A BOOK OF SCROLLS: Mornel Set Free

THE BOOK OF TALES:

---------------------------

1 RARELY have the prisoners of Varlendur been given a mention for they were the harshest example of the Mitharian King’s authority. The duality of both powers: Kings and Priest emerged in the shadow of the city’s once grandest lighthouse. Known far and wide for its mystics and justice, it became a feared force to be encountered. Yet, it was the Priesthood and their secret rites that captured the imagination and most attention of the people, and in time even those became more elite in their elusive teachings.

2 THROUGH the years the dungeon of Varlendur took on more prisoners. Five was the most housed at one time. By the time of the sixth king twenty-seven had already called The Tower their personal residence.

Arabraken the Mordorian was killed in trying to escape which quelled any further attempts. Brandon Aladreth was held for the shortest amount of time, just nine days and was released. Mornel Vanderqin was held the longest for nearly seventeen years.

3 THIS is the tale of that prisoner.

A fat brown-haired rat scurried along the base of the smooth stone wall. The two torches at either end of the unseen hallway flowed in through the barred window of the jail cell's oaken door. Sandaled steps approached. Keys clattered about. The lock tumbled. From the flooding burst of light, there came thrusting into the small chamber, from blackened silhouettes, a scruffy bearded young man. Wearing but tattered clothes immersed in the rank smell of sweat the newcomer was a vagrant for sure.

“So what are you in here for?” The newcomer asked his sudden companion.

Silence

“No tongue to speak with?” His question came with a bite.

Silence

“My name is Corven Derek. Well, a petty-thief the likes of me was bound to get caught –“. His offered introduction was cut short upon seeing the old man feeding the largest of the rats climbing on his lap.

“- yes, just a matter of time.” He finished as the man before him gave the last crumbs of his meal away to the rodent.

“So, how often do they feed us in here?”

No reply came as the balding man just sat there petting another rat smaller than the first.

Sighing his frustration at not getting answers. “How long have you been here old man?”

Still, the quiet man sat amid his pets.

“How long they kept you locked away down here to go crazy, I wonder?” It had only been moments since his own arrival and it was promising to be a long stay.

“Did you kill someone?” Corven’s question almost sounded like a demand to know something, anything at this point.

Finally, after all, but one of the rats left, the old man spoke, “I am Mornel Vanderqin of Mithar’s eastern gate. For sixteen years, seven months, twenty-three days and nine hours have Varlendur’s guards shown me their hospitality.”

“Goodness man!” Gasped Corven.

Ignoring the young man’s dismay, Mornel continued, “It was long ago, and for the sake of love that found me here.”

Interrupting what sounded like the beginnings of a long story, Corven whispered, “Knew a jealous husband had to figure in somewhere.”

The old man continued, brushing off the comment of the impatient youth, he began, “A long time ago, now that I actually recall those days. We were going to live forever.

My best friend Balinthane Silmeth and I were inseparable. We had been co-conspirators of embracing the moment and exploring all the taboos of the world that our parents abhorred. We were young and fearless in those by-gone days. We finished the thoughts of the other and inspired the others imaginations with insights. We loved learning as much as we did adventure. Yet in time his seemed to lead into more trouble than my own had the courage for. I envied Balinthane greatly for such ventures into the Lore of Lindol and the secret paths of her Priestesses yet. In time we grew apart and children become men.

He was always in my thoughts and the biggest influence upon my thoughts. We corresponded by curriers and even then our brotherly bonds grew firm. Then there came a brief season when our paths crossed again in person.

Balinthane hesitantly handed his friend poignant words, "My father received your letter instead of me. I had gone to into town and missed the messenger."

Mornel caught the tone, knowing he cared for his aging father, "I am sorry he has been so ill as of late. - Oh - THE letter..." Then suddenly catching the full meaning of Balinthan’s words added, "HE READ IT?"

"He read it." Balinthane

Mornel: "I am forever sorry my friend." Sincerely hoping the reminder of their status was not fully crushed by the secret revelations of past deeds.

Balinthane: "So am I. But, he is my father and must come first."

The next day we had cut off all ties with one another for a very long time. Our open friendship before the eyes of his father had been severed. I freely accepted the banishment from brother’s love so as not to hinder the bond between father and son. In accepting that role of instigator in the grave mischief that had occurred I knew wrath would soon find me. The local authorities came upon me and from the Lord, Magistrate was I imprisoned within the very walls of Varlendur itself.

“You are being released.”

Stunned for a moment the old man gave no indication of change.

Corven repeated the guard’s words, “Mornel, you are a free man, you can leave.”

“He must have been here too long, afraid of leaving I suppose.”

Seeing the last of his rats trail away the old man smiled at the guard who held the door open for him and looked longingly with a deep smile, “Thank you, for all your kindness.” The guard seems to bristle a smirk in return.

Corven asked, “Where will you go? What will you do after having wasted all your time here?”

Turning about he answered slowly. “What I have always done. Live.” Then added, pointing to a rat standing on its hind legs begging to be picked up. Mornel did not comply this time but added, “The rats taught me tenacity as they and time shall teach you. Goodbye.”

Upon leaving the Grey Tower's massive front doors the newly released prisoner saw his old childhood friend standing at the bottom of the steep stair. He had waited all those years later to see him, though they spoke seldom and never of the old grievance. He stood there all alone.

With each step the old man took the bottom ancient memories began to flood his thoughts. Memories before the rats, the beatings, and the engulfing darkness flooded his mind. Finally many years later they came face to face. The old childhood friend's face was streamed with tears and a trembling chin. Yet all the newly freed man could say was, "I am so very sorry for the loss of your father, he was a great man."

.........