The Maraven Conspiracy

The Waters of Raith (II)

     This time there was no need for Cato to scan his surroundings, as soon as he had opened his eyes he knew exactly where he was,the intimate knowledge of his location doing nothing to ease the panic still coursing through his body. Instead it had the opposite effect, a deep sense of dread now joined the fear, mingling together and settling in the pit of his stomach.

     The room was large, capable of holding large groups, and unlike the previous room held no furnishings, no ornamentation, not even a plain bed or bench.Just grey stone brick upon grey stone brick, stark metal bars, and a small window on the far corner. Originally built to contain misbehaving colonists during the settling, the cells were only intended to be a temporary holding before they were sent back to the mainland to face trial. Over 350 years later the basic minimalist design of the cells remained the same though several more had been added. Cato of course knew nothing of this history, only that he suddenly found himself returned to the Maraven Gaol. There were no torches hung in the corridor that connected it to the other identical cells, leaving them all in a perpetual gloom. The guards carried small hand lanterns when they came through to do their rounds, well trained,they spoke only in whispers to one another, ignoring the prisoners. This was both a blessing and a curse for the inmates, they went unmolested by their captors but were also free to assault each other as they pleased. The guards cared little what a bunch of criminal lack names chose to do to one another.

     The window was the sole source of light when the guards were not around, raised beyond the reach of all but the tallest man, and shielded with yet more metal bars. Cato remembered staring at the window for hours, the only reminder of a world beyond the metal bars. There were around a dozen other inmates in the cell, their bodies strewn around the room. Despite the multitude of men housed within the cell there was only one other person in that cell as far as Cato was concerned, slouched in the far corner the Man seemed to draw what little light was present in the cell and the others faded away. Cato had never learnt the Man's name, an odd detail but as much as he tried to avoid thinking over what had happened in that the cell, it was odd details which still haunted his mind.

     The Man slowly raised himself off the floor, one hand against the cold stone to steady himself, as he did the dread and fear churning in Cato's stomach turned to ice, his mind screamed at him to move, to run, to do anything but he was frozen in place, unable to bring to bear any command over his body, just the same as it had been before. But Cato was not the same as he was before, and he began to breath, slow, deliberately, and controlled even as the Man was staggering steadily towards him ,his feet unsteady but clearly determined to reach their target. Cato's heartbeat started to slow, and the panic and dread began to recede, not vanishing entirely but shrinking down to a manageable level.

     The Man had almost reached him, fear now under control Cato could see that that he lacked any clear features. Instead of any facial characteristics, there was just a vague dark haze covering a rough outline of a face. Likewise, the Man's body was not clearly defined, his size and shape roughly fluctuating from thinner to thicker, short to taller, and then back again. Cato turned his attention away from the man and looked around the cell, noting parts which were sharply defined, the window, the bars, the spot on the floor directly in front of him, and the parts which possessed the same haziness as the Man, the other cellmates, the tall ceiling. It suddenly became clear to him where he was, "This is my past, my memories, I'm in control". "I'm in control" he repeated, an aspirational mantra that he struggled to bring himself to truly believe. The man was now almost within touching distance, he looked him directly in the eyes, or at least where he imagined his eyes should have been,and in the steadiest voice he could muster he snarled "Be Still!"

     Despite his lack of confidence, it worked, the figure suddenly frozen in mid stride, the encouragement of that success was enough to allow him gain back some control,enough to take a hold of the dull tugging still lurking at the back of his mind.He took one last look at the man, now firmly stuck in place. He waited a few moments, just to confirm to himself that there would not be any sudden attacks and then finally he closed his eyes. Now that he could focus properly, Cato could see the dull tugging sensation for what it really was, a lifeline, the weaving connecting him back. He followed its path and when he opened his eyes again he was back in the draughty chamber where he had started, bowl of water, now completely still and turned from bright color to a dull grey, sitting in his lap.

     "Well that looked like fun..." came a dry rasp from just a few feet away. Cato tensed slightly, he may have escaped the dangers of the past, but there were still sufficient perils in the present to be wary of.

     "It was fine" he replied curtly, raising his head to stare challengingly at the old man. Valios looked at decrepit as ever, his skeletal thin body wrapped in tattered but voluminous robes. His few remaining white hairs and severe hunch completed the appearance of an old beggar man. It would be easy to dismiss him given his aged, worn-down appearance, but Cato knew that that was a grave error. As to how the old man moved so quickly despite his age and the dark robes that engulfed his body,that was a trick that Cato had yet to decipher and one that keep him on his toes constantly.

     "Well I'm pleased to hear that, I'm always pleased to see my beloved apprentice succeeding" Valios laughed, a short bark which quickly transitioned into a hacking cough. "As I told you, the Waters of Raith have always been a rather.... tricky tool", he grinned, his lips curled in quiet mockery. "Some say that the waters have a mind of their own, a limited but cruel intellect, you must be very careful what you ask of it", the harsh smile flickered, vanishing for a moment but then returned as quickly as it had gone.

"I got what I needed" Cato asserted, and began busying himself with cleaning up, ignoring Valios's presence as best he could. Cato tossed the grey waters out of the bowl, their absence now revealing a series of runes, carefully carved on the interior surface of the clay. He carried the bowl over to a small set of shelves and set the bowl down amongst various other pieces of worn clay cutlery, indistinguishable apart from the arcane markings decorating the sloped sides. His task complete, Cato turned back to find that Valios was gone. While his back had been turned the old man had skulked away into the shadows, as suddenly and silently as he had appeared, leaving Cato alone to contemplate what he had observed.