It took her what seemed like hours, but she finally got the door open far enough to allow her to slip through and close it behind her, once again using the handle of one of the thieves' tools to wedge it shut, since the rigged lock would prevent it from catching and locking her in. The cell was dim, and she had been quiet; it did not seem as if Casavir had noticed her. She crept slowly toward him, not wanting to startle him. She was mere inches from touching him when he sprang up with heart-stopping suddenness and crouched before her as if ready to spring.
"Now my nightmares follow me to waking? Or am I so mad I can no longer tell the difference?" he snarled, his eyes unfocused in the gloom. "What do you want to torment me with now, hell-bitch?"
"Casavir, it's me. I'm getting you out of here."
His face crumpled in despair, but his fists clenched. "No, not her. Please. I beg you, not her again. Gods, leave me alone, damn you! There is nothing I can tell you!"
"Wait, no, Casavir. It's me, it's Raewyn. What are you talking about?"
He sprang at her, grabbing her shoulders with strength she would not have guessed he still possessed, and slammed her into the wall of the cell. She hit with a loud "Oooph!" and slid halfway to the floor, dazed. She shook her head, trying to rise, still dizzy. He loomed over her, his blue eyes gone icy, mad with rage.
"Why? Why torment me. You come here as my family, my friends, those I have killed, those I have loved, those I have failed…. This I can bear. But not her. Not her, not my lady. No more, not again."
"Casavir, it's me, really. I swear to you. Don't you remember?"
"I will kill you before I give you the satisfaction of falling for this again, hell-bitch!" he roared, reaching for her and dragging her to her feet, still pinned to the filthy stone of the wall.
"Casavir, stop! I won't fight you!" she cried as she tried to loosen his grip on her shoulder.
"I don't know what they have done to you, but I'm real. I will not fight you!" She held her hands open to either side and looked at him, pain filling her eyes.
"Then you'll die that much sooner." he spat.
He pinned her to the wall with one hand, and drew back his fist. Even weakened as he was, she knew he could very well kill her with that punch, or the one that followed it. She'd come so far. If she couldn't save him, he might as well be the one to kill her. She stifled a sob, and tears streamed from her eyes, making tracks in the grime that covered her cheeks.
She held up her hands, palms up, pleading. She showed him the scar where he had marked her what seemed like a lifetime ago. "Blood of my blood…. Casavir, beloved, please…." she whispered, her voice breaking.
He hesitated, and Raewyn hardly dared to breathe. She saw the rage melt from his features, leaving confusion, then fear, then anguish.
"And heart of my heart….Raewyn?" he whispered. "My lady, are you real? They…so many times they…looked like you. And your tears…" He touched her cheek with a roughened fingertip and felt the wetness there. "Oh, gods, my love, if this is not real, please kill me. Blessed Tyr, please take me if this is another of their tricks! I cannot stand it if it is."
He sank to his knees before her and clasped her scarred hand to his cheek, hoarse gasps forcing their way out of him. She knelt with him, wrapping her arms around him, murmuring softly, stroking his hair.
"I'm real Casavir, I promise. Bevin and Kana and the Graycloaks managed to find out where you were, Sand and Neeshka helped me get ready, and Lord Nasher gave me personal leave to come and find you. I'm here, and I'm taking you home. We're getting out of here, Casavir." She didn't know exactly what had him so terrified, but she reassured him anyway. "It's over. They aren't coming back, love. It's over. We're going home, beloved."
She babbled, her flow of reassurances calming him. Her relief at finding him at last and getting through to him were making her a little giddy, but exhaustion loomed not far away. Finally she just held him, drinking in the feel of him solid in her arms after so long. They sat that way a long time, not speaking, just holding on. Finally, he raised his head and looked into her eyes for the first time.
"... And although it is dark…" he said haltingly, "...you shine brightly to me."
"There is nothing that can stand against us when we are together, my love, in this life or the next." she answered him. She held him again for a few more moments, but time was short.
"Casavir, we have to get moving. We haven't got long before the watch changes, and we have to be out of the cell and down the hall before that happens. Can you stand and walk?"
"I think so, but I fear not very well. Perhaps you should leave me here after all…." The despair crept back into his voice. She stopped him more brusquely than she meant, but she could not let him lapse into hopelessness now.
"Nonsense! Sand and Elanee stocked me up with more than enough healing tonics to get you on your feet. Here." She handed him several of the small bottles, which he obligingly drank. He felt some of his strength begin to return.
"Here are clean clothes, and gear." she said, handing them to him. "I brought lightweight things, as heavier gear might slow us down."
For the first time since he had left her quarters the morning before the battle all those months ago, she saw his lips lift at the corners, just a bit. It was possibly the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. He nodded gratefully, both for her thoughtfulness in remembering how he loathed being filthy, and for not pointing out that he could not have managed heavier gear. He paused, looking at her. He was weak, filthy, and still, so far, in a prison cell, but suddenly, he had hope. His lady was a miracle, he was certain of it.
Turning to dress, he noticed she busied herself with her own gear, giving him privacy. He hoped it was because she knew he would feel very awkward in his present condition, and not because that condition was so distasteful to her that she could not bear to look; he knew he was a disgrace, a shadow of his former self. She could not possibly think him worthy of her now…. One obstacle at a time, he reminded himself, unknowingly echoing her earlier thoughts.
They piled his rags on the squalid cot so it would appear he was sleeping. As they crept out, Raewyn removed the string from the lock, relocked it, and shoved the string into a crack in the flagstones. There was no evidence she had been here, and until his captors realized his rations were going uneaten (which Raewyn judged could be quite some time, based on the stench of the place), his absence should not be noticed. If they could avoid running directly into any wandering guards they should be able to exit without raising any alarms. She worried for a moment about whomever or whatever had been tormenting him in his cell, since the lock had not been opened, indicating something had come and gone without opening the door, but decided there was nothing to be done for it, so she dismissed it. With that they were on their way.
They almost made it to the drainage tunnel that Raewyn had marked for their exit. Their progress had been painfully slow through the massive prison, and as they had reached the lower levels, they began to relax a little. They were only a few rooms away from the tunnel's access when Raewyn came face to face with a guard.
Both froze. Behind Raewyn, Casavir heard her stop, and halted in the shadows behind her, far enough away that the guard had not seen him. He stayed stock-still, afraid to move lest he make the situation worse, but frantic over the danger she was in.
Raewyn and the guard stared at each other for what felt like an eternity. Raewyn was oddly aware of the details of the man's face. He was young, scarcely more than a boy, his chin barely marked with an uncertain dusting of ruddy hair. Raewyn desperately didn't want to have to kill him, but she knew she couldn't allow him to reveal their presence. It would need to be quiet, and quick, before he alerted others.
Thinking fast, she put on a coquettish smile. "Hi, there. You're a lot cuter than the guard who let me in. He wouldn't even show me the way." Conjuring the image of Ohpala in her mind, she pouted at him "...and now I'm lost." The young man stared at her in confusion, looking like he might bolt for help at any moment. She stepped in closer, running her finger over the contours of his leather armor. "If you could help me find the way, I'd be so very, very, grateful..."
The guard remained cautious, but he was definitely hooked. "Uh...where is it you're going, er, ma'am?"
"Why the warden's quarters, of course." she simpered. "Usually they send Sally, but she wasn't feeling well, so they sent me. Can you show me the way?"
"Well, I'd have to check with..."
"But then we won't have time for me to show you how much I appreciate your help. I can't be late to the warden, you know." She snaked an arm around his neck, purring in his ear. "Don't you want a little something special?"
The guard nodded mutely, entirely enthralled by Raewyn's performance. His hands groped around her back as she reached down as if she was loosening her clothes. Instead, her hand slid a narrow dagger from its sheath at her back.
She struck true thanks to another bit of Neeshka's tutelage, her dagger sliding into the side of his neck, severing arteries, esophagus and vocal cords in one deadly strike. The boy's eyes popped, looking at Raewyn in shocked incomprehension before he slid to the floor with nothing more than the rustle of his leathers.
Raewyn stood there, looking down at the boy she had just murdered in cold blood. Casavir stepped to her and took her shoulders, turning her away from the body.
"My lady! Are you all right?" Worry tinged his voice, but as Raewyn looked up at him, her face was blank.
"He was just a boy. I...I didn't want to kill him."
"You had no choice, Raewyn. We must go"
At that she shook herself. She would contend with her horror of the boy's death later. Now they had to get out. Every moment they lingered they risked discovery. She looked back at the body, realizing they would have to dispose of it; if the dead guard was found that would also spur a search. They could not afford to risk it.
Glancing around, she saw a pile of rubbish, from which protruded a length of filthy canvas. Yanking it free of the rest of the debris, she laid it on the floor beside the guard, and rolled him into it. There was nowhere to put the bundle, except to take it into the tunnel with them. Raewyn shuddered, thankful the guard had been thin. Wrestling a larger man into the tunnel would have been beyond her, and she knew Casavir's strength was limited by his months of imprisonment.
Hefting the bundle between them, the entered the tunnel through the massive grate, and began their long, dark descent.