Cleansing Fire
Chapter 11: An Old Friend

Marius sat in the darkness of his cell and stared at the wall, considering what the Captain had said to him. Someone got out. It had to have been the murderer. There’s no other explanation.

It was time to start thinking about that escape attempt. There was no way he was going to stay here and just wait for them to come hang him in the morning – especially not for a crime he hadn’t committed.

He pressed his face against the slats in the door, trying to see the guards on either side. He had just enough space to glimpse a burnished steel helmet to the left of his cell.

“Guard! Guard! Please, I need to speak to Captain Callahn!”

He tried to keep his voice calm and even but couldn’t avoid a note of desperation creeping in. He jumped back with a curse as the guard’s truncheon slammed against the bars where his face had been.

A severe face appeared at the grille; face alight with the pleasure of having almost smashed his face. The man’s small, almost black eyes darted from side to side as he smiled.

“Captain says you murdered a bunch of people what took you in. Treated you as their own child he said. We’ll hear no more out of you or it’ll go worse, you understand? Captain’s too busy to see the likes of you. Ain’t that right Sirv,” he said, turning to the hidden guard. Marius could hear the other man chuckle quietly and knew he’d get no help from that side.

“Now move away from the bars, there’s a good lad. Me ’n Sirv ere, well we’ve got us a bet and I wouldn’t want you getting hurt before I get a chance to collect. Me, I think you’ll soil y’self when you drop, he reckons you’ll cry for the gods before you’re through.”

Laughing raucously, he moved away from the door and Marius could hear him walking down the corridor, rattling the bars with his truncheon, giving the other prisoners no peace. Sirv must have decided to take his partners place while he was gone for he moved to the other side of the door. Marius just caught a glimpse of a hard, foxlike face and armour polished to perfection before he was out of sight. The other was a fool, easy to deal with in his own way but this man looked like he meant business. He knew the job, knew the kinds of plays prisoners tried to make.

He let his head rest against the cool stones again and tried to think of a way out. He’d been in cells like this before and they were almost impossible to leave without someone taking you out. For a moment, he wished he’d kept in contact with some of the friends he’d made before going to the farm. He could probably have managed a message to one of them and they would at least have some resources to turn his way. He didn’t dare contact them after all this time – thieves had long memories and even longer reach. They didn’t take kindly to one of their own abandoning them as they saw it.

He laughed quietly to himself as he realised how ridiculous that was. He was about to be hanged and he was worried about retribution from the guild.

Father Rumas could help. Sirv looks like a religious man, he’d let me see a priest. Now where had that come from? He hadn’t thought about the elderly priest in years. It was quite possible that he could help though.

It might be worth a try – he’d have to hurry though, before the other got back.

“Excuse me, guard? Captain Callahn, well, he said I could talk to someone if I needed. I… I’d like to talk to a priest please. Please, I’ll give you no more trouble. I just worry about dying, sir. I’ve not lead a good life. No man can be so lost to evil that he can’t repent. Please.” He worked hard to get just the right amount of sorrow into his voice. He hoped his impression about the guard was right.

Sirv walked up to the door and looked in. Now that Marius had a chance to look at him in some detail, he could see that foxlike had been the wrong trait. This man was a wolf and one not too far from rabid by the look of him. A fervent light shone in his eye that was encouraging, a burning desire for… something.

“No man can stoop so far into evil that he cannot be dragged back into the light,” he muttered, moving closer to the slats, “that’s what Father Michaels always says. Yes, yes. The Gods must have their souls. Freya cannot have them; we must work to save them from him and his kind.”

Marius shivered behind the door, unable stop the slight relief that he was safe inside the cell.

He’d known men like this, had stolen from them. They were the easiest mark to play off but they were by far the most dangerous to be caught by. Men like this could condemn their firstborn to death if they thought the Gods demanded it. He would have to be careful.

“Yes, yes – I remember Father Michaels. He helped me once when I was younger. He’s a good man.”

He had no idea who this man was but if he was anything like the other priests Marius had known it wouldn’t be unremarkable for him to have taken pity on some gutter thief. Another risk now – the man he was looking for had already been quite old when Marius was still in the city. Heavens send he hadn’t died – a real priest would do him no good as a replacement.

“I know Father Michaels is a busy man, I wouldn’t expect him to come. There was a man I remember, who also helped me when I was stuck, brought me back to the way of the gods.”

He hung his head in shame, looking out of the corner of his eye to see if Sirv was being taken in.

“Even though I wasn’t good enough to stay on the righteous path, he saw some good in my worthless frame.”

Sirv nodded, the fire in his eyes seeming to grow as Marius’ eyes sank in.

“Yes, yes. We’re all of us flawed, broken. It is only by the will of the gods that we come to be something more than the base material from which we’re made. Who is this man who works so closely with the lowest of the low? Name him and I will bring him to hear your last confession.”

Marius licked his lips, feeling the same familiar thrill that had last coursed though him many years ago. Now was the time everything could go badly wrong. If his luck held, Sirv would never have heard of Rumas and the old man would still be alive. If things went sour, he’d have a visit from a priest and a noose around his neck. High stakes. Higher than I usually play for.

“Father Rumas. His name was Father Rumas.”

Sirv was about to say something when the other guard forced his way in.

“What’s this then? I warned you, boy.”

“The boy was simply asking to speak to a man of the gods, Turil. He’s to hang tomorrow and he fears for his immortal soul as we all should.”

“His soul? Who’s to say he’s got one? He’s a murderer Sirv; he deserves whatever hell he gets.”

From where he stood, Marius could see Sirv’s eyes take on a flinty cast. If Turil had been able to see them he might well have backed down.

“I won’t let a man die without confession when he freely asks for it Turil. Not for you, not for anyone.”

He thrust out a hand, pushing Turil backwards down the corridor. The other man had half reached for his truncheon before he smiled.

“We’ll play it your way Sirv. But I’ll be watching - you’d better not use this to influence the bet.”

Sirv grunted and strode off down the corridor without a word, his boots clicking rhythmically as he disappeared to have Rumas called. At least Marius had that much going for him – Rumas was the only person he could think of with the necessary skills to get him out. And the old man owed him at least one favour.

He had lost count of the number of hours he’d spent in this dingy little room, scratching at the floor with a piece of straw, of the number of straws he’d broken so far. He knew that the guard had changed at least twice, maybe more and some watery gruel with the cooked remains of weevils floating in it had been shoved through the slot onto the floor. It sat there, and would remain untouched, until someone came to take it away. What need did he have for food like that when he was going to be dead in a matter of hours?

Sirv had never returned and his promise of bringing Father Rumas seemed to have gone with him. He dropped his head onto the wall and sighed deeply. There were so many things he still wanted to do – he still had no idea who had started the fire for which he was to be executed and with no priest come to give him last rights, there was no way he would be leaving this cell until the detachment of the Guard came to take him to the gallows.

He let his thoughts dwell on the guards that would come – it was tradition for six of the Ring Guards, the best of the best, to accompany a prisoner to their execution. Once the Ring Guards had you there was no way to escape. One would be a challenge for four normal men, six was enough to hold off a small army in the right circumstances. He racked his brain, trying to think if there was any way to escape from the Guard once they had him. Perhaps if I had magic, they wouldn’t be prepared for that. As well wish for wings, he thought sourly. He thought about it though, imagining surrounding them with flames while he escaped from the fortress. He felt a strange surge inside him and the straw in the corner of the cell suddenly burst into flame. He cursed and jumped up, pushing himself as close to the door as the tiny room would allow him.

What in the name of the gods is happening to me? Luckily, the straw was wet and the flames soon disappeared, leaving just the smell of smoke. He hoped none of the guards outside smelled it – he though it had been brief enough that they shouldn’t. He looked down at his hands, studying them carefully. Nothing seemed to be different. That’s not the first time something odd has happened.

A gentle thud from outside brought his head up – the sudden quiet was absolute. After a few seconds, he heard shallow breathing and very soft footsteps in the corridor. The guard outside must have heard the footsteps as well – Marius heard him shout for someone to halt. The only response was for the footsteps to get faster and in a moment there was another of those soft little thuds. A few seconds of silence followed. Marius was about to get up and look out of the bars when a red face with a bushy beard pressed up against the bars.

“Marius boy. Worried I ’ad the wrong cell fer a minute there,” the man’s gruff voice was strong and full of humour. Father Rumas had found him. Marius jumped up and ran to the door, grinning for the first time in days.

“Father! I was worried you’d never come,” he said, his tone turning mock serious, “I could have been killed you know. What sort of time do you call this?”

“Aye well, some o’ the guards gave me a spot of trouble, you know. Not as young as I used t’ be and it takes me a wee bit longer to take them out these days. Gimme a sec an’ I’ll have yeh out of this box. Got to be some keys here somewhere.”

His face disappeared and Marius bounced up and down on his heels in excitement. He’d be able to get out, replace out who killed the others and if he could possibly manage it, take revenge. His grin faded as he remembered the carnage – he wouldn’t be able to rest until whoever had done it had paid with their lives. The rusty squeal as Rumas turned the key in the lock brought him out of his dark thoughts and he tried to concentrate on getting out. Even with the door opened, they were still in the middle of a fortress. If he wanted to get out of here alive it would take all his wits. Rumas opened the door and he had to blink a few times before he could see properly – it would take his eyes some time to adjust to the comparatively bright lights of the passage.

He stepped out to see Father Rumas pulling a long dagger from the chest of a fallen guard. He wiped the blade on the man’s cloak and tugged a sword out of the scabbard, throwing it to Marius.

“Dammit father – did you have to kill them? Surely you could have just knocked them out?” He knew that death was part of this man’s life but he’d never been able to callously take a life like that. It was one of the reasons he’d decided to leave the Guild. Father Macros stood up straight, stretching his arms above his head. He gave a throaty laugh and sheathed his dagger.

“I spose not – thing is, if yeh leave them breathin’ they’re more likely to cause problems later. ’sides, it’s not as much fun.” He drew his own sword from within his robes and started up the corridor, not waiting for Marius – he knew he had no choice but to follow.

Marius sighed and, hefting the sword, ran after Rumas. They hadn’t made it far down the corridor when someone shouted and they ran headlong into three guards with swords drawn. Rumas moved like a snake, slamming his sword into one of the men, neatly running him through, moving neatly to block a thrust by one of the other guards. Marius desperately parried the other man’s blow, the ring of steel on steel echoing around the corridors. It would have been far better if they’d made it out without encountering anyone else – this noise would bring half the company down on their heads. He leapt back as the guard’s blade whistled past his face, the wind of its passage blowing his hair back a little. If he didn’t keep his mind on the fight he would never get out of here alive. He has a limp; one of his legs is hurt. Push his right.

They circled each other, watching, waiting for the other to make a move. He could see Rumas leaning against the wall, waiting impatiently. He had to finish this quickly before the other man decided to take a hand. Marius didn’t think he could handle more blood on his conscience tonight.

He feinted to the right, drawing the other man’s sword and took a cut on his upper arm for his trouble. He pretended to recoil from the shock and as the man moved forward to follow him, he stepped inside the swing and brought his sword flashing towards the guard’s face. Spinning the sword at the last second, he brought the flat of the blade smashing into the side of his opponent’s head, dropping him to the floor like a sack of grain, his sword arm pinned underneath his body. Marius grounded the point of his own sword and leaned on it, panting heavily. He was badly out of shape.

Before he could even think to move, Rumas moved forward and plunged his blade into the prone man’s neck. The guard twitched a few times and then was still, a pool of blood spreading beneath his body. Marius jumped at Rumas, ignoring the surprise on the other man’s face as he shoved him backwards.

“Gods own Rumas! What the hell are you doing? That man was no threat to us, none! You can’t just kill people like that!”

“I’ll kill whoever I please boy, comes with the job. Dead men tell no tales. I don’t know about you but I’d prefer my pretty neck to not get rope burn.” He shoved Marius away easily and, without another word, started up the corridor again. After a moment, Marius followed him, his thoughts constantly going back to the man on the floor as he twitched the last of his life away. He made a promise to himself that he wouldn’t allow that to happen again – no matter the cost to himself. His time of watching people get killed was over. He caught up with Rumas and kept his sword arm ready – if the man looked to be about to kill someone again, he’d be ready.

They made their way through the complicated series of corridors and rooms. After a time, Marius realised that they were making for the small horse gate on the Southern side of the fortress. A number of times, they barely managed to keep out of site as a pair of guards strolled past on their evening duty. Seems like fate is with us tonight. Nobody seemed to have heard the noise coming from the prison corridors – no alarm had been raised and there was no sign of the frenzied activity that would accompany an escape. Once he saw Captain Callahn and he thought for sure his heartbeat would give him away. He wouldn’t want to be around when the Captain discovered he was missing. He could have sworn the man saw him but he moved on quickly enough – he would surely have raised the alarm. It seemed to be a night for seeing things in the end – he could swear he saw some kind of bear trotting down one of the side corridors, its maw bloody, claws clicking softly on the stone. When he looked again, it was gone and the corridor was empty in both directions. That guard must have hit me harder than I thought. Other than the odd pair, there were no other incidents. He supposed it helped that tonight would be a big night of prayer – one of the many ceremonies that filled the time here in the city. He’d heard one of the sets of guards talking about it earlier and it had seemed like something quite important.

It took them the better part of an hour to reach the little gate – even with no guards chasing them, the fortress was still a very large place and they had to take all the back routes. They quietly opened the gate and Marius briefly wondered why it was unguarded until he saw the crumpled form just outside. More of Rumas’ handiwork no doubt. They slipped out into the night and the plains just this side of the fortress. It felt good to be out in the open again, the air smelled fresh and clear – a far cry from the dirty cell.

Before the other man could walk on, he grabbed Rumas’ shoulder and turned him around. He forced a smile onto his face though it seemed tight, unnatural.

“Rumas, I wanted to thank you. You didn’t have to come in like that and you didn’t have to rescue me. I may not like your methods but that doesn’t diminish my gratitude. I’ll repay you one day, I promise.”

Rumas simply looked at him for a moment before sighing deeply. He sheathed his sword and pulled one of his daggers from its sheath.

“For that boy, I’ll give yeh to the count o’ ten. I can’t do more than that,” he said shaking his head, “I didn’t come to rescue yeh, boy. The Guild wants yer head – enough that they’d risk irritating the Guard something fierce. When your guard friend came n’ fetched me, I was commissioned.”

As Marius stared at his friend in astonishment, he leaned down and started rubbing at his knees as if they suddenly hurt him.

“If you’re fast you’ll be gone before I can catch you – my legs aren’t what they used to be you know.”

He had been right to fear the Guild’s reach – and right to fear that they’d want him but he’d never thought Rumas would be the one to come for him. He knew Rumas would be true to his word – he had ten seconds to get as far away as he could and then his friend would try his best to kill him. He sprang away from the wall, running swiftly along the pathway towards a copse of trees.

He dodged past a bush and almost tripped over a protruding rock as he sprinted out into the darkness. It didn’t really matter where he was going, only that he was getting as far away as possible from Rumas. In a few seconds he could hear the steady rhythm of Father Rumas’ footsteps as he ran to catch up. A pity his friend had been lying about his legs, Rumas seemed as fast as he always had been. There was no way Marius would be able to get away at this rate. He knew too that Rumas would truly try his best to kill him – he might be many things but he always kept his word; it was something of a requirement in his profession.

A dark figure reared up in front of him and he barely managed to sidestep as a blade flew past where his head had been only moments before. It looked like the Guild hadn’t trusted Rumas to get the job done – he supposed in the circumstances it showed a remarkable level of foresight.

He reached the trees and ploughed right into the underbrush without slowing, low hanging branches whipping at his face as he ran. He could hear crashing through the brush behind him – it was soon joined by similar noises from the left and right. So, they were trying to flank him. Well, he’d just need to stay ahead of them and cut across as soon as he had a gap. He was deep into the trees by now, trees flashing past on either side as he ran. If he could just lose them for a moment, he thought he’d be able to get away relatively easily. He’d always been good at hiding and he was willing to bet they’d expect him to carry on running, not stop.

He almost ran headlong into the next man that jumped out from behind a tree as he entered a clearing. Stocky and short, he carried a large polished stick about the thickness of his arm. Marius dodged backwards with an oath as the wood came dangerously close to his face. He lashed out with his foot and caught the man on the edge of his knee, bringing a cry of pain and dropping him to the ground.

He was about to grab the stick when the man’s throat exploded in a cloud of gore. His face suddenly warm with blood, Marius stared at the ruined corpse lying in front of him. He glimpsed something dark flashing into the forest and grabbed the dead man’s stick. He could still hear crashing in the bushes from behind him but now it was joined by the unmistakable sound of a large animal circling through the trees. In moments, Rumas and another man he didn’t recognise burst into the clearing. Seeing Marius and their dead comrade, they separated and started coming at him from both sides, their steps wary. They obviously thought it was him who had killed the man.

He heard the animal getting closer – how could they not be hearing it? The constant snap of branches was like the sound of death approaching and they just seemed to ignore it.

I’ve got to warn them – even if they are trying to kill me, Rumas was always there for me.

“Rumas, stop! Something is…” He didn’t manage to finish the sentence as the huge jet black wolf sprang out of the bushes, tearing into the other man’s face and chest. Fangs ripped at soft flesh and the man screamed, flailing at the animal now standing over him. Rumas stared at it through a mask of blood, his beard wet. With a wordless cry, he launched himself at the wolf, daggers at the ready. Marius found he couldn’t move and he watched in horror as Rumas plunged one of the daggers into the beast’s side, pushing it off the quickly dying thief. He knelt and checked the man’s pulse and, when he felt nothing, closed his eyes. He turned to face the wolf again and drew his sword, holding it in his other hand. The animal stood and watched him for a moment, showing no sign of being injured. Slowly, it…rippled and the dagger began to move slowly out of its side with a strange sucking noise. In seconds, it fell quietly to the floor, denting the soft moss. What in the name of the gods is this thing? Gods own, it isn’t even hurt!

Rumas looked over at Marius and he was shocked to see fear in his friend’s eyes. It was the first time he could remember Rumas being scared of anything – though he imagined he must look completely terrified. He would far rather have died by Rumas’ dagger than by being ripped apart by a… wolf or whatever this creature was.

As if sensing his fear, the wolf snarled, the sound rumbling in the night air. It squared its shoulders and hunched down, advancing on him. He held the stick in front of him – it would provide small protection from those jaws.

To his surprise, Rumas moved over to flank the creature. He and Marius shared a look and he threw his remaining dagger. Marius dropped the stick and snatched it out of the air.

“Let’s see how yeh do without a head, hell spawn!” Suiting his words, Rumas launched himself at the wolf while Marius came at it from the front. Together, they might be able to kill it. They could deal with other things later. Neither wanted to leave the clearing with this demon of an animal at his back.

Rumas swung his sword around in a wide arc and Marius plunged the dagger right at the thing’s face, hoping to at least distract it. Impossibly fast, the wolf spun around and seized Rumas’ hand in its powerful jaws. It gave a jerk of its powerful jaws and his arm was torn from its socket and Rumas was sent spinning to the floor. Marius might as well have not existed for all the attention the wolf paid him. Even when the dagger sunk up to its hilt into its shoulder, it simply shrugged and Marius was flung to the ground, his grip on the hilt broken.

Rumas was on the ground, struggling to crawl away, slipping on his own blood. Marius saw he was trying to reach his first lost dagger and ran towards it to kick it towards the other man. Before he’d gone more than a step, the wolf turned on him and snarled, this time loud enough to shake the leaves on the trees. Marius stopped where he was, unable to move his legs. I need to leave this alone. There’s nothing I can do. No, that’s not me! The discordant feeling was strong now and he could clearly distinguish the voice from his own thoughts. Be quiet boy. There really is nothing you can do.

He watched in horror as the wolf advanced. Rumas was too far away from the dagger – he would never make it. The wolf leapt and Marius was allowed to turn his head from the scene, though he could hear the grisly sounds even after Rumas had stopped screaming. He gagged as the scent of blood blanketed the clearing, filling his nostrils. It’s safe to turn around now, the beast has gone. He knew the voice was right, the clearing felt safe again. He looked around carefully though, not willing to take any chances. He discovered he could move again and started walking towards where Rumas lay, his ruined body covered with leaves and his beard matted above his bloodied throat.

What was that, he asked the voice in his head, not really expecting an answer. One of my father’s minions sent for some reason to keep you from being killed. Now that it had stopped pretending to be him, the voice had a strange sound to it, as if it were not used to speech. None of that matters now. You will get out of this clearing and into the trees. Then you will sleep. It’s not time yet.

Marius found himself obeying before he could think about it. Whatever the voice was, it wasn’t allowing him to do anything but what it wanted. He soon found himself leaning against a tree away from the clearing and sleep fast approaching.

Who are you, he asked, his mind already fogged and tired.

Nobody important. An old friend. Sleep now. You’ll wake when it’s time.