LI. Planning a Prison Break

Water dripped from stalactites and icicles that hung from the moldy stone ceiling of Castle Aglaë’s dungeon. Laelianus paced his dark cell as he clutched his tattered and stained mantle around himself. Then sun had long ago set, blanketing his prison in frigid blackness. His one comfort through the short days and long nights were the two meals served by Osric’s monstrosities and the scant few hours of daylight that filtered through the small barred window twelve feet above.

Laelianus sneezed, which triggered a fit of coughing. He leaned against the wall as he struggled to catch his breath and hacked up phlegm. He swore as he spat what he hoped was the last of it up. No doubt he had caught pneumonia being so malnourished in his frigid cell. He traced the etch marks he had cut into the stone, and hung his head with a sigh. He had been imprisoned for over a month, and it was three days since his last meal.

He swore as he struck the wall and instantly regretted it as he doubled over in pain. He wrapped his hand in his cape, tears streamed from his eyes as he continued to swear aloud, his previously broken fingers were re-broken. He fell to his knees as sobs wracked his body and he let out a scream of anguish and frustration.

“Gods damn me! Send me to Dusks embrace or a silent repose, but cease your childish meddling in the lives of men!” Laelianus screamed as his voice began to fail, suddenly overcome by another fit of coughing.

“You assume they actually listen to your cries, or care for our fleeting existence.” A woman spoke in soft Elysian.

Laelianus looked up to find the woman who had spoken, though abandoned the task as the gloom was far too thick for his weak eyes to pierce. He wiped the tears from his eyes and attempted to regain his kingly presence.

“First my health, now my sanity fails me.” he muttered as he twisted his cape in his good hand. “Must I pierce my ears to be free of this taunting?” he shouted, as if trying to startle his tormentors.

“Nothing so dramatic.” The woman retorted.

“By Dawn, I am mad…”

“How is your hand? I’ll spare you the scolding for such a foolish gesture.”

“Is it the witch?” Laelianus asked himself aloud, still not certain that he really was hearing another human voice.

“That woman… I have not heard her speak the language of dawn; I suspect it would burn her tongue should she try.” The woman replied, a hint of anger in her otherwise enlightened manner of speech.

“Deceitful siren, I shall not disclose the information you seek.” Laelianus spat as he curled up on the straw covered floor. “If you wish to reach the Tomb of kings, then slay me now and follow my ghost.”

“I am not her.” The woman replied tersely. “But I now know who you are. You are Eluvuetie yes?”

Laelianus remained silent. He covered his head with his cape as the woman rose with a groan, her chains rattled as she rustled thick clothing. Laelianus’ eyes grew wide as he feared he had truly gone mad or Morana had returned for another round of torture.

“Osric is a forgetful man, often becoming enraptured in one text or another.” She stretched and yawned, popping several joints. “He has forgotten to feed me before, but when he does remember, there will be rations for the days missed as well.”

Laelianus sat up, still shaken.

“I can’t speak for you I am afraid, but they need me alive for at least a while longer…” The woman continued, her chains dragging across the floor as she paced the cell.

“But when food does arrive and you are still without, I would be willing to share.”

Laelianus stood and hurried to the bars, seeking to catch a glimpse of the mystery woman. “Lords of light, lift your veil of confusion and deceit from my eyes!” Laelianus tried to squeeze between the bars to catch a glimpse of the speaker.

“Perhaps you are mad.” The woman chuckled. “I know not how many times I must tell you I am neither specter nor a trick of a weary mind, I am real.”

“Forgive me dear angel, but our language leads to grandeur and my people are one of passion. Please, grace me with sight or smell of you so I may know in my heart of hearts I have retained my grasp on the thread of sanity we all struggle to retain.” Laelianus pleaded, as he reached through the bars as a sailor grasping for a lifeline in tumultuous seas.

“Come closer Laelianus,” the woman beckoned softly.

Laelianus edged along the bars. “I cannot see you…”

“There, stay where you are.” The woman said calmly and took a deep breath.

A warm, pale light enveloped Laelianus, removing all pain and fatigue in nearly an instant. He looked down as his swollen hand went back to normal size and the throbbing pain ceased. He looked up in amazement to see a ghostly figure in a cell across from him and slightly to the right. The figure of a woman in the heavy garb of a high-ranking member of The Order sent forth the healing energies, her long hair floated serenely along with her necklaces and dangling earrings.

“There…” The light abruptly faded as the woman nearly collapsed. “You should feel better now.”

Laelianus cracked his knuckles, resetting his fingers. His mind was instantly freed of its delirium, and the fluid in his lungs was noticeably gone.

“Forgive my earlier blasphemies…” He conceded. “But who am I to thank for this service?”

“I’ll think nothing of your earlier words, having spoken similarly in my internment, if only you can forgive me for not answering. I fear you’ll not believe me and fall back to madness’ doorstep.” The woman laughed.

“My dear daughter of Dawn,” He began; the kingly grandeur and arrogance returning to his tone. “I have seen creatures thought to only exist in legend, an army of savages from Rhode and remnants of fallen Sorn led by a Knight of The Order -who by all means should be dead- appears at my kingdoms gates, and not a month later I am subjected to this hell.”

“…Point taken.” The woman relented. “I am Renata.”

“The audacity of such a claim leads to credibility, you should not have been so wary.” He replied dryly, commencing to pace once more.

“So you believe me?” Renata spoke with a glimmer of hope, though quickly realized it was unwarranted. “Not that such things matter.”

“A serpent of your ranks hissed of your survival, and that fool Aichlan has devoted his wretched life to your rescue.”

“Aichlan you say?” She rattled her chains, as she pressed against the bars, unable to contain the hope in her voice.

“Yes Lady Priestess, it is the Aichlan of your Guard. He has mounted an army; I doubt the fool would let this opportunity pass him, though if Aislyn still lives…”

“Aichlan… I dreamed he died…” Renata slid down the wall and came to a rest in a pile of her voluminous robes on the floor. “Then why do I still feel so…”

“…With the newfound vitality, I shall find a way for us to leave this prison Priestess. When that fiend sends down one of his foul creatures I shall engage it and wrestle the keys from its claws.”

Renata remained silent; Laelianus cleared his throat before he continued. “I will need for you to aid me Priestess, my weapons are somewhere in this labyrinth…”

“I had a dream…”

“Pardon?” Laelianus spat in confusion as to why she would change the subject to something so frivolous. “I believe we should focus on escape; such talk can be saved for the trek through the Sorn wilderness.”

“Two candles were lit upon the sill…” she continued, undaunted. “A gust extinguished one, as the other wavered, weakened. But as the winds subside, it relights.”

“I fail to see the symbolism Priestess.”

“It burned brighter, stronger, yet the second flame was unable to recover and quickly went out.” She shifted, moving her chains. “All this time I thought that I was that first candle…”

“…Perhaps we should rest, discuss these issues in the warmth of winter’s sun.” Laelianus sat, and wrapped himself in his cape, the irony of his statement lost.

“…Tell me Laelianus,” Renata began softly, breaking the silence.

“Hrm?”

“How is Aichlan?”

“Well enough I suppose. He caused quite a stir his first day in my court, and started fights with two of my Dukes.”

Renata chuckled. “So he is fine, that is good to hear, though troubling that he hasn’t acclimated to the courtly life after all this time.”

“Indeed.” Laelianus mirrored, growing weary of the topic and conversation.

“Is... is there a woman?”

Laelianus paused at her tone, should he delay a response she could crumble, the same if he were to mention the Rhodean woman Aichlan shared his bedchambers with. It was widely known of the scandal between the two, though it would be in incredibly poor taste to admit that he knew of their relationship. Despite Aichlan’s shortcomings and the two men’s mutual loathing at times, Laelianus was not one to hinder another man’s romantic ventures, unless of course they hunted the same quarry. He groaned as he sat up, realizing that sleep probably would not come even should he will it.

“No, he spends his days and nights alone, queerly enough given Marquez’s beauties.”

“Oh, yes, that is quite odd…”

There was no hiding the sound of relief in her voice, no doubt her morale was boosted significantly.

“Yes, perhaps he has his heart saved for another?” Laelianus felt a twinge of guilt and disgust, though quickly dismissed it. “Who can truly say?”

“…when the jailer comes, he opens my door and enters the cell. When he does so, I shall blind him. However…”

“You haven’t the strength to do so correct?” Laelianus finished, resigned.

“Not currently, but I will in two days’ time. Unfortunately, that is all I can do for us.”

“That shall more than suffice, though pray he comes sooner. I fear I may lack the strength when time comes to make our egress.”

“Forgive me, but I’ve had quite enough of prayer.” Renata laughed wearily.

Laelianus tightened his cape about his body as he curled up in the corner. There was no place to escape the cold, but the corner was far from the drafty hall. With his newfound vitality, he turned his thoughts to escape and inevitable battle contingencies, not the discussion of lost lovers with this jaded husk of a Priestess.