The Forgotten

“Get up you layabouts! we’re going for a walk.”

A guard wearing a dark, tight-fitting cape walked down the steps to the cells holding a wooden baton in his hands. No one appeared to move at first, whether out of fear or lack of energy. After the sound of the baton striking the first iron bars they all began to get to their feet, one by one.

Rendall hadn’t moved, he was curled up in the back of the cell since that guard beat him half to death. The only sign he gave that he was alive were twitching figures or coughing fits from the dust that drifted through the prison. No longer was he afraid of the spiders as they freely scuttled over his skin, yet not free of bites as his body was covered in small red marks and it was only Arthur that hoped they weren’t poisonous. When he did move, Rendall dug his figures deep into his arms and skin, drawing blood that would trickle out slowly from his body as his skeleton seemed like it contained little more than a few drops.

He laid there unnoticed until a guard shone his torch into the boy’s direction. Rendall’s blood-red eyes showing he had gotten no sleep and burst his blood vessels. The guard opened the cage, the iron bars grinding against bare metal.

“Move I said.” Kicking the boy in the ribs as he shouted.

Rendall’s face was expressionless. He let out no noise as the guard hit him, but as he went to do it again, the boy rolled away until his back was pressed against the wall.

“You slippery little.“

Another guard said, “Hit him again soldier, and you’ll be answering to the king. Get him up and out of here now!”

The first guard was about to strike Rendall’s head with his club until this superior guard stepped in, possibly saving his life.

The guard went down to grab the boy by the arm and was surprised to hear him laughing. He smacked the boy across the face though the laughter only grew in intensity until with blood gritted teeth Rendall said, “I’ll watch her rip you apart.”

“Shut it whelp.” Then continuing in a softer tone, “I’ll make sure I tie the knot to your noose so that you suffer for a long time before death claims you.”

Arthur and some of the others in prison look on at the scene with horror. Rendall’s actions had only got worse after hearing the noise all those nights ago. While Rendall was not the only person that had struggled to cope in the prison cell, he was by far the youngest. Despite their desire to help the boy nothing could be done to help him, they only watched as his behaviour became more erratic.

They walked out of the prison in single file lines, their feet and hands bound while also chained to one another. Every man and woman was tired, having only barely enough food to keep them alive. Many tripped and fell as they walked from the prison, the stairs being too much for them to handle yet when one fell it would cause a cascade of others that followed.

As they arrived at the door and out into the light many screamed in pain, the light bleaching their vision causing complete blindness. Many stopped or fell with their jailors either laughing at their torment or kicking them to get moving.

As Rendall reached the light all he could see was white, though noises of guards shouting at him and others to make a line in front of them did not cease. The pebbles beneath his feet were warm, almost comforting as the time spent in prison was always cold and wet, causing many of his toenails to go black with infection.

After a minute, his vision slowly returned, although he had to stare at the ground as the sky would force his eyes to close. Staring down at his torn trousers, spotted red legs and his hands that were covered in crusty blood. Looking at his body he realised it was the end, he was only a few hours from death, yet he was not scared but rather at peace with the idea that he could leave the misery of his life behind.

At the thought of death a tang of guilt hit his heart, his one regret was that he would never see his sister, his family again. Celer had been the rock in his life, and all that he wished was to say sorry to her and see the white wolf one more time.

With great difficulty from the pain of the light, Rendall stared at the heavens and whispered, “I’m sorry.”

The snapping of a whip cracked in front of the prisoners. A guard on horseback shouted, “You will now all be tried, now move!”

The prisoners looked at the guard in front of them. Six mounted guards stood behind him and a troop of one hundred foot soldiers readied themselves to march. They all wore black armour and those on the horses wearing the metallic red gloves showed they were captains.

One of the mounted troops behind the leader took up the rope from the first prison, leading them off to where no one but the soldiers knew.