Journey to the Forgotten Island

Chapter 28 - Digging

'Prepare my carriage and fetch me a flagon of ale from the hall,' Toma said to an attendant as he left the mansion by the back kitchen towards the stables.

Even from outside, in the extensive garden, Toma could hear the screams of delight from his guests. He shook his head in disgust and waited deep in the dark garden where nobody would find him.

Soon, the driver called for him and he entered the carriage, ordering the driver to take the small winding road down to the the town that bore his noble name. It was the middle of the night and most of the town was asleep save for a handful of taverns and large villas, lively with drinking and singing. The carriage wound along down into the edges of the town where domos houses and insulo tenements were being constructed daily for the growing population. Coming from the hills on the east of the town, the carriage then passed north through the empty commercial district, a planned space that currently only included a few commercial towers, some roads and dirt where the grass of the plains had been removed in anticipation for new merchant quarters. After a long ride through the new districts, they arrived at the old familiar cobbled and gravel roads that led to the fort and eventually the dock. Old wooden houses that had been home to the first workers to arrive still stood in the hectic centre of the town – those same workers lucky enough to have bought their homes early no-doubt holding out for higher land prices to sell their humble abodes and return to the mainland. Many of the workers had waited too long or not had the coin and had been evicted when they were unable to pay their monthly dues.

The carriage rumbled to a halt and Toma looked out of the window to the tall, red-bricked building that now stood just north of the fort and citadel.

'Wait here,' Toma mumbled to the driver and personal guard officer.

He stepped out onto the gravel road and approached the building. The soldier on duty immediately opened the door for Toma upon noticing who he was.

'Take me to her,' Toma said.

This routine was well established and the soldier called another guard to lead Toma through the winding halls, up a flight of stairs and down another, eventually arriving at a long, dark and damp corridor. The guard nodded and let Toma continue by himself to the end of the hall whereupon he arrived at a small cell with thick stone columns too narrow to pass between.

Toma sat on the wooden bench and lit the torch. She was awake as always. He had never seen her sleep.

'Good night, Chee,' Toma said.

Chee stared at him through the space between the columns and said nothing. She had changed little in the months since she had been in prison. They had allowed her to keep her coarse woollen tunic and Toma had sent for a merchant to purchase more such clothes for Chee. Her hair had grown longer than its original shoulder length, but she had not become gaunt as prisoners often did, nor had her olive skin lost any of its sheen.

'Tell me about magic,' Toma said, taking a swig of the fruity ale from the flagon.

Chee sat still as a statue and said nothing. In the darkness and the single quivering red light, Chee appeared as if made of clay. He had to remind himself that she was real.

'What did you do to me?' Toma asked, leaning forward on his bench. 'When you tried to heal me? What kind of magic was it?'

He thought he saw Chee almost smirk and then there was a bang at the end of the hall and they both jumped.

Two shadows entered the long dark hall and Toma stood, stumbling and realising he was drunk again. He had left his sword in the carriage. It took a moment for him to remember that he was safe, deep in the prison of Adelmoville, surrounded by guards.