. “Our destiny does not end here. I may not be a seer, but I can see a little of our future; this place will not hold us for long. Still, we must be free of here before my sister comes for us. I have powers of my own, but it will not stay long against her evilness without Katana in my hand.”
Thinking they could be overheard, Dian leans closer to the Maiden and whispers. “Amari, with a measure of water, I could bring life to my water sword. No barred door would hold against its force. More than once even steel swords have broken against my saber’s edge.”
“That is all good and well, my new ally. Unless all our hands are filled with weapons—the battle will be short. You cannot win against numbers. We are under the king’s castle. He has many soldiers here; of which I am sure. No, we must escape quietly…raising no alarm.”
Natsha joins the whispered conversation. “In case you haven’t noticed sister. This dungeon is dry. No dampness penetrates the stone. It is almost as if this place is charmed.”
Amari raises her hand and makes a magic gesture in the air. “No—there is no magic at work here. It appears this prison is well constructed and maintained. I am sure that somewhere else there is a dark and damp dungeon filled with rotting bodies, torture devices and pain.”
A rapping on the door causes Gareth to jump and turn in defense.
“Stand from the door evil ones, I bring food and drink.”
A key can be heard unsetting the lock. The door swings open a fraction of its width. A shaky hand passes a small kettle through the doorway and sets it on the floor. Several wooden bowls and a ladle are thrown inside…bouncing in different directions.
Gareth had backed up a step. His fists are clenched and his muscles tense; ready to strike as the door starts to close again. He gives up his plan to attack the jailor when he hears Amari. He hesitates but a moment. He is too late as the door slams shut and is locked again.
“The time is not yet my sword brother. The stars are not aligned in our favor. We must continue to be patient and wait.”
“I will do as you wish Maiden. Still, I feel the time grows short to where we will pass from this life to another. “
Amari just nods and looks to the others. Then she picks her head up as if listening. Rising, the Maiden walks to the barred door at the other end of the dungeon. She peers through the small iron grill window set into the door. It is too dark to see anything. Over her shoulder, she tells Gareth to keep guard and let her know if anyone approaches.
Leaning against the hard stout door Gareth sets his ear upon the surface. He listens for a few moments. “It is clear my sister.”
Amari waves her hand in a complicated gesture and a small bright ball of light forms in her palm. It hovers but for a twinkling. Moving her hand as to push, it passes through the narrow bars of the window. The illumination fills the room on the other side of the door with a bright light. Every nook and space is revealed.
Cowering in a corner is an aged man; a dwarf by his shape and body. Tattered fragments of clothes cover his hunched body. His feet are bare and blistered. Amari has seen this before. The torture is the result of countless thrashing with a supple tree branch. His head is buried in his hands in an attempt to hide from whom he may believe is the jailers.
“Do not fear ancient one—we mean you no harm.”
He raises his head and looks toward the voice at his door.
Amari can see darkened sockets where his eyes used to live. “What manner of a human beast would take your eyes old one?”
The disfigured mouth of the dwarf speaks for the first time. “My eyes may have left me, but my ears are keen. You have the voice I have not heard in many years. Can it be you Maiden Warrior? Have you returned, freeing me from my misery and haunting?”
Amari silently commands the ball of light to stay above the man who was cowering a moment before. “Truk? Can this truly be you? Who has burdened you so in this place and taken away your sight?”
He gets to shaky legs and hobbles closer to the door. He slides a soiled cloth wrapped hand through the narrow window bars and gropes at the air.
Amari immediately takes his hand. “My friend; it pains me so to see you like this.” She says while putting her other hand on top of his. “I remember your prowess and strength. Why are you here?”
“I was captured almost twenty moons ago. Those dogs of the king netted me near the Fire Forest while fleeing the Kingdom of Erydda. I have spent many years hunting what was left of those vile Blood Druids who took you away. It was said you were defeated in battle. Your pure body fed to the beasts. I sought revenge against those who took you from your sword brothers. It seems the tales of your death were untrue—you live! The evil that darkens this land cannot destroy what is pure and commands the light.”
“It is true my old sword companion; I was near death for a time. Those that served the Druids came about on my hind and struck me down with a barb from a cursed Willowsip branch.
I was put into a half sleep of death until my brother Gareth and sister Natsha freed me from the tomb where I was imprisoned. To them, I owe my life and trust. Tis the same debt I hold with thou my sword brother. There were many battles where we pressed back to back. Our enemies fell like harvest wheat before the scythe.”
“Those days of valor are still fresh in my memory Maiden. Alas, I am no longer able to raise a blade and do battle. My youth and strength have departed these many years. It takes what little energy I have left just to survive. Every day, the guards find new ways to torment me.
My brother dwarfs are long gone. After the tales of your death, we were hunted and killed. A bounty was put upon all dwarfs. Not just those that fought at your side. The same ends befell the Ords that joined your cause. Mimna, Roarken and I are all who are left of your Legion of Light.”
Amari is beginning to remember her other lost companions from so long ago. “All we knew are dead and gone to the next realm? It is a dark day for those who fought against evil and only found death. You say Mimna and Roarken still survive. Where are they now?”
The dwarf shifts his weight to the other leg, hobbling in the process. “Yes, they both live. Roarken the Hunter is somewhere about the castle above. Do you remember how crafty he was?
Now posing as a soldier; going by the name of Ramcrav. None would think to search for him here, doing the king’s work. He manages to come down here secretly bringing food stolen from the king’s pantry. He devised several plans to free me. Each scheme discarded because I am watched too closely.
He told me once that his true name, Roarken was overheard among the other soldiers as he sat amongst them. There were reports he was sighted near the village of Catskil Wind. We both knew this to be untrue. His saving is no one knows his face.
As these many years have passed, one would think the evil infesting this land would have given up hunting us. Roarken brings me news of the outside. He learnt a renewed effort is underway to destroy any who rebukes the king’s rule or who had followed the White Maiden Witch against him.
When I heard your name from Roarken’s lips, I thought it was just rumors to sustain the soldier’s
engagements and attacks throughout Aventine. I never for once thought you still existed in the realm of the living.
Natsha moves over and stands next to Amari. She looks through the bars. “This is a friend from before your death sleep, and the time of your great battles?”
“Yes; Truk was my sword brother. With him were six other dwarfs of the Trester lands beyond the great mountains. In battle, these seven would clear a wide path in any enemy line. They all carried dwarf forged axes. I have seen two or three opposing them go down at the same time with one swing.
According to his musings, his dwarf brothers are all dust now. He tells me only two others I fought side by side with still exist. One is hiding somewhere here posing as a soldier. This may work for our advantage and cause.”
Amari tests the door with her hand. It is secured well. “Gareth—I need your great strength.”
Gareth leaves his position at the dungeon’s large door and comes to where Amari and Natsha are standing. Dian takes his place to listen and watch.
Stepping in front of the door, he gives a slight push and smiles. “This cell door is thinner than the entrance portal. Do you wish me to reduce it to splinters?”
“Please my large friend!”
Seeing the man through the barred window, he says. “Kind sir, please step to the side.”
Truk hobbles over to a far corner and sits on the floor.
Putting a large muscled shoulder against the door, Gareth braces his feet on the stone floor and shoves. There is a squeal of bending metal. Hinges bend and break. With a sudden jolt, the door falls inward with a loud thump raising a fine dust.
Before the dust can even settle, Amari rushes over the broken door and kneels next to the aged dwarf. She caresses his matted hair. “My heart feels your pain Truk. My magic can restore some of your strength, but it cannot give you back your eyes.”
“I gave up wishing for my sight to return. It is my destiny to end my years blind to the world around me. Do not dwell on my misery. I still can see with the other senses left to me. My nose tells me there are two more females with you; I can smell their scent. One wears the trappings of the Thieves Guild. I can hear the tinkling of her kin beads. The other is quiet except for the rustling of her dress and leather corset.
The large one with heavy feet, who made the door give way. There is a whiff of the sea surrounding him. He either is or was a sailor. As you can see, my hearing is well attuned. I am at a loss why I did not know it was you Amari until you spoke to me.”
“Can you stand?” She asks.
“Not without help.”
“Gareth, please come and help my sword brother from long ago.”
Gareth has to bend lower in order to pass through the smaller opening. As he reaches down to gather the dwarf into his arms, Gareth’s nose wrinkles. “Maiden, this one has been here too long. His body is foul of disease.”
Amari conjures up a purifying spell and lays her hands on Truk’s head. “Spirits of the light; wash the infections and filth from this soul’s flesh. Mend his insides and cleanse his disease. Restore his coverings to their original wonder.”
A white light gathers and forms above the dwarf’s head. It covers his whole body. Many minutes go by before the light fades. Left in its stead is a body washed white. Matted hair is replaced with the dark ringlets of a warrior’s mane. His rags are replaced with a long green tunic flowing from shoulder to ankle. About his middle is the leather belt; markings on the tooled belt are that of his clan. His eye sockets are filled in with new flesh, but still devoid of those orbs of sight.
Gareth helps him to his feet. The dwarf only comes up to the big man’s lower chest.
He reaches to Amari, who in turn takes his hand “Thank you my sister. Strength has returned, but not as when I was young. The festering wounds upon my back from the torturer’s lash are healed. Your magic is still truly marvelous.”
“What good is the power I possess if not to help my friends and allies? I have one other bit of healing to bestow upon you.”
“Please Maiden, you have done enough already.”
Amari pays him no mind as she comes up behind and places her hands upon his head. She closes her eyes and speaks several words of power.
Truk’s head begins to ache, but remains still to whatever she is trying to do. The pain slowly ebbs, then, it is gone. He turns to face her. Amari, I can see you and this cell. What magic have you given me?”
“I have given you a portion of my insight and sensing. I have also enhanced your mortal senses of hearing, smell and touch.”
“You should not have weakened your power!”
“It is only a fraction of what I contain. When Katana fills my hand again…what was given you will not be missed.”
Truk looks around and says. “Everything is gray and misty, but I welcome the new sight, as living in the dark is a lonely place to be. My debts to you are mounting dear sister. You more than once saved me from a killing sword or lance.”
“Think no more of it. We are the strongest when we are together.” She suddenly remembers what Truk said earlier. “You told me Mimna was still walking this earth. Where is she to be found?”
“My capturers wanted to know the same thing. Well as where to find Roarken. I would have taken that information to my burial before revealing to the likes of them. Mimna is in the three cities of the Black Angels.”
“She still lives then—are you sure?”
“Yes Maiden. She is still alive.”
“How do you know for sure? You said yourself it has been many years since you last gazed upon her.”
Truk touches his forehead…that is the only way I can see her.”
Amari wrinkles her face at her old companion. “You mean she is with those who inhabit the cloud city on the high peaks surrounding Aventine? I always thought that to be legend?”
“It does exist my sister. Legend at one time was founded in truth.
Few have ever gained its summit—even less returned to further the myth. It is said to be protected by the rock people; they never sleep, never rest. Those beings are always on guard and ready. Venturing to even the base of those peaks would bring destruction upon those who draw near. In my spirit, I believe Mimna may be one of the Black Angels as her origin was always clouded in mystery.”
Amari shares her own thoughts. “I remember Mimna kept to herself, unless in battle. She was everywhere at once. Protecting our backs and swinging her short sword. She dealt death upon those who we confronted.”
Dian clicks her tongue to get attention. “Someone approaches!”
Gareth runs toward the dungeon door and stands to one side, Natsha to the other.
The lock is released, and the portal swings open. A sword point is the first through the door. The length of the blade is followed by a gloved hand and forearm. Natsha grabs the arm and yanks the guard forcibly inside. At the same time, Gareth wraps his arms around the man’s chest from behind and pulls him tight against his own.
The soldier drops his sword and tries to free himself from the hold about him. It is no use—the hold is unbreakable.
Gareth whispers to the man’s ear. “Cease your struggles dog of the king. I will snap your neck like a twig.”
The soldier stops his attempt to escape. “Loosen your grasp pig. I have but to yell, and a full squad of my comrades will come and run you through.”
“Bring them! I will end your life before they get here.”
A crackly voice comes from the cell door where Truk was held. “Do not hurt him my large friend. He is the ally who visits me in my misery.”
Gareth releases his grip, and the soldier steps away.
The man reaches down to take up his sword, but Natsha slams her foot on the blade; pinning it to the floor. “You have no need for that here. We are unarmed.”
The soldier rises and sees the set look in her eyes and can hear the big man behind him moving about. He gives up on reclaiming his blade for now. Standing straight, he looks to th
e cell where Truk called.
The dwarf stands in the doorway supported by a young woman. The light is weak from across the chamber. He cannot see her features well. He looks with astonishment at the dwarf with new clothes and clean appearance. “Who are your new friends Truk?”
“Roarken my old comrade; those three” as he points to Gareth, Natsha and Dian “are indeed new to this vile place. Although, this one?” He says while moving forward into the better light. “You may remember from long ago when we were young and foolish.”
Amari and Truk come closer to the bewildered guard. He beholds a vision he has not seen in many years. The soldier goes to his knees before them with his head lowered as he speaks. “Maiden Amari—you have risen from the dead! Your magic is truly powerful.”
“Get up Roarken my valiant one. I was never dead, just asleep.”
They all form a circle and sit upon the floor. Gareth has closed the door and waits near it.
“You do not need to stand at the ready.” He tells Gareth. “I paid a hefty sum to those who guard the gate at the top of the stair. I was given a good measure of time before I need to return to the sunlight above.”
“How is it you are allowed to come here, even with payment to the sentries?” Dian asks.
Roarken removes a linen bundle from inside his armor and hands it to Truk.
The dwarf unwraps the cloth to reveal a hunk of stale crumbly bread and some dried meat. He offers it to Amari.
She shakes her head and waves her hands over it. The bread steams as if fresh baked. The meat is warm to the touch giving the tenderness of just carved from a roasted beast.
Truk eyes water at the compassion of the Maiden he once followed into battle. He eats in silence.
Roarken answers Dian’s question on how he is allowed to come and go from the dungeon. “I come down here to beat and torture Truk.”
Amari looks with pain at her once warrior in arms. So do the others.
Maiden's Saber Page 12
