Hammer 26: Prisoner

So, Tarran,” a deep voice growled in Corvan’s ear, “you’ve not only proven yourself to be a bigger fool than your father, but this time he won’t save you from the Chief Watcher.”

The grip on Corvan’s shoulders relaxed, causing his body to slip, and his heart pounded.

“I think it would be best for everyone if you fell to your death,” the deep voice declared.

Corvan was about to shout he wasn’t Tarran so the man would not kill him by mistake, when a calm voice interjected. “Kharag, our orders were to relieve Tarran and Harmon, not kill them.”

“Shut up, Rayu,” the man holding Corvan barked, “or you will be next. It would be a great relief to not see any of the priest’s green cloaks around our barracks.”

The staff in hand, Corvan was hurled back toward the locked door. He collapsed in a heap, peering out from under the folds of his hood. His captors had been told to meet Tarran at the door, so his grandfather’s special cloak was making them think Corvan was Tarran. He tugged his hood lower over his eyes. It would best to be quiet and see what they would do with him.

Men in black cloaks moved about, while an older man in a green cloak smiled in his direction. That had to be Rayu, one of the priests from the temple Tsarek had told Corvan to look for. If he could talk to Rayu, maybe the man could help him escape.

A boot struck his leg. “Get to your feet,” Kharag ordered.

Using the staff, Corvan pushed himself upright, keeping his hood low and his eyes on the ground. He leaned heavily on the staff, and it began to glow. Kharag’s boots moved in front of him.

“Why did you light your staff?” Kharag demanded, snatching it from Corvan’s hand. The light immediately went out. The large man examined the shaft closely. “And why is there blood on it?”

“Kharag,” another voice called out, “come look at this.”

Corvan watch from under his hood as Kharag moved to where a knot of soldiers stood around Harmon’s body. The older man in a green cloak pushed through to crouch over the corpse. “This wound was not made by his staff,” he said, looking up at Kharag.

Kharag shoved the man aside, sending him sprawling to the ground.

“We don’t need your help, Rayu. This isn’t a temple affair. Harmon’s body is proof enough of the murder. Tarran is now my prisoner under the jurisdiction of the Chief Watcher.”

The heavy boots stalked back to Corvan, then the sharp point of the staff jabbed repeatedly into his shoulder with each clipped word. “Tarran, - you - are - under - arrest for the murder of Harmon. You will be taken before the Chief Watcher for judgment.” Someone shoved Corvan onto the cliffside path leading down to the city and he walked down the incline.

Hemmed in by soldiers on the narrow track, Corvan kept his eyes down but kept thinking there something odd about his guards. At first, he couldn’t put his finger on it, but as they entered the first set of switchbacks leading to the bridge below, it finally struck him. Among these grown men, other than Kharag, he was of average height. Either the palace guards were chosen for their short stature, or all the people of this place Tsarek called the Cor, weren’t very tall.

The light from the lumiens overhead was growing dimmer. With his hood low over his eyes, Corvan felt safe from discovery, at least for now, but once he was taken to the Chief Watcher, he would be exposed as an impostor. Beads of sweat broke out on his forehead at the thought of facing the black lizard.

Seeking reassurance, he reached under his tunic and rested his hand on the head of the hammer, but it was cold to the touch. Something had changed when Tarran died. The man’s frightened face filled his thoughts. He tried to push the image away, but the voice in his head kept pleading,“Help me, Cor-Van.”

Silently, he responded,I was too afraid. I’m not strong enough and I don’t even know how to use the power of the hammer.

Tarran’s voice continued to implore him.“Help me, Cor-Van. Help me.”

He tried forcing himself to think of something else, but the voice would not quit. It grew louder, more desperate.

“Stop!”

All the men around him jostled to a halt and turned to face him. Kharag pushed through their midst and grabbed him by the collar, almost knocking his hood back. “Why should we stop? Are you too tired, Tarran? Did killing Harmon take too much out of you?” Kharag yanked him to the edge of the trail. “If you are so tired, I will help you to the bottom faster.”

Rayu spoke again in his even tone. “Kharag, remember, the Chief Watcher will not be happy with you if he does not have a chance to question your prisoner. There is no reward for a dead body. I suggest we keep moving and get across the water before it’s fully dark.”

The soldiers around Rayu muttered their agreement, and Kharag’s face twisted into an ugly sneer. Shoving Corvan toward the guards, he jabbed a thick finger at Rayu. “Keep your thoughts to yourself, old man, or you will be the one taking a quick trip down.”

Kharag stomped off down the trail, and the soldiers formed a tight wall around Corvan as they plodded downward. There was no way out of this new nightmare. Everything was going from bad to worse.

Someone squeezed Corvan’s hand. Rayu had moved in close beside him. He looked directly up into Corvan’s hood, caught his eyes, nodded, and smiled. Corvan nodded back and swallowed a lump in his throat. Rayu knew he was not Tarran but was still willing to help him. At least he had one friend in this place. A soldier behind them coughed, and Rayu let Corvan’s hand go as the guard pushed past between them.

Weariness settled over him, and Corvan drifted into a trancelike state as he stumbled down the winding path, jostled by the men tightly packed around him.

The sound of rushing water brought him back to his senses and awakened his thirst. It had been a long while since he last ate or drank but his guards pressed in even tighter as they approached the bridge, quickening their pace. Though it was flanked by stone walls, the soldiers crowded as close to the center of the bridge as possible and glanced nervously at the water rushing below. Corvan searched for the source of their fear. Was one of the long-armed monsters lurking below? Or were they simply afraid of falling in?

They reached the other side of the river, where the bank of the water channel rose to join the outer wall of the city.

The company passed through an arch a wide wall that encircled the city. At one point it had gates, the bare hinges jutting out on both sides. As soon as they were through, the guards spread out and marched confidently down the wide street Corvan had seen from above. On his left, the buildings were only crumbling shells, their doors broken off and roofs caving in. On the right, a higher wall had been hastily constructed from mismatched stone blocks that didn’t fit together well.

The road itself was uneven, and a few soldiers stumbled in the near darkness. The two people they met pressed against the high wall on the right side of the street until the soldiers passed and then scurried away. Corvan could not see their faces because everyone wore a hooded cloak—likely the only way to stay warm in the damp air or perhaps to avoid detection from the armed guard.

Soon the company reached the city center. The round plaza he had seen from above was ringed with metal posts topped with a set of rings, much like the one on his bedroom ceiling. There was a dark pool in the center of the plaza, with a statue rising from the still water, topped with a man’s head but with four arms jutting out of its body. Corvan was trying to figure it out when he saw someone move through the shadows beyond the statue. He caught a quick glimpse of a shrouded figure heading into a street beyond, illuminated by a firestick off to his right. The sweet scent of lilacs slipped past, and he bent lower, peering through the legs of the statue. The person on the far side turned to look in his direction.

It was Kate! She glanced at the soldiers, then pulled the plaid blanket draped over her shoulders and tightly around her head before she disappeared into a broken doorway off to the left. Corvan stumbled on the feet of the soldier in front of him, and they both crashed to the ground.

In a flash, Rayu was at his side, pulling Corvan’s hood back over his head.

Corvan grabbed Rayu’s wrist, pulling him close. “There’s a girl in the street behind the statue,” he whispered urgently. “You have to help her. She’s wearing a blanket with…”

“Are we going to have todragthe two of you to the palace?” Kharag’s angry voice echoed in the confines of the walled plaza.

Rayu leaned back and pulled Corvan to his feet. “We are all right. Just tripped over the loose cobblestones.”

“Don’t let it happen again,” Kharag warned and turned away.

With Rayu close at his side, the company moved along the inside of the circular wall that curved around the pool and fountain. Rayu gave Corvan's hand a firm squeeze before disappearing into the shadows. Corvan wanted desperately to look back and confirm that Rayu was going after Kate, but he dared not stumble again.

In front of them, a pair of short firesticks framed a narrow iron gate. Kharag strode up and shouted a command. The gate creaked open, but only enough to let the soldiers and Corvan squeeze through single file. Beyond the gate, a soldier stood yawning, his hand resting on the windlass that controlled the gate. Kharag waved the staff at the man and he straightened up.

Closing in tight around Corvan, the soldiers marched along a wide street toward faceless statue peering over hill wall as if it were brooding over the decaying city. The street became a wide stone stairway, its balustrades crumbled and broken off like twin rows of rotten teeth. At the top, they passed beneath a great stone arch set into a thick wall before emerging into a large open space. Ahead of them, successive ranks of stairs, broken by wide landings, climbed toward the feet of the statue. At regular intervals across the landings were more of the fluted metal trees sprouting from circular stone platforms.

After two flights of stairs, it was all Corvan could do to force his feet onto the next landing. Just when he feared he might collapse and be discovered, Kharag ordered the men to stand down. They all sank wearily onto the next set of steps.

Leaving them behind, Kharag crossed confidently across the open space toward a large double-sided gate set into the courtyard wall. Corvan peeked from under his hood, watching as Kharag rapped loudly on a smaller door beside the large gate with the globe of the staff. Nobody came and the man rapped again then stood aside and looked proudly back at the soldiers. Corvan tried to stay alert to see what might happen, but his head sank to his knees. He dozed off before being jolted awake as the soldier beside him pulled him to his feet. “He’s coming back,” the man hissed.

Kharag swaggered toward them and called out, “The Chief Watcher does not want to be disturbed tonight.” The small door slammed shut behind him, making Kharag jump. His voice lowered as he approached, “I have been ordered to leave the prisoner in one of the cells.The Chief Watcher will decide his fate in the morning.” He gestured for them to follow.

One side of the larger gate opened, and Kharag led them inside, turning right along a high building. A light glowed in a window next to another smaller open gate. Two red-cloaked guards, armed with tall pikes, stepped out. Kharag approached them and held out the red staff while speaking in an authoritative tone about Tarran’s arrest.

One of the red-cloaked guards took the staff from Kharag’s hand and pushed him aside. The soldiers around Corvan fell back as the red-cloaked guards swept in, ushering him through the arch and across a small courtyard toward a row of short, round towers nestled tightly against the tall building. A door was opened, and Corvan was shoved inside. The door slid closed behind him, and a key turned in the lock. Any sound from outside the round room was abruptly cut off.

There was enough light coming in from a hole in the ceiling overhead for Corvan’s sensitive eyes. The cell was about ten paces in diameter, and aside from the faint outline of the locked door, the walls were unmarked by cracks or seams that might indicate how it had been constructed but it was about the size of a round grain bin at home but much taller.

Corvan crossed to a low stone bench jutting out from the wall and sat down. To his right was a shallow depression with a hole in the middle. Corvan wrinkled his nose against the foul smell. Clearly, this was his toilet. Above the depression, a short, round knob protruded from the wall. When he touched the tip, clear water gushed from the underside, trickling into the hole.

After drinking his fill of the cool water, he removed his cloak, pulled off his pack, and kicked it under the bench. At least the darkness had kept them from noticing and searching the pack. It seemed the special cloak was able to conceal things well.

Stretching out on the stone bench, he wrapped his grandfather’s cloak tightly around him and tried to think through all that had happened since Tarran had died. He hoped Rayu had found Kate and taken her to the priest’s temple. If he could escape from the cell he make his way across the courtyard to join them at the pointed roof building—but how?

As he gazed up at the circle of light overhead, the solution presented itself with stark simplicity. His krypin rope could crawl up walls. All he needed to do was to walk it up to the top, pull himself through the hole and onto the roof. From there he could find a way to lower himself back into the courtyard while it was still dark.

Jumping off the bench, he was reaching for the rope clipped to his belt, when a key rattled in the door. Corvan quickly dropped back onto the bench, turning his back to the door, and pretending to be asleep.

The door slid open, and someone stepped lightly into the room.

“I need to make sure my brother is all right,” a woman said, her voice tinged with concern. “I assume the laws of Kadir City still allow an untried prisoner to have visitors?”