Turn's End at the Prison Mine

Writers: Estelle
Date Posted: 30th December 2019

Characters: R'fal
Description: R'fal makes a disturbing visit to the prison mine
Location: Emerald Falls Hold
Date: month 13, day 29 of Turn 9

Marlath emerged from /between/ into driving sleet that swirled around
them like a freezing, howling maelstrom of white. Gusts of wind,
swirling up from the mountains beyond them, battered the young brown as
he struggled to keep his position steady. Biting back a curse, R'fal
pulled down his riding goggles and wiped off the mist as best he could
with the back of his glove, straining his eyes to see anything of the
land below.

**This is good. They won't see us in this.**

Marlath didn't respond, but his deep sense of unease was answer enough.

Through Marlath's sight, R'fal made out a darker shadow below them.
**We'll land beyond those trees, so you can stay out of sight. I'll make
my way through the forest, it'll cover me until I get close.** Though
they could almost have landed in the courtyard before the mine in this
weather and not be seen, he thought, huddling into the warmth of his
jacket. Icy trickles of water were starting to work their way through
his scarf and down the back of his neck, and his hands and feet were
half-frozen already.

The brown descended, wings beating rapidly as he fought against the
wind, and as they got below the mountain peaks it did get easier. Lower
down, he could make out individual trees, tall, spindly and covered with
dark needles, some mountain variety he wasn't familiar with. They looked
vaguely threatening, like spears held by guards, standing to attention.

Marlath landed at the edge of the trees and shook the icy water from his
wings. He turned his head to watch as R'fal slid down from the straps,
his boots crunching on the snow-dusted grass.

}:I do not like you going there alone.:{

**I know, but you can't come with me.** R'fal felt the same disquiet at
the thought of being separated from Marlath, but if his father escaped
and a brown dragon was seen at the mine, it wouldn't take the wit of a
Masterharper to figure out who was responsible. **Will you be warm enough?**

}:I am a dragon, I am not cold. But please hurry back.:{

The tree line was a dragonlength away. Pushing down thoughts of mountain
felines, patrols and traps for escaping prisoners, R'fal took a deep
breath and set out, the flakes of drifting snow gradually filling in his
prints.

Among the trees it was silent and almost completely dark, without even
the faint light of the moons filtering through the clouds and reflecting
off the snow. R'fal had thought to bring a glowbasket, but he dared not
open it completely, so he moved slowly, testing the ground before him
for hidden roots or the holes of animals at each step. The task absorbed
him, calmed his racing heart a little, and he thought back to his time
at the cothold, the nights he and his father had gone out hunting wild
wherries in the woods. It had never been this cold, but they'd had to
move like he was now, carefully, so neither their prey nor the holder
who owned the land would detect them.

The wood seemed endless, but he followed a gentle incline uphill,
knowing that ought to bring him out somewhere near the upper slopes of
the mountain where the mine was situated. Often he came across
obstructions - a tangle of thorny bushes, a bank too high to climb - and
had to work his way around laboriously. His feet and fingers were soon
numb with the cold, but he was sheltered from the wind and the snow, and
the steady uphill pace warmed him inside his furs.

Then, just when he'd feared he might be entirely lost, he saw a light
flickering in the distance.

R'fal felt his heart jolt. He closed his eyes and opened them again. It
was still there. Hastily, he closed his glowbasket and moved closer,
step by cautious step, feeling his way, testing every step for dry
branches that might snap.

Very suddenly, he found himself at the edge of the wood. A bank, thickly
carpeted with fallen, half-decayed leaves and frost, rose up in front of
him. R'fal scrambled up, digging the toes of his boots into the
leaf-mulch, and found a place where the roots of a half-fallen pine had
made a ledge where he could kneel and peer over the top.

He was looking out over a wide, bare expanse of ground, scoured clean of
all grass and grey with rock dust. More than a dozen dragonlengths away,
three or four pale greenish-yellow lights bobbed, shining ghostly
through the misty air. Glowbaskets, hung along a distant fence. Beyond
it were several low buildings, hunkered down in the barren landscape.
They were arranged around a courtyard, from what he could make out. A
road ran past the hold, one way going downhill to the valley and
civilisation, the other upwards to the mountains, where in the rock face
a ragged cavern had been hacked out and showed as a dark scar on the
hillside. The mine entrance.

Slowly, R'fal made his way along the edge of the wood, making for the
nearest point to the buildings. The rain and sleet had eased a little
and the ground in front of him seemed exposed; if he set foot outside he
was sure he'd be seen. Even if he made a run for the fence, could he get
over it? As he got closer, he could see it was made from wooden stakes,
the upright poles sharpened to points to discourage climbing, and there
was a ditch on both sides.

**I'm just here to look,** he told himself. **I can come back, with a
plan.** He'd need ropes, maybe cloth to cushion the climb. Certainly
warm clothes and boots for the prisoner. What he really needed was to
get a message to his father. If he was here...

He crouched down behind the trunk of one of the older trees. Ahead and
around him he could see the remains of stumps and roots. The holders
must have cut down the trees to make that fence...or maybe they'd had
the prisoners do it.

For a while he waited, watching the silent hold, and eventually his eyes
made out the guard. He was near invisible, sheltering under the eaves of
one of the buildings; it was only when he shifted and rubbed his hands
that R'fal saw him. Try as he might, he couldn't make out any more, and
he wondered how many there were. Maybe not so many. The isolation and
the frozen climate would do a lot to discourage escapes.

}:Have you seen enough?:{

**I think so.** R'fal stared out at the mine. Was his father there,
inside one of those buildings? He desperately wanted to step out of his
hiding place, walk up to the gate and demand to see the prisoner Terren.
Could he do that, bluff his way in? Or would they send to confirm with
the Holder of Black Rock? He didn't have any better ideas. There was no
way to approach the mine in secret, unless in even worse weather than
tonight's.

He didn't have to do anything. He could go back. He'd done his best, and
there wasn't a way in. His father would understand...

Then a light spilled out of one of the buildings, up ahead. A door,
opening, and a shadow silhouetted against the warm yellow glow of the
interior. His heart pounding, R'fal crouched down, scrunching himself
into the frozen ground as a man emerged, staggering out as if half-drunk
- then a second, and a third. The one behind the first man shoved him,
roughly, sending him falling to his knees almost in front of the guard,
then gave him a vicious kick in the side.

R'fal stuffed one gloved hand into his mouth, stifling a cry.

The man on the ground struggled to rise, then collapsed again as the
guard, distracted from his watch, struck him a blow to his shoulders
with what looked like a staff.

He couldn't look away. The two standing men were warmly dressed, like
the guard, but the one on the ground wore only a shirt and his feet
looked as though they were wrapped in rags. Laughter drifted across the
open space, and the soft thuds of blows, now audible above the low moan
of the wind.

The man being beaten was not his father. He'd been able to tell that
much from the brief moment he'd been upright; he was tall, had
stooped to leave the building, and his hair was too light. It didn't
matter. He watched as one of the guards hauled their prisoner to his
feet so that the other could drive a fist into his belly. The man
collapsed in on himself, curling up with gaunt arms raised to protect
his head.

It was relentless, going on far longer than he had thought anyone could
endure, before one of the men turned and unlocked a door behind him and
the others dragged the limp body inside. Then they emerged, and there
was another burst of laughter before the two not on guard returned to
the building from which they'd come.

As if their departure had broken a spell, R'fal pushed away from his
hiding place and fled back into the wood, stumbling over hidden roots
and sliding down sodden banks, no longer caring whether he was seen or
heard, following Marlath's voice calling him back. Under the harsh rasp
of his breathing he still heard the groans of the prisoner, and the
sound of boots striking flesh.

Then, finally, he was out of that forest of dark wet pines and Marlath
was ahead of him, his eyes glowing like torches in the dark. R'fal ran
to him and pressed his cheek against the warm hide, shivering. He'd lost
his scarf somewhere in the woods and tears mingled with the snowflakes
on his cheeks.

}:We must go.:{ The brown dragon crouched, and somehow R'fal managed to
scramble up into the straps, fastening the buckles with fingers clumsy
with the cold. He leaned low over Marlath's neck, hardly seeing where
they were going or feeling the icy wind clawing at them as they ascended.

**Back to the Weyr.** He visualised the curve of the cliffs like
encircling arms, waiting to embrace them, the warmth and the rain, and
then they vanished into the deeper cold of /between/.

Last updated on the January 4th 2020

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Turn's End at the Prison Mine