The Forgotten
Chapter 11

Rendall sat in a dark cell with little light, only a torch lit up the corridor between the cells. It was dirty with blood staining the floor from beatings the guards gave prisons after they stank of piss and ale, presumably spending too much time in the local brothel while off duty. Cobwebs were in every corner of the cell with hundreds of newly birthed spiderlings swarming the area while the mothers, which were the size of Rendall’s hands roamed the ceiling freely. There was a bed, or at least what passed for one, in the same corner as the spiderlings and a bucket in another corner that was thankfully home to none.

Rendall wasn’t usually scared of spiders. He had spent years in the forest and was used to creatures of any sort. But being in a cell that was home to a countless number of them put him on edge, making him stay and sleep in the centre of the cell whenever possible.

There was a stench in the cells of skin rotting and bodies decomposing. Buckets were full of faeces and urine, mixed with the smell of blood and sweat. It was eye-watering. Rendall wondered if someone had died in these cells as the days he had spent down here or if they had all been forgotten as no one had been down with either food or water. He was hungry, his stomach growled constantly and was starting to cramp, causing the boy to curl in a ball in the centre of the cell, trying to think of better times.

His lips cracked from soreness. Yet when he tried to lick them with his tongue even that was dry, causing a sensation like sandpaper rubbing on them each time he tried.

Not having moved in some time Rendall lifted his head to look through his cell bars. Across the corridor, he saw another man leaning against the wall of the cell opposite to his. He looked starved as his cheekbones were easily recognisable in the dark. The unknown man had clearly lost muscle from his figure as torn clothes were nearly falling off that showed many scratches and bruises against his pale skin.. Rendall had thought he was alone in here but what did he know, the guards had beaten him half to death in that ally before binding his hands and dragging him behind a horse towards his new home in this black hell.

“I thought you were dead,” said the man.

Rendall crawled towards the bars of the cells and sat up, grunting.

As Rendall came into the light, the man said, “You might not be dead but you look like you should be or will be soon. What did you do to them to earn such a beating?”

Rendall tried to get his words out, but nothing came out other than croaks of a dry throat and violent coughing.

After a moment he tried again, this time it was a quiet, pained voice that came out. “I killed two guards and executed a third before he could rape a young girl. When the rest of the men showed up I was out of arrows, so I surrendered.”

The man’s expression gave away signs of surprise, his eyes went wide with his mouth slightly open. He said, “I don’t blame you for what you did but you should of at least ran, they’ll be executing you soon, you are lucky to have lived this long.”

Rendall shrugged, “What about you?”

“I was friends with a man who is now seen as a traitor for leaving the army.”

Hearing that Rendall frowned, he had heard similar from Lynden though he was the man that left. “Is that man Lynden?”

With a sideways glance, the man looked at Rendall again with an interrogating look.

Rendall smiled in response. The first time he had done so since entering this place. With a worn smile, he said. “I met him recently, he’s in the city and from what he told me, he’s here to get you out.”

The man smirked for a moment, closing his eyes imagining what it would be like to be free then his face went stone cold. “He’s a fool and wasting his time, there is not much of me left to rescue now, though it is nice to know I’m not forgotten.”

“Why?” The boy said, so quiet that the man barely heard.

He noticed the boy was now resting his head on the floor, taking up the fetal position. The prisoner realised that if not for himself, he needed to be strong for the boy who was close to giving up and might be dead later.

“Ah don’t listen to me boy, I’m just an old man who’s been in here for too long and sometimes forget there are good people in the world.” Rendall didn’t move or say anything in response so the man continued “I was Lynden’s friend and brother-in-arms for years, we fought in the front lines together in defence of the late king. He then went on up in the ranks of the army, showing exceptional skill and promise of being a leader of men. I, on the other hand, left the army and went to the king’s guard where I eventually became captain.”

The man paused. Reminiscing in times long past, the boy still hadn’t moved, “I saw Lynden a lot, he would often be at the palace talking to the King about the army, its movements, troop count and training. After each visit we would make time to duel each other while the King watched, he would often bet on the outcome with himself. Lynden always being the favourite choice and winning most times, although I did best him occasionally. No one else to my knowledge can ever say the same.” He chuckled to himself, realising his story was more to himself now, reminding him of his good friend rather than helping the boy.

Looking at the bruised and bloody figure in the other cell, the man said, “What’s your name?”

After a few deep breaths, Rendall rose, “Rendall, Rendall Mist.” Giving the best smile he could then finished, “It was a good story, I hope you both have a rematch.”

The man gave out a croaky laugh, “I doubt I can lift a sword right now let alone put on armour. My name is Arthur, while it would be nicer meeting you in better circumstances, it is a pleasure to meet you none the less.”

Rendall spared a faint nod in reply, his energy waning from the effort.

Arthur went back to the edge of his cell out of sight from Rendall as the light did not pass that far back. He returned moments later with a small stale roll in his hands. He threw it into Rendall’s cell. It rolled across the floor to the toes of the boy. It was wet, Arthur had clearly put some water over it to help it go down easier.

Looking up at the old guard and prison mate, he who gestured Rendall to eat. Taking several frenzied bites he immediately felt slightly better, his senses coming back to him. He continued taking a few more bites where there was less than half left. Seeing Arthur in the corner of his vision, showing no expression but was clearly just as hungry and thirsty as himself, yet who knows the next time they might get the chance to eat.

Rendall threw the remaining water sodden roll back to the man, hitting his leg as he gazed at the wall in front of him, a gleam of hope escaping from his face. As Arthur looked down at the roll just below his knee he grabbed it with his stained dirt hand finishing the roll in only a few bites.

“I didn’t expect it back you know?”

With a little less dryness in his voice, Rendall replied, “Well if you have the good nature to make me suffer here a little longer the least I can do is make you join me.”

They laughed together before they both put their heads to the cold, rocky floor and closed their eyes.

-

Sometime later a bright light lit up the corridor, two guards were holding torches and standing outside a cell further down the block. They stunk of ale and sweat as they walked past Rendall’s cell.

As he heard a door unlocking, Rendall peered through the gap in the steel bars to see the guards step into the room and drop their torches on the ground just outside the cell. Out of sight, he heard the sounds of a man crying out in pain as the loud crunches of steel boots meeting bone and flesh echoed through the prison.

The inmate’s cry got quieter after each beating until they stopped, yet the beatings did not cease. The sounds continued for several minutes before the men left the cell, picking up the torches as they did. Passing Rendall’s room, he saw their gloves and boots dripping in blood, there was no question about them being murderers.

As the men left, Arthur spoke up, “If you ever hear the door open, my advice to you is hide in the back. If they don’t see you, you’ll live, if they do then you better be ready for a beating.”

Frightened, Rendall said, “How often does that happen?”

“Couldn’t really say as down here in the darkness we have no concept of time. Though in terms of inmates, it would depend on how many there are. If there has been a lot of arrests, you can be sure they’ll be visiting us soon.”

“How many have been put in recently?”

“You were the fifth, most are further down the prison or in the lower section so that is why you can’t talk to them. You are lucky though, mostly only the people in the lower quarter get chosen, I assume that is because their screams can be heard from the courtyard above.”

Physically shaking in fear, Rendall wanted to run away, or just do something that would get him out of this place.

Mumbling, the boy whispered, “Why do people get arrested here? I have seen guards abusing their power everywhere.”

“From what I gathered from others, petty crimes really or sometimes on no charge at all. Really just depends on how the guards feel. Then they make up some excuse.”

Remembering the last time he saw Lynden, Rendall changed the subject before hiding at the back of the cell. “Arthur, I think Lynden is dead, armed guards at the gate were going to kill him. He put up no fight.”

Silence between the two sunk in and they spoke no more that night.