he slowly nodded back.
“It’s our fault,” Merek said. “We let them down.”
“Yes, it is,” Godfrey replied, his voice breaking.
“I told you not to trust the Finians,” Akorth said.
“The question is not whose fault it is,” Ario said, “but what we are going to do about it. Are we going to let all of our brothers and sisters die in vain? Or are we going to gain vengeance?”
Godfrey could see the seriousness in young Ario’s face and he was impressed by his steely determination, even while imprisoned and about to be killed.
“Vengeance?” Akorth asked. “Are you mad? We are locked beneath the earth, guarded by iron bars and Empire guards. All of our men are dead. We’re in the midst of a hostile city and a hostile army. All of our gold is gone. Our plans are ruined. What possible vengeance can we take?”
“There’s always a way,” Ario said, determined. He turned to Merek.
All eyes turned to Merek, and he furrowed his brow.
“I am no expert on vengeance,” Merek said. “I kill men as they bother me. I do not wait.”
“But you are a master thief,” Ario said. “You’ve spent your whole life in a prison cell, as you admit. Surely you can get us out of this?”
Merek turned and surveyed the cell, the bars, the windows, keys, the guards – all of it – with an expert’s keen eye. He took it all in, then looked back at them grimly.
“This is no common prison cell,” he said. “It must be a Finian cell. Very expensive craftsmanship. I see no weak points, no way out, as much as I would wish to tell you otherwise.”
Godfrey, feeling overwhelmed, trying to shut out the screams of the other prisoners down the hall, walked to the prison cell door, pressed his forehead against the cool and heavy iron, and closed his eyes.
“Bring him here!” boomed a voice from down the stone hall.
Godfrey opened his eyes, turned his head, and looked down the hall to see several Empire guards dragging a prisoner. This prisoner wore a red sash over his shoulder, across his chest, and he hung limply in their arms, not even trying to resist. In fact, as he got closer, Godfrey saw that they had to drag him, as he was unconscious. Something was clearly wrong with him.
“Bringing me another plague victim?” the guard yelled back derisively. “What do you expect me to do with him?”
“Not our problem!” called back the others.
The guard on duty had a fearful look as he held up his hands.
“I’m not touching him!” he said. “Put him over there – in the pit, with the other plague victims.”
The guards looked at him questioningly.
“But he’s not dead yet,” they replied.
The guard on duty scowled.
“You think I care?”
The guards exchanged a look then did as they were told, dragging him across the prison corridor and throwing him into a large pit. Godfrey could see now that the pit was filled with bodies, all of them covered with the same red sash.
“And what if he tries to run?” the guards asked before turning away.
The commanding guard smiled a cruel smile.
“Do you not know what the plague does to a man?” he asked. “He’ll be dead by morning.”
The two guards turned and walked away, and Godfrey looked at the plague victim, lying there all alone in that unguarded pit, and he suddenly had an idea. It was crazy enough that it might just work.
Godfrey turned to Akorth and Fulton.
“Punch me,” he said.
They exchanged a puzzled look.
“I said punch me!” Godfrey said.
They shook their heads.
“Are you mad?” Akorth asked.
“I’m not going to punch you,” Fulton chimed in, “as much as you may deserve it.”
“I’m telling you to punch me!” Godfrey demanded. “Hard. In the face. Break my nose! NOW!”
But Akorth and Fulton turned away.
“You’ve lost it,” they said.
Godfrey turned to Merek and Ario, but they, too, backed away.
“Whatever this is about,” Merek said, “I want no part of it.”
Suddenly, one of the other prisoners in the cell waltzed up to Godfrey.
“Couldn’t help overhearing,” he said, grinning a gap-toothed grin, breathing stale breath all over him. “I’m more than happy to punch you, just to shut you the hell up! You don’t have to ask me twice.”
The prisoner swung, connected right on Godfrey’s nose with his bony knuckles, and Godfrey felt a sharp pain shooting through his skull as he cried out and grabbed his nose. Blood squirted out all over his face and down his shirt. The pain stung his eyes, clouding his vision.
“Now I need that sash,” Godfrey said, turning to Merek. “Can you get it for me?”
Merek, puzzled, followed his line of vision across the hall, to the prisoner lying unconscious in the pit.
“Why?” he asked.
“Just do it,” Godfrey said.
Merek furrowed his brow.
“If I tied something together, maybe I could reach it,” he said. “Something long and skinny.”
Merek reached up, felt his own collar, and extracted a wire from it; as he unfolded it, it was long enough to suit his purpose.
Merek leaned forward against the prison bars, careful so as not to alert the guard, and reached out with the wire, trying to hook the sash. It dragged in the dirt, but fell a few inches short.
He tried again and again, but Merek kept getting stuck at the elbow in the bars. They were not skinny enough.
The guard turned his way, and Merek quickly retracted it before he could see it.
“Let me try,” Ario said, stepping forward as the guard turned away.
Ario grabbed the long wire and stuck his arms through the cell, and his arms, much skinnier, passed through all the way up to the shoulder.
That extra six inches was what they needed. The hook just barely connected with the end of the red sash, and Ario began to pull it toward him. He stopped as the guard, facing the other direction, nodding off, lifted his head and looked around. They all waited, sweating, praying the guard did not look their way. They waited for what felt like an eternity, until finally the guard began nodding off again.
Ario
