The Prison of Buried Hopes (After The Rift Book 5)

by C. J. Archer

  "Why are you shaking your head?" I asked.

  "They're brutal places. It takes a lot out of a bloke to see his fellow man treated like that. And women too."

  Meg looked to Max, but Max just sat there, cradling his cup, his expression blank. After introducing himself as Mark then the rest of us as his friends, he'd fallen silent. It must feel strange for him to drink tea with a man who would have been his enemy. Sander might even have been the one who whipped him.

  "Didn't the prisoners deserve their fate?" Meg asked. "That's what we were told."

  "Some did, aye," Sander said. "I won't deny that there were prisoners with hearts blacker than the deepest sea. But not all."

  Meg gave Max an arched look. "I imagine some committed crimes simply because they were poor or desperate," she said.

  "True enough, but we guards weren't to know who was real evil and who was just a poor bloke down on his luck that got caught thieving, or whoring in the case of the women. Not when they arrived. Everyone was the same to us at first."

  "What was the prison like for them?" Meg asked.

  "I don't like to say, miss. It's not nice for ladies like yourselves to hear."

  "We want to know."

  He shifted his weight and glanced at Max, but Max didn't look up from his cup. "Well, you got to understand that the mines were dark places and the prisoners were down in them tunnels all their waking day. They were hungry, tired, hot and thirsty. They knew they wouldn't survive long, and if a man knows he ain't got long to live, he doesn't care no more. They were already in Merdu's Pit. They might as well have already been dead. I don't blame them for rising up. Not really. I just wish they hadn't killed all my friends. Some were good men. Some were bad, and just as cruel as the prisoners, but most were good." He lifted his cup, saluting his lost colleagues.

  I swallowed and lifted my own cup but didn't drink. I suddenly didn't have the thirst.

  "You ladies look sick." Sander swirled the liquid in his cup. "Is it the tea?"

  "It's the thought of how those prisoners lived." I looked to Kitty and she nodded, urging me to continue, as did Meg. Max sat morosely opposite and didn't look my way. "You see, our loved ones were prisoners in that mine."

  Sander sat back heavily as if the stuffing had been knocked out of him. "Well. That explains why he looks familiar."

  Max suddenly looked up. "You recognize me?"

  "Aye, and I thought it was from the prison, but I knew it couldn't be." Sander frowned. "Are you telling me you were once a prisoner there and survived the exeuction?"

  "My brother was a prisoner," Max said quickly. "Twin. His name was Max. Do you remember him?"

  "A little. I'm good with faces, and yours is familiar. A twin, eh?" He smiled. "How about that."

  "What was he imprisoned for?" Meg asked. "Do you remember?"

  Sander shook his head. "We weren't told what crimes they committed, but some told us anyway or I overheard them talking to the other prisoners. Conversation weren't banned altogether, just seditious talk."

  Max returned to clutching his cup and staring into the tea. Meg rested a hand on his arm, but he jerked away.

  "Can't say I remember your brother much at all," Sander went on. "Sorry. So you don't know what he was arrested for?"

  Max shook his head.

  When he didn't go on, Meg added, "He left home without informing his family where he was going. Mark later found out he was arrested and sent to the prison mine."

  "The authorities wouldn't tell you what he did?" Sander asked. He was right to seem incredulous. It didn't make sense that we'd know the punishment but not the crime.

  "Is there any way we can find out?" I asked. "What happened to the prison records after the escape?"

  "All destroyed in the riot. The warden's office was burned to the ground."

  The sorcerer had been thorough in obliterating all records of the servants' pasts. It was a grim reminder of how powerful it was.

  Sander drained his cup then waved it at the door. "Ready to go?"

  "In a moment," I said. "We have some other questions about our husbands and brothers."

  Sander frowned. "Husbands?"

  "Kitty and I are widows whose husbands were sent here. Meg's brother was too."

  Sander's frown deepened. He crossed his arms and regarded us from beneath the shelf of his protuberant brow. "But you seem so nice and normal. Not wives and sisters of thieves, rapists and the like."

  "They were wrongly convicted," Meg said. "We traveled from Glancia to see where they lived their final days. We hope it will help our grieving."

  "It will help us close that chapter of our lives," Kitty added, sounding pleased with her analogy.

  Sander grunted. "I'm not sure I can help you. There were a lot of prisoners and I didn't talk to many. I knew a lot by sight, like his brother." He nodded at Max. "But that's all."

  Kitty shuffled her chair closer to Sander. He leaned forward too, suddenly interested in what she had to say. "My husband's name was Theodore." She waited, but Sander didn't respond. "He was about thirty years old and from Dreen."

  "Full Dreenian or half?"

  "Full."

  Sander stroked his grizzly gray beard. "Well, there weren't many full Dreens but I definitely remember one clearly on account of his unusual crime."

  "I thought you didn't know what crimes they'd committed," Max said. Like us, he'd also suddenly become interested in what Sander had to say. He set aside his cup and moroseness and rested his folded arms on the table, listening.

  "I remember this one. Theodore you say." Sander nodded slowly. "He might have been called Theo, now that I think about it. Slim fellow, quiet, delicate."

  "That's him!" Kitty clapped her hands. "Do go on, Mr. Sander. Tell us everything you remember about him."

  Sander hesitated, but couldn't take his eyes off her. He reminded me of a stunned rat, enthralled by a bright light.

  "Go on," I said. "Please, tell us about him. Nothing you say will shock us. Kitty knows her husband well, but we simply want to make sure we're talking about the same man."

  Sander nodded slowly. "I see what you're implying, ma'am."

  Kitty blinked innocently at me. Unlike the others, she didn't have an inkling as to Theodore's nature. If our ruse was to work, she needed to.

  "You know," I said to her with an exaggerated wink. I dropped my voice to a whisper. "How he prefers men."

  Her eyes bulged. "Oh!"

  "Forgive her," Meg said to Sander. "It's an embarrassing subject for her, you understand."

  Sander's face flushed scarlet. "Seems we are talking about the same man. The Dreenian was the talk of the prison when he came in. None of us guards thought he'd last more than three days. Some even put wagers on it."

  "Wagers!" Max bellowed.

  Sander put up his hands. "Not me. Some of the others made wagers from time to time about the prisoners. The prison brought out the worst in some, and not just the prisoners."

  "What did he go to jail for?" I asked. At Sander's glance in Kitty's direction, I added, "Just so we know we're discussing the right man. Whatever you say cannot cause further embarrassment."

  Sander screwed up his nose and I thought I'd have to prompt him again, but in the end, he blurted it out. "Sodomy."

  It came as no surprise to any of us, but it didn't quite make sense to me. "I don't know about Freedland, but in Glancia, the criminal act is largely ignored. Dreen too, I believe."

  "And Freedland. That's why it caused a stir when he arrived. He told one of the guards why he’d been arrested and word quickly spread. None of us had ever seen a prisoner jailed for sodomy, let alone sent to a prison mine. Everyone was real curious about it and eventually one of the prisoners asked. Theo said he was arrested in his homeland and given a harsh sentence on account of his lover's father was a real important man in Dreen. He reckoned the father put pressure on the magistrate to give a harsh sentence, that's why Theo ended up here."

  "Who was the lover's fathe
r?" Kitty asked.

  "You don't know?"

  "No."

  Sander shrugged. "Me neither. Your husband didn't tell a soul. He said he'd take the name to his grave." His gaze turned distant before snapping back to Kitty. "So why does a beautiful Glancian woman marry a Dreenian who likes men?"

  Kitty waved off his question. "It's complicated."

  "How long was Theo in the prison before the escape?" I asked.

  "A month."

  "That long? So he was stronger than you thought."

  "It weren't easy for him. He wasn't built for hard labor and those early days, he wanted to give up. But some took pity on him."

  "Some guards?" I asked.

  "Other prisoners. There was a small group that took up together, they protected each other and the weak, the ones who maybe shouldn't have been in there, now that I think about it."

  Max and Meg shared a glance. "Was I— Was my brother one of those protectors?"

  Sander shrugged. "I don't recall. Maybe. Maybe that's why I remember his face."

  Max swallowed and rubbed his jaw. His haunted gaze once again connected with Meg's, and I could see the moment her heart cracked at seeing him so anxious and eager at the same time. I remember when I'd first met the palace guards in the forest outside Mull, and how their eyes had sported the same look.

  "What do you mean they shouldn't have been in there?" Meg asked in a small voice.

  "I mean they were different to the other prisoners. They didn't seem like bad folk to me. Some were even educated. They were kind and shared their bread, sometimes going without if the other was in a real bad way. If one fell, they picked him up, and some of the bigger prisoners helped push the carts of the smaller ones." He shrugged again. "They were friends, I suppose, although I don't reckon they all deserved that friendship. I remember this one fellow, a weak man, always whining about how unfair his imprisonment was, how he shouldn't have been there. Liked the sound of his own voice, that one."

  "Do you know his name?" I asked.

  He shook his head. "He was part Glancian, I think."

  I straightened. "Tall and dark?"

  "Not tall, but a bit fairer, like a Glancian."

  I blew out a breath. It wasn't Dane, thank Hailia. It certainly didn't sound like him. A whining man who liked the sound of his own voice… Merdu! "Was his name Leon?" I blurted out.

  Meg, Max and Kitty suddenly focused on Sander. He didn't appear to notice the extra attention, however. He clicked his fingers. "Aye, it was. I remember on account of some of the other prisoners used to tell him to be quiet all the time. 'Shut your hole, Leon,' they'd say." He chuckled. "Did you know him too?"

  "Not really," I said. "Do you know why he went to jail?"

  "I do, because he made sure everyone knew how unfair it was. He was jailed for impersonating the king of Vytill."

  A small bubble of laughter escaped Kitty's lips. "It does seem unfair to be arrested for that, particularly considering he was an actor."

  "Was he? Huh. Well, he shouldn't have lampooned the king. Not in Merrin, outside the king's own castle, no less. Seems to me he was asking for trouble."

  It sounded exactly like something the foolish, ridiculous Leon would have done. He often acted rashly, without considering the consequences.

  "The king of Vytill must have made sure he was sent here," Sander said. "Everyone agreed it was unfair, but no one cared too much on account of Leon being so annoying. Prison was hard on him. More so than on your husband, ma'am," he said to Kitty.

  "Why is that?" Kitty asked.

  "Well, ain't no one liked Leon much. The group I told you about before, the one your brother might have been a part of, Mark, they protected the weaker ones, but some wouldn't protect him. They just didn't like him. Only one helped him when his cart was too heavy or when the guards tried to whip him for not working hard enough."

  My mouth went dry and my throat tightened. He must be referring to Dane.

  "And who was that?" Max asked. Like me, he seemed to have stopped breathing as he waited for Sander to speak.

  "That's the thing," Sander said. "This fellow was the most memorable, but I don't recall his name."

  "Why was he memorable?"

  "He was educated, well-mannered, even to some of us guards who didn't treat him too bad. He was strong as an ox and a good fighter, and took it on himself to protect the weak when some of the other prisoners or guards tormented them. Even Leon. That made them all like him more, especially when he took their whippings on his own back."

  "He took their beatings?" I murmured.

  "He knew some wouldn't survive if they were whipped, so he volunteered himself in their place. I reckon it almost killed him once, but he recovered and carried on. Six months he was in the mine, I reckon it was. Six months before the escape." He scrubbed a hand over his beard, shaking his head. "I reckoned he was the one who organized it, but there ain't no way of knowing. Maybe the authorities got it out of him when they caught them, but they didn't tell us nothing."

  "Is that because he was a natural leader?" Kitty asked.

  "Aye, and because he's the only one capable of killing the guards in cold blood."

  All the air left my body. I felt limp and loose-limbed, hardly able to hold myself up. How could he think such a thing of Dane? He must be wrong. He must be thinking of someone else.

  "Are you sure you don't remember his name?" Meg asked, her thoughts following the same path as mine.

  "I remember what he was called, but it weren't his real name. His nickname was Hammer."

  Chapter 12

  I pressed a hand to my rolling stomach. There had to be some mistake. The Dane I knew couldnn’t kill all the guards in cold blood, like Sander claimed. But why did Sander think him guilty of such a heinous crime?

  "Why did they call him Hammer?" Max asked. His reticence of earlier had disappeared. Like the rest of us, he was absorbed in Sander's story.

  "It's the name the guards gave him after he attacked one of us." Sander spoke matter-of-factly, as if it had just been another day, another brutal event in the mine. "He bashed Carlos with the hammer he was using to break rocks. He was one of the few allowed to use tools on account of him being a good prisoner. But he proved us all wrong when he smashed it into Carlos's head."

  I covered my mouth as bile surged.

  "Why did he attack him?" Meg pressed. "Surely he had a reason."

  "Hammer didn't say. I still remember Carlos's cry of agony. Hammer was pulled off him by the other guards, but if he hadn't been, it could have been worse."

  "Was he punished?" Max asked.

  "Aye, he was put in the disused well for a week with no food and just a little water. When he came out, he carried on as if nothing happened."

  "You put him in a well?" I cried.

  He put up his hands. "It weren't me that put him there, it was my superiors. They didn't like Hammer, but I did. Not then, mind, but later, he became one of my favorites. Sometimes we'd talk, just about politics and the like, nothing personal. I started to think maybe he was jailed by mistake. But then I'd remember the way he attacked Carlos with that hammer. It was a good reminder not to trust any of them."

  "Why wasn't he executed for murder then and there?" Meg asked.

  "Carlos survived, so it weren't a hanging offense."

  Max gave me a grim smile, as if he were trying to cheer me up but didn't have the heart for it. "What did the other prisoners think of Hammer after that incident?" he asked.

  "Few lived as long as Hammer, so the incident was forgotten by most prisoners after a while. Except maybe the Marginer. He was in the mine longer than Hammer. The incident with Carlos happened before your husband got there, ma'am," he said to Kitty. "Before Leon, too. I'd say some of the prisoners were happy to see a guard attacked. Others didn't care. We weren't too popular with the prisoners, it’s safe to say." He huffed a humorless laugh. He didn’t seem cruel and was probably not the one inflicting the whippings on the prisoners. He had simpl
y been dong a job he disliked, and that made him no different to many.

  "What was Hammer imprisoned for?" I asked.

  "I don't know. He never said and the warden never told us guards. He reckoned it was none of our business. Maybe he was worried we'd treat some of them kinder if we thought they didn't deserve their fate."

  He stood and collected the cups, turning away to rinse them in a tub of water. The rest of us exchanged glances behind his back, and Meg reached for Max's hand. Instead of pulling away, he drew it to his lips and kissed it. He let go as Sander turned back to us.

  "Ready to go to the mine now?" he asked cheerfully.

  We followed him out to the two-horse cart we'd hired for the day. Max drove with Sander beside him while we women sat on the back and listened to the former prison guard try to strike up a conversation.

  "You from Noxford?" he asked.

  "Nearby," Max said.

  "What's it like in the capital these days?"

  "The same."

  "I mean with the elections coming up. Are folk as restless there as they are here?"

  Max nodded.

  Sander turned a little so we women could hear him better over the rumble of the wheels. "The election is all everyone can talk about here in Gull's Wing. Who do the folk in Noxford think will win?"

  "Hard to say," Max said.

  "Same here. Ain't no one likes any of the candidates much. Only one has promised to fix the tax system, but I got my doubts the reforms will be better. They're all corrupt, I reckon." He shook his head. "It's a shame. If General Nox knew that only forty years after his revolution that the country he fought so hard to free would end up in the hands of corrupt ministers, he'd be disappointed." When no one responded, he tapped Max on the shoulder. "Don't you agree?"

  "Aye," Max said. "It's a real shame."

  "Forgive me for asking," Meg said. "I don't know much about Freedland's history, but I do know the former monarchy was unpopular. Do the people regret the revolution now that the current ministers are just as bad?"

  Sander swung round to face us fully. "Just as bad? No, miss, this is a song and dance compared to them days. I'm old enough to remember what it was like to have a king, and I don't want to ever go back to that. The king wasn't just corrupt, he was a tyrant. He executed anyone who spoke out against him, even if there was no evidence, just rumor. He gave lands and trade rights to his favorites, which led to more corruption. It drove the country into the ground, and when that happens, its the poor who suffer most. The king didn't care about regular folk. The poor were as good as slaves to him; cheap labor that never seemed to dry up, no matter how many died from exhaustion and starvation. It was bad back then. Real bad. General Nox did this country a service when he killed the king."