The large lobby of the Alrelyin Prison was dark and gloomy, as General Gant Valdrin expected it to be. He had been in his share of prisons over the years-never as a prisoner-and he had seen what was in them and what could be done in them. They were not the most comfortable or hospitable places to be.
Bars lined the doors and the far wall was a mirror looking out into the Fallen-Gale Ocean, with its dark waters and waving horizons of unnatural beauty. A storm raged outside, turning the waves and slamming the rain into the large castle-prison-and windows, with thunder rolled the heavens and lightening threatening the most brave-hearted man. The prison rested in the water, five miles from shore, and had stood here for thousands of years but Gant still doubted the sturdiness of the ancient building. Famous paintings of battles and ballrooms and weapons all lined the walls (strange for a prison; fit for a palace) and as General Valdrin waited patiently for the guardian of Alrelyin Prison, he admired these separate works with much interest. War wasn't the only thing in his life; he cared for the finer things as well.
With his gauntlets still stuffed into his belt behind his sword hilt, the general quickly moved to the edge of the window-wall and stared out at the beautiful rolling waves of the Fallen-Gale, intensified with beauty in this storm. The night sky was already darker with the storm and Gant found himself questioning his choice of coming out to the prison so late. Well, he couldn't change the way things were; this was important after all.
"General Valdrin, I'm so sorry that I kept you waiting," the guardian of the prison started in sympathetic tones as he approached the general. Gant turned his attention away from the ocean and met the man's gaze with his own hard-eyed one, hard-eyed from battle, not from anger. He may have been a highly ranked general but he rarely ever felt anger. "But you asked to see Prisoner 427's record, is that right?" Gant nodded, quickly brushing long graying brown hair from his face as he did.
"No need to worry about it Guardian," General Valdrin replied, using the man's respectable title, to not upset his trust. But in truth, he didn't know the middle-aged man's name. Beside Gant's tall figure, the man was short with balding black hair, and knowledge eyes behind his black- rimmed glasses. "I will gladly wait patiently. I have no desire to rush your process; I know how hard it is to keep a prison as vast and high- secured as this. I hear that this is a maximum security prison, is it not Guardian?" The short man nodded with a quick twitch of his neck.
"This way General, "the Guardian continued, handing Gant the black covered book and holding a hand out in front of him. "Follow me. I will lead you to his cell. We hold Prisoner 427 in the upper levels of the tower, it might take awhile. I'm sure your ship won't mind waiting." Gant shook his head. "Ah, General, he's an interesting character indeed. Do you know anything about Prisoner 427?"
General Valdrin, who had already thumbed through the first several pages of the book, shook his head in both uncertainty and confusion. "I don't know anything about him Guardian. And his file doesn't tell me much about his identity nor his life. It doesn't even tell his true name for Gods' sake! Hell, all I know about him is that some people refer to him as the Storm Bringer and nothing more."
The Guardian laughed, he actually laughed, as they started up a dimly lit stairway that seemed to never end, his laughter echoing in the growing darkness like an uneasy cry for help. Gant actually felt childish for feeling his sword hilt for unsteady reassurance. "That is true General." The short man's knowledgeable voice was disturbing in some fashion. "Not much is known about him and not many at all know about him. Many have erased him from their minds while others have hidden their knowledge of him completely. We have actually tried to erase him from history and as you can tell, it's working quite well. You will know his name after you meet him General; if you decide to change your choice."
"Gods!" General Valdrin exclaimed as they exited the stairwell and started down a dark damp hallway. Gant could feel the heavy winds waving the top of the tower, teetering back and forth with uneasy concern. "Is he an assassin?" The short man nodded with another laugh. Perhaps life in a prison could do that to someone. "Hell, he assassinated all these people?"
"Yes and more that we might not know about."
"King Lavin, King Martin, Chancellor Bekdrin, General Witran, General Xalnon, Captain Grapash, Captain Vollin," Gant recited the list as he read. And the list went on further down the page. There must have been two dozen names listed and the Guardian had said more that they didn't know of. Prison 427 was dangerous, Gant could tell already before even meeting the man. "And he admitted to every single assassination after he was captured? Why didn't he change his name or try to escape? Surely he could have done either with ease."
The Guardian shrugged his shoulders as he led the general down the dim hallway of the prison. "None of us know why. But he admitted to every murder with pride and a smile. He's not an insane man, in fact, we don't know what's wrong with him, if there is even anything wrong with him. He's brilliant and a skilled killer, as you can tell, but for some reason, he didn't argue with being captured. You'll have to ask him that yourself General."
General Valdrin studied the black stone walls, dripping with mold and water, and then looked a second time in confusion. There were no cells on either side of the wall. The hallway was bare of cells and guards; only torches lined the thick stone walls. "Is he the only prisoner on this hallway Guardian? On this tower?"
"Yes." The word seemed full of happiness and delight. Gant was just glad the man didn't start laughing again. "We thought it better this way. He's been in that cell," he pointed to the dark cell at the opposite end of the hallway, "his entire time . We thought it better for him to run his mistakes through his head with peace and silence. I think it's working so far. He hasn't attacked the other prisoners in quite some time." He abruptly stopped in front of the cell bars and said, "We're here."
General Valdrin looked up from the book, folded down the corner of the page, slammed it closed, and let it fall to the floor as he crossed his arms over the dark gray cloak wrapped around his body, still dripping from his adventure in the rain not even half an hour ago. "This his cell?"
"Yes," the Guardian answered in a not-quite-happy voice this time. "Prisoner!" He hit the bars as he raised his voice. "Prisoner 427!" Gant noticed the slight movement of a shadow in the darkness but that was it. The general felt eyes searching his entire body, he knew they were; he wasn't surprised that this man had been such a successful assassin. "Are you awake prisoner!"
"Yes." It was a single word that rose in a deep voice from the depths of the darkness inside the cell. Gant recoiled from the sudden coolness of the voice but quickly re-gathered himself with alarm. "Shut your mouth Guardian! You know I'm still here. Where else would I be?" A tall window lined the back of the cell allowing a view of the sky and ocean below. No bars were present, that was a long fall to a certain death; they were not needed.
"Don't you speak that way to me prisoner!" The short man yelled back furiously. He turned to Gant and softened his voice. "As you can tell General, he has no manners at all." Turning back to the cell bars, he yelled, "You will show respect to me as well as the general here you scum! Watch your manners or I'll drag you to the dungeon myself!" He turned to leave but instead, walked to the nearest wall and leaned back against it casually. "He's all yours General."
Gant didn't know what to say or how to start a conversation with this prisoner so he simply stood patiently in front of the cell and waited for a good phrase to pop into his head. "A general, huh?" The deep voice spoke from the darkness again and Gant saw a tall figure, easily as tall as himself, move out of the shadows and sit down on the panel of the large window, with his head turned towards the storm. "Impressive title. That takes skill; you must be a good military man." Shoulder length hair waved as he talked in a deep voice as knowledgeable as that of the Guardian's. This man was no fool.
"You have a very impressive record yourself prisoner," General Valdrin started in what might have been called a casual voice. "I see that you are a skilled assassin, perhaps the best." There was a slight nod from the prisoner's head, his face still turned away, and his well-built frame still outlined by the light of the lightening. "Why did you not change your name or deny the assassinations?"
"Good question general," the man laughed delightfully. "I chose my career as I chose what choices to make. And my two laws as an assassin, two laws that I have never and will never break, are simple general. Never chose the wrong weapon, this can get you killed, and always take full responsibly for your actions. I will never tell my employers name; I take all the consequences." Gant found himself amazed by the man's bravery and wondered why he was actually here.
"Prisoner, how long have you been here?"
"A good seven years in this damned cell!" The man said calmly but angrily. "I've been stuck here for seven years and I won't be leaving anytime general. I know my consequences and this is what I have gotten and accepted." The man was brave and well-minded. "I don't blame them for what they have done to me."
General Valdrin stared at the figure in the window and tried to see that man's face but they were still hidden in the darkness. This man was brilliant, well-spoken, and a sneaky assassin as well as a skilled warrior. As a general, Gant knew what type of men were warriors at heart and this man was beyond that.
In his thoughts, Gant didn't even hear the man start laughing; a soft laughter of knowledge not insanity. "They call me the Storm Bringer General. But this storm raging outside was not brought by me; something else wakened this storm from its deep rest." He got up from his sitting position in front of the tall window and slowly started across the cell floor to the bars, with the rags he wore wavering with his movements.
As the prisoner stopped and leaned against the bars of the cell, General Valdrin saw that the man's eyes were dark blue and even in the darkness, they held an eerie shine that seemed to catch hold of your soul and keep it captured inside them. As he looked out at Gant, with those creepy eyes, dim light shone across his face but most of it was hidden behind long wavy black hair that fell over his shoulders and hid his face well. But those penetrating eyes didn't seem to lose any control, even after seven years of being held up in this horrid place, they still held brilliant and a knowing knowledge of the world.
General Valdrin met the prisoner's blue-eyed stare with a commanding stare of his own and wasn't surprised when the prisoner didn't back down. "What's your name prisoner?" He shot a cautious glance at the Guardian but the short man was still leaning against the wall ignoring the entire conversation. "I need to know your name prisoner. And I need to know if you're ever heard of the Dar Margerth?" His gaze never wavered from that of the prisoner's.
With a smirk growing on his face, the prisoner laughed softly and replied, "What? They won't tell you who I really am. Are they afraid to?" He paused and seemed to think for a second. "No, I've never heard of the Dar Margerth but by the expression on your face General, I don't think you're too fond of them. Want to know my name, huh?" He laughed again and leaned closer to the bars of his cell. "Amadeus Nightvale." He stepped back into the shadows after speaking his name, walked to the window again and turned his head to gaze out at the raging storm again. "And this storm outside General, I have a bad feeling about it. I think that these Dar Margerth may have wakened it from its rest. This could be the worse storm yet General."
Gant recoiled again from the calm eeriness of the prisoner's-Amadeus'- voice. Amadeus was a smart man and the way he said that last made the hair on the back of Gant's neck go up. "I'll get you out of here Amadeus." The way the man glanced over his shoulder at the general didn't comfort him any. He hoped he had made the right choice.