Prisoner of Fate (12 page)

C
hase watched the crowd push toward the gates to begin the meal ritual in the evening torchlight. Boss and his cronies, at the head of the group, culled the line by pushing unfortunate individuals back and favouring others. He’d been too focussed and naive the first evening to notice their presence or methods, but he decided to wait until most of the prisoners had collected their dollop of gruel before going up for his share because he was intent on avoiding Boss’s attention.

His mind was abuzz with Sunlight’s wild revelations. The old man revealed a plot by the Seers to overthrow the king and the eldest prince to enthrone Prince Shadow. Once that had been achieved, they would combine their full magical potential to call upon the Demon Horsemen, who would ride into the kingdom to destroy everyone who was tainted with sin and stood against Jarudha. They would establish Paradise on earth. The price of the Seers’ aid to Prince Shadow was to be twofold. First, under his order the city would be subjected to fundamental religious sanctions favoured by the Seers. These included the sanctioning of Jarudha as the only god and city religion, the commitment of the eldest son of each
family to holy orders for training, the banning of women and children from all public places including markets, the requirement for all people to wear the yellow robes of Jarudhan disciples when abroad, and a host of additional restrictions and punishments aimed at curtailing the freedom of the people. Second, the Seers would be Prince Shadow’s royal advisors in all civic and personal matters, having unlimited privilege. The great secret sounded like utter lunacy to Chase, and he was convinced that the old man was mad, but he felt sorry for him.

When the commotion at the gates was dwindling, he sauntered across the cell and reached through the bars for his share of the food being doled out by the guards. As the gruel filled his cupped hands, he realised that Boss was watching. He returned slowly to Sunlight and sat and, aware that Boss was still watching, he lifted the gruel to his mouth and feigned eating it. Boss was distracted as a guard whacked the wrists of a prisoner who was trying to get a second share of the meal and in that moment Chase dropped the gruel into his lap. When Boss looked back at him, he was licking the remnants from his hands as if he’d eaten everything greedily. He leaned against the wall and put his hands behind his head, as if he was content with what he’d consumed, and waited patiently for Boss and his cronies to shift their attention elsewhere. ‘I’ve saved you some food,’ he whispered to Sunlight as the feeding guards withdrew, the overhead vents were closed and darkness spread through the gaol.

‘How?’ Sunlight asked.

‘I’m a thief. Trick of the trade,’ Chase replied. He scooped the gruel from his lap and placed it carefully in Sunlight’s hands. ‘There. Enjoy.’ Sunlight ate in silence while Chase watched the shadows of prisoners moving and settling into the familiar spots where they slept
every night. A dark lump was still lying in the sewer. ‘When are they going to take the corpse?’

Sunlight swallowed before saying, ‘They’ll leave it for a few days. They like us to get a good look at our fates. Then they’ll take it and any others that have accumulated, usually at about midnight.’

‘Do they bury the bodies? Or burn them?’

‘They dump them over the cliff for the sharks,’ Sunlight explained. ‘I saw them doing it when I was gaoled upstairs in the Lockup—before they put me down here.’

‘So why have you told me all that stuff about the Seers and the Horsemen?’

‘I need you to do me a favour.’

Chase chuckled, and said, ‘I thought there’d be a catch. But I don’t see any favours possible to be done down here.’

Sunlight sighed. ‘I thought you said you wouldn’t be staying here?’

‘I won’t be. If I don’t find a way out before they come to chop off my arm, I’ll be out after that anyway.’

‘That’s a positive view of your circumstances.’

‘Always like to look at the brighter side of things,’ Chase quipped. ‘So what’s the favour?’

‘You have to stop the Seers from summoning the Demon Horsemen.’

Chase stifled a laugh. ‘Oh, is that all?’ he asked with unmasked sarcasm.

‘Yes.’

‘Not a problem,’ Chase announced. ‘Got any clues how I might do this little favour for you?’

‘It won’t be easy,’ Sunlight warned. ‘If anyone finds out what you are trying to do, there’ll be men trying to kill you.’

‘And the clues?’ Chase persisted. Footsteps and a shadow approached. Chase put his hand on Sunlight’s
mouth to keep him quiet until the prisoner passed. ‘Sorry,’ he apologised when he removed his hand. ‘He’s gone.’

‘No. I thank you,’ Sunlight rejoined. He coughed sharply and continued. ‘My granddaughter, Crystal, lives in her father’s house, which was meant to be my house before I joined the Order. It’s in the Northern Quarter, overlooking the bay. If you ask anyone in the Northern Quarter for the directions to Crystal Merchant’s house, they will tell you how to find it. The walls are whitewashed and the roof has grey slate tiles. There’s a water fountain shaped like a dolphin at the front. I want you to go to my granddaughter and tell her that I sent you. Tell her you have my permission to go down to the cellar. She will know what I mean. Ask her also for the opal kangaroo tooth. I gave it to her to wear for protection from evil when I learned that the Seers were coming to take me away. She thinks it’s charmed.’

‘What if she doesn’t believe me?’ Chase asked.

‘Tell her this,’ Sunlight replied, and he leaned forward. ‘The platypus’s name is Brightwater.’

Chase stared at the old man. ‘Platypus?’

‘You don’t know what a platypus is?’

‘No.’

Sunlight shook his head. ‘You’ve lived your whole life in the city. You need to get out into the countryside, son.’

‘That’s your answer?’ Chase protested.

Sunlight coughed. ‘A platypus is a small creature that lives in streams. It has a bill and a furry body like a wallaby. You would have to see one to understand.’

‘Why is the platypus’s name important?’

‘Crystal saw one when she was a little girl and she wanted to keep it. Just tell her the name if she doubts you.’

Chase scratched his cheek, bemused by the old man’s story. ‘Why the cellar?’

‘Under the house are tunnels built by smugglers who brought in illegal goods from the coast—my grandfather and my father included. My father even smuggled goods for Prince Future once, in the Rebel War. I explored them all when I was younger than you. You have to go along the old tunnel that heads north. It’s the longest tunnel in the system. Make sure you have water and food. It will take three days to traverse its length there and back. At the end you’ll find a door. It will be locked and apparently barred from the inside, and you won’t be able to open it.’

‘What’s the point of that?’

‘It’s designed to fool anyone who isn’t meant to be in the tunnels. It’s not a door at all. If you search the wall on your right, however, you’ll find a small dent which perfectly fits the shape of the opal kangaroo tooth. It’s a key. Place the kangaroo tooth in the depression and a door will open in the rock wall. That way you enter the cave beyond it. In the cave you will find a canvas bag. You have to take the bag to Prince Inheritor before the Demon Horsemen arrive if you want to save the city. Will you do this?’

‘What’s in the bag?’ Chase asked.

‘An ancient magical weapon—the only weapon that can kill the Demon Horsemen.’

‘Magic,’ said Chase in disbelief. Sunlight nodded. Chase snorted and scratched his head, perplexed by the rush of information. ‘Can you really do magic?’ he asked.

Sunlight quietly chuckled, and ended in a cough. After he recovered his breath, he said, ‘No one else has survived in this place longer than I have. After me, a handful have lasted perhaps three years before disease, starvation and dehydration have finally worn
them down. Without a Blessing I would never have lasted this long. You tasted the water earlier. Every time I go to the trough, I use my Blessing to make the water drinkable.’

‘Then why haven’t you used your Blessing to escape? You could turn yourself invisible or something and walk out.’

‘The pity of it all is that one Seer alone can do very little. Heal a wound. Cure a simple disease. Purify small quantities of food and water. Mend tiny broken things.’ Sunlight sighed. ‘I can’t escape this place. It’s too hard, too difficult. That’s why they put me down here.’

‘Shhh,’ Chase hissed. Boots crunched on the rough cobbles and a shadow loomed in the gloom.

‘Get up, Bilby. I want to talk to you,’ Boss ordered, and walked on.

‘You’d better go,’ Sunlight urged. ‘Be careful.’

‘I’ll come back,’ Chase said. ‘You have to tell me why you chose to tell this stuff to me.’ He rose and followed Boss’s back along the wall and through into the adjoining cavern. At the farthest wall, Boss stopped. ‘This is where you sleep from now on,’ he announced.

‘Why?’ Chase asked. A hand snapped shut around his throat and shoved him roughly against the wall.

‘You don’t ask why, Bilby,’ Boss snarled. ‘You just do as I say. Got that?’

Chase’s defensive instincts flared and he fought them savagely in the instant between question and necessary answer. There was still strength in Boss’s grip and arm despite the deprivations of the prison life, but Chase was sure that he could match it. A quick twist, a low kick and he could have Boss at his mercy, like in the streets. But at what cost in a prison? And there’d be Boss’s colleagues to contend with immediately after. He gasped, ‘Yes, Boss,’ weakly, and rejected the temptation to retaliate.

‘Good,’ Boss growled, without relaxing his hold. ‘I thought you might learn quick, but you don’t seem as smart as I pegged you for. So I figure you need to sleep over here at night and in the daytime you can come and sit near me and the lads, until we know we can trust you to be a good Bilby. You got that, Bilby?’

‘Yes, Boss.’

Boss released Chase’s throat and brushed his hands against his grubby prison rags. ‘You seem to like talking, don’t you, Bilby? That’s why I decided you should sleep over here. There’s plenty of lads to talk to around this section of the gaol, if you really need to talk. But you don’t need to do no more talking to Cockatoo. Got that clear, Bilby? And if I decide, sometime in the future, that you’ve been a good Bilby, I might let you talk to the old man once or twice. Depends on how good you’ve been. That sound fair?’

‘Yes, Boss,’ Chase dutifully answered, but the words nearly choked him. He heard a brief commotion in another part of the gaol, and someone’s startled cry was cut short.

‘Just some of the lads letting off steam,’ Boss remarked. ‘Nothing to trouble you, Bilby, because you’re going to bed now, eh? I’d tuck you in, but seems there’s no sheets or blankets in here. That’s a shame, really. You’d like to be tucked into bed, I bet.’ Chase stayed silent.

Boss laughed as he swaggered towards the main cavern. ‘Have a good sleep, Bilby,’ he called from the gloom. ‘Remember to say your prayers to Jarudha.’

The cavern echoed with the ragged snores of sleeping men. Hunched against the cold wall in the dark, Chase was unable to sleep because his mind raced with frenetic thoughts, issues and people jumbled together, flashing and evaporating like brief torches in the wind.
He had to find a way out of the gaol before they came to take his arm. With one arm, not only was he branded for life, but his options for survival were significantly reduced. For one, he wouldn’t be able to ply his thieving trade. He relied on his relatively anonymous appearance to avoid attracting the attention of authorities or his victims. None of the merchants would offer work to a one-armed man and begging was a miserable alternative. He had to get out before they crippled him.

He was worried about his sister, Passion. She prostituted herself for money to feed her little boy, Jon. She also provided for Runner, the errant nephew dumped on them by their older half-sister, Swift. Chase hadn’t seen or heard of Swift since she ran away from home and he couldn’t even really remember what she looked like. She vanished into the city when he was barely four, and then, twelve years later, Runner turned up in the streets claiming to be Swift’s son. Passion, herself barely fourteen when Runner appeared, took in the street urchin, but Runner was rarely at home, and when he did come home it was for food and a safe place to sleep for a night or two before he vanished back into the streets like his errant mother. Chase saw himself as Passion’s protector, the person she could rely on to get her out of difficult circumstances when customers tried to cheat her or force her to do things she never offered. With him locked up, she was vulnerable.

And now there was Sunlight the Seer who had entrusted him with a secret and a quest. He doubted the truth of the old man’s tale, but he would at least pay a visit to Sunlight’s granddaughter out of respect for the old man.
Who knows
? he considered ambitiously.
If she’s rich she might pay good money for news of her grandfather.

Twice he rose and contemplated sneaking back to check on the old man and reassure him that he was safe, but uncertainty of the whereabouts of Boss and the thugs held him from leaving the area to which he’d been assigned. In the end he huddled against the wall, curled up to keep warm in the cold space and drifted through a fitful sleep.

T
he old man was dead. Face up on the dirt floor, blood congealed around the back of his head, he was staring blindly at infinity. Chase knelt beside the body and gently touched the shoulder. ‘I’m sorry. I should have come back.’ Then he raised his eyes and saw Boss and his three companions at their usual place at the gates. Boss was chatting to a guard. Chase’s rage ignited. He straightened and strode across the cavern towards the four thugs, oblivious to the other prisoners. A guard warned Boss of Chase’s approach and Boss turned to face him. Dogger and Boots stepped in Chase’s way.

‘Bilby,’ Boss said cordially. ‘Sleep well?’

Chase glared at Boss. ‘Fingerbone Fromriver,’ he said slowly, and saw Boss’s expression flicker with shock. ‘Yes, that’s right. I know who you are.’

Boots kicked at Chase’s shin, but he skipped aside. ‘My name’s Boss,’ said Boss sharply. ‘Teach him that, will you, lads?’

Dogger lunged, but Chase was ready and dodged. ‘I think he wants to play,’ said Boots, as he moved closer.

His balance corrected, Dogger snarled, ‘Bilby wants to play, does he?’

Chase crouched.
Which one will strike first? Together? Rarely happened. Which one
? He heard the prisoners marshalling. Voices began shouting encouragement and advice. The guards looked on with mild interest. Boots kicked. Chase caught the man’s ankle, twisted, and flipped him onto the ground. Dogger charged, swinging a roundhouse punch, but Chase ducked under it and punched Dogger solidly in the midriff, and the man collapsed to his knees. Chase danced back a couple of steps, checking what Boss and Pigspit were planning to do, but to his surprise they were simply watching, Boss with an amused expression. So it was to be two onto one. Then he had a chance, a slim chance.

Boots was on his feet and circling, and he dragged Dogger up as he passed him. ‘Think you’re smart, mate,’ Boots taunted. ‘You got lucky, first time. No more luck now. Now we mean business. You’re going to wish you’d never seen either of us when we’re done with you, mate.’

Chase pushed the taunting aside. It was a common street-fighting ploy, designed to goad the enemy into making a stupid move and he’d acquired immunity after suffering several punishing beatings as a boy because he reacted to it. ‘Courage gone like your tongue?’ Dogger sneered.

‘Try me,’ Chase answered calmly.

Dogger glanced at Boots, and Boots nodded. They separated, circling in opposite directions, making it difficult for Chase to see both at once. He had to get to the wall. Fighting with a back to a wall was easier than being trapped in the open. He sensed rather than saw Dogger swing and a fist grazed the back of his head as he ducked. Dogger grappled for a hold on Chase’s left arm, but Chase twisted quickly out of the clumsy attempt and back-turned to smack his elbow
solidly across the back of Dogger’s head. He didn’t have time to assess the hit’s effect. Boots attacked with several sharp kicks and one caught him agonisingly in the shin. He lashed out with his fist at Boots’s face, but the man dodged and kicked again, catching Chase’s ribs. The force sent Chase staggering back, but he kept his feet enough to block two more kicks. Then, to Boots’s astonishment, Chase jumped forward, kicked him square in the chest and sent him sprawling heavily onto his back. Chase spun and met Dogger’s next charge, only this time he was too slow and Dogger wrapped him in his arms as they collided. Desperate to avoid being pinned, Chase twisted and punched Dogger in the back of the head repeatedly as they collapsed onto the cobbles and brought his legs up to heave the man off his chest, but his neck jerked suddenly as something solid thumped into the side of his head, and thumped again, making his left ear sting, and thumped again.

‘You were unlucky, mate. Boss should’ve stayed out of it.’ Chase wanted to open his left eye, but it felt glued shut. He sucked in a lungful of air, and coughed, rolled onto his side and spat something warm from his aching mouth. ‘Don’t rush it, mate. You’ve got plenty of time.’ Chase went to sit up, and winced from the pain in his left shoulder and side as he gingerly rose. His back was a mass of pain too. ‘Seen men die from a beating like that. Lucky you haven’t been in here long yet. Still got some toughness in you.’

Chase formed the words and tried to say ‘Who are you?’ but the sound from his woollen mouth was mumbled confusion.

‘Ease up, mate. I’ll do all the talking for you.’ Chase forced his swollen eye to open and could see his puffy
cheek at the bottom of his vision. The light in the cavern from the overhead vent was darkening. ‘It’s nearly time to close them up,’ said the voice.

Chase turned his head, but could only make out a shadowy presence in the dimming light. ‘Who are you?’ he wheezed.

‘Doesn’t matter, mate,’ the stranger replied. ‘Doesn’t matter who anyone is in here. You just save your breath and concentrate on breathing.’ Chase felt arms embrace his chest and grunted as the stranger lifted him against a wall. ‘Sorry, mate, but it’s the only way I could get you sitting up. If I leave you out there on the floor, the guards might think you’re one of the dead ones and cart you away by mistake. You don’t need that.’

‘Thanks,’ Chase wheezed, but the stranger’s figure was already melting into the distance. He was alone. The chains rattled overhead as the roof vents closed. His last memory was of a fight, but after that he recalled nothing. That was in the morning. He’d been unconscious the entire day. The pain through his body was in disarray. Some parts, like his ribs and his left ear, ached. Other parts, like his lip and his lower back, were numb. He scratched at blood caked above his left eye and it began to bleed again.

The guards might think you’re one of the dead ones and cart you away by mistake.

He slowly surveyed the cavern. He was no longer in the front chamber where Boss and Boots and their friends lorded over the prisoners, but at the back again, where Boss had consigned him the previous night. How had he gotten into this part of the prison? Dragged? Dumped? Crawled? He had no memory after the beginning of the fight. Figures gathered expectantly in the shadows. The guards would bring the evening meal soon, but he wasn’t remotely hungry. He tried to rise
from his sitting position, but his body refused and pain flared through his left ribs. He groaned quietly and slumped onto his right side.

When he opened his eyes, it was dark and cold. He heard metal striking metal. Torchlight flickered against the far wall. Keys rattled. Close by, in the dark, a voice whispered, ‘They’re taking the dead ones out tonight.’

A second voice replied, ‘’bout time. Old Possum’s starting to stink something shocking.’

So the guards are clearing away the dead. How many corpses are there
? He eased into a seated position and listened to the sounds in the neighbouring cavern. He heard the cell gate swing open and boots on the cobbles.

‘What are you bastards looking at?’ a voice snarled.

‘It stinks in here!’ a second voice declared in disgust. ‘Let’s get the dead ones and get out of here.’

‘How many this time?’ asked a third.

‘I got told six.’

‘No bloody idea. Just check every section.’

‘Get back, you filthy piece of shit, or you’ll be carted out too!’

A body was dragged across the floor. ‘Bloody pick up the other end, you lazy sod!’ a voice complained. ‘You two check that side. You two, that end. We’ll wheel the cart round.’

The guards might think you’re one of the dead ones and cart you away by mistake.

He edged toward the centre of the cavern, moving as quickly and quietly as his pain-wracked limbs allowed. Torchlight spilled into the space. He reached the sewer drain, flinched, and laid his head sideways against the wet earth. ‘This one’s still breathing,’ a guard said several paces away.

A heavy thump followed. ‘Not now,’ another guard announced. Torchlight flooded the world beyond Chase’s eyelids. He held his breath.

‘We got three in this section!’ a guard yelled above him. ‘Bring the cart round.’

Hands grabbed his ankles and wrenched him along the floor. His ribs seared with pain, but he refused to cry out. His head bounced against the ground. He risked a slow breath. Then his tormentor dropped his legs. ‘This one’s pretty fresh.’

‘So’s the one I just put out of his misery.’ Laughter.

‘The old one around the corner isn’t. His guts is ready to pop.’

‘Get them on the cart. I need a drink and some fresh air.’

Hands grabbed Chase’s wrists and ankles and he was lifted and dumped face down onto a stinking, bony mass. He sucked in a tiny breath of air and nearly choked from the rotting stench. His ribs felt like daggers in his side. He couldn’t do this. He had to cry out. A weight thumped onto his back, and then another. ‘That’s the lot. Let’s go.’

‘Stop staring, you bloody lunatic. Your turn’s coming soon enough.’

‘It’s too bloody heavy. Push, will you?’

Chase winced and bit his sore lip as the cart bumped and clattered across the cavern. He wanted to open his eyes, but he dared not. He’d taken his one chance. If they found him pretending, he was a dead man. Either way, he was leaving on this cart. He heard the gate close and the keys chink in the lock. ‘How many?’

‘Eight.’

‘Boss said there was six.’

‘Well we got eight. One old geezer wasn’t quite dead when we went in, but he’s dead now.’

‘Okay. Get the stinking crap out of here then.’

Complaining, abusive voices bantered around the creaking cart as the guards pulled and pushed it along a corridor and up a slope. Chase felt cool air and a strong breeze on his right leg that dangled from the pile of corpses. ‘Plenty of fish food tonight.’

‘Only bit of good this lot ever done.’ Laughter.

‘Pity the poor bloody shark that gets the one that’s about to pop.’ More laughter. The cart stopped. The corpse across Chase’s back jerked.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Taking them off.’

‘Bugger that. Tip the lot over in one lump. Come on. Lift, lads.’ The cart tilted and the weight on Chase slid away. And suddenly he was sliding too, and dropping through the air, falling, spinning. He smacked against the water, and something solid hit his left leg and his leg went numb. He was under the freezing water. He struggled to the surface, spat sea water, was lifted on a dark wave, and went under again. Again, he fought the brutal pain and the rolling ocean and rose to suck in the sweet air. Something floated beside him. He grabbed hold and it rolled and bobbed and he realised it was a bloated corpse. Possum. He let go instinctively, and sank.

When he struggled to the surface for the third time, he flipped onto his back and tried floating, gaining precious seconds to breathe and gather momentum. He heard the ominous roar of waves breaking against the base of the cliff and was suddenly washed across barnacle-encrusted rocks that lacerated his back and legs. He thrust his arms into the dark water and glistening foam and tried to get a grip, but the receding wash sucked him back into the ocean and into the path of the next wave. The wave lifted him, carried him over the first rocks and threw him against a narrow rocky
platform. The pressure pushed him momentarily under the ledge, churning him against the brutal knife-sharp eroded stone, but as he emerged on the backwash, this time he latched desperately onto the lip of the ledge and held on, his muscles straining almost to their limit. With a supreme effort, he hauled himself onto the platform and braced against the next wave that crashed over, trying to pull him back into the heaving ocean. Between successive waves, he wormed into a niche between the battered rocks on the narrow platform and hugged a jagged, wave-cut rock formation as the foaming water rose and fell around his knees. The cold sea air crept deeper into his bones and every shiver made him wince in agony as the pain in his ribs and now his left leg intensified. The ocean’s roar was endless. The night sky yielded only rare glimpses of a sliver of moon sliding between dark clouds. The water seethed and sucked at his legs, and spiralled away as each wave spewed onto the platform and retreated. If the tide was rising he would be dead soon, unless he could climb higher. He begged for a waning tide. He could have prayed, but he wasn’t a religious man and he had principles on those matters. He despised men who suddenly called on a god of some kind the moment they faced bad times.

He was exhausted. He was bitterly cold. He was in pain. He wanted nothing more than to sleep. But sleep was death. Already he should have been dead, but he wasn’t. Every good thief knew that when given a stroke of luck it was essential to grab it firmly with both hands and take it gratefully, and never give it back or away. But he so much wanted just to sleep.

He jerked awake from a strange dream and reeled back when he realised he was half suspended in a natural rock chair two arm spans above the water. Soft, early
dawn light spread an apricot hue across the bluing sky and the waves washed gently over the rocks. A white- and-grey seagull circled forty paces away, fluttered its wings into a stall and dropped onto a bobbing mass in the gently heaving waves. A corpse. The gull pecked at it, lifting its beak high to swallow its prize. A grey fin cut the swollen crest of a wave, heading for the corpse, and slid beneath the surface. The corpse wobbled violently, as if in spasm, and the alarmed seagull took flight. Chase shivered. The sharks were feeding.

He bent his head back to look up. The cliff overhead loomed vertically, protectively towering over the thin platform and jumble of rocks. Wave erosion had carved away the base. One day, the cliff top would lose its balance and topple into the ocean. His ribs ached from the pain and exposure. His left leg was bruising along his thigh to his knee. His battered face was stinging, as were the hundreds of cuts and scratches all over his body. His shirt was a rock-shredded rag.
The old Seer is fish food
, he thought, and vaguely pondered the metaphysical possibilities of death, letting his thoughts drift incoherently.
But I am alive
, he reminded himself,
and I’m out of that gaol, as I said I would be.
He searched the surrounding landscape, assessing every rock, the cliff, the ledge, the ocean, the distant shoreline of buildings across the bay.
Now how do I get out of here
?