xvii.
Maiah drowsily opened her eyes and blinked a few times to get her eyes accustomed to the dark room. She couldn't seem to make out anything but the white pillows around her and the faint light coming in through the window. The moon was already setting telling her it was past midnight, but she couldn't seem to find why she had woken up. When she lifted herself up on her elbow she was unable to find Nox sleeping at her feet though the feline usually didn't get back until the early morning. She glanced over one last time making sure the window was still open before lying back down and closing her eyes.
She was about to drift away into sleep again when a loud thump by the door brought her back. Even for her, the series of events that came after were too quick to react and before she knew it three guards were inside her chambers tearing away the covers and pulling her to her feet. She stumbled as they dragged her out of the room and down the stairs, preventing her from asking what was going on as they yelled at her to be quiet every time she tried doing so. The drowsiness from sleep lifted completely once she was halfway down the stairs and part of her wanted to use Prowessa's teachings to slip from their hands but in the end she let them grip her tightly knowing already it would be better if she kept from struggling.
Despite her cooperation as they brought her down several flights of stairs, they handled her as roughly as if she had been fighting back though of course if she had tried she would have escaped already; she could feel how clumsy—even if it was strong—the grip was on her upper arm and as the three men crowded over her to keep her from going away it, they were just making it easier for her to trip all of them at once or make them more confused than if they had a wider range. Whatever the case, however, when they got to the back of the castle and opened a door leading down into the damp underground she knew she had no hope of getting out of this.
"Believe they'll arrange your trial sometime tomorrow." One of the men barked as they threw her into the cold cell making her fall among the straw with the force.
Before she could rise to her feet and turn the loud ring of the metal of the bars crashing against each other told her they had slammed the cage shut and seconds later the lock turned. She could have called out asking at least one of the million questions that were running through her head at the moment, but knew it would be futile to inquire about anything. With the men gone the only source of light was the dim glow of a small torch too far down the hall to be of much use to her. Still, she was able to make out the large, damp rocks that made up two of her walls, the iron bars that finished her square, the old straw that would be her bed by the corner, and a small gap high on the back wall—too narrow for anything but a hand to fit through—with a bar through it. This hole could have been source of hope to the prisoner inhabiting the cell had it been slightly wider to allow some of the night air in; as it was, it only taunted with promises of freedom that would never come.
She shivered in the darkness trying her best to make her nightgown enough in the empty dungeon. She crawled to the corner, curling up to keep the cold radiating from the walls from burying itself into her bones. There was no use in crying, or screaming, or pitying herself, or anything other than allow things to take their course and let things come to her as they came. The best she could do now was getting some sleep before sunrise and only then begin worrying herself about what was happening.
It was just a couple of hours after she had been taken into her cell that she heard Nox's soft meowing by the window. It was the same low, questioning mewl the cat made when it was looking for her, and it only took for her to hear it twice to know Nox had been left outside after they had taken her and spent the past hours trying to find where her owner had gone. Simultaneously, Maiah realized if they had imprisoned her, they would probably want to get hold of her pet to keep it from wandering around the forests and intimidating the population. Thus, even if they had closed the window without thinking about the reason behind it, people would begin looking for Nox everywhere now and if it came down to catching the exotic cat both parties would probably get injured in the process.
Hastily, Maiah pulled the only piece of furniture in her cell, an old, rotting, wooden table, against the wall and climbed on to it. She kept her arms stretched out to her sides trying to keep her balance as it wobbled with her weight, finally gripping the single bar on the window at the same time she cooed softly—a sound Nox alone would recognize and which would quiet the animal. The walls of the dungeons were thick and she was only able to get her hand to the other side by stretching her arm as far as she could go, standing on her tiptoes and pressing her chest and cheek against the wall. She couldn't see what was going on but felt the cold air on her fingertips and after a couple more words felt Nox's wet nose on them as the cat inspected the strange, moving object protruding at the bottom of the wall. Once the ocelot recognized her it pawed at it before rubbing its head against her fingers, letting her feel the soft fur and giving her some consolation on the state of things.
When she felt Nox was relaxed enough and certain it was listening she softly asked her to leave and hide in the forest. She wasn't sure if it would mean anything to the animal, she didn't even know if the ocelot understood what the noises her owner was making meant, but it was all she could try. She couldn't physically carry Nox and hide it, this was her last option. To comfort herself, however, Maiah recalled the times she had found herself speaking to the animal walking beside her and could have sworn it understood; well, now was the time to bring back that evidence and convince herself it was worth trying.
After scratching the soft fur behind Nox's ears and running her fingers one last time from the head to the tip of the ocelot's tail, Maiah finally felt the emptiness her fingers were left in. She stayed there for a few more minutes, aware of the soft breeze playing on the only part of her body that was not being miserable at the moment, until she heard the jingling of keys coming to the door of the dungeons. It was accompanied with the soft murmur of voices though she couldn't distinguish any of what they were saying and lost all hope when they finally came in and the vaulted dungeons distorted the words. However, she knew there were no Rangers in the party—steps were too heavy and clumsy to be those of anyone with any common sense.
Jumping down from the table and making it wobble like crazy, she slowly approached the bars that held her prisoner, faintly making out the halo of light that got closer to her cell as the men brought the torch. After being in the darkness for so many hours, it was hard to look at the light coming in, and even harder to distinguish the faces of those behind the torch; but when they were finally close enough she made out three individuals, two of them guards carrying their weapons and the torches, and a third one. The King's attorney smiled humorlessly at her when he reached the spot right before her. If she hadn't known him before then she would have thought he was her executioner the way his ghastly smile played in the flickering torch light; she knew now, however, that he was only there to give her the trial she was entitled to as a human being—pretty close to being executed if they asked her.
"Maiah Moonshine," He said plainly and without any flourish. "Your trial has been scheduled for the day after tomorrow at sunrise. You are accused of treason, trespassing, and attempted murder and will be considered guilty until otherwise stated. For the time being, are there any requests?"
"Could I get some background on these accusations?" She inquired, already knowing they would refuse her. Usually, by 'requests' they meant in regards to the accomodations, which would be changed just because a prisoner asked for them, but was, nevertheless, part of the procedure to ensure the 'fair' trial of the prisoner. In Mazoniria, only those with an important position had a right to be treated justly; thus, only those with positions important enough to deserve a trial—as long as it didn't interfere with the regime—were asked these polite questions though without really having any impact on the way the prisoner was treated.
"Any information concerning trials is confidential and cannot be released until the day of the trial." He replied curtly. "If there are no more questions…"
She shrugged before turning away and going to sit by the corner. The attorney mumbled something under his breath, pursed his lips tightly, and turned on his heel. In a matter of seconds, the door to the dungeons slammed shut leaving Maiah alone in the darkness of the cold underground.
Despite the long trip he had endured for the past two days, Gilan tore himself from the warm covers on the bed almost two hours before dawn. The few hours of sleep he had managed after he had arrived close to midnight the night before—which had been forced into him, as a matter of fact—had recovered some of his energy, but it would take more than that to get him back to the optimal level. His senses were still sharp and once he got going the only remnant of his exhaustion was the dull pain behind the eyes that could be easily ignored, but his main concern was elsewhere. He had no doubt Blaze would work nonstop if he didn't make her yet it was hard not to push it when he knew the current state of things.
Upon his arrival the night before, he had looked through the almost empty castle for anyone who could gather the council so that he would tell them the news. After a few minutes of searching in vain, he had finally found Horace at the top of the staircase and, after assuring the knight he was fine in spite of his tired appearance, they had set to call a few members—including Halt, Crowley, the only ones they dared to awake at that time in the night, and Sir David whom Gilan was more than familiar with when it came to waking the knight in the middle of the night—and soon enough built a representative portion of the council. It wasn't until they heard what Gilan had to say that they decided calling on the King was imperative at the time.
As they waited for the council to gather, Gilan anxiously wondered what could possibly take these men so long; it wasn't like they had to present themselves at court, in fact, he couldn't care less if they met in their sleepingwear.
"The East!"
"Skandians!"
"Pathetic. That simply shows they are not ready."
"That's impossible, though." Sir David said, getting everyone else to keep their comments to themselves and listen to reason. "In order for them to get to Skandia they would have had to gone either through the Southern sea or the northern pass and completely circumvent the island. That would take them months judging by the distances we have been provided and our own data. Why would they even worry on wasting supplies and risking men by traveling the extra leagues when they can as easily hit from the west."
"But the west is where we will be expecting them." Another knight put in. "Going around, they will hit us from behind where we least expect it from."
"The question remains, does this advantage really outweigh the risks and costs they have to take to carry it through? Yes, it would be better to attack from the east, but if you lose half your men in the sea then you are probably worse off than fighting in the west on full front."
"It's overseas, what is more, they can't bring as many men as we can summon on land. They don't have goods to spare."
Gilan noticed as the knights argued among themselves trying to see the reasoning behind the news, questioning the reliability of their source, and interrupting each other trying to get their own opinion across, Halt and Crowley simply observed the action without speaking. A few feet away from them, Horace stood still trying to sort through everything on his own; the young knight had been spending more time than necessary around Rangers, Gilan concluded, unable to hide a weak smile.
"There is probably nothing to be done right now, Gil," Halt said quietly, after motioning for him to get closer. "get some rest and tomorrow we'll see if the tempest has quieted down."
"It's fine, Halt." The young Ranger replied, shaking his head and trying his best to stand up straighter and pull a smile. He already knew it wouldn't work on his old mentor, but there was always a slight chance he could convince him there was still a little left. "I need to ride back to Trelleth and finish up what I was there for in the first place. I just couldn't find anyone reliable enough to get the message. I left the Skandian in charge, see if he could find Liam, but I don't know if the plan actually worked."
"You can't possibly think we are going to send you out right this second?" Crowley intervened. His keen ear had told him there was something more interesting going on rather than bickering old swordsmen. "You wouldn't last two hours out there and I think as loyal as Blaze is, she needs to recover her energies tonight."
The mention of his horse seemed to do the trick—like with every stubborn Ranger—though his submission didn't take away the sense of anxiousness that weighted him down. His only consolation was looking at the peaceful faces of the older Rangers before him. Despite the news, they seemed to be contemplating everything and keeping it from rushing them in their strategic train of thought.
"Halt, you don't think the Skandian was making it up, do you?" He had trusted his instinct when it came to judging the skirl, but now, looking at how unconcerned Halt and Crowley looked he began wondering if he had let something slip. Even after enough years of finishing his apprenticeship, he still struggled to believe Halt could make a mistake or could be wrong.
"I was not the one talking with him, was I?"
And then his question brought him back to those early years of getting the bearded Ranger to smack him over the head at a silly question. He knew it was part of keeping him independent and self-sufficient, but at times, he wished he could get more direct responses.
"But it would be stupid for them to make us believe something like that if it were a lie." Halt continued, noticing the tired young face in front of him and choosing not to make it too hard. "Not only do we have the treaty they must respect, but I also don't see why Erak would decide to do something like it. Relations with Skandia are even deeper with him as Oberjarl—we did save his life after all—and although I don't enjoy rubbing it in—" he ignored the sour look from Crowley "—It is a fact we have to acknowledge when it comes to what they do."
"What he means to say is, it's not a set up, and I am glad you did the right thing and came right back with the update. Troops have already been deployed west and we will have to bring them back, but better now before they reach their camp than when they've settled. I don't think Arald and Rodney have left yet though it will probably be in the next couple of days. Now, go up those stairs and to the left and get some sleep or I will go up there myself and tie you to the bed."
Arguing any further would only waste time and with a sigh loud enough to tell both of them they were being foolish, he made his way out of the room and up the stairs to the chambers he was supposed to share with Will during their stay at Castle Araluen. The beds were done and the room was clean after his friend had left. Although it felt empty without anyone there to share what he had been supposed to be sharing, he was too tired to really let it bother him and soon took of his boots and dropped onto the bed. He fell asleep as soon as his head reached the pillow, not allowing for him to even pull the covers or get settled; his arm hung over the edge and his feet stuck out on the other side of the bed. Still, he was so tired he didn't feel his muscles spasming as they finally relaxed after days of work, much less bothered with the numbing at his fingertips as gravity played with his circulation.