Braeland

Chapter 19. The Prisoners

Martin did not know how many hours or days had passed since he had been locked in this dark place.  He knew it was two set of stairs underground and that it was a stone-walled cell that was about ten feet wide by twelve feet long.  There was a bare cot and a pail, nothing else in the cell.  At long intervals, Martin suspected it was two times per day, a guard brought him brackish water, moldy bread and a pittance of foul-tasting cheese on a greasy trencher.  Less frequently, accompanied by two women of her company, Priscilla had him brought into a chamber at a higher level of the dungeon where she questioned him relentlessly.  He still had enough power to resist her probing inside his mind.  But he was weakening physically and, with that, he feared that his mental powers were less powerful.  

He had not used his full powers on the guards, only a small amount of probing that looked unpromising.  When he had first been brought to this place, Priscilla introduced him to a hunched-over, malicious-looking man named Madron.  Madron had been grievously injured in battle but he still possessed great strength. "He will be here day and night, outside your cell, until you tell us the truth or until we decide you are of no use and put you to death.  You will not be able to use your smooth talking on him.  And he is trained in mindspeak.  If you try that strategy, you will be beaten.  You will not say a word while you are here, except to me," Priscilla had said to him. 

But, while not using his full powers, he tried mindspeak on Madron anyways one time when he was bringing in his meal and Martin was duly beaten by him and by another guard.  He was just healing from this attack when he realized there was at least one other prisoner in the cells.  He heard chains rattling as they led this prisoner up the stairs – this must be a younger person with enough strength because they were more afraid of him.  And once, he heard this person, obviously, a man, shout out, "Putrid water! Maggots in the food!  What kind of animals are you?" Then he heard the guards growl at him, and Madron joined a second one to give the man a severe beating, with a whip from the sounds of it.  The man did not moan or shout out again.  

  Martin was puzzled by the voice.  He thought he had heard it before.  Was it someone he had met at the university, on his travels, in the city where his son lived?  Then it came to him.  It was the unmistakable voice of Arliss, from long ago when he came to Greenwold as a boy.  But it could not be Arliss, he was too old.  Was it then Mortimer, Arliss's grandson and could he be alive after all as the encrypted message that Prudence had been given over his gravestone seemed to suggest?  

Martin did not know whether it would be possible to mindspeak with the other prisoner.  As far as he knew, you had to be able to see that other person or they had to at least be aware you were trying to reach them.  But he tried anyways, sending out, "Are you receiving me? Are you in pain?  Can we work together?"  No answer.  Martin waited a long while before sending, with all his mind power, the message, "Mortimer, is that you in there?"  Perhaps it was the name that made a difference.  Nothing happened for a second but then there was a confusing kind of disturbance in Martin's mind.  He hoped that Madron was not listening in.  This was another unknown.  And then came the answer to his question, quite distinct, "Yes, this is Mortimer and who wants to know?" 

From the time of their initial contact, the two prisoners mindspoke continuously.  Martin had many questions to ask but first he reassured Mortimer that Peter was well and that he had fond remembrances of his friend but now it was his sister who wore the medallion.  Rula and Charlotte were with him in the other world.  

After Mortimer had gotten over his astonishment, he mindspoke, "As for your questions, yes, my grandfather lives although he is not in good health.  He is active in the affairs of Braeland and is the chief archivist.  When he has the opportunity, he counsels the arming of the population to defend the nation when the Troken King will dare to invade us.  But it is only a portion of the nation that wants to change our peaceful life and that faction, unfortunately, has been taken over by Priscilla and what she calls the Women's League, a fanatical group that does not represent the women of Braeland in the least.  I fear her Martin.  She is out for power for herself and will use any trick to get it. I was captured by a chance encounter with one of Priscilla's troops as I was returning from a trip to spy on Ixoria and speak with our agents, sadly less in number than they were a year ago.  But I could not confirm that Priscilla was an enemy to Braeland rather than its savior until I was taken here.  Now I know."

"Oh, there is good news though.  We have stalwart supporters of Braeland living in the nation now.  They were farmers who took part in the attack on Bright Deep.  Your grandson knew one of them, Farmer Goodwine," Mortimer added.

"That is certainly excellent news.  I wish I could tell Peter.  I miss the lad," mindspoke Martin.

"As do I," Mortimer answered. 

They spent many hours communicating on how they might escape from the dungeon.  They finally decided they would wait until the next time Madron was asleep.  He had a habit of snoring loudly.  Then they would both mindspeak to his jailer, hoping they could control him into thinking that it was time to open Mortimer's door to let in a server with his dinner.  Mortimer would muffle him and lock him in his cell. Then he would seize the sleeping Madron, get the key to Martin's cell and lock Madron in there.  It was a desperate plan but none seemed better.  Probably Madron would wake during the initial scuffle and raise an alarm.  Then there was the locked door and guards on the level above them where they were questioned.  They would have to hope that Madron or the other jailer had keys to that level although it had always been other guards who opened that other door when they were taken up for questioning.  

They waited, poised for action.

Through the tiny grate in his door, Martin heard Madron's heavy breathing.  Soon he would be asleep.  A short loud snore.  Then he seemed to wake up again.  Began to snore again.  "Now . . . oh for heaven's sake.  Not now," Martin communicated to Mortimer.  

There had been the sound of a key turning in a lock.  Madron was now awake because they heard his voice, grumbling at someone coming down the stairs with a torch, "You're a new one.  Can't you let a fellow sleep?  These two have been fed."

"The boss wants your one upstairs for questioning," explained the newcomer.  She had a youthful, female voice.  It was true that they could never anticipate when Priscilla would summon them for cross-examination.

"All right, all right, just let me get my bludgeon and I will fetch him. There we are.  Get out you!  Now to manacle him.  Done.  Now wait for me at the top of the stairs to let me out.  Hey, clumsy, watch those stairs.  There's no light in here.  Lights!" called out Madron.  Martin had caught a glimpse of a pretty, blonde girl in military garb slipping on the stairs and, in so doing, extinguishing the torch.  The darkness was total.  Madron shouted out, "Gutra!" which must have been the name of the other guard.  Soon there was another sound of key on lock.  "See there, they're coming down.  Someone's going to pay for this with their hide and it won't be me."

But it was not someone coming from upstairs but Gutra opening the door of Mortimer's cell because he was held in a powerful mindspeak spell sent by Martin and Mortimer as well as the newcomer.  Like all jailers, he found the keyhole easily in the dark.  

"What's that?  Gutra, speak!"  shouted Madron.

"From now on you will keep your voice down.  There is a knife pointed in your back that will go directly into your heart if you move" said the woman soldier.  

"I will relieve you, Madron, of your club and the keys." Mortimer said.  

He took the cudgel, felt Madron's head and gave him a loud whack.  Madron collapsed.

"There.  That should keep him out of action and prevent him from mindspeaking to Priscilla.  Let's just lock him in your cell after we release you," said Mortimer, sounding very pleased.

"Who is it we have to thank for this?" asked Martin as Mortimer fumbled and finally undid the manacles.  "I will take these manacles along.  They may be useful," Martin said.

"My name is Lara and we have to hurry.  Priscilla is waiting on the floor above and it will not be long before she sends down another guard." said the young woman.  They formulated a plan on the spot.  The odds against them escaping with their lives were still thin.