Tarja slept surprisingly well the night before his hanging. Perhaps it was because he was clean for the first time in weeks. Or perhaps it was just that his fate seemed so inevitable he had given up worrying about it.
Whatever the reason, he woke at dawn feeling remarkably refreshed and far too healthy to dwell on the fact that he would most likely be dead in a few hours. As the small square of sky he could see through the cell's only window changed from pink to blue, he dressed in the uniform Andony had left for him and sat down to wait, feeling nothing but a serene sense of fatalistic calm.
It did not last long. Voices sounded in the hall outside, followed by the sounds of fighting, then the door to his cell flew open. The young man who opened it was wearing a captain's uniform, panting heavily and grinning like a fool.
“Captain Tenragan, sir! Commandant Warner sends his compliments and wondered if you'd like to forgo your hanging for a good fight, sir? Oh, and R'shiel said to say hello, too.”
Tarja stared at the young captain. He was beyond being surprised. He had ceased being amazed by his ability to escape certain death some time ago - about the time he had gone to sleep a broken man and woken completely healed in this same cellblock more than a year ago. And he was long past being astonished at R'shiel's ability to appear when he least expected it. She got him out of trouble almost as often as she landed him in it. But he was relieved that she was not the one who had found him. He had been ready to face death, but he wasn't sure he was ready to face R'shiel.
“Find me a sword.”
The captain laughed and tossed Tarja his own blade. He was obviously having the time of his life. Tarja snatched it out of the air and followed him into the hall.
Sir Andony and his men were lined up with their faces pressed against the wall as a score of Defenders expertly disarmed them. The young Karien knight looked stunned. He saw Tarja emerge from the cell and made to turn, but the Defender who stood behind him pushed him back against the wall.
“How far you think you get?” he snarled over his shoulder.
“Far enough,” Tarja replied with a grin, catching the mood of the Defenders around him. Every one of them looked delighted. These men were not trained to deal with defeat and the last few weeks with the Kariens in control of the Citadel had been eating away at them like slow burning acid. Now that they were finally doing something about it, there wasn't a Defender in the room who could hide his glee.
“What are you going to do with them, Captain... ?”
“Throw them into the cells for the time being,” the young man replied. “And the name's Symin. You probably don't remember me. I was a Lieutenant when you...”
“When I deserted? It's all right, Symin, you can say it.”
“Well, I just didn't want it to sound as if... you know...”
Tarja smiled at the young man's discomfort. “Yes. I know.”
“You not get away with this!” Andony insisted in his broken Medalonian. Tarja looked at him and shook his head.
“Sir Andony, why don't you just shut the hell up,” he said in Karien, “before I decide to shut you up myself.”
“Kill me if you want,” Andony declared angrily in his own language, lacking the words in Medalonian to express how he felt. “I will be welcomed into the House of the Overlord! You, on the other hand, will perish and freeze in the Sea of Despair! Don't you think we were expecting something like this? By now the Citadel is swarming with Karien troops. You won't get past the front door.”
“Well, that's our problem, isn't it?” He turned to Symin. “You do have a plan for getting past the front door, don't you?” he asked in Medalonian.
“We're taking back the Citadel,” Symin told him happily. “The gates are locked and by now we should have control of every key position in the city. Now we've got you out, we have to free Lord Jenga.”
“Where's he being held?”
“We thought he was here with you, but he must have been moved.”
Tarja's brow furrowed. He kicked an overturned stool out of the way, grabbed Andony by the shoulder and turned him around.
“Where have they taken the Lord Defender?”
“Go to hell, you atheist pig!”
Tarja hadn't really expected any other response. Andony tensed, obviously expecting Tarja to hit him. It would have been a waste of time. Andony wanted to suffer for the Overlord. Dying simply meant granting his wish by sending him to meet his god sooner. But if Tarja couldn't threaten his life, he could threaten his soul, and that, he suspected, would frighten him more than any promise of physical violence.
“Symin, did you say R'shiel was here?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then perhaps we should ask the demon child to have a word with Sir Andony,” he said in Karien to be certain the knight understood him. “How long do you think it will take her to corrupt his soul?”
Symin looked at him blankly, but Andony paled.
“I cannot be turned from the Overlord by any Harshini witch!”
“This isn't just any Harshini witch, Andony,” he said in a low, threatening voice. “This is the demon child. She is evil incarnate. She can turn you from the Overlord just by looking at you. If she touches you, your soul will belong to her forever. You cannot fight her. Even Xaphista fears her. One look from the demon child and you will drown in the Sea of Despair for an eternity.” He watched as Andony's eyes widened with fear. A part of Tarja could not believe that a grown man could be so gullible, while another part of him silently thanked the Overlord for making his followers so vulnerable. “Do you really care that much about the Lord Defender?”
Andony hesitated. Tarja met his eye and saw the defiance there. He shrugged and turned to Symin.
“Fetch the demon child.”
“No!” Andony cried in horror.
“Where is the Lord Defender?”
The young knight was torn between duty and his immortal soul. The decision was a terrible one. Finally his shoulders slumped and he looked at the floor in shame. “He's in the caverns under the amphitheatre. They moved him there last night in case there was an attack on the cells.”
“The caverns,” Tarja translated for the benefit of his comrades.
“What did you say to him?” Symin asked curiously.
“I threatened his soul.”
“Clever,” he said with an approving nod, although he clearly had no idea what Tarja was talking about. “Sergeant Donel! Let's get these Kariens into the cells. The Lord Defender is waiting for us!”
It was not far from the Defenders' headquarters to the amphitheatre. As they ran through the deserted streets the occasional sound of metal against metal echoed between the buildings. A shout of alarm, in Karien, reached them from the direction of the armoury, then suddenly it was silenced. Tarja didn't know if the civilians in the Citadel had been warned of the coup, but they must have instinctively known something was afoot. They did not see another soul on their journey. Even Tavern Street was deserted.
When they reached the tunnel that led into the caverns, Tarja held up his hand to halt the troop. Symin didn't seem to mind that he had automatically assumed command. He studied the entrance for a moment then waved his men forward. The tunnel entrance was deserted, as was the tunnel itself. They moved into the darkness cautiously, listening with every sense they possessed.
The silence of the caverns pressed on Tarja like an invisible weight. They had once been stables, according to legend; carved out of the natural hill to house the legendary Harshini horses. Reaching far into the darkness, they stretched endlessly in a circle under the amphitheatre like a giant rabbit warren.