Light flooded the dungeon and a face peered over the edge. It was Gerin. His face was twisted in disgust and he held tightly onto that silly purple hat that he always wore.
"Which of you filthy maggots are the two foresters Glyffhill caught this morn'?"
Robert and Myrk stepped forward.
"What do you want?" Robert called out.
Gerin motioned to some guards who lowered the rickety ladder.
"Come on up. You'll be my foresters now."
Robert looked up at Gerin then at Myrk. Then he smiled and climbed up the ladder to freedom. He climbed the whole way up and stepped into the torchlight. Then Myrk crawled up. Robert stealthily walked behind the first guard and clubbed him unconscious with one of the spare iron bolts. The guard crumpled and the other turned, but not fast enough to avoid the same fate as his fallen comrade. Gerin stared at him with wide eyes.
"Wha-" He sputtered.
"You didn't honestly think that I would just accept, did you?" Robert scoffed.
Myrk grinned stood by Robert's side as they advanced towards Gerin. He was still rather disgruntled to be called a 'filthy maggot' and had not quite gotten over it. Gerin backed away and nearly tripped over the hem of his purple robe.
"Yo- you won't kill me." Gerin stuttered still backing away.
Robert gave him a feral smile.
"Don't be too sure. I don't kill men of gods, but my friend here has a slight grudge against you. Besides, you did call him a 'filthy maggot'."
Myrk, too, gave Gerin an unnerving smile and stepped closer to Gerin, pointing a stolen sword at him. Gerin visibly paled. He didn't doubt for a moment that Myrk could have killed him, despite Myrk's youthful and innocent looks.
"I am the Abbot of Starfire Abbey and you can't kill me!" Gerin tried to speak with authority.
Robert laughed, "Relax. We won't kill you. I'm sure you won't mind missing a few fingers and toes, though."
Gerin paled further.
"But I wanna kill 'im!" Myrk protested.
"Yes. But we need him alive to collect a large ransom to feed our families." Robert reasoned. Myrk was angry and unafraid of killing, but later when he regained his senses, he would despair. The anger gradually faded from his eyes as he saw Robert lead Gerin out with a dagger at his neck.
"Wait! We want to come with you!" A fellow prisoner shouted. Myrk halted and gestured for Robert to stop as well.
All the prisoners dressed in their rags stood in a rough line facing Myrk and Robert, who was holding Gerin.
"Let us come with you. We have lost everything and have nothing more to lose." A tall, burly man introduced himself as Will Sarvus, a former King's Guard. One by one the other prisoners introduced themselves. The youngest was a teenager about fifteen, who introduced himself as Rillan. He was dressed in finer clothes than the rest and was not half as filthy as the others.
"Rillan. How long have you been in there?"
Rillan though for a while and then said, "I'm not sure. I'd say about a fortnight, but it could be less. Time ceases to exist when you are stuck in that hellhole."
Robert nodded.
"What family do you come from?"
Rillan paled.
"Please... I can' tell you that. You will hate me for what I am."
Robert stared at him, silently. Then he relented.
"Fine. You can tell me later. Come along now, we must escape. Have we got everyone?"
A young man, Darik, ran to the prison and peered down.
"The old man is still there."
Then he yelled down to the old man, "Are you coming?"
The mad man shuffled into the light and shook his head.
"No. No. I can't leave Robert." He stroked the rat and muttered, "No, no, no... no."
Darik quickly dragged the unconscious bodies of the two guards to the edge of the prison and tossed them down, one by one.
The mad man looked at the bodies as they came tumbling to the straw floor. A conical helmet fell off the head of one of the guards and rolled away. The mad man grabbed it and placed Robert into it. The rat squeaked.
Up at the top, Darik quickly swung the grate closed that pushed the iron bolt closed to contain the guards.
<--<< >>-->
They ran as silently as they could through the many castle hallways. Robert had a stolen sword, as did Myrk. Two other prisoners had daggers, also taken from the guards currently deep down in the dungeons and the biggest, and meanest prisoners held Gerin. Surprisingly, Gerin still held his purple hat.
Robert's footsteps echoed in the silence of the castle halls. They had split up, and Robert was to take the hard way out. He was also to obtain weapons for his men. Robert raced through the hallways until he found a locked door. The door was reinforced and locked with as much iron as possible. Considering how rich lords loved to lock up their belongings, Robert decided that this must be the weapons chamber. He quietly withdrew a thin, bendable metal rod and stealthily picked the locks.
Finally, the door was open, but what Robert saw inside was anything but the weapons he was expecting. He carefully took a step into the room and blinked. A man crouched inside a circle of eight swords. He was clearly in pain, but looked up at Robert. His eyes were dark and his hair matted but he wore the clothes of a noble. Robert closed the door and walked to the man, careful not to enter the circle.
The face that greeted him was surprisingly young. A young man, perhaps eighteen, looked at him. He was gagged and Robert removed the gag after assuring the man that he was a friend.
"Who are... you?" The man croaked.
"I am Robert, a hunter. Who are you?"
The man stared.
"You don't know me?" He asked, clearly disbelieving, "I am Prince Aidan of the Archangels."
Archangels. That race went extinct centuries ago, if Robert's history was up to date.
"But... archangels are extinct. You are not supposed to be here."
Prince Aidan stared, then his eyes widened.
"What year is this?"
"This is the year 50 ADW."
"What? ADW? So it's not the year 4783?"
Robert couldn't believe his ears.
"4783 was centuries ago. Since the Demon Wars, we have been counting up again, so 50 After Demon War."
"Demon War?" Prince Aidan asked.
"Where have you been the last couple of centuries?"
The Prince laughed weakly, "You won't believe me if I told you."
"Try me."
So Prince Aidan told of his adventures. He had been locked in this prison for a century and a half. Prince Aidan was 392 years of age. He was only a young archangel, about a hundred years old when he was taken. Now he has been captured for nearly three centuries while it seemed only like a few hours.
"Please, good sir, help me out of here!" The prince pleaded.
Robert nodded and asked, "What should I do?"
"Pull out the sword with my name on it. Hurry, please!" Aidan groaned.
Robert looked at the swords.
Daeylora. Eclipis. Saera. Zarvik. Yurin. Fendik. Joric. And finally, Aidan. He grabbed the sword and pulled. It came up and clattered to the ground, but excruciating pain lanced up his arm and all over his body. The next thing he knew, the prince hovered over him with a worried look on his face. The prince helped Robert up and turned, looking sadly at the seven swords.
"So, why do they keep you here?" Robert tried to break the tense silence.
"Because I am the most powerful being in all the known worlds. I can destroy Dargon." replied the Prince.