by I K Spencer
Another hour had passed before Cidrl leaned through the adjoining door and ordered him to eat, then sleep. Anthen was relieved to see the traitor dressed formally, knowing that he should have a few hours free while the traitor dined. He ate a little of the food and listened for Cidrl to depart.
A few minutes later he heard Cidrl's door and set to work. He went to his pack and found his eating utensils, then quickly transferred the rest of his cold dinner from the tray and put it inside the dressing room. No doubt the woman would be hungry.
Anthen gathered the wicks from all the lamps save the biggest and took the large lamp and the wicks over to the empty fireplace. He opened the lamp as far as it would go and arranged the other wicks into a pile on top. He then doused the pile with oil from another lamp and set it ablaze. The large flame lit up the room and he rose quickly and closed the curtains. He then washed his dagger and set it with the tip in the conflagration.
Listening keenly for approaching footsteps, he went to his pack and found his small cache of medical supplies. He filled the wash basin and knelt on the floor in front of the bright flame. He unwrapped the wound, washed it clean and winced as he poured a yellowish powder along the gash. It was painful but it should lessen the chances of the wound becoming infected. Holding the wrist over the wash basin so the drops from the bleeding wound fell to the water, he picked up an arrow and gripped it firmly in his teeth.
The guardsman watched the heating blade as it sat in the hot flame. The sharp edge of the blade began to glow faintly. He doubted it was hot enough but knew he couldn't wait any longer since the oil in the lamp would burn off very quickly.
In a quick but fluid motion, he picked up the hot knife handle and touched the dagger's glowing blade against the center of the gash. He shuddered with pain, overcoming the instinct to rip his throbbing wrist away. He moaned in agony and bit down with all his might as he pressed the blade into the wound and pulled it away, painfully tearing skin that stuck to the cooling metal. He managed to set the blade back in the flame, then clutched the throbbing wrist and bent over, dizzy from the pain.
Anthen forced himself to straighten up, rinse the trembling wrist and inspect the wound. The center of the gash was charred and blistered. It was definitely a shoddy job but at least that part of the wound seemed closed.
Twice more he repeated the self-inflicted torture, tears of pain streaming down his cheeks. After the last he curled up in a ball on his side and waited for the spasms of intense pain to subside, his usually composed face contorted with agony and drenched with sweat, the only sound his ragged breath whistling through clenched teeth.
Slowly, the stabs of intense pain moderated to a steady throb and he was able to roll over and rise to his knees. He waited for a wave of dizziness to pass and then went back to work, applying salve, which proved no easy task with both hands shaking violently. Finally he was able to rewrap the pulsing wound using the original bandage, though he doubted Cidrl would think to have the wound checked again unless it bled enough to be noticed.
Using only his right hand, Anthen cleaned up the mess in the fireplace and restored all the lamps to their original conditions and positions. He then bathed, his entire body drenched with perspiration from enduring the intense pain. After preparing his weapons he lay down on the bed and waited, trying to ignore the pain in his wrist.
Chapter 26
It was past midnight when the young guardsman rose from his bed. He had heard Cidrl return earlier and waited another hour after the castle became quiet. He moved noiselessly about the room, collecting his weapons, then waited by the door. While lying on the bed he had listened to the hallway sentry's movements and learned the man's patrol pattern. Over a minute had elapsed from the time the sentry passed his door heading to the guardsman's left until he again heard the man's footsteps. Anthen waited for the Dolonarian to pass, then opened the door a crack and watched as the man reached the end of the hallway and disappeared, as expected. Anthen slipped out into the hallway and walked quickly to the right, in the opposite direction.
As he approached the end of the hallway, he sensed a presence ahead before hearing voices on the stairs. He saw a pair of guards conversing just inside the stairwell and ducked into a dark alcove. He wanted to avoid killing any guards if at all possible, especially this close to his chamber, but could not wait for too long, for the sentry who patrolled the hallway would return in less than a minute.
He counted the seconds and lined up the shot with his bow, hoping desperately that he would not have to resort to the weapon. He would drop the farther Dolonarian first, then must fire the second shot before the other guard could sound an alarm. He had practiced the shot sequence countless times at the academy so was not worried that it would succeed if it couldn’t be avoided.
Just about when the guardsman thought he could wait no longer, the two guards turned and mounted the stairs. As soon they were out of sight, he hurried out of the hallway and started down the stairs. A second later he could hear the sentry who patrolled his hallway; the man's gait sounded normal and he let out a sigh of relief.
He went a short way down the stairs before stopping just out of sight from the floor above. He could hear the pair of guards above him but heard nothing from below. He continued down the stairs, pausing at each landing to listen for movement below. Eventually he descended to the dungeon level without running into another sentry.
The first door to the prison area was located just beyond the stairwell and in front of it stood a lone sentry. The bored Dolonarian hummed a melody and twirled the key on his stubby finger. Anthen waited to see if the man would move. If not, the guardsman would have to take him with the bow and risk alerting the guards certain to be stationed on the other side of the door.
As if in answer to the guardsman's silent request, the sentry started to walk back and forth in front of the door. The man seemed to be moving in rhythm with his song while studying the ground and Anthen guessed he just paced out of boredom. When the guard turned to dance toward the door, Anthen slipped down the remaining stairs and pressed himself against the wall, invisible in the dark shadows at the bottom of the stairwell.
He watched the sentry for a few moments longer, then decided to try something. Taking out a gold piece, he placed the shiny metal disk on the stone floor and slid it forward with his foot as the guard marched toward the door again. The piece came to rest within reach of the nearest torch and as Anthen had hoped, he heard the guard's grunt of surprise as he turned and spied the gold piece. Anthen silently slid his sword from its sheath.
He heard the man rush forward and as soon as he saw the guard bend over to peer at his discovery, he stepped forward and clubbed the guard hard at the base of the neck. He caught the heavy figure but the key the man had been twirling clattered loudly to the floor. He froze for a moment but heard nothing. He scooped up the key and dragged the unconscious guard over beside the door. Working quickly, he stripped the guard's clothes and used them to bind and gag the man, then carefully approached the barred opening in the door.
Anthen listened for a moment, then smiled, hearing loud snores coming from the other side of the heavy door. He peered through the opening and surveyed the area beyond the door. He saw the source of the snoring, an unusually fat Dolonarian seated upon a bench beside the next door through which he must pass, the keys on a hook above his drooping head. Anthen looked around but could see no one else inside. He slipped the key into the lock and slowly turned it, feeling the worn tumblers click. He pushed the door open and stepped through, raising his bow and then lowered it again, seeing no one in the room except for the napping guard. There was an open doorway to the left and he crept over and peered in. It appeared to be a storeroom and small armory.
He cautiously approached the sleeping man and listened at the next door. He heard laughter but it did not sound close. Peering through the bars in the door, he saw no one in the next chamber, a large, open room with benches and tables and several sets of shelves linin
g the walls. A hulking stone fireplace, probably the only source of heat for the entire dungeon, lay dark and cold in the far right corner.
Turning his attention to the snoring sentry, Anthen cautiously removed the man's helmet, then clubbed the lazy oaf in the same manner he had disabled the first guard. He then replaced the man's helmet. He stepped back through the outer door, dragged the first guard into the storeroom, and locked the outer door.
He paused once again to listen before moving into the next room. With the fat guard's noisy snores gone, he could hear voices in a brightly-lit room to the left of the large room, the next chamber through which he must pass. Looking across the room and locating the door to the first block of cells, he silently cursed as he noted that the key ring he expected to see hanging near the door was missing.
Anthen opened the door and stepped inside the darkened central room, closing the door behind him. He slid along the wall to his left, then along the adjacent wall toward the doorway beyond which, he could hear a pair of voices. He listened to the conversation for a bit, gleaning from their words that the two sentries were on a break. Unfortunately, their break would have to be cut short, along with their lives, for they must have the keys in the room with them.
The guardsman reversed his steps past the door he had entered to the opposite corner of the room, a position from which he could see the two men. He did not bother to take cover; the room he occupied was nearly dark and the men could not possibly see him, had they even looked in his direction. The two guards were seated at a table side-by-side, their broad backs to him. He listened to their conversation as he lined up the shots.
"I like 'em big."
"Aye but not so ugly," the other replied and both roared with laughter.
"She's too skinny as well."
Anthen aimed at the guard on the right and steadied himself to pull the trigger. He gathered that the men might be talking about the Arnedonian woman.
"Would you take her?"
"Not likely. Only if the pickings were very bad."
"Aye. I think he's out of his head. She's not one to mess with I say."
Anthen lowered the weapon and looked toward the cellblock door once again. Were they talking about a third guard, who might have unlocked the cellblock and taken the key inside? Anthen crossed the dim room to the cellblock door and to his surprise, the door moved when he pushed it.
Peering through the crack, he saw the door to the second set of cells at the other end of the corridor had been left ajar. Before entering the first cellblock, with six cells on either side, the guardsman pulled his hood up to hide his face and crouched as he walked through, in case any of the cell occupants happened to be watching. He moved slowly and silently down the hall, listening for the footfalls of any approaching guards.
Once at the far door, he peered through the barred opening into the second cellblock and saw that the woman's cell door was also open. As before, he moved slowly down the corridor in a crouch. He pressed against the wall and carefully approached the partially open door. Greeted by only an ominous silence from within the cell, the guardsman drew his blade before peering inside. Something was clearly amiss and though he steeled himself, the scene within still shocked him.
The cell was dark except for a lone lamp sitting on the floor in the middle of the cell, casting eerie shadows on the walls. The woman had been raised so that her feet could barely touch the floor. Her arms were pulled taut to the sides, the chains so tight her wrists bled, and for a moment the guardsman thought she might have been crucified. As before, her head slumped forward as though she were unconscious. Blood soaked the bottom of her filthy shift and her bare legs were covered with blood. At her feet lay a Dolonarian jailer, unconscious or dead, with a bloody knife clutched in his hand.
The woman's head jerked up as Anthen stepped inside the cell. "Come to sample a woman of Arnedon?" she said with mock sweetness. "I hope you fare better than your friend here. He—" Her eyes widened in alarm as he stepped into the light. "What cruel trick is this? Stay away from me, you wretched creature!"
"Lower your voice. I am here to set you free," Anthen whispered, noting fear in the woman's voice for the first time.
He knelt and checked the guard for a pulse, finding none. He could see the battered woman did not believe him. He explained the situation quickly as he worked to unlock her manacles. "I am a guardsman and everything the traitor made me say today is true except that I am only pretending to be under his spell. I am deeply sorry for striking you earlier but I must play the role until I learn his plot."
"What kind of fool do you think me?"
"We do not have time for this now," Anthen whispered sharply, pausing before releasing the last remaining manacle from her left leg. "I promise to answer all your questions but first we must get out of this dungeon and to a safer place. What say you?"
She scowled at him as she considered her situation briefly but finally nodded. "Agreed."
"We must see to your wounds or they will easily track us," Anthen said as he pulled the last chain free and observed fresh blood running down the woman's legs.
She slid down the wall and pulled the gown up to the top of her thighs, revealing countless cuts and gashes. Anthen moved the lamp closer and used his knife to cut large bandages from the dead guard's clothing.
"The water. On the table," the woman prompted.
Anthen jumped up and retrieved the water pitcher. The woman took a long drink, then poured the remaining water over her bloody legs to rinse the wounds and wash away the blood. Anthen returned with several long strips of cloth and set to bandaging one leg while the woman worked on the other. The young guardsman was not used to seeing a woman's bare legs outside the bedroom and it made him nervous and tentative.
"Tighter," she commanded. "I am not one of your fragile ladies of Isaencarl." She looked over briefly at the guard as she knotted the bandages. "The drunken fool had come in here to have his way with me. He didn't suspect a thing when I spread my legs and beckoned him forward." She explained that she had strangled him with her legs but he had managed to do some damage with his knife before she finished him. From the feel of her strong legs, the guardsman had little doubt she could easily strangle a man in that manner.
He helped her up and handed her the guard's bloody knife as a weapon. She gave him a curious look, still unsure of his motives. She pulled the dead man's boots and breeches off. She stepped into the oversized pants and cinched the belt as tight as it would go to keep them from slipping. The boots she discarded after trying one on, then nodded that she was ready. He noticed that the woman could barely stay on her feet and supported her as they left the cell.
"I must not be seen," he whispered and pulled his cloak up over his head.
He felt the woman lean heavily on his back as they moved down the corridors of the two cellblocks. He paused at the door and listened. The two guards were still in the adjoining room so they might slip past unnoticed. He pushed the door open and led the woman around the perimeter opposite the room where the two guards were located. They got halfway around when he heard the sound of scraping chairs, then a shadow filled the doorframe.
"And where do you think you're off to," the thickset guard growled at the woman, apparently not seeing Anthen, clothed in the dark cloak.
Anthen raised his bow and shot the man cleanly through the forehead. The guardsman rushed forward with his weapon poised for the other guard. The second guard was momentarily stunned into silence by the sight of his comrade but then started to howl an alarm. Anthen finally had a clear shot and silenced the man with a quarrel through his throat. Before the man could even clutch at the arrow in his throat, a second shaft pierced his heart and he slumped lifelessly to the floor.
Anthen rushed forward and pulled his bolts from the Dolonarians; their design would quickly lead Cidrl to him. The woman looked at him in amazement as he returned, no doubt confused as to how he could fire three arrows so quickly. He pulled her quickly across the room and th
rough the door where the fat guard still slumped. He stirred slightly as they passed and Anthen clubbed him once more. He locked the door behind them and tossed the key through the barred opening.
"Wait," she whispered as he started to pull her toward the outer door. "My things." She gestured toward the storeroom where Anthen had left the first guard bound with his own clothes.
"No time." Anthen shook his head but the woman pushed his supporting arm away and staggered into the room.
He waited and listened to see if the guard's yell had been heard. There was no sound and he breathed a sigh of relief, then rushed into the storeroom to help the woman, now struggling with a heavy pack. He took the pack and slung it over his shoulder while she did the same with her longbow and quiver. The pair hurried from the storeroom and through the outer door of the dungeons, where Anthen again paused to lock the door and drop the key back inside through the bars.
"Where now?" the woman whispered as he helped her up the stairs.
"To my chamber." The guardsman said, pausing to listen at the first landing. He peered back down the stairs to make sure the woman's wounds were not leaving drops of blood to be followed.
"Your chamber?" the woman whispered sharply, pushing his helping hand away once again. "Why not just hand me over to the Dolonaries!"
"I know little of the palace and nothing of the city," he answered hotly, his patience growing thin. "My mission is yet unfinished and, considering what people think me to be, I am an unlikely accomplice. Finally, you are in no condition to run very far. If you have a better plan, then tell me quickly or stop arguing!"
The woman scowled, obviously against staying in the palace, but could offer no alternative. "Very well!" she said angrily and started up the stairs after him.