The Rokkoh Adventures

Rokkoh and the Old Woman, Chapter 1

A light, bright and brief, flashes beyond the bars of the window. Nampurm roars a hearty and playful, yet ominous, sound in the night shortly after. The stars are gone, covered by the full and rotund clouds. The Novhina blinds and deafens again, the violence in tandem. The soft skyward mountains, overburdened by their contents, spill out in a great exodus. A crack in the ceiling betrays the sanctity of the stone room, letting the storm trickle in. From elsewhere inside comes a manic hollering. In the dim light, figures hurry to the noise. Orders to quiet down and to get off the bars echo loud throughout.

The signal, finally.

Wetting my fingers, I extinguish the lone candle sitting in the center of my little table. Though the window in my cell sits high, my stretching frame is able to get my hands to wrap tight around the two bars. With feet pressed firmly against the rough stone wall, I keep a strong grip on the round iron. The lightning and thunder come again. As the sound rolls across the city, I pull with all my might. They begin to loosen and wiggle in their place. The thunder quiets, as do I. The clamor at the other cell intensifies, the prisoner screaming louder amidst the barking orders. I could pull on the bars more, but I cannot risk a guard waiting at his post nearby to overhear my activities. The storm rattles again, though, and I tug. Freer now but still attached, the bars snicker at my attempts. Fools. The tremendous sound comes once more, and my muscles strain against the will of the metal.

Gravity has its way with me and sends me back to the floor. My flesh thuds against the stone, sending a sting throughout my body. Despite the brief shock of pain, I sport a brimming smile. Clutched in each hand is a round iron tube. Back to my feet, I set the bars on the cot in the corner of the room. I climb back up to the window; it's a tight fit, but my frame is able to squeeze through. Out into the pouring rain, my ragged trousers get drenched almost immediately. The drop to the ground isn't far, and I land on my feet without issue. The city lights up with another flash, and I disappear into the nearest alleyway.

My hair, black as the night sky, sticks to either side of my face in the downpour. The prison tunic and pants, plain and thin and tawny, cling to my skin. Once I'm safe and dry, they'll be tossed out and forgotten. Maybe we'll all make a spectacle of it and set them aflame. Kym had been meaning to try out her studies of fiery magic last I had seen her. In the few weeks since then, she may have already tested her prowess. Even better, a chance to show off her progress. I'm sure it would bring a smile to that pretty face.

The streets of Hemwood are barren, save for the growing puddles. Yet, I remain cautious. At each new mouth that opens to a road or sidestreet, I poke my head around the corner of the building and check for anyone on a stroll. Indoor lights shine out through uncovered windows, showing the citizenry as they enjoy a drink at a tavern or go about their lives in their homes. The coast, it seems as I draw nearer to my own home, is clear. Easiest damn breakout I've ever done.

"You alright, sir?" a voice comes as I check a new road. Young, a touch curious, eager. Coming from the left of the alleyway, basked in the glow of a shop, is a Hemwood guardsman. The rain drips down the iron helmet, pooling at the brimmed edge and flowing off in little waterfalls all about. Poor kid is soaked from the blue cape down to his skivvies under the plain leather armor. Judging by the lack of even stubble, he's a few years younger than me. A new recruit perhaps, freshly eighteen.

"Uh, yeah, I'm fine," my answer comes after a second of hesitation. A paranoia creeps into me, though logic attempts to smother it. The alarm at the prison has not yet rung; my absence has not been noticed. This boy, then, could not know of my escape. But that insect gnawing at my brain begs to differ.

Could take him by surprise, I contemplate. Clap either side of his face to catch him off guard, take his sword from his belt, run him through if I have to. Drag him into a hidden spot in the alley. No one would be the wiser. The rumor mill might connect the escape and the murder by midday, though. Can't have that.