Burning Chains

Chapter 2

It was hard to tell when night turned into day in the eternal darkness of the sewers, but Mohg always referred to the first session of prayers of the day as morning prayer. Everyday, before he was allowed up from his seal, he was manacled with his hands shackled in front of him and his feet chained close enough together that he could only hobble forward. He could break them of course, he had often done so in the past, almost always accidentally, but whenever he did he was punished. Generally it was with the lash, but sometimes he would be deprived of food. Once the warden had placed a giant iron helm with no eye holes upon his head as punishment. Mohg had thought he was going insane by the time they finally took it off of him. He wondered how well Gareth was holding up in the dark of his own mask.

His cellmate was being brought to prayer as well. A guard holding each of the five chains he was bound by. It was almost silly in its excess, especially given the fact that he was a boy and they were five grown men. Mohg only had one guard today. Luckily for him it was Nerijus, one of the small number he’d managed to convert to his side. Today he would be able to get some real work done.

The three of them, Mohg, Morgott, and Gareth were brought to the Cathedral of the Forsaken. It had been built far later than the rest of the sewer system intended to be a place where the accursed came to pray so that they might be restored to grace. At least that’s what Mohg’s guards said. There were whispers among the older omens about some sort of massacre, the evidence of which had been locked somewhere below the cathedral. Whatever the case was, Mohg and Morgott were the only people to frequent the place. Most that lived down here were one the same page as Mohg, Marika was not coming to offer them salvation, no matter if they prayed for it until they were blue in the face. Mohg, however, was willing to go just a bit farther than most. There were other gods after all.

While his brother begged and chanted for his salvation, Mohg closed his eyes and focused on the dark behind his eyelids. Slowly, a red star came into view, twinkling in the distance. He reached for it, feeling that this time it was nearly in his grasp and then-

“Mohg do you hear that?” Garreth whispered, pulling him out of his trance.

“Hear what?” He replied a little more sharply than he should have.

“That music. It sounds like a merchant’s song.”

“What’s that?”

“On the surface, traveling merchants often play songs to attract customers to buy their wares. The song sounds like it’s being played with the same instrument, but the tune is completely different.” Mohg didn’t have much experience with music, other than the occasional hymn. He was curious as to what lay music sounded like.

“Could you hum it for me?” The other prisoner nodded.

It was a simple melody, plaintive but yet hopeful somehow. The song of someone who had been through some great tragedy but believed there was hope on the other side. Even Morgott paused in his prayer to listen. The eldest of their guards blanched as he continued.

“Stop that, girl.” Gareth obstinately continued humming. “I said stop it!” He yanked on the chain connected to the back of his iron mask.

“Brings back memories, does it?” The young man laughed.

“You can’t know about that!” Mohg and Morgott looked at each other in concern.

“How’s that hand treating you?” The old fighter had burn scars on the palms of his hands. Mohg had seen them once when he’d taken his gloves off to sort through his keys, but at the moment he wore his gloves and beyond that Gareth was completely blinded. There was no way he should have been able to know about them. Gareth’s chains shook as the guard trembled with rage.

“I’m not afraid of you! You were sealed away! I saw it, I was there!” Now Mohg was really becoming interested.

“I’m right here aren’t I?” He laughed. The chief warden struck him on the back of the head and he collapsed. Mohg hadn’t even realized he was here. He grabbed the older guard by the collar.

“Thou knowest better than to pay mind to the words of that thing. Hold thy tongue, especially in front of them.” He glared at Mohg and Morgott. “Return the prisoners to their cells.” The chief warden kicked Gareth’s limp body. “And teach this one the virtue of silence.”

When Gareth woke up his arms were sore. They’d chained him to the ceiling again, this time with his arms shackled behind him. So they wanted him to dislocate his shoulders did they? He kicked his legs around. Testing to see if his ankles had been shackled. They weren’t! Score!

“You’re welcome.” Mohg’s voice came from the darkness. It was high, but gravely, like every word he spoke was a growl. “I asked a friend of mine to undo the bonds around your ankles. He’ll be back soon to tie you back down so you ought to hurry.” Gareth pulled his knees up to his chest and flipped himself over through the gap between his arms. Much better.

“I owe you one.”

“How about you tell me how you knew about his scars?” Gareth expected the voice in his head to begin screaming danger as it did every time he considered telling someone else about it. This time it sent him an image of a blood-red star, shining alone in an empty sky. When he expressed his confusion the voice pulled a word from his mind. “Friend.”

“I see things sometimes,” He admitted, “or hear things. It’s kind of like there’s someone else in my head that shows me things. All I knew was that saying all that was going yank his chain a little bit, I don’t actually know what any of it meant.” He paused for a second. “He’s got scars?”

“On the palms of his hands.”

“I guess that makes sense.” Gareth had seen an image of a man, younger than that guard sounded, pushing shut an iron door. The skin of his hands burned as something on the other side tried to force its way out, melting the iron into its own shape. Only the insistent voice at the back of his head told him the two were connected.

“Perhaps that is why thou art here with us. Didst thou ever make a prophecy against thy queen?”

“I never actually told anyone about this before. Not even my best friend.” Gareth hoped Patches would be alright. He was another strange one, often seeming to know things he shouldn’t and carrying a cynicism that was far too well developed for someone as young as he was. Patches was clever, he’d probably run off when the guards came. After all, everyone knew they were friends.

“Then I suppose that makes me special.” Gareth could hear the smile on Mohg’s face. Marika’s tits, he was flirting back! All men at the ready! Rouse the archers! Someone who sounded hot was expressing sincere romantic interest in him!

“Something tells me you’re a friend. Unless ‘friend’ sounds a little too detached to you.”

Morgott made an exaggerated retching noise in his cell.

“The voice in my head,” Gareth lowered his voice to a whisper, the guiding voice told him it wouldn’t be a good idea to let Morgott hear this. “When I thought about you it showed me a red star alone in an empty sky.” The voice grabbed his attention, showing him nothing but pitch black. “It says you’ll find what you’re looking for in darkness, but I don’t really know what that means.”

“Thank you.” Gareth could hear the surprise in his voice. The guiding voice showed him an image of two men shaking hands, one eagerly capturing the other’s in both of his.

“I think it wants me and you to work together.”

“To do what exactly.” Mohg already knew, he just wanted absolute confirmation.

“Escape.”

“I’d like to lay out a ground rule first.”

“Alright.”

“Never interrupt me while I am praying again.”

“Sorry. I didn’t think you cared too much about Queen Marika, though I mean, I guess she is your mom so it would make-“

“There are gods other than my mother.” Mohg cut him off.

“Oh, is that why you’re-“

“No, it isn’t, but what’s one more sin against the order when I’m already here right?” Gareth had been a hellion from a young age, ever since he had realized he could never be the daughter his parents wanted, nor would he ever be a son they would take pride in. He couldn’t think of any reason not to curse at the neighbors or be caught in bed with any of the other boys or girls of the village if being good never amounted to anything.

“I get that. So, you ever come up with any plans?”

“A few. None that were actionable.”

“Can you tell me about a few? I want to at least know what we’re up against.”

By the time Mohg had finished, Gareth seemed to have fallen asleep. It was difficult to tell with his face covered, but he hung more or less limp from his chains.

“What were you two whispering about?” Morgott asked.

“You’re not entitled to every detail of my life.” Mohg heard Morgott give an exasperated sigh.

“I worry for you, Mohg. I do not think you should get your hopes up.”

“About what?” Mohg played dumb. Morgott couldn’t know about his desire to escape, he'd been too careful.

“When your cellmate expresses his affection for you, you must remember that he cannot see your face. There is no guarantee he will still feel the same when he can see you.” Even though Morgott clearly had the wrong idea, his words hurt in a way Mohg couldn’t quite articulate.

“You can be incredibly cruel when you wish to be, Morgott.”

“I- I’m sorry I just do not wish to see your heart broken.”

Under the cover of his mask, Gareth closed his eyes and tried to actually fall asleep rather than just pretending, but the way Mohg’s voice had wavered slightly kept him up. He had been here so much longer than Gareth had, but he was still so sharp witted and spirited. It seemed to take a lot to rattle him. Somehow though, the idea that Gareth might not like him because of how he looked had rattled him. Morgott said he was a prophet right? Like the old witch in his village that gave him herbs to prevent pregnancy? The voice in his head didn’t seem to think that was quite right but it did know the answer to his unspoken question. It showed him a red star, not self, and a copper flame, not self. The two melded together and a garden of horns sprouted at their union. Instead of attempting to decipher what that answer meant Gareth immediately asked the question it had raised. What is self? It showed him two images, the first was himself, his arm around Patches’s shoulder, both of them laughing at how easily the village priest had fallen for the pitfall they’d set. The second-

Gareth’s mind scorched at the image the guiding voice tried to show him. It pulled the image back as quickly as it could when it felt his pain but it was now burned into the backs of his eyelids, a roaring yellow flame with a black void in its center, like a staring eye. It took Gareth a moment before he could ask his next question. Both? The guiding voice indicated its assent. What am I then? The thing in his head borrowed the word he’d just given it, “Both”. I don’t understand. Gareth felt a hand on his own again. “Soon. Understand soon.” He began to drift off into sleep.

Mohg awoke late that night to the sound of rattling chains. He blinked awake grumpily and as he did the sound of chains quieted.

“Are you quite finished, Gareth? I’d like to know if I can go back to sleep.”

“Not Gareth.” He spoke as he had forgotten how. The words seeming to push themselves from him rather than fall easily from his lips. “Friend”

“I was wondering if you’d show yourself.”

“Want talk.”

“About what”

“Free.”

“I hoped you might be able to help.”

“Need help. Trapped nearby. Secret place. I show Gareth you help? Roots nearby you free.”

“So what you are saying is that if I free you, you will show me the way out of here.”

“Yes. Secret place safe. Can hide there.”

“Do you have any idea how I might free myself?”

“Blood star help.” Mohg shivered. The blood star, so that was the name of the one he was trying to contact. “Blood star friend.”

“And who are you, then?”

“Gareth doesn’t have word.” It hung for a moment trying to think. “Self is Gareth and self is yellow fire.”

“Yellow fire?”

“Tired,” It forced out. “Need rest.”

“Wait!” Garreth fell slack again. “Damn it!” Well it was something at least.