The Wraith & the Storm

"Quickly Taj, this way."

Tajana stumbled as Roland pulled her by the hand, up the stone steps, the very same that led to the roof of the prison. He knew her legs would be feeling both weak and weightless due to the fact that the heavy chain that had been cuffed between her ankles for the past year was now lying abandoned in a storage room deep below. She was already struggling to keep up with him as he hurried her through the dimly lit corridors. But nevertheless, he pushed her to move faster.

If only she could move as fast as his heart, which was beating so fast he was sure it would burst through his chest and take flight at any moment. Or perhaps just kill him.

He sucked in a breath. If he had to die tonight, he hoped it would be by a heart attack and not at the hands of the prison warden. For that would surely be the case if anyone were to discover them before they made it to the roof.

"Just a little further." Roland urged, picking up their pace. He was counting under his breath as they ran. They had just under half a minute until a guard would round the corner and march right past this stairwell on his patrol. And if they were still on the stairs when he arrived, they would be discovered.

A desperate sort of sound escaped Taj’s throat as she tripped up the stone steps. Without a second’s pause, Roland turned, grabbed her under the arms and hoisted her up the last few stairs, his eyes never leaving the passageway beneath them, sure that even now he could see the guard’s shadow slip into view. Taj’s hands reached past him to scramble with the door’s lock and with mere seconds to spare, Roland pulled them out onto the roof and slammed the door shut behind them.

Out on the rooftop, they were completely alone. The three guards that usually kept watch here were nowhere in sight, thanks to him. It had taken some convincing to get the warden to switch shifts, especially considering the reputations of the guards who had been stationed on the roof tonight but as he glanced around again, confirming their absence, he knew his hard work had paid off. He pulled Taj close to him.

"Roland, are you sure about this? Is the risk worth it?" she pleaded as she clutched at his prison guard’s uniform with both hands, clinging to him with the desperation of a cornered animal. Roland stood straighter and wrapped his arms tighter around her, trying to play the part of the man he not yet was. He ignored the grimy feel of her unwashed skin against his. He wanted to say something to comfort her, something that would take all that pain and anguish out of her eyes. But what?

"Taj," he began, glancing around them again to ensure they were still alone. "I believe with my whole soul that you are innocent. And innocent people don’t deserve to be locked up."

She looked up at him with tears in her eyes. "I know, but—"

"I don’t care about the risk," he cut her off, determined not to let her put a negative thought between them. It would only take one negative thought, one sliver of doubt, for their plan to shatter like a ship dashed against rocks. "I don’t. No matter what, I’m getting you out of here."

Taj reached up to kiss him fervently, her tattered prison grown whipping about in the cold, night wind. Roland melted into that kiss, the same way he had the one other time they had managed to find a moment alone together, free from the prying eyes of guards and prisoners alike. It was exhilarating feeling her body pressed up against his, her lips on his. He had spent the better part of a year wondering what it might feel like and each time, she did not disappoint. She was so beautiful, even in the condition that she was.

"But what if you get caught?" She pulled back, her eyes growing wide again, her shoulders trembling. "I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you, especially because of me." Roland kissed the top of her head as though her greasy hair and fetid smell didn’t bother him in the slightest.

"They won’t suspect a thing." Roland said. "I’ve covered all our bases. And if everything goes according to plan, they won’t even discover that you’re missing until well after my shift has ended and you are on a boat sailing to Irothmal. Then in two weeks, once all the fuss has died down, I’ll meet you there, just like we planned, and we can be together at last."

Taj nodded. It was true. For the past three months, Roland had been carefully paving the way for her escape, piece by piece. From the escape route off the roof, to the changing of the guards, and all the way down to booking her passage on a tiny lugger that was now docked in the harbour far below them, Roland had done everything he could think of to ensure that Taj would safely make it out of the city. He had even gone so far as to put extra straw in her cell so that she might be able to fashion a body-like heap to hide beneath the scrap of a blanket granted all inmates come winter. Now all he could do was hope with a desperation he had never felt before that all would go according to plan.

If anyone had asked him a year ago, if he ever thought he might help one of the prisoners escape, he would have laughed in their faces. But one year ago, he didn’t know Taj. In fact, it was just under one year ago, that the vibrant, unbelievable rumour made its way through Saker Keep’s prison in the middle of the night. A rumour so wild that it had reached even his ears up on the top floors. A rumour that a woman had been admitted to the prison and was coming to his wing.

A woman? On the top floors? It was practically unheard of. Generally their crimes were not so severe and sometimes even then, because of their fragile natures, they were kept on the lower floors where the company was not so... rough.

The only other woman he had heard of being kept here was Crazy Ethelle. She had murdered six of her lovers before she was caught. And she hadn’t lasted long either, perhaps three months. It had been just before he had arrived. The news of a new woman arriving had the entire shift, himself included, curious to see just what sort of monster had entered into their midst.

He didn’t get to find out until late morning. Kumal and Herst had brought her to him. A bloody mess, barely recognisable as human, thanks to the warden’s handiwork. He always took it upon himself to personally welcome each new inmate with a thrashing. Roland had never been fond of surveying the aftermath of his welcomes but was consoled by reminding himself of exactly the sort of people they were. This girl surely was no exception. But as he laid eyes on her, the first peculiar thing he noted was how incredibly young she was. The second was that gorgeous head of hair.

She had been quiet, docile even, as they paraded her through the wing then dumped her unceremoniously on the floor of her cell. Even as he was locking the door, Roland noted how she did not move from the crumpled heap she had landed in, as uncomfortable as she looked.

"Best keep an eye on that one." Jenkins had grunted as he glared at her from outside her cell. "Been told she’s tricksy."

"Gotta admit though," Herst, the younger of the guards, chimed in. "I wouldn’t mind having your job. She’s nice to look at when she’s not all bloodied up. And we don’t get many of those, do we? If you decide to have some fun with her, give me a shout, will you?"

Their laughter echoed off the mouldy stone walls as they left to return to the warden like the obedient hounds they were. But Roland stayed where he was, watching her. He knew better than to judge based on appearances but the girl in front of him looked so helpless. As if she had no right being here. He could much more easily imagine her dressed up and in a ballroom than heaped in a prison cell, but he knew it could all very well be an act. After all, there had to be a reason that she had landed in his wing, with the murderers and worst of the thieves. He made a note to inquire after her crimes at the end of his shift.

His eyes strained in the dim light of the jail to get a better look at her face. Was she conscious? One eye was already swollen shut but the other... he quickly stepped backwards, back into the safety of the shadows. He had been so busy studying her, he hadn’t even realised that she too had been watching him. Her one good eye was trained on him and it followed him, even as he returned to his post by the door.

Roland did not know when he had started seeing her less as a prisoner and more as an innocent. Perhaps it was four months into her sentence, when he had finally listened to her story, one lonely night. The story that marked her guiltless, framed by another for the attempted murder of the Mayor’s only son. Perhaps it was in month six, when she showed kindness to the old man in the cell beside her own, offering him her portion of stale bread when the guards had trampled his. Or perhaps it was month nine, the first time she had allowed herself to cry.

Roland smiled and shook his head as he pulled Taj closer, doing his best to protect her from the icy wind. How he had ever believed she was guilty at all was beyond him. And how anyone continued to do so was just as unfathomable. She had been nothing if not well-behaved during the year she spent in prison. She did not talk back, she didn’t pick fights with the other inmates, she had only moved cells once and that was due to the indecorous male in the neighbouring cell. No, she was not who they said she was.

Roland exhaled, his breath coming out as a puff of mist as they stood, locked in an embrace on that prison rooftop. He cursed himself for it, but they had been here too long. The guards would return in just a few minutes and by then, any trace of Taj or Roland had to be gone. He pulled away from her. "Please be careful." She whispered, touching his face.

Roland wiped the last stray tear from her cheek with his thumb. "Don’t worry about me. All I want you to do is focus on getting out of here and then wait for me in Irothmal. I promise I will come find you." He kissed her again. "Now go. The sooner you leave, the safer you’ll be."

Roland led her to the left side of the rooftop, where the stone wall was thicker, and pressed on the stones until one moved under his fingertips. With a grumble, a portion of the wall moved to reveal a winding staircase, just as Jude had told him it would, not two days earlier.

He watched as she stole into the shadows and down the hidden stairwell that would lead her to the ground beneath them, to freedom.

Roland stayed on that rooftop until he saw a smudge of black, her silhouette, fade into the tree line. Now it was up to her to make it safely to the docks. As he turned, he found himself praying to anyone that would listen that she would be safe, and he would see her waiting for him at the docks of Irothmal in two weeks.