Part 32

Three and a half months of rotting in the prison.  No word.  She’d shout at the man who delivered her food; demanding to know what was happening.  They never replied. 

The only light she saw was the torch through the slot and under the door as guard walked up and down the isle.  She probably looked awful from lack of sun.

“Hey, Grez, you awake?” Tarak asked.

“No.”

“Good, didn’t want to disturb you.  But I got a question.”

“Sure.”

“How many Divine Lights are there?”

“Four, the Tetrarchy.  Then there are seven Governors that act as mediators between the Tetrachy and Mortals.”

“Do they have names?”

“Yes, but we don’t know them.”

“Why didn’t they save the Victor?”

She often spoke to them of the Victor and her faith that he’d return to them.  They had long gotten tired of the topic, or at least she had thought so.

“We’ve been over this hundreds of times.”

“No, I mean, what was their purpose in letting him get taken?”

Letting him get taken?  She had never thought of that.  They had to have known he’d be kidnapped and accounted for it.   If they had a grand plan in all of this, which she was sure they did, then she didn’t understand it. 

“Perhaps it was a test?”  She said.

“I don’t think they’d do things just to test.  I think the test part is like a…side effect, not the main reason.”

“I have to admit that I don’t know.”

“Assuming the Lost Victor is out there – and I’m not saying he is – then we need to look for the prophesized people that surround him, right? Let’s see, there was the Bull, the Raven, the Witness, the Guardian, the Princess and the Priest.”

“Correct.  The Witness will proclaim the Victor to the world.  The Guardian will protect the Victor’s life.  The Princess will marry the Victor and establish a new reign over all the lands and the Priest will record the history of the Victor.” 

“So, if we see these kind of people surrounding a guy, that’ll be him.” 

Delun spoke up from his cell.

“You want to know how I know it’s all just a pile of crap?  Because those old prophecies are so vague they can be applied to anything and only after the fact to they say; oh yeah, see?  It fits perfectly!”

“Sounds pretty specific to me,” Tarak said.

“Take the Cow and Raven.  Duke Verin has a Minotaur and a dark haired woman.  This stupid prophecy could be thrown on them,” Delun said.

It didn’t sound absurd tough.  It sounded right to her.  It wasn’t her rational mind telling her but her heart.

“Yes it could,” Greza said. 

“See my meaning?”  Delun said.

“Grez,” Tarak said.  “You knew that already.”

“I don’t know anything.”

“You’ve been thinking that, haven’t you?”

Before she could answer the light from the torch appeared and they instantly fell silent.  The guards didn’t want them talking to each other. 

The tin plate was slid through the slot and clattered on the floor, spilling some of the tasteless slop on the floor.  Every evening they’d come by and demand the plate back. If they didn’t give the plate back they would be fed. 

She heard Yulof coughing.  His cough was getting worse.  The humans weren’t as resilient as the other races and the poor diet coupled with the poor conditions were starting to wear on them.

After her meal she knelt and prayed for release, rescue or escape like she did every day. 

Then one day, about a week later, they heard several guards coming down the hallway towards their cells.  This hadn’t happened since their first week there.  She stood up and quickly put on her cestus.  Her armor lay in a heap in the corner of the cell.

The group of what sounded like four guards stopped at her door first.  She heard keys rattling. 

“Prisoner, you in there?”  A rough male voice said in that strange Roshan accent.

“Yes.”

“You’re being moved.  Don’t resist or we will hurt you.  Understood?”

“Understood.”

She understood very well.  She understood that this was her chance to escape.  She hadn’t had an opportunity like this in over three months.  She didn’t know if she was ready.  She had tried to keep fit, but there was only so much she could do.  If she tried and failed then she’d be beaten or worse and her friends would remain where they were.

Her heart began pounding and she limbered up her shoulders.  She knew this feeling well.  It was the feeling she got every time she was about to enter a match she wasn’t sure she could win. 

Four guards.  If they were well trained soldiers she could easily be killed with a quick sword thrust to the gut.  One small mistake and she was dead.

The lock turned and the door swung inward.

“Back against the wall and turn toward it,” one of the guards said.

She took a deep breath.  This was her one and only chance.  She had no other choice.

As soon as the door was full opened and she saw the first guard walking in, she launched herself forward, to get out of the cell.  She couldn’t afford to lose by them shutting the door.

The guard she crashed into wasn’t incompetent because he had was drawing his dagger instead of his sword. But he wasn’t fast enough.  She shoulder rammed him out into the hall and she pushed off of him and elbowed the next guard in his face. 

The guard she rammed into the wall grabbed her from behind in an attempt to pin her arms.  She let him push her face first toward the far wall.  She kicked her legs up and pushed back with all her strength. 

She slammed him into the wall and he leg go.  The third guard had gotten over his surprise and was swinging at her with his sword.  She stepped into it, letting the sword swing uselessly past her and used her moment to punch him in the face.  She heard bones crack against her metal gauntlet. 

The fourth guard grabbed her arm.  She in turn, grabbed his hand and bent it back further than it had been made to go.  He screamed out and fell to his knees where she kicked him in the face.

The last guard, the one that she had slammed against the wall had his dagger drawn and was in a fighting stance.  She charged him and made to swing with her left.  He began to raise his arm to block and she struck out with her right fist.

Metal collided with meat and he collapsed to the ground. 

She was out of breath and only vaguely aware that the others were trying to say something. 

“Greza?  You alright?  What’s going on?”

“If you bastards hurt her I’ll see your head on a pike!”

“I’m alright,” she said.

“What happened?”

She bent down and took the keys from one of the guard’s belts.

“I have the keys. We’re leaving.”