The Tale of Tarrance

Tarrance's Trials Part III

Awareness filtered back to him slowly in fits and starts. He would be jostled awake by something before losing himself to unconsciousness a moment later. A dozen times over this happened, each time more aggravating than the last but nothing he did was able to stave off the inevitable slip back into the blackness. Nor was he left to his rest, inevitably whatever it was that disturbed him would return. He just wished one or the other, blackness or awareness, could win out over the other.

He had no idea why he was so tired, so drained, neither did Tarrance have the time or energy to puzzle it out before unconsciousness took him again and again.

His waking this time was sudden, brutal and unwelcome. This time, when he was awoken it stuck.

"Get up, mage," a scornful voice shouted at him while drenching him in near-frozen water.

The shock of the cold was enough to keep him slipping off again, while his senses wrestled to take in what was going on around him. His skin pricked with pins and needles as the cold struck him again, his ear rebelled as the sound of mocking laughs reached them and his eye burned at even the idea of opening. The pain of his body filtered into him, he could feel a wet burn in his wrists as something hard and unyielding pressed against them. His shoulders creaked and protested from the position they were forced into. His knee ached from the press of metal bars underneath them. He tried to move to alleviate the pain but he couldn't, he was bound like this, hanging by his wrists from something and he had been for some time from how awful he felt.

His ears rung at the loud sound of metal on metal near him that drowned out any other discernible noise. Despite his body wishing to keep them closed, to block out any else that might harm it, he persevered, and despite failing the first few times, Tarrance was able to muster the will and energy to crack his eyes open.

They could barely take the light that hit them, but he fought against closing them again lest he fall back into the blackness, or upset whatever, whoever, it was that wanted him to wake.

"Finally awake then," the scornful voice from before mocked.

"Leave him alone," another voice, a familiar one, shouted angrily but was ignored.

Tarrance struggled to lift his head to meet the owner of the voice but he managed in the end. There he found a mocking smirk cloaked in the colours of the church.

"The bishop will be happy to hear it," the man spoke having noticed Tarrance's state.

"Leave him alone," the other voice from before, just as angry as before, shouted again.

"I'd stay quiet if I was you, mage lover," the guard warned looking over to the side.

Tarrance's yes followed the guards to find the sight of Kerrie and Marie, Marie's wrist bound much like his, although they were just locked in the cage, and not hanging from it. It was only then that Tarrance noticed the bars that surrounded him. He was caged, the realisation setting a panic off in his chest.

He tried to call on his magic in the panic but something was blocking it. Tarrance could feel how it tried to answer him but there was something between him and his power, forcing them apart. A wall of glass that allowed him to sense how it wanted to answer him but still prevented the cool touch of his power infusing with him.

His mounting panic didn't last long as his efforts to reach his power were interrupted by another rush of bitterly cold water cascading over him.

"That should clean you up enough for the bishop," the guard said sounding pleased at himself. The bucket he had been using was slung under his arm.

"Still would hate to waste the work," another at his side said before another bucket was hefted up and again Tarrance was doused in the near-frozen water.