The Savage

Part 2: Chapter Twelve: Rory

Someone was shuffling heavily through the narrow tunnel towards his cell. Was it the jailer with his meal? Had he slept that long? No, it wasn't the jailer. The jailer wore a heeled boot that sounded sharp against the stone floor. This person's soft soled shoes pattered quietly along.

Light seeped under the iron door, illuminating the rough irregularities of the floor. The keys clanged against each other as the intruder unlocked Rory's cell. The rush light burned bright, stinging Rory's eyes. Squinting he lifted his hand as a shield.

"Rory Gaether?" asked the man beyond the light.

Rory blinked wildly, desperate to see. "Yes?" he replied cautiously.

The man came forward, bending down, shaking the keys at Rory, "Get yourself free."

Stripped of the white powder and the silken lace, dressed in boiled leather and a brown cloak was the fat diplomat.

"Fergus?" Rory said in shock, recognizing the man.

"Just hurry." Fergus urged, shaking the keys again.

Rory fumbled with the lock and key, his fingers clumsy and stiff from inactivity. Freeing himself, Rory struggled to stand.

"I can't carry you out of here." Fergus said, handing him a thinning cloak.

It was ragged and torn, matching his own attire. Wrapping it around his shoulders, Rory straightened, "I can walk."

"Good. Follow me." Fergus turned and, moving surprisingly quickly for a man his size, led the way.

Rory stumbled after him through the narrow passageway between the cells. "Where are we going?" he asked, as they were moving away from where he had entered the dungeon.

"Out, of course." Fergus wheezed.

"How did you - I mean, how-?" Rory stammered.

"Money, my boy."

The tunnel led them deeper leaving behind the prison cells and their occupants. Beneath his feet it changed from rough cobblestone to packed earth. The ground then became soft under his weight, forcing him to brace against the wall. Then the passageway widened and came to an end. Fergus's light barely reached the walls on either side of them, so much had the tunnel opened. He waddled over to one side shedding light onto a staircase. Narrow and steep it wound against the outside wall up into the darkness above.

"Here. Carry this." Fergus said, handing the rush light to Rory. "I am not as nimble as I would like to be."

"What is this place?" Rory whispered.

"It's a part of the Lyn Lyn Lock. Normally, this is all completely under water."

Rory shuddered, "How do you know how much time we have?"

"I don't know, my boy. So we must hurry."

Had he not been fleeing for his life, Rory might have asked to know more, but fear was on his mind.

It was wet. Aglae coated the stone as water ran down the walls and over the steps, making it slick. On all fours they climbed. Rory's limbs shook from the strain. He was malnourished and weak. The higher they climbed the more apparent it was that there was no rope to grip. Nothing to stop them from falling into injury should they lose their balance.

With Fergus ahead of him their pace was slow. The rush light burned low, wax running down and burning Rory's hand. Gritting his teeth through the pain, Rory forced himself to hold onto it. But the ascent was too great and his arm gave out. They paused to watch the flame disappear below, the darkness swallowing it and them. In silence they went on, keeping one hand on the wall as a guide.