Deeds of Their Past - 4. Chapter Four

Nathan woke, finding himself in the same position with his face to the ground. Slowly picking himself up, he spied faint torchlight in the passageway. Deep shadows danced on the craggy rock walls. His mouth was dry and he coughed, causing his head to throb violently.

“Thought you were dead,” a deep voice spoke from the dark cell opposite his.

Frightened and still disoriented, Nathan instinctively scampered away from the voice until he hit the back wall, smacking his head.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” the voice said, genuinely concerned. “You okay?”

Nathan slumped with his back against the wall, sighing. “I’ll live.”

“Don’t count on that. I reckon if you’re down here, your fate’s likely sealed.”

Memory of the meeting with Lord Helmsley surged to the forefront. He gingerly wiped the dirt off his face, knowing it was likely cut and bruised. “Do you know how long I was out?”

The man chuckled quietly. “Time’s meaningless in a place like this.”

“Just give me your best guess.”

There was a moment of silence while the man thought. “Don’t know. A few hours, I reckon.”

“I hope you’re right. That gives me some time before tomorrow gets here.”

“What happens tomorrow?”

“Take a guess,” Nathan said darkly.

Bracing himself against the wall, he tested his legs in an attempt to stand. Despite his throbbing head, he was surprised to find his strength had returned. It appeared the poison was far from deadly, and had metabolized quickly in his system.

Stumbling over to the bars of his cell, he peered down the passageway leading out. The man came into the light wiping sweat from his bald head. Leaning against the bars of his own cell, he offered Nathan a mysterious stare. He was remarkably tall and imposing, with a belly that spoke of too many nights at the tavern, yet beneath belied the thick muscle of a labourer. But it was the big man’s emerald eyes that caught Nathan’s attention. They pierced right through him, and his breath caught in his throat while he held his gaze.

“I need to get out of here,” Nathan muttered.

The intent look in man’s eyes softened, and he laughed nervously. “Yuh. You and me both.”

The sound of approaching footsteps silenced him, and both men backed away into the darkness. A silhouetted large frame of an armoured guard stepped into the corridor, peering into their cells.

“Nathan?” the guard whispered.

“Tarn? Is that you?” Nathan asked carefully, taking a step closer.

“Yeah. Everyone is talking about you getting dragged down here. I had to see for myself. What in hells did you do?”

“It’s a long story. Listen, you’ve gotta get me out of here.”

Tarn shook his head. “I can’t do that. Do you know how much trouble I’d get in?”

“Please. I’m begging you.” Nathan walked up to the bars of his cell, hands pleading. “They’re going to hang me tomorrow. Just sneak the key from the gaoler and pass it to me. Nobody will know it was you.”

“I have the key, but I can’t let you out—”

Nathan took his only chance and grabbed the guard by surprise, slamming his head into the bars. He slumped over in a daze, and Nathan wasted no time searching for a key ring. He found it attached to his belt under a fold of his tunic, and pulling with all his might, snapped the metal ring. It was luck that he’d been holding onto the keys, otherwise they would’ve been strewn everywhere.

Reaching around to the lock, he tested each key in turn while the big man stared from his cell, mouth agape at what was occurring. Tarn groaned and began to stir, forcing Nathan to work his nimble hands even faster. The second to last key slid in fully, and turning it produced a solid click. Opening the door in a heartbeat, he dragged the semi-conscious guard into his cell.

“I’m sorry, Tarn,” Nathan whispered.

Delivering a solid blow to the back of the head, the guard’s body went limp again. Pulling the sword from its scabbard, he cut ragged strips from the guard’s tunic, binding his hands behind his back and wrapping another strip around his head to gag him.

Nathan exited his cell, closed and locked the gate, and tossed the sword out of reach in case Tarn managed to escape his bonds. Just as he was about to flee down the corridor, the big man caught his attention.

“Wait, hold up!”

Nathan stopped to look at the man.

“What about me? Give me the key,” he begged.

Nathan pulled the key from his pocket and tossed it into his cell.

“Don’t follow me,” Nathan warned.

“It might be best to get out of here together,” the man said as he retrieved the key from the cell floor. But when he looked back, Nathan was gone.

* * *

Creeping silently in the shadows, Nathan guessed his way through the labyrinthine passageways and corridors. Torches were placed far and few between, but he could still spot scuffled bootprints on the dusty floor. He figured the path with the most foot traffic was likely the way out.

He came upon a small chamber, lit by two torches on either side. In one corner sat a guard at a table, slouched forward and snoring peacefully. Nathan snuck by him with ease, making his way up the stone spiral staircase.

At the top of the stair, he peeked down the long hallway. All was quiet, and as he stole through the passageways, realized he was familiar with his surroundings. He silently thanked Tarn for his tour of the keep. Nathan considered heading to his quarters to retrieve his rucksack. There was a chance his belongings were already disposed of, but he felt it was a risk worth taking.

Instead of heading up the main staircase, Nathan used a dark and narrow service stairway to the upper floors. The lack of guards surprised him, and it was clear they’d been in place due to his presence. As far as everyone was concerned, he was locked up, and their service was no longer required.

Nathan passed a series of narrow windows, revealing it was indeed nighttime, and he smiled at his luck. The darkness would be his ally during his escape.

Reaching his destination, he padded into his darkened quarters, waiting a moment to allow his eyes to adjust. Faint moonlight spilled into the room, broken by black silhouetted furniture. Feeling his way around, he headed toward his hooded cloak. Fingers found the material hanging from the hook, and he quickly donned it.

Hearing distant voices, Nathan froze. Their tone was relaxed, revealing his escape was still unknown to them. Out of time, he dashed toward his rucksack, managing to stub his toe on it instead. The voices came closer, and with no place to hide, he dove behind the entrance just as the door began to open.

Shielding his eyes from the bright torchlight, he waited for the right moment to sneak up to the guard, and cleanly snapped his neck without hesitation. He crumpled to the ground with a clatter, dropping the torch onto the stone floor.

From his position in the hallway, the second guard didn’t see the attack, he only heard its outcome. “What the—are you okay?”

Silence answered, and the ring of steel filled the corridor as the lone guard pulled his sword from its scabbard. Nathan readied himself behind the heavy wooden door, and kicked it closed as the guard entered. Crying out in surprise, the man lost his balance and his blade clattered to the ground. Scrambling back to his feet, he came face to face with his own weapon.

Before the guard could call for help, Nathan swung a deep, ragged slice across his throat. Crimson splashed onto the floor as he fell backward. Head slamming against stone, he gurgled his last breath with bloody bubbles forming around the vicious wound.

Dropping the weapon, Nathan grasped the man’s legs and dragged him into the room. Peeking his head out the doorway to make sure nobody else was coming, he found all remained silent. But as he stepped into the hallway, he realized a better plan was required. His escape couldn’t be as simple as strolling through the main gate. Glancing back into the room, Nathan eyed the guard with the broken neck. The man was taller than him, but not by much. It was a bad idea, but it was the best option he had.

A few minutes later, a guard with ill-fitting gear carried Nathan’s belongings down a dark corridor. He cautiously headed toward the courtyard, keeping an eye on his surroundings, but found the area vacant. Upon reaching the exit to the courtyard, he gathered his wits and opened the door to find two pikemen standing guard. One man glanced over to him, but paid no attention.

The disguise worked.

Acting as nonchalant as he could, Nathan closed the door behind him and stepped down into the courtyard, walking the short distance toward the gate.

“A little late for a stroll, isn’t it?” the gatekeeper called out.

Nathan quickly closed the gap between them and spoke in a low voice. “I have orders to remove this bag from the keep. It needs to become lost, if you get my meaning.”

The man offered a questioning glare. “This couldn’t wait ’til morning?”

“I have my orders.”

“From who?”

Nathan faltered. “Uhm . . . Tarn.”

“Tarn? Nobody takes orders from him.”

“No, I . . . I mean, he asked me to do it for him.”

The guard shook his head slightly, a smirk on his face. “What are you? His dog?”

Nathan held up the rucksack impatiently. “I owed him a favour. Look, are you going to open the gate, or what?”

The guard casually waved a hand and sauntered over to the crank. “Yeah, yeah. Fine. Just help me with it.”

Nathan laid the sack against the wall and helped the gatekeeper turn the large crank. As they finished, the man looked over at the sack. “Why don’t you just burn it to ash if it needs to disappear?”

Nathan knew his time was limited before the guardsman would become suspicious of his flimsy lie. He quickly shouldered the sack and headed through the gate. “The order was to remove it from the keep. I’ll be back soon enough.”

Passing the two pikemen guarding the outside gate, he kept his head down and disappeared into the darkness. The gravel road crunched loudly under his feet, but the heart pounding in his ears was louder still. His eyes slowly adjusted to the moonlight, revealing the black silhouette of pines against the starry sky.

Rounding a bend, Nathan glanced back to find the pikemen were finally out of sight. Adrenaline flowing in his veins, he bolted east into the dense forest. Hunched over, he tried his best to see the way through while pushing away the boughs scratching at his face.

After running in a relatively straight line for a few minutes, he stooped over with his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. Glancing up, he found the pines grew larger the deeper he went, allowing for easier travel through the forest since they grew farther apart.

Suddenly, yelling in the distance came from the keep’s location. His luck had truly held out, managing to escape just in time. But not wanting to test his luck any further, he ran deeper into the forest. The trees drew stark shadows on the bed of dead pine needles and every direction looked the same. His lungs burned, and he’d lost track how long he’d been running. And while he tried his best to use the moon as a guide, he knew he was already lost.

Stopping again and straining his ears to listen for trouble, he heard a light trickling of water instead, further south in the forest. Following it, Nathan came upon a large ravine. Carefully descending the steep valley, he dodged the few tree trunks in his way.

Dipping his hands into the stream, he splashed the frigid mountain water onto his face. The small cuts on his face stung, but he continued to splash the water to remove the dirt and sweat until the cold numbed the pain. He cupped more water in his hands and drank, satiating his thirst.

The early signs of morning crept into the forest, and Nathan decided it was a safe place to rest for a few hours. He stepped away from the water and toward a particularly large tree. Amid the gnarled roots, he found a spot to lie down, using the trunk to hide himself as much as possible.

Removing the helmet and sword hanging from his belt, he dug through the rucksack to find his weapon of choice, his dagger. If attacked, he’d be ready. Using the sack as a lumpy pillow, he lay down and closed his eyes, and the gentle sound of water lulled him to sleep.