The Comfortable Prison

Although Arawn hadn't wanted to agree, the truth of it was that he did feel more comfortable in a cell. After turning away from Corwal, he'd gotten the best sleep in more than a week. With onyx handcuffs on his hands and iron bars surrounding him, he felt at home. The small dark space was a comfort to him.

But when he saw Corwal's pale face, he knew they had to leave, and the sooner the better. The gash on his arm had been bandaged, but only superficially. Blood had seeped through it and painted the whole arm dark red. Even while asleep against the wall, Corwal's forehead was creased from the pain as he cradled his arm against his chest.

Eliot was in a neighboring cell, but the boy wasn't asleep. He was sitting in the darkness by the back wall, his gaze unreadable. But Arawn had a feeling that he could guess what was on the kid's mind—something Arawn himself was feeling.

The day before, both of them had been nuisances to Corwal. One of them had gotten him injured while the other forced him to surrender and locate to new sleeping quarters. If it hadn't been for them, it was likely that he would've gotten away without a single scratch.

Footsteps came from somewhere to the side, and Arawn shifted his gaze. A guard was walking toward them with a bucket and three bowls in his other hand. There was a scowl on his face, but he didn't speak, just opened Eliot's cell and poured him some brew like he was a dog.

The broth sloshed all over the ground. Eliot's face twisted with disgust, but Arawn was more interested in the broth itself. To his surprise, it looked like more than water with a few vegetables thrown in for appearances sake. There was actually some substance to the meal.

Corwal woke up from the noise and went to the front of his cell. The guard sneered at him, but didn't pay any attention otherwise. In his eyes, mages were useless without their magic.

Smiling, Arawn stepped a bit to the right for a better viewing angle. The guard was certainly going to see something he didn't expect.

Yet Corwal did nothing. He stumbled a little while getting out of the way, then just waited patiently for his broth. Arawn found it a little disappointing, but his own meal came, and he forgot all about it. Who would ever bring soup to prisoners instead of thin broth?

He didn't know, but he already liked the person. In moments, he finished all of it and closed his eyes in appreciation. The first meal at Corwal's place had been great, but after that they'd been on the road and had to eat dried rations. It was nothing to frown upon, yet a real soup was like a six meal dinner in comparison.

"You look happy," Corwal said in a strange voice, and Arawn raised his head to see that both Corwal and Eliot were staring at him.

The two had only just started on their bowls. Eliot even seemed to find trouble eating without a spoon.

"Spoiled kids," Arawn told them and cleaned his bowl with a finger. Only once he was sure it was perfectly clean did he put it away. "Why didn't you do anything?" he asked Corwal with interest.

The man lifted his head from his bowl. "Me? I'm injured. Why didn't you do anything?"

Light blossomed around Arawn's fingers. It glistened on the onyx handcuffs, making them look almost like bracelets.

"Right… How could I forget?" Corwal shook his head and threw a ring with keys into the air. "Don't do anything yet. Let's wait for the night to make it easier upon ourselves."

Arawn grinned while letting the ether scatter. He'd known that Corwal wouldn't just do nothing! Yet how had he managed that? Was it when he stumbled by the guard's side? But Arawn had seen nothing!

A thought popped into his head. "It's not your second time in prison either, is it?"

"No," Corwal admitted while moving back to the end of the cell to sit back down. His movements were slow, reminding Arawn of his mistake. "I guess it's the sixth? Or was it seventh time? I can't really recall."

"Master!" Eliot shouted out while grabbing onto the iron bars. "You've been in prison before?" The boy looked like his whole world had shattered at that moment.

"Oh, don't make more of it than it is. I got into a few fights, got drunk a few times, and so visited the cells to sober up. That's it."

"And you ran away from all of them, didn't you?" Arawn asked, sitting down before the bars.

Corwal shrugged. "Not fond of being locked in one place. I'll have enough of that when I'm old and can't even get myself onto the back of a horse."

It made sense, but at the same time not really. Arawn felt like he was playing the stone game and his opponent had done a truly amateurish move. Logic would dictate that he rush forward to abuse it and win, but the player in him knew that his opponent wasn't a fool, so why had he done such a move? What strategy had he cooked up?

Corwal was a talented mage, so he had to be a noble, based on his words about how the society in Ayersbert worked. Yet here he was, gallivanting around the country by himself and picking up people that might get him killed.

He was supposedly one of the king's hounds, people who cleaned the country of insurrectionists, spies, and all manner of wrongdoers, but he spent half of his time in prisons or drunk in some random tavern. Earlier, he even risked his life to save Arawn, putting his mission in jeopardy.

How did any of that come to make any kind of whole? Oh, and Corwal was also a great swordsman, just to mess up the whole equation a bit more.

For a time, Corwal continued with their lessons, but his throat soon went dry, and they had to end them. The man closed his eyes to rest while Arawn went to question Eliot. The boy wasn't as knowledgeable, but he was very familiar with nobles. His family had been servants to one, and he had a lot of grievances to share.

When the evening came, the guard returned with more food. It was some bread with a bowl of water this time, but Arawn was still happy. The bread was a day old, but compared to what he'd received in the Gutter, it was still a treat.

On his way out, the guard told them that the lord was not present and they would have to stay until he returns. When Arawn asked about when it would happen, the guard shrugged at him. "Do you think he tells me? Just eat and be happy our lord is so generous to freeloading scum like you."

Arawn wasn't too happy with the title 'freeloader', but he couldn't really refute it. There hadn't been a day in his life when he'd worked for his food.

Upon finishing the tasty bread, he realized that Corwal hadn't moved from his position on the straw bed. The man lay on his back, so Arawn couldn't see his face, but he thought it was a little too red when compared to the previous paleness.

"Something's wrong with Corwal," he told Eliot. They had agreed to leave once night fell for good and everyone was asleep, but he no longer thought that was a good idea. "I'm going to check—"

"I'm fine," Corwal croaked. His voice was dry and throaty, but he pushed himself into a sitting position with shaky hands.

When he turned around and picked the bowl which the guard had left in the middle of the room, Arawn saw that his face was flushed red and his eyes were shining unnaturally.

"Stop staring at me, I'm fine."

Although he said that, Corwal could only finish half of the loaf of bread. A good portion of the water in the bowl landed on the ground from his shaky hands, and the moment he finished, he crumpled on the straw like he was boneless.

"He's not okay…" Arawn whispered.

Eliot tried to get a look inside, but he couldn't get his head through the iron bars, and he was in a cell adjacent to that of Corwal. His features were twisted with worry, but he still shook his head.

"We still can't leave. I can't carry him, and you can't fight everyone back and pull him along."

The boy's words held more logic than Arawn liked. During the day, people would be milling about the courtyard, so it was certain that they would be noticed if they attempted an escape.

"If you could use earth, you could probably dig us a tunnel with your strength, but without it… And my fire is useless here. Not that I can do much with it," Eliot said in a voice drenched with self-deprecation. "I would be horrible even as a light bearer."

"You'll learn," Arawn said, finding himself inadequate in providing any kind of hope for the child. He had no idea what it felt like to be too weak to do anything, since his problem was being too good at all the wrong things.

Time passed like a snail in winter. No matter how many times Arawn glanced at the small, barred window in the back wall, it was still light outside. Had the sun decided not to come down? He was starting to lose his fascination with it. All he wanted was for the dark to finally settle and hide them from prying eyes.

He circled the cell, called and released ether, and drew with his finger in the dust on the ground. Agitation pushed him to move, to do something, but logic ordered him to wait.

Five lifetimes later, twilight came to the land. Eliot wanted to wait more, but Arawn didn't have the patience. He could see Corwal not moving, and fear grew with every beat of his heart. Was the man already dead? Had they waited too long?

The lock fell with a clink when it was cut with the ether blade. Arawn sent one to Eliot's door and went for Corwal's cell. Eliot was already behind him, and they kneeled before their friend.

Corwal was still breathing. Relief washed over Arawn at the sight of the rising chest, but the man's face was tomato red and as hot as a furnace. Yet he was shivering as if he was cold.

"He's got a fever," Eliot whispered as if afraid to wake the sick man. His small hands formed into fists and tears collected in his eyes. "It's that wound! How could they just leave him to die here like this?"

"Doesn't matter," Arawn said. He had no idea what to do now, so he needed Eliot to clear his head. "What now? He needs a doctor, right?"

The boy nodded, but his expression didn't get any better. "But it's probably already too late. Look at all that puss coming out from the wound."

"Then do you just wanna let him die here?" Arawn asked in a deadpan voice.

A shudder wracked Eliot's small frame, and he shook his head. He took in a deep breath. Still sniffling, he pointed out of the cell. "Nobles usually have personal doctors in their homes. If the lord didn't take him along when leaving, he should still be somewhere in the mansion."

"Good. We find him and make him help us. Let's go!"

With a plan, Arawn finally had a way to use up his restless energy. He almost ran down the hallway while dragging Eliot after him. The guard they'd seen before was sitting at a table in a small room at the end. He jumped to his feet and fumbled with his sword, but Arawn couldn't be bothered.

He sent a blast of ether toward him, and the man crashed against the wall. Eliot freed himself at that moment from Arawn's grasp. He dashed to a pile of ropes lying on the floor and used them to tie up the dazed man.

"Smart," Arawn complimented, and they ran out into a courtyard. The main building loomed to their right like a squatting giant. On any other occasion, Arawn would have stopped to admire it, but he had more important matters to attend at that moment.

Without wasting a second, he veered toward the servant door. They were unlocked. He threw them open and strode inside. Five pairs of eyes shifted to him from a table full of cards.

"And this wasn't," he muttered while backtracking, but the guards had already seen him. They rushed to their feet and dashed out of the guardroom.