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The longboat silently drifted through the water, snaking its way through reeds and lily-pads, slowly advancing on the Merscafen Mine. Seven bodies huddled in middle, one with platinum hair glinting in the moonlight beneath a dark cloak. She pulled the fabric of the cloak closer around her head. Not even a lamp shone to lead the way. Though having never been here before, Rhiannon wordlessly directed the boat through the swamp by intuiting the path with the fewest obstacles and greatest coverage.
The men and Rhiannon crouched low to the ground to beach the boat and secured it with reeds to a nearby tree. Each man unloaded his gear; bows and arrows, daggers, and shortswords made their way to dry land.
Mercafen Mine had recently been partially fortified with watchtowers, manned by a garrison of the Halig Freccan. It was home to large forges and a great many blacksmiths. There was a rumor that Thorgil’s Hammer was also kept here - and the rumor may very well be true, as covered wagons with chests full of enchanted swords, bows, and axes were seen by the company as they peeked through the reeds.
“He is here. My Cerdic - he is being tortured in the depths.” Rhiannon had heard tales even as a young girl about the myriad of tunnels, chambers, and dark places beneath the earth in the swamp near Acholm. The Ealdorman - Mark II - had turned some of the chambers into a deep, dark, dangerous prison for those that spoke against him.
The company waited for Rhiannon’s motion. All were accomplished hunters and scouts from Wiccaweald, and as such knew her ways. The company sniped a few guards sweeping the perimeter near the mine, and hid their bodies. Rhiannon lead them into a hidden entrance in a hillside on the western side; the company descended into the permanent night of the mine.
The early inhabitants of the Acholm area discovered a large vein of high quality, almost pure iron in the early days of the settlement. It instantly attracted camps of men whom mined day and night for ages. The original vein of iron ore is still being mined as our company searches through the tunnels. In the depths of the mine, emeralds, gold, lapis, redstone, silver, and even limited amounts of mithril were found. Once the mine was large enough, great forges were constructed using lava brought in from the nether. Nowhere else in Östlaed was the influence of dwarves seen more than in Merscafen Mine.
Rhiannon and the company soon were lost navigating the twists and turns of the mine. How could they ever find Cerdic? They continued to avoid speaking, instead communicating in low candle-light when necessary. A length of strong, but light rope tied to each of their waists prevented their separation. Hope was given and taken many times as they stumbled upon old store rooms and abandoned halls deep underground. Rhiannon knew they had to simply find a nicer tunnel somewhere - Mark II would never visit such a place (oh and he certainly would to verbally torture Cerdic!) unless he could visit cleanly and with a tug of Östron Old Ale in his belly.
The company realized slowly that they might never leave. The first night passed, and the first day, then the second night. They were beyond exhausted. On the second morning - or was it night again? - Rhiannon woke from a dream. She dreamt she was laying in boughs of leaves below the great tree of the Groeneweald, snuggling with her lovely Cerdic. Breathing heavily, she sat up from her dream. She was cold, yet sweating.
They continued on their journey in the depths of the world. Deep, deep, deep the tunnels dove into the ground. One of the company found a small opening that had warm air coming from it - was there a fire nearby? Carefully, and ever so silent, they walked through the small tunnel. Even Rhiannon, the shortest of the company, had to squeeze through sections.
Open air. Open, warm air. They had stumbled upon an old service tunnel, one that lead to a still used transport tunnel. Clearly a fire was lit nearby, but perhaps not so close. Even a fire from several hundred feet in any direction would warm the frigid air of this stinking cave. The noise of minecarts hitting metal rails rang through the tunnel. The sound came closer, yet still in the distance. As it neared, the company spied on it from a rocky outcrop above the rail.
The cart was not carrying ore, but carrying an empty cask! The old transport tunnel must have lead to a trash pit of some kind. That detail doesn’t matter - they clearly had found a way to the core of the mine. Investigating the stopped cask, they soon spotted the mark of the royal brewery. Miners, hell, not even knights get that ale.
The company climbed up the minecart rail, quickly rising several hundred feet closer to the surface. Chuckling, merrymaking, and cursing became clearer as they climbed. Soon, Rhiannon could discern at least 5 separate voices. It became clear that Mark II was here at this very moment. They were very lucky to discover this minecart tunnel.
Unfortunately, the tunnel took them above the noise. The company stopped to listen some more:
“Oh, Cerdic. I am so glad you are here! It’s really too bad you can’t have a drink” It was the voice of Mark II. Rhiannon almost shrieked in both horror and excitement.
“Oh brother, why will you not just come out and talk to the people? Tell them of your crimes! Tell them that stupid elf will be the ruin of us all! Mark splashed Cerdic with ale, and continued to laugh like the fat idiot he had become.
Cerdic whispered through his teeth “I’ve not the slightest clue what you are talking about, for the final time.” Of course, he knew very well what was going on - but feigning ignorance had worked so far. “I will be trapped in here forever” Cerdic thought. “I only hope he is killed.”
Mark II stood up - rather, stumbled up - and gave Cerdic a farewell: “Well brother, the next time I see you I will bring you the scalp of that elf. Perhaps a few other good ones. Perhaps, perhaps I won’t see you at all.” With that, Mark II and his personal guard left the prison complex. Many other prisoners yelled expletives at the Ealdorman.
Soon all was quiet. The company began to search for a way to connect to the prison complex - was it really that blocked off? How did the empty cask get down there? While crawling around in the dark, Rhiannon broke through a rusted iron gate, and fell onto hard granite. The company of men slowly poured through the opening, and checked on her to ensure her health. A quick healing potion took care of her immense soreness from the fall.
Empty cells. Everywhere. Why did Mark II need so many empty cells? It felt like their wandering was over, but wander they did for a long time still. Rhiannon and her band of fleet-footed scouts might have never found Cerdic, until a voice rang through the tunnels:
“Home is behind the world ahead,
And there are many paths to tread,
Through shadow to the edge of night,
Until the stars are all alight.
Mist and shadow,
Cloud and rain,
We shall raid,
We shall raid”
It was Cerdic! Rhiannon’s heart lept for joy. She was familiar with his old raiding song he often sang when alone. Cerdic was not to be alone for much longer.
The company quickly found his prison cell. Cerdic was so bewildered by her presence. The first thing he said to her was “You must get these men out of here! ALl of these men are political prisoners! They will help our cause! One of the company was an expert lockpick, and quickly picked Cerdic’s lock, then the others. “We have to leave at once. The guards will be back in half an hour. How did you even find this place? I have so many questions.” Cerdic seemed full of energy, despite months of barely eating and uncomfortable sleep.
Many hours later, wandering through the tunnels, and a short journey via boat, Cerdic and Rhiannon were safe in the borders of Wiccaweald. Somehow the guards never noticed the prisoners missing. I’m sure the families of the guards noticed their husbands and fathers never came home as well.
There are no heroes in war.
(Written with Rhiannon Accynnafon)
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Ealdorman Cerdic Beoden Accynnafon of Östlond
Runner Up of the Glas Claddach Boat Building Competition
Minister of Justice
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