Chapter Seventeen — …and it feels so good
Holsley had never wanted to imagine the more macabre afterlives that may be awaiting sinners through death’s door, but if he did, his imaginings wouldn’t be too far removed from Tressa’s dungeons. Just when he thought he’d seen the worst of it, he took another step and was quickly proven wrong.
They started on the first floor. Here, you could expect to find the light offenders, those that weren’t really criminals but had been placed behind cells for misdemeanours that might include stuff like talking back to a guard or petty theft.
The light was blinding on this level. In every possible space, an overloaded sconce emitted a bright glow that illuminated every crack, corner, and cranny. Guards fed them obsessively with flint and steel as he was marched through. He didn’t need to wonder why — it was all to keep the criminals here uncomfortable. And it was working.
By the time they had reached the end of the first level, Holsley’s head wouldn’t stop throbbing, and his eyes had trouble adjusting to the light spots the torches had burned into his vision. Unfortunately, the vivid light had also meant he’d seen everything. There was no hiding the cramped cells filled with half-starved inmates rattling bowls for food that was probably more of a mercy than a necessity.
‘Keep up,’ one of the guards called to him from ahead as they descended another set of steps.
It only got worse from there. The lower they went, the darker it got, which wasn’t necessarily news to Holsley. As a youth, he’d heard the same rumours as everyone else about the severe lighting conditions that awaited criminals in the Tressan dungeons. It was brightest at the top and then steadily grew darker as the severity of the crimes also grew darker.
The second level was dim but not pitch black. Far more comfortable than the level above him. Perhaps something closer to a typical prison. The light this time, however, was not the source of the inmate’s discomfort. That could be found in the cramped lodgings.
Holsley sped past cells that were so packed that the gaunt men inside them could barely move. Most were shrivelled up and aged beyond their years, while others looked about ready to keel over. None asked for food, which, to Holsley, meant they knew they wouldn’t get it.
Unfortunately, the young bard had heard about this level too. It was for the more typical offenders, people who had committed crimes just short of murder and treason. Twenty inmates were forced to share a single, cramped cell and were only given enough food per day to feed one of them. For them, it was either learning to share or figuring out how to become the strongest.
Holsley almost couldn’t believe that the vicious rumours were true, but the proof was right there in the sunken eyes that followed him.
At the beginning of each level, at the bottom of a set of stone steps, there was a seated guard dutifully defending a sturdy set of iron bars. Each of them was different in looks, but they all wore the same face of indifference. The entrance to the third level was protected by a sleeping half-orc who wasn’t shy about snoring.
Holsley gave him a baleful look.
You couldn’t see much on this level beyond the sparse torchlight echoing from the sconces on the walls. Holsley was grateful for that as it meant he couldn’t see the suffering, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t still hear the groans. There weren’t any viewable cells on this level, but there were occasional doors which remained shut and looked unwelcoming.
He knew that behind those sporadic doors was a traitor to the city. A person who had committed a crime against a higher member of Tressa’s society, like one of the founders or a high-ranking guild member. Here, they got meals and space, but they didn’t get light. Holsley had heard that most simply went mad in the overwhelming eternal night, and from the groans, he believed it too.
Holsley stumbled about in this darkness, struggling to get his footing and occasionally leaning on a stone wall to aid him. It was awful being surrounded by such bleak nothingness. Though he had to admit, he was impressed by the confident ease the two tubheads leading him seemed to navigate it.
After the next set of steps, there wasn’t a guard or an iron gate to the fourth level. Instead, he felt the darkness become….darker. Strange, as it was already too dark to see. As a spellcaster, he recognised the work of magic afoot and knew on instinct alone that ordinary light sources wouldn’t penetrate this fog of pure night.
THUD! Holsley rubbed his head.
The guards had led him into a door, and he could hear them snickering about it. He also heard the familiar sound of a key in the lock, followed by a creak of what must have been the door opening. A quite loud creak, actually — one that would be hard to disguise should someone want to get through without making a sound.
‘Right.’ A gruff voice.
Someone thrust something into Holsley’s hand. It felt like a candle. He couldn’t see who was talking, but it must’ve been one of the tubheads. ‘You can find Roland Darrow’s cell by hugging the wall to the left. Look for the red door. You can find your way back by following the arrows on the wall, which aren’t visible in the dark. This candle will last for exactly fifteen minutes. If you’re not back here by then, the darkness can have you. We can’t come in after you.’
‘Oh, uh, okay.’
Fifteen minutes wasn’t enough time to do anything.
Holsley heard a click, followed quickly by the emergence of a fiery light in his hand. Suddenly, he could see the walls, the tubheads, and the slightly ajar circular door that was twice his head in height. Without enquiring further, Holsley gulped, stepped through it, and tried his best to follow the tubhead’s instructions.
Gods, it was dark in here.
The candle did its best to illuminate the way, but that didn’t count for much. At best, he could see only a few feet in front of him, and even that was like walking through an impenetrable fog. The piece of wax must have been magical, he told himself, as he could almost feel its arcane properties. The thing had a hum, which you only got from crude magic.
There were no cells down here. That’s because he supposed there were very few inmates in need of them, and yet the corridors were expansive. Holsley lost track of how many intersections he’d come across. That’s what the magical darkness was for, though. If a criminal did get out, they’d have difficulty finding their bearings.
He stopped at a red door.
Holsley couldn’t see beyond it. He tried the handle and was shocked to find that it opened. Why wouldn’t it be locked? Maybe the guards were too confident that this darkness could keep dead men from finding their way out.
The young bard froze. This had suddenly become real.
His mind raced with questions. Was this the right thing to do? Had Roland changed? Did he deserve to be here? Would he even remember who Holsley was? The question of doubt was no question at all to Holsley. He’d come all this way, though, and his good friend might only be another couple of steps away.
To motivate himself, Holsley pushed down the doubt and tried to remember his last good memory of the pair of them. That came easily. They had been sitting on a roof together, laughing themselves silly as they watched a disgruntled Kythos and his thugs search for them. Roland had managed to steal a couple of ales, and they shared them while they made fun of the abrasive tiefling.
Roland had begged for a song, and Holsley had obliged him. The young bard couldn’t remember how long they had been sitting there as he played, but he did remember Roland’s words at the end of his performance. ‘I’ve listened to a lot of bards, but out of all of them, you’re the only one that’s ever made me give a damn about what they were playing.’
With that thought, he smiled and stepped inside.
It was cold and musky. The air was difficult to breathe — like inhaling a woollen blanket. The room opened into a series of iron-barred cells that sat dutifully along the right side of the wall. Beneath his feet, Holsley heard old hay crunch underfoot, and he tried his best to ignore the stench of unwashed inmates. Nothing stirred in the cells, however — at least not until he crept to the last one.
A shadow lay on the floor.
‘R-Roland?’ Holsley brought the light closer, his heart dancing away in his chest. ‘Roland? Are you there?’
With an exaggerated groan, the figure turned over and slowly sat up. The candle’s light fell upon them, and Holsley’s stomach clenched at the stark red hair it illuminated. Only one person in the Further Kingdoms had hair as vivid and as crimson as that.
‘Holly?’ The voice was weak, cracking, but clear as day. ‘Holly? Is that you?’
Holsley winced. ‘I hate it when you call me that.’
Roland stood up rapidly, taking up a height perhaps half a foot above Holsley’s own. He stepped towards the bars, revealing his whole face. The rogue looked a little older but a whole lot more worn. His clothes, now rags, hung off his awfully thin form. Yet, there was still a devilish charm about him, one that Holsley remembered from their youth.
‘You look awful,’ Holsley said.
‘And you look about the same height,’ replied Roland with a stern face. ‘Didn’t they tell you that you were supposed to grow taller as you grew older, Holly?’
‘They didn’t,’ Holsley replied quickly. ‘Didn’t they teach you how to grow a beard?’
There was a pause, and then laughter erupted from the pair of them.
They didn’t waste any more time. Holsley and Roland embraced one another as old friends do — bars be damned. A minute passed easily as they got their fill and allowed the merriment to fade. Roland was the first one to break, stepping back but keeping to the light, while Holsley remained as he was with the candle in hand.
‘Is it really you, Holly?’
‘It’s me.’ Holsley shrugged casually. ‘It’s been a while, huh.’
‘I can’t even—’ Roland shook his head in disbelief. ‘What in the name of good are you doing down here?’
‘Well, I came to rescue you,’ Holsley replied. ‘I saw your, uh, poster, and I rushed straight to Tressa. Well, I got sidetracked by goblins, but then I rushed straight to Tressa.’
‘Gods, I almost forgot how unbelievably stupid you are.’ Roland half-laughed. ‘How did you get in here? There’s no way that old dickhead Kythos would’ve let you come to my cell.’
‘Conned my way down,’ Holsley replied cockily. ‘Dead easy.’
‘Dead stupid!’ Roland’s voice raised a little as his eyebrows furrowed. ‘You’re going to get yourself killed.’
‘You’re welcome.’ Holsley leaned into the bars. ‘How many times have you tried to escape?’
‘Three,’ replied Roland. ‘I was pretty close with the last one.’
‘Then I’m here to help with number four!’ Holsley insisted. ‘You must have an idea. You always had a—’
‘You don’t even have an idea!?’ Roland yelled, then lowered his voice. ‘You’ve come down here with no way to get me out. No, no, no. You can’t be here, Holly. You can’t. I appreciate you coming, but there’s nothing you can do. You’ve got to leave.’
‘I’m not leaving.’ Holsley straightened. ‘Not while you’re trapped in there. There’s no way I’m going to let you hang.’
‘It’s good to see you, Holly. It really is. This encounter alone is going to see me through the rest of it, but you can’t—’
‘Yes, I can.’ Holsley took a step back. ‘I’m not going to let you hang. That’s the end of it. If you don’t let me help, I’ll help myself to help you…okay, I phrased that weirdly, but what I’m saying is I’m not going to give up, and I’m certainly not going to leave.’
A second passed in silence.
‘I tried to find you, Holly.’ Roland dropped his eyes to the floor. ‘After the—’
‘I left Tressa,’ Holsley swiftly cut in. ‘That’s all I want to say about it.’
‘But, where?’ Roland pushed closer against the bars. ‘Where did you go? Where have you been?’
‘Funny story. After I left the city, some elves found me, and I spent a couple of years learning how to play music from them,’ he replied, then clicked his fingers excitedly. ‘Oh! They taught me how to do magic.’
‘Do magic?’
Holsley whistled, and an orb of light appeared on the ceiling above their heads. Its glow illuminated the entire room, even more so than the candle, and allowed them both to take in more of each other. ‘Yeah. I’m not very good, a bit out of practice, but there’s some stuff I can do.’
‘That’s crazy!’ Roland’s eyes were wide with surprise. ‘I wouldn’t believe it if I weren’t seeing it. Imagine you, of all people, learning how to cast spells. So, what, you’re a wizard now or something?’
‘Nah,’ replied Holsley. ‘I’m not good enough to be a wizard.’
‘Well, as someone that knows next to nothing about magic, consider me absolutely impressed.’
‘What about you?’ Holsley said then, returning his eyes to the man standing on the other side of the iron bars. ‘What have you been up to? They’re calling you a pirate, and, if I’m honest, that’s the nicest thing they’re calling you.’
‘Let’s just say I’ve had a few rough years.’ Roland waved the question off with a shrug. ‘Done some things I’m not too proud of.’
‘Is it true?’ Holsley sidled a little closer to the cell. ‘What they’re saying, I mean?’
‘Some of it,’ Roland replied. It was impossible to miss the look of consternation on his friend’s face. The way he sombrely looked off into the middle distance as if remembering. ‘I was abducted, Holsley, and forced to…’
Roland hesitated.
‘You don’t have to tell me.’ Holsley placed a reassuring hand on the shoulder resting against the bars. ‘Now, how do we get you out of here because I seriously doubt the guards are going to treat my appeal for your life very seriously.’
‘They’ve set their sights on me now,’ replied Roland with a click of his tongue. ‘There’s no way they’d let me out of here alive. My only chance is to escape out from under them.’
‘Okay.’ Holsley nodded. ‘Let’s do that! That sounds like a good plan.’
‘Any plan sounds better than what you came down here with.’ Roland shook his head. ‘But no, you can’t help me, Holly. If you get caught—’
‘I won’t get caught then,’ said Holsley. ‘I came all this way because my friend was in trouble, and I’m not leaving until I get them out of trouble. There has to be something I can do?’
Holsley could see the gears turn in Roland’s mind, carefully weighing the pros and cons of the young bard’s help. Of course, if he didn’t accept it, Holsley would have to take things into his own hands, which the rogue knew meant risky, ill-prepared plans, clumsy accidents, and split-second decisions that only led to more trouble.
‘You already have an idea, don’t you?’ Holsley grinned.
Roland sighed and looked Holsley dead in the eyes.
‘Okay, listen. Last night, I was visited by an old friend from the thief’s guild.’ Roland stood up a little straighter. ‘He was carrying with him a ring, a very special ring, one that has the power I need to escape. It allows a person to slither through the slightest of gaps, like a cat, and if I can get my hands on it, I’d have no trouble slipping out of here.’
‘Where is he now?’ asked Holsley. ‘Do you know?’
Roland nodded. ‘His name is Fox Matthews. It’s an appropriate name because he’s just about the only person in Tressa that looks like a fox. Well, something in between a human and a fox. He’s a good thief anyhow but a bit of a gambler. So much so that he’s known for gambling all his stolen goods away only hours after he’s stolen them. I know for a fact that he gambles most nights in the Crooked Hat on all sorts of dice games.’
‘Oh, that place.’ Holsley recalled a wonky tavern filled with raucous louts that he would hurry past whenever he was near. It was one of the roughest pubs in Tressa and primarily known for trouble. He’d never gone in, and he had never wanted to either. ‘You want me to steal the ring?’
‘No,’ Roland said quickly. ‘But maybe you could win it? If you had something worth gambling, then Fox would offer up the ring for the sheer thrill of it. I know he would.’
‘I have a hundred gold crowns?’ Holsley said, thinking of the goblin inheritance he’d come into recently. ‘Would that work?’
‘Not enough.’ Roland frowned. ‘You’d need a magical item. Something you wouldn’t miss if you lost it.’
‘I think I might have something.’ Holsley’s mind flicked to the wand in his satchel. ‘I’ve got a wand that explodes things.’
‘What!?’
‘Oh!’ Holsley straightened. ‘I could use it now! Blow up the cell and get you—’
‘Is it loud?’
Holsley used his tongue to idly play with the gap between his two front teeth as he carefully considered an answer.
‘Yeah, kinda,’ he said, finally.
‘Then no. Believe me, those guards have good hearing, and I’m not escaping while you’re stuck down here with me…but that does sound like the sort of thing Fox would be interested in.’
‘Knew I stole it from a goblin king for something.’
‘When I escape, I will have questions about this,’ said Roland. ‘For now, though, let’s keep it simple. Get the ring, find a way back to my cell, and I’ll escape on my own.’
‘Will Fox hand over the ring if I win?’
‘Yeah,’ replied Roland confidently. ‘He’s a lot of things, but he won’t dishonour a gamble unless you’re cheating him.’
‘Am I trying to cheat him?’ Holsley’s only gambling experience was busking at another bard’s spot; he’d never rolled a die, picked up a card, or glanced at the rules for even the most common pub games. He knew of them but didn’t know how to play them.
‘It would guarantee a win,’ Roland said thoughtfully. ‘Don’t do it, though. Trust me, Fox would rip you apart.’
Holsley raised an eyebrow. ‘Then, how am I going to win?’
‘You’re just going to have to get lucky, Holly,’ Roland replied grimly. ‘Knowing you, though, I’m sure you’ll be fine.’
Yeah, Holsley wasn’t so sure about that.
‘You need to protect yourself first, though,’ said Roland. ‘Buy a weapon you know how to use in case things go sour. And if things do go sour, just run away and don’t use the weapon.’
Holsley instantly thought about his lute, still sitting broken in his satchel — he could see the neck poking out.
Magic was his weapon, and if he wanted to wield it, he would need another lute. Perhaps he could just buy one while he got his own repaired, but he shook his head at that thought. Holsley was out of practice and could barely remember the strings to the simplest of spells, and he’d be out of his element if it came to a fight.
What if he wasn’t, though?
There was another lute in the city. One that was coursing with magic. The kind of magic that could provide him the edge to overcome his need for practice. It would prove a little tricky to get, but it might be worth it.
‘You’d better get going before the guards come looking.’
‘And before the candle burns out,’ added Holsley.
‘There’s one more thing.’ Roland leaned his face into the bars. ‘If this all works out and I manage to escape, with or without your help, I will need a way out of the city. It’s a long shot, but I once knew a smuggler in the docks. He’s been known to help thieves for the right price, and I can pay him if I escape. Go to the docks and find a ship with a beaten hull called the Square-Jawed Dragon. Tell the captain I’ll pay handsomely for a speedy escape out of the city when I need one.’
‘The Square-Jawed Dragon,’ Holsley repeated slowly. ‘How do you know it’ll be there?’
‘I don’t,’ said Roland, turning his knuckles white against the bars. ‘Like I said, it’s a long shot. The ship has always been there when I’ve gone looking, but then again, I haven’t seen this city in three years.’
‘Speaking of which, why in the name of good did you come back to Tressa?’ It was the number one question on Holsley’s mind ever since he had seen the poster back in Petty’s Nest. ‘Out of all the places in the world. Why here?’
‘It wasn’t my choice.’
That was all Roland was going to give him. Holsley was no expert on reading people. In fact, he’d be the first to admit that he was somewhat naïve, but staring at his friend right then, he thought Roland was keeping something from the conversation. Something that may well be important, but he didn’t have time to press.
‘It’s good to see you again, Holly.’ Roland gave him a grim smile. ‘If nothing else, it was just good to see you.’
‘You too, Roland.’ Holsley went in for another embrace, and they stood there for a few moments, patting each other on the back.
‘Promise me you’ll be careful.’
Holsley gave him a nod. ‘I will and I’ll be back before you know it.’
The door squeaked to a close behind him, but Holsley didn’t pay any attention to the sound. Instead, his thoughts were elsewhere as he followed the painted arrows by waning candlelight.
Ten minutes ago, he had been standing at the door, hesitating to go in. Now, he was sure he made the right decision. Roland was different but still essentially the same person. That good-hearted rogue he’d known as a boy was still there. He knew it. No matter what happened, he would save Roland and get him out of the city alive.
First, though, he would need to get out of this dungeon.
