Breaktime and Other Fictions

Posted on 21 Feb 2021 @ 4:50am by Mage Kalian Winter & Warrior Martin Josceran & Rogue Elinowy Ursulas

4,102 words; about a 21 minute read

Mission: Lore's Labour's Lost
Location: The Mine
Timeline: Cloudreach 17th - evening

OOC: After 'Labor ipse voluptas'

Orla's head lolled over her chest. Clearly she was beyond exhaustion and barely conscious. The guards looked up as Martin and Kalian approached, at first suspicious then disinterested. It was probably not the first time something like that happened. Interesting... pretending to carry an injured worker could be a good way to get close to the guards and attack then by surprise.

Elinowy followed the men closely before breaking off to stand before the guards. "I need to help this woman. I have experience working with the sick, and I can tell you if left unattended that woman will be dead by night fall. Dead workers mean less work. If you allow it, I will see that you have a stronger and healthier work force."

The others staggered on as she made her case before the indifference of the guards. Finally one waved his hand at her. "You do what you must. But if ya lag about or that one dies, its double the work for you tomorrow."

"The Maker bless you." Elinowy responded with a slight gesture of blessing that she caught in mid action. She turned and hurried to catch up with the men.

"Come on," Martin said to Orla encouragingly. "Only a few more steps and you can rest."

The designated place was an infirmary in name only. A few thin bedrolls tossed to the ground and a dirty pitcher of water were the only empty gestures that had been made to ease the suffering of the ailing workers. They eased Orla onto the last bedroll, one with such a wide hole in the middle that it was barely better than lying down on the stone ground. There were a couple of others - one girl who looked barely out of her teens and an older man - neither of whom were moving. The old's man rattling breath was the only indication that he was in fact still alive. Martin glanced at Kalian, and saw the same outraged anger on his face as he felt deep inside.

"Well, in case there was any doubt, here is proof of Roxa's intentions toward the workers. She must plan to work each of them to death." During and after the Blight in Ferelden, Kalian had seen people malnourished and exhausted, suffering from sickness. His eyebrows knitted together, considering what his magic could and couldn't do to help. "Do you know anything about healing, Martin?"

"Not much," Martin said in a low voice. He looked down at Orla, who was hugging herself tightly and shivering. "I can do stitches in a pinch, if you like your scars jagged. And if you need anything bandaged I'm your man. But this..." he half-turned to grab the pitcher, grimacing in disgust when he saw the dusty swill inside. "Do you know anything about healing ?"

"My grandmother Mirren taught me some things that could help." Spells for healing. Kalian untied his ragged disguise-cape from around his waist and wrapped it around Orla. "During the blight I sometimes helped an old healer. A good, hot meal and a peaceful night's sleep in a warm bed could make all the difference for Orla here, but these others need more. What about you, Elinowy, can you help them?"

Elinowy looked upon the sick and dying in the wretched excuse for an infirmary. These were beautiful creations of the Maker, tossed aside by greed and fear. There was ample material to make a month of homilies, but these people needed healing, or at least comfort in their suffering. "It is true I am a trained herbalist," she said positively, but her voice lowering as she looked around the barren cave. "If we were on the surface, I could likely forage sufficient plants to make a difference. But here...." Her hands moved to the hem of the blouse she had borrowed. Normally her robes had a variety of basic remedies sewn into their hemwork. But she was in another woman's clothes, pretending to have another woman's life. At the moment she was as powerless as the poor creatures around her.

Kalian took a deep breath. He could not hide what he was from Martin and Elinowy if it meant letting these people suffer. But then he thought of an alternative plan. "Elinowy, you don't have much to work with, but surely praying to the Maker would bring these poor people some relief?"

Martin hesitated. While praying could only help these poor people's soul, it would do little to ease their physical woes. It was better than nothing, but their time may be better used plotting an escape and bringing back help, or looking for clean water to offer them... he had no time to voice an objection though, before Sister Elinowy started praying.

Elinowy looked at Kalian dumbfounded. From the short time she had known the man, she knew he had some instruction in the Chant and basic tenants of spirituality. Certainly he didn't buy into the superstitious ignorance of the masses. Prayer, while useful to attune one's spirit to the will of the Maker, was not something to be treated as a wish list or petition to control the creator of the universe. She started to protest, but looking on the old man laying on the cot, she felt sorrow and pity, IF the action of invoking the maker brought some comfort in this and helped the poor man along as he passed form this world, perhaps there was some value in it. She felt powerless, and pathetic to draw upon mere sentiment. All the same, she collapsed to her knees and began to sing. Her voice resonated off the dark walls of their underground prison. A serene and haunting aria, that might just shake back the gloom in this place of death.

While Elinowy prayed over the old man, Kalian knelt next to him on the other side and rested one hand on the man's chest, and held his hand. Opening himself to the fade, Kalian poured healing magic into the old man's body. The rattle faded from his breath, and the old man settled into a deeper sleep. "Thank the Maker," said Kalian without the slightest hint of irony. It was the sister's prayer that made this tiny ruse possible. "I think your prayers helped him."

"What?" Martin, who'd been distractedly looking around for potential weapons, looked back at the old man, utterly flabbergasted. He'd certainly never heard of a prayer having such an effect on a physical wound before.

"Arise, Aegis of the Faith..." he whispered, quoting the Chant, staring at Elinowy, then back at the old man. Slowly he knelt by the Fereldan to examine him, still stunned by what he'd just seen. The old man's eyes fluttered open and he looked back at them in surprise, clearly much more aware of his surroundings now, though still weak.

There could really only be two explanations for this; either Sister Elinowy was a mage, or she was blessed by the Maker. And, since Martin had not seen her cast a spell, that only left one option really. He stared at her, half-expecting a divine halo to flare around her.

Elinowy continued her song, her thoughts absorbed in the melody and expression of grief her soul felt. She began to be aware of others saying something. Her eyes opened to see the others staring in awe at the old man she knelt by and at her. She didn't understand.

"This... this is incredible, Sister," Martin whispered. "How did you do that?"

To be fair, she looked as surprised as he was. If she'd looked remotely smug he'd have assumed some kind of trick. Her surprise suggested that she was being genuine. Martin looked back down at the old man. Was he special in some way, for the Maker to grant this prayer when he'd turned his eyes away from this world long ago ? Or was Sister Elinowy simply blessed in some way?

Unaware of the turmoil in Martin's thoughts, the old man gave Elinowy a crooked, gapped-tooth smile. "Thank you, Sister," he said hoarsely in heavily-accented Orlesian.

Kalian, on the other hand, looked distinctly uneasy. Even though he'd been the one to suggest Elinowy pray, he'd probably not expected it to work.

This, whatever it was, had to mean something, though Martin couldn't fathom what.

Elinowy looked about her silently. "I did nothing." she said quite honestly. Truthfully she looked frightened. Whatever was going on, was none of her doing. The Maker intervening in such an affair was unheard of. Only Andraste could make petition of the Maker, and she had done nothing of the sort, only a song of praise in mourning. Something was out of place. Was this a sign. That would require an inquest by the Chantry. Such things did not take place. Healing was a reaction to elements in nature... water, herbs, sunlight. Spontaneous restoration was a work of Magic that perverted the will of the Maker. She looked around her. There were only her companions, and the sick. Her thoughts went to the Elf that had accompanied them with Orla. But he had departed when they arrived. Did the mine employ a Mage? Or was this an act of an apostate?

Her eyes shifted back and forth between her companions. Kalian was a simple helper in an Inn. He was quick to help others, and despite his sister's taint of elfin religiosity, seemed unremarkable in his aspirations. Martin was a guard. One who carried authority, but he was also a failed Templar? Why had he left the order. If he was a mage, they would have pursued him, not freely socialize with him. Something was indeed odd, she would need to keep a wary eye on him.

Kalian's dark skin took on a redder shade. Maferath's balls! His little ruse to help the poor man without giving himself away had gone both much better, and much worse, than he'd expected. And now he feared that when his two new friends found out he'd tricked them, neither would trust him ever again. And yet, healing the man had been the right thing to do. "The important thing is, he's feeling better."

The apostate-hiding-in-plain-sight went to check on the girl, in her late teens, and very thin. He rested his hand on her forehead, she was hot with fever.

The old man took the pitcher of water and drank thirstily despite its murky appearance. "My granddaughter, Marie," said the old man with tears in his eyes. "Wore herself out trying to make up for my weakness, worked hard enough for both of us. Will you sing your prayer for her also, my Lady?"

"Yes," Martin echoed. "Will you ? It sounds like a good idea." Now that the shock was receding, his natural inclination towards mistrust and skepticism returned in full force. Whatever had happened here was either a miracle, or magic, or a trick ; and he dearly wanted to know which it was. This time, if Sister Elinowy worked her miracle, he'd be watching closely.

Just then, he heard the heavy footsteps of a small group approaching, and a glance towards the entrance of the cave revealed Roxa, Gangue, Rhiannon and her guards approaching.

Elinowy looked at the old man looking for healing for his granddaughter, taken aback and in terror of what was being requested of her. This was not her doing... she didn't think. The Maker did not intervene in the affairs of man until they turned to helping one another. Wasn't she trying to help the others? Maybe the maker just needed simple obedience to make statement to the people. Elinowy didn't feel blessed, just aghast and confused. This was the work of Magic, she was convinced. And Martin was egging her on in his ruse. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at him. Not today apostate! Her eyes locked on Martin's as she began to once more sing. If he flinched to open the fade, she would catch it.

As far as Kalian could tell, the girl was malnourished and exhausted, but in better shape than her grandfather had been. Kalian once again used his healing magic, with as much subtlety as he could manage.

Marie's fever broke and her eyes fluttered open. "Grandfather? I feel better, so much better," she said, then slipped into a peaceful sleep.

"My lady! You are indeed a worker of miracles!" The old man knelt at Elinowy's feet and kissed the hem of her skirt.

Elinowy kept her eyes steeled on Martin, her vocals for the song well pitched, but lacking the depth and emotion of her previous cantering. Upon the old man falling at her feet she literally shrieked. "Eeek!" she stopped singing and knelt down besides the old man. "Please no. I am nothing. Just a sister, and you my brother. Please stand. If this is a Miracle by the Maker, rejoice and be grateful in thanksgiving. Hold your Granddaughter close. For the will of the Maker will always be made manifest. We don't know how long we have our loved ones. Cherish them."

She helped the old man to his feet and then approached the newly healed young woman. She gently felt the woman's forehead with the back of her fingers. The fever was gone. She shot a look over at Martin.

Martin's eyes narrowed as he watched the old man pay obeisance to his robed saviour. Something was off. He had been entirely focused on her as she prayed, yet he had felt nothing. No blessing, and definitely no magic coming from her. While he had absolute faith in the Maker and the Chantry, he refused to believe that a miracle could occur while he watched, and he felt absolutely nothing, not even the slightest hint of divine grace.

Sister Elinowy was a mystery, that much was certain. She'd arrived in Jader wearing the scarlet robes, yet she had not introduced herself to the Chantry and did everything she could to keep a low profile. She did not seem to have any money, living off the charity of Kalian's sister. Which led Martin to wonder... was she truly a Sister ? Anyone could don a red robe. Many would want the protection such a garment provided. Especially... apostates.

But I saw no magic...

Maybe she was just very, very good at hiding her magic in plain sight. If she was in fact an apostate, she'd have been used to hiding in such a way.

And yet, if that was the answer, this meant she had been willing to risk discovery to help two refugees who had nothing to do with her. She had gone out of her way multiple times to help. She could just have stayed at the inn and enjoyed the hospitality of Kalian's sister, rather than come with them.

"This is really impressive, sister," Martin said quietly. "I'm eager to see what other miracles you may be able to pull off."

He was baiting her, she was sure of it. "I suppose if will be enlightening to us both." she replied coolly to Martin.

"When was the last time you both ate?" asked Kalian.

"If we don't work, we don't eat." The old man hung his head. "Yesterday an elf snuck us some bread. At least, I think that's when it was. Underground like this, the only way to know when one day ends and the next begins is the shift change of Roxa's guards."

"We have to figure out a way to get them some food," said Kalian to Elinowy and Martin. "And we need a plan to rescue all the laborers."

The old man lifted his head, hopeful. "I've been watching them, the guards. I know their habits. Let me help get my granddaughter out of here alive."

Martin's hand fell at his side, looking for the hilt of a sword that he did not find. He wasn't sure about Elinowy. That was bothersome. If he knew for sure they had a mage in their ranks he could have worked with that, and sorted out later the legal intricacies involved in having an apostate running loose ; but so far all he had were suspicions. And there was little time to hatch a complicated plan anyway ; any second now the guards would bark at them to get back to work. Roxa's arrival had provided a welcome diversion but it wouldn't last.

"Freeing the labourers is our most pressing goal," he said. "There'll be time to tend the wounded after that, and in much better conditions." He paused, thinking quickly. "I saw some of the workers are in chains. Troublemakers, I take it?"

"Oh, yes," the old man said, nodding. "There aren't enough chains for everyone, and it makes it harder to work, so they save them for the ones who caused the most problems. A few of us tried to fight their way out some weeks ago. They didn't get far, and once they were taken down the rest of us surrendered. Not that I was much use either way." He looked down at his thin arms, the bones jutting out beneath the skin, the thick blue veins running across the back of his hands like a spider's web.

"If we could free them," Martin said, looking at Kalian and Elinowy, "they could help us rally the workers and start a riot. They outnumber the guards four to one, at least. If we organise them we have a decent chance." He was tempted there and then to ask Elinowy if she was a mage, to confess if she was so they had a better chance to make it ; but it was unlikely she'd admit it in front of so many witnesses, and he didn't want the others to be distracted when their lives were at stake.

Martin spoke of revolt and uprising. That sounded more like the man of action he had claimed to be. But Elinowy considered that he was correct. The important thing was to free these people and bring the attention of the authorities to this clandestine mining operation. There would be time to properly ferret out Apostates when their situation was less dire.

"I agree. Free the troublemakers, rally them all," said Kalian, still surprised that neither of his friends had called him out for using magic, instead Martin and Elinowy cast suspicious glances at each other. "We should coordinate so all the workers riot at the same time, so the guards will be overwhelmed. I'll bet Roxa isn't paying her guards so generously they won't run if they can."

"Any idea where the keys to their chains may be ?" Martin asked.

The old man nodded. "The head guard has them. A dwarf called Theriana. Blond hair, big nose, wears a brigandine. Sometimes she leaves them with her helmet by the fire, but usually she wears them at her belt."

Martin thought he'd seen her, she had been standing slightly aloof from the dice game as if to pretend she wasn't taking part in it, but she'd been just as interested in the outcome as any of her men.

"Two choices then," he said. "We can try to get the keys, but I don't see how we can do that without raising the alarm. Or we can use our mining tools, and try to break the lock to get the chains open." He glanced back. "Either way we need to decide quickly, if we want to use the distraction of Roxa's presence to our advantage."

"We'll have to wait until Theriana is asleep to get her keys." As a rat, Kalian was pretty sure he could steal the keys if she was sleeping. As an owl, he could scoop up the keys if she left them on the ground. Too many ifs. "Breaking the locks with mining tools might be our best option."

Elinowy looked over at Roxa's group, that had not yet become aware of their group in the infirmary. "It is clear that we must bring this operation to an end. What could be a source of prosperity to the region is being hoarded by the greedy. This could be so much more. "The dwarf Roxa could be good leverage in controlling the rest of the guards."

Kalian followed Elinowy's gaze to where Roxa had entered the main cavern, along with Rhiannon, the dwarf they'd met on the road, and two of her guards. He'd liked the pretty dwarf and wanted to believe that she'd have nothing to do with Roxa if she knew what was really happening here. "Roxa has that qunari to defend her, so we'd have to defeat them both. What about Rhiannon, do you think she and her guards would join us in leading a rebellion, or defend Roxa?"

"We can try to work with her," Martin said dubiously. By the looks of it, Rhiannon was a smuggler so he was less than confident she'd help them - potential witnesses - over Roxa - her potential employer. "It costs nothing to give it a shot, but we shouldn't count on it." He almost suggested that Elinowy pray for a change of heart in Rhiannon, but held back. Snark was not going to help.

"The dwarf Rhiannon extended kindness to us on the way here and endured awkward missteps on the journey to our benefit." Elinowy stated with a slight shrug at recalling herself falling off the horse. "The Maker would want us to extend like kindness to her, even if its just to remove her form immediate danger."

"So, we need to break the trouble-makers' chains and spread the word among the workers to be ready to revolt," Kalian summarized. "Plus warn Rhiannon, and watch for an opportunity when Roxa is separated from the qunari."

The old man said, "The workers assigned to carry baskets of ore, they move all over the mine. I'll talk to some and they can start passing the message."

"I'll try to speak with Rhiannon." Kalian considered asking Elinowy, who had captured Rhiannon's interest on the road, but the sister was already in enough danger.

"And I'll start working with the miners in chains," Martin said. He had a fair idea how to best break the locks - he used them on a daily basis, and had seen in several instances how prisoners managed to break free of them. He'd also seen a locksmith at work several times, so he knew what the internal workings of the locks looked like. Now was the time to put this knowledge to good use. "Sister Elinowy can start rallying the rest of the miners, she has that touch with the common people." He gave her a wry look.

"I can certainly speak words of encouragement for the workers to come together and throw off their bondage." Elinowy spoke boldly considering the righteous cause of freeing the oppressed.

"We're going to need a signal," Martin said. "Preferably something that is not going to give them a heads-up." He paused, thinking. "Well, the signal could be me hitting one of the guards."

Elinowy was not so certain their insurrection should start with violence, but Martin was certain capable of making a show of it.

Just then their luck ran out, as one of the guards - presumably eager to look like he was actually doing something in front of his boss - popped his head around the corner. "Hey, you ! This ain't break time ! Get back to work you filthy lot !"

"Yes, ser!" The old man lurched fearfully, bent next to his granddaughter and shook her awake. Kalian helped him get her to her feet.

"I needed these worker's help to get a sick worker here to the infirmary. They were just leaving." she spoke out boldly walking directly in front of the guard to block his view of the others. "I need to speak with Roxa about supplies for this infirmary. I can find herbs in the local woods that would improve worker output and health."

The guard looked past Elinowy to the sick workers and laughed unpleasantly. "You're not here to pick flowers in the woods topside. Get back to work." He brandished the whip at his side.

"Come on," said Kalian, with a wink for the old man and a nod to Elinowy and Martin. If they could free the workers, there'd be no need for an infirmary. "You heard him, we have work to do." Kalian planned to warn Rhiannon, then help the old man spread the word.

 

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