Cleansing Fire

Marius opened his eyes and cried out from the pain that covered his whole body. He felt like he’d been sent through a mangle and perhaps dropped off a cliff for good measure. Wincing, he felt down his side – he was quite sure one of his ribs was broken. Holding his breath against the explosion, he sat up and tried to get some idea about his surroundings. There was very little light and what there was filtered through some murky glass in a tiny window on the door. Leaning back against the cool stones of the wall, he tried to figure out what had happened. He’d been in the woods near the farmhouse and then… the blacksmith had punched him. In a sudden rush of recollection, he remembered the trip atop Bellak’s shoulder, hoisted like a sack of grain.

The trip had been none too gentle. If he’d resisted at all or even moved in a way that displeased the huge man, he had simply been beaten till he stopped. His memory was filled with flashing feet and fists coupled with excruciating pain. He remembered passing out once or twice but they’d always snapped him out of it before carrying on. He supposed they’d wanted him to see where he was going.

Eventually, not even their careful ministrations had managed to keep him from passing out. He remembered the ground passing by in a blur as Bellak had lengthened his stride. The burly City Guard had struggled to keep up.

He must have been dumped here while he slept – left in a cell until a magistrate could be bothered to hear his case. He punched the wall in frustration as he thought about the long wait that was ahead of him. Sometimes the Magistrates only saw to prisoners in six months. If he had to stay in this cell for that long he’d go mad.

Looking around in the dim space, he realised that the cell he was in was really quite small – no wider than both his arms stretched to their limit and only a little longer than his extended legs. The ceiling was refreshingly high; had he been standing it would have taken him up to his waist.

He knew the village didn’t have any cells like these so that left the next logical place – Dunriver. Come to think of it, the Guard had mentioned getting back to Dunriver. Marius had been quite preoccupied at the time and had failed notice the man watching him.

Dunriver meant one thing – the Governor. That could be a problem; the governor and Marius hadn’t seen eye to eye for quite some time. The man had objected to having his things stolen and in turn, Marius had objected to being beaten for something he honestly hadn’t done. Words were exchanged and the governor hadn’t taken it well – he wasn’t a man used to being challenged.

It was just possible that Governor Treilim wasn’t yet aware of his presence here and he intended to keep it that way if he could.

He could see that there was no food left lying inside the door – either they weren’t feeding him or he hadn’t been here long enough to actually get any. He’d been through hard times before – a little thing like not being fed for a few days wouldn’t do him too much harm.

He heard a key being turned in the lock and stood up, moving right to the back of the cell, staying very still. The last thing he wanted was a guard getting jumpy because he thought Marius was too close to the door. He shaded his eyes with one hand as light flooded into the small room. He could see the outline of a man standing in the door but not much else.

“Time to get up, prisoner. The Captain wants to see you.” Marius brightened a little – at least he was being taken to a Captain. There was a chance he could get out of here today if he talked well enough. A Captain of the Guard could release him without authorisation from the Governor; if he was lucky, he wouldn’t have to go before Treilim at all. He walked towards the door and almost fell back as a meaty hand thrust out in front of him suddenly.

“Not so fast. Turn around, put your hands behind your back,” the man demanded roughly.

“There’s no need for that soldier, if you’ll just…” A ringing blow to the back of his head made him stagger and almost fall again. He felt a blow land on his side and he collapsed against the wall.

“There are only two ways you’re getting out of this cell, scum. With your arms tied or in a sack. Your choice. Make me ask again and you’ll regret it.”

Rubbing the aching lump on the back of his head, Marius didn’t doubt it at all. This must be one of the new Guards Treilim had hired. Sighing, he backed up towards the door, this time with his hands folded behind his back, ready for binding. Rough hands grabbed his wrists and quickly wound a thick rope around and through them. The guard pulled him out of the cell backwards and he nearly fell again.

He bit back a curse that would surely land him with some more broken ribs and turned around to take in his surroundings.

The corridor was dark and long with large grey flagstones all along the floor and walls – totally devoid of any other decoration. Arrow slits were the only break to the monotony as far as he could see.

A row of door much like the one he had just come out of lined one side of the corridor and there were another three Guards stationed outside the cells. Apparently he was someone to be watched – there were two other guards besides the fellow who’d tied his hands waiting to escort him.

The first guard tied a length of rope to his bound hands, passing it along his side so it came out in front like a leash. He tugged on the rope and Marius understood that he was to follow the man like a dog. He grimaced but there was little he could do besides follow along meekly for now.

His escort set off down the corridor without bothering to check if the others came with him. He’s confident enough about the security around here that he doesn’t feel he even needs them. He filed the thought away in the back of his mind – overconfidence was always something to be looked for in a prison guard.

In a few seconds, Marius heard the sound of boots following them down the corridor. It would have been better if the others had stayed behind. It would be harder to find a way out of here with so many people watching him.

He didn’t recognise this part of the building at all – it must have been one of the few places he hadn’t been on his frequent visits to the prisons. They had usually reserved other cells for him, generally where they could keep an easy eye on him but not expend too much effort in watching.

He wasn’t sure it was a good thing that he’d been put in these new cells – either they knew exactly who he was or they had a special reason for keeping him away from the general population.

Neither reason made him feel particularly good when he thought about it. So much for not being noticed.

He counted the number of left and right turns carefully as they wound their way up through the building. He’d learned how to keep track of buildings early on in his life – it was a skill that he’d blessed the gods for more than once. When they finally came to a part he recognised, he added their journey to the mental map he had of the place. You never knew when knowledge like that could be useful.

He wasn’t above an escape attempt if it looked like they were intending on keeping him for more than a day or two – he had to find whoever had escaped the farmhouse and get after the stranger before the trail went cold. Going before a magistrate could take weeks, if not months and that wasn’t time he was willing to waste.

He could feel his face tensing up as his anger built again – that he had been brought here at all had convinced him of the incompetence in the Guard. Even a cursory investigation would have shown him to be innocent.

Forcing the tension from his face, he adopted a vaguely penitent expression and tried to concentrate on what he would say when he finally met this Captain. They had walked for at least half an hour and his side was beginning to ache tremendously when they finally stopped outside a large door with a brass plaque stuck to it. He was surprised at their destination – he remembered this as being Captain Orton’s room – apparently this Callahn had taken over.

He and Orton had had some close calls over the years he had lived in the city. He remembered quite clearly standing on the other side of the door when Orton had told him that one more slip-up would end with him swinging in the wind. The Captain had not been a man you ignored. That was when Marius had decided to drop the game and Mistress Arfor had come into his life. Rather a little hard work than a hangman’s noose.

One of the guards rapped smartly on the door and on instructions from inside, pushed the door open and pulled Marius in with the guide rope. As he walked through the door, Marius noticed the other guards taking up stations on either side of the door. No chance of a quick and easy escape from here then. I’ll have to talk the Captain into letting me go then. Shouldn’t be too difficult – they’re not exactly bred for their intelligence around here.

He stopped in surprise as he saw the Captain – the man was barely older than he was! Strange to rise this high up in the ranks while so young. Orton had been more than fifty when he first attained his rank.

A yank on the guide rope staggered him and he fell to his knees in front of the desk, cringing as his ribs protested.