Part 3
Lady Torana, formerly a queen and now a prisoner, surveyed her prison cell for about the hundredth time that day. She was searching for anything that would help her escape, but so far, had found nothing. Balen Talbrand, the rightful leader of the Wanderers, was in a prison cell next to her. They had found each others' company uplifting. Indeed, it was perhaps the only thing keeping her spirit alive in that dreadful place.
Once, Torana had been the husband of Lord Darek, who had been murdered by the evil sorcerer-king Neteilu. Then the sorcerer had taken her for his wife. She tried to have him assassinated after seeing what horror he had wrought upon the land of Torgesia, but the plot failed, and now she was imprisoned.
It was, Torana thought, a grave injustice. But she did not plan to be imprisoned much longer. She just needed to find a way out. They were keeping her alive for her execution, she had learned. She was to be made an example in the most public fashion. All she needed to do was to buy herself a little time to escape and free Balen.
The Wanderers, she had also learned from the guards' idle chatter, had been given an area of land that was a few days' journey from the city of Teracor. They would be taxed like any other citizen, but no outsiders were allowed to settle on their land. Magic was strictly forbidden to them, as it was to all citizens, except for Neteilu himself and those he appointed to advisory positions.
There was a minor commotion as the guards brought in a new prisoner. Torana recognized him as a member of the assassins' guild. She had only met with them briefly, but knew enough to recognize them by their faces. He had a familiar look.
"In you go, thief," the guard said with a dark chuckle while he shoved the man into the cell across from Torana's. "We'll let you out to bury your bones in a century or two."
The other guard laughed.
Torana felt her hopes surge. Perhaps this man could help her escape!
The first guard slammed the cell door shut and locked it. "Don't get too cozy in 'ere. Your execution is scheduled after this lovely wench's."
Both guards snickered as they disappeared into the long, dark corridor.
"Pssst," Torana whispered after they left.
"What the bloody hell is it?" her new neighbor asked.
"I'm Lady Torana."
"The former queen?"
"Yes. You have to help me get out of here. They're going to kill me in a few days."
"Why should I help you? You're the one who got my brother killed."
"Brother?"
"His name was Zebyl. You hired him to kill the king. He failed."
"I'm very sorry for what happened to him, but it doesn't change the fact that the king is an evil bastard."
The assassin snorted. "No, it doesn't. They don't realize I'm his brother yet, but they might if the king takes a walk down here. I'm going to die, anyway."
"What'd you do?"
"Oh, I broke into some nobleman's house and stole a few pieces of jewelry and dried halil flowers."
Halil was a hallucinogen, but the dried flowers were often used as decorations in upper class homes because of their bright colors. An alchemist had to process them in order to derive the drug from them. It had been banned under King Ulven's rule, though Neteilu had recently reversed the ban.
"Which nobleman?" Torana asked.
"I believe his name was Lord Brogan. His wife still lives there. I heard he was either imprisoned or killed."
There was a stir in one of the other cells that recently had acquired a new occupant, after its predecessor had been executed. "You broke into my house? You deserve to die, you impetuous scoundrel!"
"Lord Brogan!" Torana exclaimed. "So you are still alive."
"Aye," he replied wearily. "Though probably not for long."
"Which is why we have to escape."
In the other cell, Balen cleared his throat. "Er, pardon me for interrupting, but all we need is my staff. If the thief would be willing to risk his neck to retrieve it, we could easily get out of here."
"I am an assassin, not a mere thief," the new prisoner said.
"My apologies. But you must certainly have the skill of picking a lock."
"Oh, aye, if I only had something to pick it with. I assume your staff is magical?"
"Yes. I am Balen Talbrand, rightful leader of the Wanderers."
"My name is Conwyn. I shall have to think on the problem."
"Don't take too long," Balen urged.
* * * * *
Meanwhile, in the faerie kingdom, the golden fingers of dawn stretched across the morning sky as the adventurers awoke from their slumber and prepared to depart for Sagehaven. The supplies had been checked and double-checked. It would not do them well to run out of rations early.
Trin visited her father one last time before she left. "Father, I must apologize for what happened earlier. My behavior was quite rash."
"It is of no consequence, Trin. I fear your draconian friend is right. I have contemplated his words. The sorcerer Neteilu could very well end up destroying our world, particularly if Zoru takes an interest in him. An alliance between those two would be very ominous indeed."
Trin nodded. "Do you know whether it has happened yet?"
"No," he admitted. "I need to gather information from my spies. Trin, please be careful. Sagehaven may lie in ruins now, but there are many reports of it being haunted by restless spirits."
"I will be careful."
"Your brother has offered to join you in your quest. I will permit this. An extra sword cannot hurt."
"Thank you, father." Trin curtsied.
The faerie king smiled. "I wish you and your companions the best of luck, daughter. May the stars guide you."
"And you also, father."
She rejoined her friends, who were ready to leave. Tanith sat atop J'yar, and Talrion rode Brightwind, an ivory-colored mare. A suitably-sized pony had been found for Fenrek. Trin's mount was a feisty black mare named Nightsong. Aliya rode a cinnamon-hued stallion called Firestar, and Kip flew above them in dragon form since most horses shied away from him.
The sun's golden rays illuminated the path that stretched out before them. It was a long road, but one that led to treasure and, hopefully, would give them the ability to defeat their nemesis.
* * * * *
Conwyn paced the length of his cell, ruminating on a possible plan. An idea came to him when the guards came with gruel for the afternoon meal. He still had his belt buckle. The guards hadn't taken the belt away. After the guards left, he removed his belt and broke the lever off. It might not work, but it was better than nothing.
It was painstaking work to pick the lock. For one thing, the tiny piece of metal kept getting bent. For another thing, it was not nearly as good as a lock pick. He had no idea how much time passed. It might have been hours, for all he knew. There were no windows in the dungeon. Finally, the lock clicked open. He breathed a sigh of relief.
"You managed to get it open, did you?" Brogan asked, stating the obvious.
"Aye. I'll check around for your staff, but I don't know if the guards still have it."
"Oh, they'll have it. Neteilu probably wants to study it."
Conwyn nodded and crept through the long, dark corridor to the main door. He ducked behind it as the guards came through with the evening meal, then grabbed one guard's dagger from behind and stabbed him with it. He went down with a grunt. The other whirled around.
"You bastard," the remaining guard exclaimed. "You'll be hanged for this!"
"As if I wasn't going to be hanged anyway," he replied, and lunged toward the guard.
The guard dodged and tried to get a punch in, but the floor was slick with his companion's blood. As a result, he slipped. He let out a string of very creative curses as his head banged against a jail cell. Seeing his opportunity, Conwyn launched himself at his opponent. The dagger buried itself into the guard's thick leather.
The surprised guard looked down. "Blimey," he muttered as his life faded.
Conwyn took the dead guard's dagger. He hadn't even had a chance to use it. The assassin also took the keys from both of the guards' belts. One of the keys opened the door at the end of the hallway, which was currently free of guards. But sooner or later, the other guards would figure out what had happened.
He followed the hallway to a supply room, containing everything that had been confiscated from the prisoners. There was only one staff, and it was in the corner. It was made of Darkwood and had several ruby, garnet and topaz gems inserted into the wood. He took it. He also took a long sword, a knife, a few jars of healing ointment, and a sack containing food rations that had not yet spoiled.
He returned to the dungeon and freed the other prisoners, not discriminating amongst them. No doubt most of them were in there for crimes they hadn't committed, and even if some of them were in there for murder, they'd be more than willing to aid in the escape. The more, the better.
Balen grinned as he held his staff once more. The gems briefly glowed with inner fire, acknowledging his right to the staff. Some of the newly escaped prisoners gaped.
"He's a bloody sorcerer," one exclaimed.
"I'm no sorcerer," he replied. "I am Balen Talbrand, leader of the Wanderers. This staff of power is a sign of my rank."
"You'll help us escape?" another prisoner asked.
"Of course. I must find my people."
"And I must avenge my husband's death," Torana added. "The sorcerer Neteilu murdered him, just as he murdered your rightful king."
"You were his wife. Why should we trust you?" a third prisoner inquired, glaring at her.
"I have no love for him. He forced me to become Queen. I tried to have him assassinated."
Conwyn nodded. "It was my brother who made the attempt. Neteilu killed him."
"I may have lost my title," Torana added, "but not my courage. We must escape from this place and find a way to rise up against the tyrant, else I fear he will destroy everything and everyone we hold dear."
A chorus of ayes followed, and the prisoners rushed towards the open door that led to their freedom. Astonished guards were met with fist and blade. Soon, the former prisoners escaped from the castle, disappearing into the streets of Teracor and beyond.
* * * * *
