Elfbones woke with a jolt. A light fell across his face. Not the cool light of morning, but the light of a fire. Sitting bolt upright in bed, he heaved his eyes open. The room was a blur, a blur lighter than he expected. Elfbones could make out a flame and, as his eyes became accustomed to being awake, it came into focus. It was a small flame, and it sat atop a candle. A figure perched on the end of the bed, holding the candle. Elfbones retreated into the corner of the cell. The ‘lock’ hadn’t worked. The door was open. Three more figures stood outside.

  “I am sorry,” the figure on the bed spoke. The voice was much softer than expected. He noticed then, in the soft glow of the candle, the figure's dress: a long coat, hooded and made of a fine material. It was unblemished - quite unlike the grubby, tattered attire sported by the rest of the inmates. At least as far as Elfbones had seen. The figure removed their hood, revealing a head of perfect golden hair and a familiar face. Here, in a cell, in the notorious prison of Schadbane, in Elfbones’ cell, perched upon the edge of a stone slab-bed sat Queen Sophia.

  “If I had known it would get you into so much trouble…” said the queen.

  “Your majesty?” said Elfbones.

  “Please, call me Sophia. I have no right to demand fealty from you, given the circumstances.”

  Elfbones could see the queen’s eyes glistening. “It wasn’t you that locked me away.”

  “True. That absolute oaf… You must understand that if I could have prevented him from doing this, I would have. My position is tenuous. Oh, as if that is important to you. Just know that I wish for better for my people and will do whatever I can to aid those my husband,” the word was spat out like a bitter pill, “wrongs. That goes doubly in cases where I am to blame.” Elfbones went to interrupt her, but the queen silenced him with a raised hand. “Wholly or in part.”

  “You shouldn’t be here, your majesty. It isn’t a safe place for someone like yourself,” said Elfbones.

  One figure at the door cleared their throat.

  “I am well guarded and my visit will be brief. Now, listen carefully. I cannot do anything about your sentence. To break you out - while possible - would simply put you back in the same position you were in before your capture - a fugitive. And I cannot guarantee that the search for you would stop at the borders of the kingdom. He is an extremely petty man.” The queen leaned in close to Elfbones. “You must commit what I am about to tell you to memory. There is a way for you to earn your freedom.”

  Elfbones’ eyes brightened. “There is? But the king—“

  “If you do exactly as I say, the king can do nothing about it. You will be free.”

  “What must I do?”

  “When they built this prison, King Jasper XXI - a somewhat more thoughtful and enlightened king - was on the throne. He had it built into the mountain to better protect against escape. However, the excavation work dug a little too deep into the mountainside and disturbed a whengata hive. Have you heard of the whengata?”

  “No.”

  “Few have outside of stories. But they are real and did not take kindly to being disturbed. They killed many of the people working on the excavation. The king himself came here to talk with the whengata. He offered them a deal - if they let him build his prison, he would provide a passageway from the whengata hive into the prison.”

  “What for?” said Elfbones.

  “For food.”

  Elfbones’ eyes widened.

  “A steady supply of prisoners is better than waiting for the odd hiker, or climber, to stumble where they shouldn’t.”

  “I thought you said this was an enlightened king.”

  “And so he was, relatively speaking. You see, the whengata are highly empathetic creatures who value honesty highly. The king cut a deal with them: they had access to the prison, but could only feed on those prisoners who had been justly imprisoned.”

  Relief rippled throughout Elfbones’ body. Being imprisoned in Schadbane had been bad enough. The prospect of being some creature’s lunch was almost too much to bear.

  “On the ground floor,” the queen continued, “at the western end is an archway, beyond which a staircase leads to a chamber. Inside is an unlocked door to the outside.”

  “There is another way out?”

  “There always has been. The current king ordered that its presence be kept secret. It is obscured from view on the outside by bushes.” The queen looked straight at Elfbones. “This is your way out. There is always a guard stationed on a balcony above the door. They will not stop you, but will ask for your name. Give it to them. You will be pardoned and you will have your freedom.”

  “It’s not that simple, is it?”

  Sophia took a breath. “The whengata hive opens into the chamber. They guard it. No one, no matter how strong, how fast, will get through that door without first facing them.”

  “Fantastic,” said Elfbones.

  “If you do as I say, you will have nothing to fear. The deal struck with the whengata specified that they should guard the exit to the prison and interrogate anyone who wished to use it. They will ask if you truly did the things that you were charged with, and they will ask if you were imprisoned here wrongly. Answer their questions honestly. Do not lie. Your imprisonment was unjust; they will let you pass.”

  Elfbones eased into an upright position and drew his knees to his chest. “I wish I had known about this before spending the night on this bed.”

  “You should have known. Every king until my husband made sure that those imprisoned here knew all of this. Therefore, if there was a miscarriage of justice, the innocent could free themselves. Not much good if you want to lock up dissidents, opponents, inconveniences, anyone who rubs you the wrong way.”

  “Why didn’t he just block up the back door? Or the whengata cave?” said Elfbones.

  “That would break the deal with the whengata. They would not take that lightly. They prefer to remain within the mountain, but they have ventured further afield. A crossed whengata would have no difficulty exacting revenge upon the king.”

  “Blimey.”

  “I know. They sound like my kind of creatures.” The queen smiled at Elfbones and his heart skipped a beat.

  One figure at the door cleared their throat again, with urgency. The queen blew out the candle and stood quickly. The sudden darkness highlighted the dull light at the window. Morning approached.

  “Good luck,” said Sophia, placing Elfbones’ jacket and a short length of rope on the bed, then turned and left the cell. Elfbones’ eyes adjusted to the darkness. He could see now that the figures in the doorway were royal guards. Two lifted the queen onto a small wooden seat. It immediately swung out from the railings and over the central atrium. The queen hung in the air, swinging back and forth. The ropes attached to the seat went taught, and it rushed upwards.

  There were more ropes now. Individual ropes grasped by the guards as they leapt over the railings. They too whizzed skywards. There were eleven guards in all. The three in his doorway, and an extra eight that had stood in the corridor on either side.

  As the last guard jumped, Elfbones rushed to the railings and looked up. High above, the glass roof had a small opening in it through which the guards were climbing. In a moment, the opening slid shut and the guards and queen had vanished from sight. Elfbones couldn’t help but smile. It felt good to know that somebody cared that much about what had happened to him.

  There was movement on the other levels, the sounds of waking prisoners.

  Below, on the ground floor, Elfbones spied a lone figure staring up at the glass roof. It was Viele. Elfbones caught his eye. Viele’s face was one big question mark.

  Elfbones rushed back into his cell, took the rope from the bed, and ‘locked’ the door.

  He knew what had to be done, but wasn’t sure if he was quite ready to face up to the task. Now that the others were waking up, would it be safer to wait? After all, it was a long way from his cell to the chamber. Despite Viele’s words upon arrival, he still felt incredibly vulnerable.

  The bars of the cell window were like ice as his head rested against them. The chill was welcome, as it cleared his mind.

  On the ridge with the little hut, he watched three figures dance around a small fire.

  ***

  Each floor of the prison was alive now - everyone was awake and hungry. Nevin was no different. It felt like a week had passed since he last ate. In reality, the prisoners received food daily, but there wasn't enough food to go around. Now there was one more mouth to feed.

  Probably won’t give us any more food, thought Nevin. His stomach felt like a black hole.

  The walk to the stairs was always a fraught affair. Every cell was doorless and felt like a trap. Nevin was a cautious beetle, praying that he didn’t disturb the spider that lay in wait. There were ten spiders before he got to the stairwell. He padded with silent care as fast as he dared. To run would be suicide. Running in Schadbane meant something. It drew attention and piqued interest. If you wanted to draw a crowd, you ran. Crowds in Schadbane were a bad thing. Except when the food arrived. It was surprising how orderly the inmates were when collecting their rations - as measly as they were. This was due in large part to Viele and his men. Heaven knows what the place was like before they arrived. Nevin continued on his way, one eye and one ear on each doorway as he passed.

  High above, there was a sudden clank, followed by a low rumble. The glass roof was being opened. Nevin froze for a second, damning his caution. He had hoped to be down on the atrium floor by the time the food arrived. All eyes would be on the food making its way down to them. He could wait, inconspicuous, get his ration and scuttle back to his cell. He braced himself for the excited flood of salivating ne’er-do-wells. They would crash past him, all elbows and knees, eager to feed. But nothing happened. The cells didn’t empty as normal upon hearing the roof open. Nevin caught himself getting excited at a dark thought: all the nastier members of the prison population had died in their sleep. He served himself a swift mental rebuke. He couldn’t let himself become like them, no matter how they had treated him in this place. A simpler reason for the unexpected lack of traffic was staring right at him. This whole time, he had been concentrating on the open cell doors. If he had turned his head and looked over the railings, he would have seen there was no need. Almost all his fellow prisoners had assembled already on the ground floor.

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  Nevin skirted the crowd. There was tension in the air and all eyes were on the platform descending from the roof with the daily rations. Here and there he caught snippets of conspiratorial whispers: “Just wait…” and “…must be ours…” and “This is it.” He longed for the hard, cold comfort of his cell. The atmosphere in the atrium was precarious and razor-sharp.

  Without realising it, Nevin had backed himself up against the nearest wall. From this position, he noticed that there wasn’t a single group awaiting the platform. The crowd divided roughly into two. On one side were Viele and those loyal to him - former royal guards who had served under Viele. And opposite them? Here were the worst of the worst. Nevin instinctively worked his way along the wall away from them. He considered them to be the only patrons of Schadbane that belonged there.

  An attempted coup was the reason Viele and his men were in Schadbane. How much they deserved this fate depended on your opinion of the king. The other group deserved imprisonment. That wasn’t debatable. Each individual alone was a sheet gripping, sweat-drenched nightmare. To see them come together like this turned Nevin’s spine to ice.

  Viele commanded respect. Not only from his men, but from others in Schadbane, too. He was firm but fair. No corner of the prison was completely safe, but Viele and his men gave many of the inmates hope. If not for release, then for the prospect of life without the constant, crushing fear of violence. The bad ones, the true prisoners as Nevin saw them, were simple and chaotic. They acted according to their own selfish whims. Nevin had never known them to organise like this.

  The wall ran out and Nevin fell into an open cell. It was empty and provided Nevin with respite from the heavy atmosphere in the atrium.

  Above the mutterings of the crowd, the clanking chains of the ration platform slowed. Two figures had broken away from the crowd, unseen, and stood on either side of the cell doorway. Nevin was aware of his vulnerability alone, out of sight. One figure spoke. “So? What is it?” Nevin recognised the voice as that of Viele.

  “A rumour has spread that you have done a deal with the guards,” said the other figure.

  Viele laughed. “But that I could.”

  “They saw the visitors last night.”

  “I thought as much. What’s the deal this morning?”

  “Somebody got it into their head that we’re getting a delivery of weapons with the rations. Spread it round like a fact.”

  The clanking chains fell silent, and the platform came to a halt in the middle of the crowd, four feet off the ground. Surprised mutterings grew, somebody growled. “It’s just food.”

  “Looks like there’s going to be an extra empty cell by the end of breakfast, maybe more,” said Viele. “We need to bring our plans forward. How many are left to go?”

  “Eighteen.”

  “That’s going to be difficult without drawing attention.”

  “We could be ready by tomorrow night.”

  Viele looked at the mob writhing around the ration platform. Attempts were being made to ensure that everyone got a share. Many of the prisoners - disappointment and anger in their eyes - pushed others aside and took as much as they could. Some, like animals, bared their teeth and snapped angrily at grabbing hands.

  “No. It needs to be tonight.”

  “Tonight?”

  “They’ve never been this organised. Waiting any longer will put everything at risk.” Viele thought for a moment, “Put Raffa, Benson, and Corliv last. We’ll deal with that when the time comes.”

  “Understood.”

  Without saying another word, Both Viele and the other man left, ignoring the rations.

  The clamour around the platform calmed. Most of the delivery had vanished into the cells. Nevin’s hand snuck between the bodies and snatched a bread roll.

  He rushed up the stairs, holding his precious roll with both hands. When he got to his level, some were sitting in their cells scoffing their rations. Others watched over the railings as the furore down below died down. Nevin gripped his bread roll, put his head down and ran for his cell as fast as he could. He didn’t care about drawing attention - it was unlikely anyone was interested in what he was up to anyway. He just wanted to be back in his cell, easing his hunger, and trying not to imagine what horrors the coming day may bring.

  ***

  The day had dragged by. Elfbones tried to get some sleep. He wanted to prepare himself for what he assumed would be a trying night ahead. A prison is not the easiest of places to sleep. Especially during the day. Then, the sounds you hear are liable to give you nightmares. If they don’t prevent you from sleeping at all, that is.

  Elfbones stood staring out of his cell window. He had watched the sunset and knew that he would soon have to act. Yet he couldn’t move. He gazed at the stars, at the brilliant blue comet that hung before them in the western sky. It was bigger than it had been when he first saw it several days earlier. He envied its solitude, its freedom from planetary connections. This was the thought that broke him out of his statuesque reluctance and spurred him into action.

  The cell door creaked as it opened. The sound seemed amplified by the relative quiet of the prison after dark. Elfbones only dared open it enough to slip through. He didn’t want to risk drawing attention to himself, not when he was so close to freedom.

  He used the railings to guide himself in the near dark. Then he descended the stairs with as much speed and stealth as he could. While he tried to remain vigilant, he didn’t notice the shape that shadowed him from the fourth floor down.

  On the ground floor, there was a decision to make. The glass roof flooded the centre of the atrium with moonlight. There would be no hiding if he cut straight across. Yet, that was the quickest and most direct route to where he was going. Skirting around the edge would allow Elfbones to hide in the shadows. But it would also mean passing close to the ground floor cells. There was a risk of getting accosted by an inquisitive night owl.

  Elfbones adopted the same mock-confident manner he had used on that first night. He strode out into the moonlight. Roughly two-thirds of the way across the atrium, a shuffling sound caused him to pause. It had come from somewhere behind him, off to one side, near the cells. There was no one to see, and no further sounds, so, after a moment, he continued, his pace quickened.

  In the moonlight, Elfbones could see the archway and the stairs beyond. He made straight for it. In the last cell before the archway, a prisoner sat and watched Elfbones pass. This was Viele’s cell. He went unnoticed by Elfbones and did not stop the boy or ask what he was up to. He already knew. Yet, when he saw the prisoner that was following Elfbones, he bolted for the doorway. By the time he got there, the prisoner had rushed through the archway. They were both well on their way down to the chamber below.

  Viele took a step towards the archway. He didn’t know who had followed Elfbones. It didn't matter. He didn't care to think of the boy caught down there between what dwells within the walls and one of Schadbane’s less favourable residents.

  “Viele!” the voice’s echoed and spread unopposed throughout the prison. Viele stopped and turned to face a small gang with mean grins and hungry eyes.

  “What can I do for you, Barro?” said Viele. Scores of prisoners - Viele’s men - materialised out of the shadows.

  A short, stocky, hairless man took a measured step towards Viele. “Hear you’re gettin’ out. Hear it’s happenin’ tonight.”

  Viele recognised two faces amongst Barro’s gang - Benson and Raffa. They were his men. At least, they had been. He addressed them straight-on, “Brothers.”

  Benson and Raffa dropped their eyes to the floor.

  “We know you’ve been dealin’ with the guards. We ain’t blind. And these here tell us you gonna make your move tonight. While we’s all sleepin’. They wasn’t best pleased to be shunted down the list some. Felt they was bein’ left behind. Like the rest of us,” said Barro.

  Without moving his gaze from Benson and Raffa, Viele said, “They weren’t being left behind.” The two disgraced former royal guards lifted their heads. Viele’s gaze was like fire, but there was kindness in it. The kindness faded as he looked at Barro. “And neither will you.”

  Elfbones came to a halt at the bottom of the stairs. The chamber wasn’t as big as he expected. Not far away, on the opposite side, was an unassuming wooden door illuminated by a torch. Moonlight slid under the door. Here was the only exit from Schadbane.

  “You know, no one who came down here ever used to come back up.” Elfbones jumped at the sound of a voice behind him. “We naturally assumed the worst and didn’t let our curiosity get the better of us.” The prisoner that had followed Elfbones was wiry with a wrinkled face. It better reflected his time spent in Schadbane than his actual age. All the time that he spoke to Elfbones, his eyes remained fixed on the little wooden door. “All of this time…”

  The look on the prisoner’s face made Elfbones uneasy. He ventured a nervous response, “They have kept it from all of us. We were supposed to be told—”

  “I know, I know. I’m a light sleeper with good hearing and the cell directly below yours.”

  “You heard that?”

  “As well built as this place is, its upkeep has been neglected. Stone cracks, mortar crumbles, and words fall through the gaps.”

  A sound like pouring sand came from a corner of the chamber. The corner that saw the least light. Elfbones stared at the corner for a moment. Then he realised it was less in shadow than it was not a corner at all. It was a narrow opening, the entrance to the whengata hive. The sound echoed and stopped.

  “And you were going to keep this all to yourself.” The prisoner had moved closer to Elfbones, a boney finger jabbing at him.

  “Well, I didn’t…” said Elfbones. “Wait a minute. Aren’t you doing the same thing? Who have you told?”

  The prisoner ignored the question and brushed Elfbones to one side. “Enough talk. Tonight I gain my freedom.” He strode into the chamber and towards the door. Before he was even halfway there, a hurried clattering sound emerged from the corner. From the shadows came one of the whengata. It scurried across the ceiling and down the wall. Its six crab-like legs straddled the door, its bulbous body suspended between. What looked like a skull crowned its head.

  “The whengata guard this exit. We will sit in judgement. Only those deemed worthy may leave. We will grant you freedom either from imprisonment or from mortal suffering,” said the creature.

  Elfbones could only see the back of the prisoner’s head, but he knew from his stance that he was in the grip of fear. As was Elfbones himself.

  “Come closer and be judged,” said the whengata.

  The prisoner inched towards the exit. The whengata waited, its body rising and falling as it took slow, deliberate breaths. When the prisoner was close enough, the whengata told him to stop. He stood face to face with the whengata’s skull. The prisoner trembled, then let out a sad whimper as a small hand emerged from each eye socket of the skull. The hands extended on tiny arms toward the prisoner before gripping his temples.

  “Answer me and answer me truthfully. We feed upon the lie,” said the whengata. “Is it false to state that we do not find you here to not be an inmate of the prison, Schadbane?”

  “Wh-what?” said the prisoner.

  “The question will not be repeated. Answer.”

  The prisoner muttered to himself, “Is it false… to not be… to not find…”

  “Answer.”

  “Alright, alright. Er, no. No, it is not false.”

  “Hmm, that is correct. Now answer this: we are the many, you are the few. Many seek the truth, but few know it and seldom is it spoken aloud. If the truth is rarely spoken by the few, and heard less often by the many, for fear of the consequences of such candour, is it safe to say that you are afraid to speak here, now?”

  It was clear from the prisoner’s wide-eyed stare what the answer was.

  “You must answer,” said the whengata.

  “Yes, yes, I am afraid.”

  “You fear the truth?”

  The prisoner struggled to speak. He gave a nervous nod.

  “There is only one more question to come. Do you intend to answer it truthfully?”

  The tiny fingers on the prisoner’s temples prodded and stroked his head. They performed their own interrogation. Not just of the physical form but, seemingly, of something beyond that. As though the whengata was exhibiting an extra sense beyond the usual.

  “What is the question?” the prisoner asked.

  “You know the question. Will you answer it truthfully?”

  The prisoner did not hesitate. “Yes, I will.”

  The whengata raised the prisoner up into the air. He hung, suspended by his head. “He lies!”

  Immediately, two more whengata appeared from out of the darkness. They grabbed the prisoner and whisked him away into their hive. The prisoner’s screams vanished into the distance with almost as much speed.

  Elfbones’ chest pounded and his head swam. For a moment, he couldn’t tell whether he was leaning against a wall or the floor.

  “There is another seeking judgement?” said the whengata over the doorway.

  The urge to flee back up the stairs to his cell was overwhelming Elfbones. That was until he heard the riotous cries coming from the atrium.

  The whengata heard them too, “It is an appalling place.”

  Elfbones could only agree as he took a reluctant walk towards the exit and judgement.