The Chronicles of Outsider: Humble Beginnings

by Justin Wayne

  ***

  The day crawled past as Outsider made his preparations. Ensuring it would hold, he had plenty of rope at just under half the original diameter and plenty lengthwise by tying the ends together. His bow was currently unstrung to preserve flexibility without compromising tension and his knives sheathed along his wrists as usual. The rest of his pack however was stashed away just outside the wall in the branches of a tree. Now, hiding atop the nearest roof, he sat in wait for the sun to fall.

  He knew executions commenced at eleven each night and he planned to have him out by ten, giving them an hour to escape before anyone realized Thom was missing. Hopeful maybe, but not impossible, he assured himself. As light as he was now without his extra supplies he and Thom should have no problem on a thicker rope.

  Now using the final rays of sunlight to see into the cells from afar, he determined the far one on the right to be devoid of any inhabitants. As much as he wished he could go straight for Thom’s he didn’t want to risk arriving at someone else’s and alerting anyone to his presence. Thus, the far right cell was his most viable option.

  He played the scenario over in his head again and again, reciting it; rope across, saw through bars, rope across after Thom, use cover of night to go over wall, set out for Journ immediately. He knew it was a sound plan as far as risky operations went, but still the twinge of nervousness in his muscles reminded him of the responsibility upon his shoulders and the repercussions of what would happen should he fail.

  Not tonight, he promised and sat with his legs crossed, settling into his meditation to rest and sharpen his mind as he waited for the sunset. He fell into himself until the world was only a vague outline; just enough to stay alert but not so much as to escape sleep. Allowing his dreams to come over him, he accepted the lessons they held and reflected on them intensely; specifically when he imagined Natalia attacking him for what he was and not who he was.

  Who am I to deserve mercy? I have killed, I have stolen, and I have lied, yet here I am being told by someone that I should realize how much good I do. The same person who left as soon as they saw my face. Does that mean she was wrong and I am doomed to be nothing more than an outcast among monsters? Or was she right all along and simply couldn’t face her own inner demons?

  He then became aware of a chill breeze blowing across his face and shivered, retracting from his dreams. He opened his eyes and blinked a few times, switching to the dark spectrum. He glanced about and saw he was still alone then peered over the edge to the street where a few people still bustled about. He gauged the distance to the prison to be about ninety feet away and sixty feet tall, with a twelve foot wall splitting the ground below him.

  The moon illuminated the night dimly as clouds periodically passed over it, leaving an on-and-off darkening that threw off depth perception. Luckily, this was of little importance to the dark-seeing as depth perception is already warped through the spectrum and he learned long ago to accommodate for it. As such, his first shot hit the mark between two bricks and dug into the mortar securely.

  He pulled on the rope as mightily as he could manage and still failed to remove the arrow. With a satisfied nod, he disassembled the bow and placed it back in his pack, then wrapped his legs around the rope and ascended a slight rise toward the window hand over hand.

  Ignoring the swaying of the rope as the frosty night breeze buffeted him he retained his steady pace and grit his teeth determinedly. He knew that from this height he would appear as nothing more than a dark blur against the sky, nigh invisible at this time of dusk in this season. All in all, it couldn’t be a better time of the year for him to bust someone out of prison.

  He smiled at that and knew he would have come for him even in the middle of the day in summer if he had had to. Empowered with sheer will and a refusal to fail his friend, one of the few, he crossed the distance and used one leg to prop himself on the windowsill. He peered inside quickly and removed Darkbane from the sheath under his arm. He pulled his cloak up to conceal its magical glow and praying the enchantments on it would hold, began sawing away at the iron bars.

  To his immense surprise and pleasure the blade passed through cleanly and quietly. Not even a spark spent, the iron bar was cleaved through. Smiling once more with success so close at hand, he quickly went to work on the others and a few minutes later had them all severed from their base. Several tense moments later, and he was inside the cell.

  Relieved it was indeed empty; he placed the iron bars on the cot and quietly made his way to the door with a lockpick in his grasp. Before beginning he pulled a small vial of oil from his pocket and greased the hinges to the door to ensure they wouldn’t squeal and give him away. He crouched low and glanced about to ensure no one would see him then reached around through the bars to the lock. Inserting the pick slowly and securely, he felt the tiny tumblers with his deft fingers and soon, with a twist and a click, the door swung open.

  ***

  Thom paced about his room and wiped his sweaty palms on his trousers. His heart felt ready to leap through his chest and beat so loud it drowned out everything else. His face felt hot and the rest of him cold so he continued to fan himself as he shivered until his teeth began to chatter. Bloodshot eyes and pale, Thom looked as if he had already seen the executioner.