The travelling oubliette came to a halt in the courtyard outside Schadbane. The prison towered above the high courtyard walls. Grey and angular - it resembled an enormous gravestone. This was very apt. Every prisoner in Schadbane was serving a life sentence with no visitation rights. To those on the outside, they might as well have been dead.

  Two guards untied the thick leather straps that held the shafts of the oubliette together. The sudden release of tension caused them to spring out of the holes in the large stone sphere. For a moment, it sat undisturbed. Major Hass watched with the same sickly grin he had flashed at Elfbones before they set off. There was an unsettling hunger in his eyes as he motioned towards one of his men. The guard rushed forwards with a large metal rod, flattened at one end. He worked it between the two halves of the sphere. With one big push, the halves separated, crashing onto their sides and kicking up dust.

  There was silence. As the dust settled, the major prepared to have his men recover the body inside.

  “Who likes their meat tenderised?” he said to a chorus of laughter.

  The laughter faded as a figure emerged from the dust. Elfbones rose to his feet and climbed out of the stone hemisphere. Grazes and bruises covered his head and face. His steps had the unsteady wobble of deep exhaustion. His eyes blinking, he looked around in confusion.

  The major made no attempt to hide his disappointment. Somewhere an astonished guard forgot himself and clapped his hands together, “Ha!”.

  Hass exploded, “Who was that?” A chilled silence was his answer.

  Two guards stood nearby with buckets and mops. “Should we still clean it?” One said, peering into the hemispheres. “There’s barely any blood or nothing.”

  Hass did not answer. He stood stone still and stared at Elfbones. It was a murderous stare, but Elfbones was too bemused to care. Memories slowly pieced themselves together in his mind - his arrest, imprisonment in the travelling oubliette. Beyond that, there was nothing until the sound of the two hemispheres falling open had woken him. Had he slept? That made little sense to him. A sharp pain in his head pulled a further memory into focus. A memory of falling, of blacking out. He turned to look at the two halves of the oubliette. He understood why his head hurt, why his memory was shaken up and, where the journey was concerned, missing. But it made no sense that he had survived the journey in an unconscious state. Then he thought back to the night spent upside-down in Onslow’s hedge. That was it! Just as he had walked in his sleep then, so had he in the oubliette. His cramping leg muscles confirmed this. I’m quite the athlete when I’m unconscious, he thought.

  “There’s a little bit of blood there, look,” said one guard with a mop.

  The other said, “Oh yes, there’s a little bit of—“

  “Leave it!” said the major. “Just get it out of here and prepare for the trial.”

  “Should I inform the king? He wanted to—” said another guard.

  “Inform the king that the outlaw has arrived!” said Major Hass to no-one in particular. He kept his eyes upon Elfbones and jabbed a deliberate finger in his direction. “You don’t move.”

  Elfbones was more than happy to oblige. He wasn’t even sure he could move if he wanted to. “Can I sit?” he asked.

  “No,” said the major.

  The soldiers of the Royal Guard worked at great speed. It didn’t take them long to remove the oubliette from the courtyard. Next, they installed a rather ornate lectern at the top of the steps leading up to the prison entrance.

  During this time, Elfbones looked around. He noticed that there was only a single gateway into the courtyard. The surrounding walls were unbroken by windows or doors. At every corner, atop the surrounding wall, sat a guard post with at least four archers in each. Above the walls, on the north side, was a sheer cliff-face. The prison itself emerged from the side of a mountain. It was one part of a range that delineated the northern border of the kingdom. The Narrows, locals called it. Elfbones remembered seeing it on his map. It extended for many miles east-to-west. But, at its deepest, it only covered a distance of about a mile northwards. What it lacked in depth, it made up for in height. In fact, Elfbones couldn’t see the tops of the mountains. As he stood awaiting his fate, they disappeared into dark, foreboding clouds.

  After a while, the courtyard filled with silence. Most of the soldiers had either left or were standing around the perimeter. Elfbones stood alone in the very centre.

  It felt like an age had passed when the remaining guards in the courtyard advanced on Elfbones. They had their swords drawn, and each one was pointing straight at him. They halted mere feet away. A wheel formed with swords for spokes and Elfbones as its hub. He couldn't move without fear of cutting himself.

  Somewhere behind him, there was a commotion. The sound of heavy wood drawn across wood, metal across metal. Then the creaking of the enormous hinges on the courtyard gate.

  The guards surrounding Elfbones tensed. Through them he could see very little, but was aware of movement. Some people passing and heading, in silence, towards the prison steps.

  “Court is in session!” The voice came from the steps. It was high and nasal and, though it was commanding, struggled to sound authoritative.

  “Resume stations!” The voice of Major Hass cracked the courtyard walls.

  The guards immediately retreated to the perimeter and Elfbones was once more alone.

  The area around the lectern was no longer empty. A throng of judges huddled to one side of it. On the other stood Major Hass. His chin held high and his glare angled down his nose straight towards Elfbones. Behind the lectern stood a figure in the most ridiculous of outfits. Robes made from golden feathers. Atop their head sat a gigantic velvet tam that drooped like a depressed cushion. It took a moment of intense inspection for Elfbones to see that this ridiculous figure was King Jasper.

  The king stood in silence for some time. The silence in the courtyard amplified the cries of the eagles that circled above the prison.

  “Read the charges!” the king finally spoke.

  The nearest judge held up a piece of paper. “The defendant is charged with high treason…”

  Of course they are framing it like that, thought Elfbones, you can’t send someone to jail simply for embarrassing the king.

  “…trespass and criminal damage…”

  I suppose my escape through the woods, but criminal damage? Do they mean the branches that broke when they caught on my suit?

  “…assault…”

  I wouldn’t consider the use of the crushed seed pod against the turkey-elephant to be assault. It was self defence.

  “…attempted murder—”

  “Murder!” Elfbones cried out.

  “The prisoner will be quiet!” replied Major Hass.

  “In the execution of their cowardly escape,” one of the other judges said, “the defendant attempted to drown a member of the Royal Guard, as well as a steed of the Royal Stables.”

  “That’s not true,” Elfbones said.

  “Quiet!” Major Hass's face burned bright red.

  The first judge returned to his piece of paper. “Further to these, the defendant faces charges of defying arrest, resisting arrest, arrest evasion, and maritime sabotage.”

  Elfbones baulked. Maritime sabotage? Are they just making this stuff up now? Surely they have enough to justify locking me away already? He was considering whether to risk the wrath of Hass by contesting the charge when the king spoke.

  “Maritime sabotage? This is news to me. Elaborate.”

  “It is a late addition to the charge sheet, your majesty,” said a third judge. “The good ship ‘The King Jasper’ was righted some ten miles out of port. Evidence only recently uncovered suggests that the defendant was on board but jumped ship and returned to land around the time of its righting. He is our one and only suspect.”

  “What of the passengers aboard the King Jasper?”

  “I am informed that all are well. Their journey has continued in the righted ship. Emergency pumps have been deployed to provide as comfortable an atmosphere as possible. I have been assured that all onboard are grateful to your majesty for the hard work of your crew.”

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  “What an abhorrent wretch. It is to society’s benefit that we remove him from the general population. But I’m getting ahead of myself.”

  “Your majesty,” Elfbones could not help himself, “I must object!”

  The king’s nostrils flared and lip curled as though he was being subjected to the worst of smells. “Boy!” said Major Hass. He turned to the king. “Sire, we have restraints.”

  “No no. We are not barbarians,” said the king. “This kingdom is built upon a foundation of righteous equanimity. There are laws, rules, traditions that ensure due process. A defendant will not be restrained any more than is necessary to ensure the safety of those here present, and must always be free to argue their case.”

  This was a pleasant surprise to Elfbones. “Thank you, your majesty. I—”

  “The defendant will remain silent during the presentation of charges!” said one judge.

  The king turned to the judge who held the charge sheet. “Are there any further charges?”

  “No, your majesty.”

  “Then I will render my judgement. I find the defendant guilty on all counts and sentence him to life imprisonment here at Schadbane. The sentence is to begin immediately.”

  “Your majesty!” said Elfbones.

  “Quiet!” said Major Hass.

  Unperturbed, Elfbones continued, “Your majesty! You said that I would have a chance to argue my case.”

  Hass motioned to the guards, who ran to Elfbones and restrained him.

  “Silly boy,” said the king as he made his way down the prison steps, “you can’t argue your case once the verdict has been rendered.”

  With that, the king made his way out of the courtyard, trailed by the judges.

  The last of the judges spoke to Elfbones as he passed, “Accept your fate, boy. There is nothing you can do. Make of it what you can.”

  The king and his entourage were gone, and Elfbones was led up the stone steps of Schadbane prison. Elfbones couldn’t believe what was happening to him. How was it possible that, within the space of a few days, he had gone from care-free student to prisoner? The absurdity of the previous days sat uncomfortably next to the seriousness of his current situation. It made his head swim.

  The great doors at the top of the stairs groaned open. Beyond was a tall corridor lined with guards on two levels. At ground level they bore swords, and on a mezzanine above, bow and arrow. At the far end was a small revolving door. Elfbones approached. Two guards standing on a platform above the door lifted, with no little effort, a large wooden rod. When lowered, the rod blocked the door from revolving.

  “This is the only way in or out,” one soldier escorting Elfbones said with a sickening jollity, “only, well, this here door don’t turn the other way, so it’s really just a way in.”

  Every guard within earshot laughed a mechanical laugh. They had heard the joke a thousand times before, but they still wanted to register their approval.

  “Yeah, and don’t think about followin’ the door round to come back out again either,” said another soldier. “There’s a pit, see. On the right-hand side. A nasty drop.” The soldier thought for a second. “Well, we won’t stop you doing that. Might be better off that way. It’s up to you.”

  Elfbones swallowed for what felt like the first time in hours. His stomach tightened as guards marched him forward. His feet struggled to keep up with his body as he entered the revolving door with a shove. The door span with an eager ease, welcoming him to his new home.

  Elfbones stumbled into an enormous atrium that extended far above. Many levels ringed it up to the glass roof far above. Here, shadowy figures moved. Ill-defined in the permanent twilight provided by the roof. There was an unnatural silence. It felt fresh - only a moment old - and its attention was on the boy who had come through the front door. Even though he could not make out a single face, Elfbones sensed the stare of a thousand eyes.

  A loud thud from outside indicated the door was once again locked.

  Thoughts of his parents flooded Elfbones’ mind. What would they think about his new situation? Would they ever even find out? If they did, they would have no opportunity to visit him. He may never see them again. He was reminded of the time he had left home for school. These thoughts pained him so that he pushed them to the back of his mind. They went with a surprising ease that Elfbones attributed to his need to focus on his current predicament.

  “You new?” The voice came from an archway to Elfbones’ left. He hadn’t expected anyone to be that close. He froze, uncertain of what to do.

  A hunched figure shuffled into the light. She wore what appeared to be a nurse’s uniform - somewhat tattered and stained. Her long hair, streaked with grey, was tangled and matted. A laugh rattled up from her throat. “Just a joke. What ya in for?”

  Elfbones hesitated. Everything had happened in quick succession. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to keep private and what he was willing to share. “I…” a wave of realisation swept over him and he fought to hold back tears. “I got a life sentence.”

  “We’ve all got life sentences in here, lovey,” said the woman, “but some are more deserved than others.” She shuffled, crab-like, closer to him and looked him up and down. “Doubt you were a murderer. Right? Just a little-un. Probably got caught scrumping apples in the royal orchard.” At that, the woman let out a sudden laugh that bounced off the atrium walls and up to the glass roof. In reply there came a jumble of murmurs and Elfbones noticed movement on the levels above. The woman noticed it too, and her speech quickened. “You bring anything in with you?” Her eyes were all over him. “Got anything in those fancy pockets?” She lingered on the word ‘fancy’. Elfbones remembered he was in his dress clothes and felt awkward and vulnerable.

  The murmurs were increasing. Somewhere far above, there was a yell. It could have resulted from excitement or excruciating pain. Elfbones couldn’t tell.

  “I don’t have anything,” he said.

  “You do,” said the woman, shuffling closer. “Got some food or a couple of coins. Don’t hold back. I ain’t gonna take it all, just a sharing. You give to me and I help you out, tell you the workings of this place, help you get by. Yes?”

  More movement above. Footsteps on the stairs.

  “They’re coming to see the new arrival. You need me.”

  Elfbones stumbled a little as he backed away. “I really have nothing.”

  The wretched nurse’s smile dropped. “Liar! Your pockets - I can see that they bulge!”

  “I’m sorry, but that’s just the way the material—”

  “You filth!” The woman scuttled up to Elfbones and grabbed his shirt, pulling him down to her level. “I’m offering you help and you throw it back in my face. And me in my condition.” Her face softened, her bottom lip pushed outwards. “Just looking for a little something to make the days easier, to bring a smile to this old face.”

  “I don’t —”

  The nurse exploded again. “You’re just like the rest of them!” Her hands were patting him down, interrogating every pocket.

  “What? You really have nothing!” With a tug, she pulled Elfbones closer. “Give me your clothes, then. It gets frightfully cold in here.”

  “But I need them,” said Elfbones.

  “Do you want me to freeze to death? In my condition?”

  “No, but I’d rather not freeze to death, either.”

  “Either you give them to me or they’ll take them.” She jabbed a finger at the shadow-drenched balconies.

  “Nobody is going to take anything from the boy.” Elfbones could not see where the voice came from. The woman’s wide eyes stared past Elfbones. She immediately let go her grip on his shirt and stood bolt upright.

  “No, of course not.” The nurse straightened Elfbones’ clothes and dusted him off with her hand. “Just welcoming him,” she said as she beat a hasty retreat to the shadows of the near archway. Her affliction, whatever it had been, seemed to have ‘magically’ cured itself.

  Elfbones turned to see a tall, broad-shouldered figure approaching. As the dim light fell across him, Elfbones saw the figure was a man in his fifties. He had a strong build, a rugged face etched with scars.

  “She won’t bother you again,” the man said. “Everyone will treat you with dignity and respect,” he continued, much louder, this time addressing the prison as a whole. He then returned his attention to Elfbones. “I have a great deal of sway here, but not everyone will abide by my wishes. There are some vacant cells on the fifth floor that still have doors. The far end on the south side. Take one and secure it in whatever way you can.” He held a thick slab of a hand out. “My name is Viele.”

  “Elfbones.”

  Viele took a second to absorb this information. “Ok.” Then he swung an arm toward a nearby archway, beyond which sat a staircase. “Fifth floor. Keep your chin up, back straight. Weakness is an open invitation to some. Whatever you might feel right now, bury it down deep and stride to your cell like you own the place.” And with a single pat on Elfbones’ shoulder, Viele receded into the shadows.

  Elfbones didn’t pass anyone on the stairs up to the fifth floor. He felt the presence of people out of sight. He wondered whether they would consider sprinting to the far end of the floor as a sign of weakness. Maybe if he jogged, he might be able to pass it off as a bit of exercise before settling down in his new digs. In the end, he walked. He tried his hardest to walk with confidence. Every fibre of his being was contracting inwards, trying to draw him into a little ball.

  Every doorway he passed was open and doorless. Figures occupied some doorways. They were backlit by what little light crept in the small, barred window inside their cell. Elfbones kept his face forwards. He could distinguish nothing about his fellow inmates beyond their presence. But that was enough for now.

  For such a large and well occupied prison, Schadbane possessed an eerie quiet. He had assumed at first that this was because of his arrival. Yet, the silence had remained. Only the odd cry or veiled mumbling overcame it.

  As Viele had said, the last few empty cells on this level still had doors attached. Elfbones chose the furthest of the three. He entered and closed the door behind him. There was no lock. What use was that? He looked on the bright side - at least it might afford him some privacy.

  Inside, the cell was a stone box. There was a bed that was nothing more than a stone slab, about one foot high. There were no sheets, no blankets. In one corner, there was a hole in the floor. A draft from within suggested that the other end of the hole was open to the outside. Elfbones surmised what its use was from the stains around its opening and gave it a wide berth. The small barred window looked out across the hillside that stretched down to the town. If he pressed his face against the bars, he could see the edge of the royal woods far off to his left. In the opposite direction, he could see a ridge upon which sat a lonely little hut beside a leafless tree. He thought he saw movement within the branches of the tree. Something greater than a bird, something clambering about.

  Behind him, the door creaked open. Elfbones turned in the blink of an eye. In the doorway stood an elderly man. He was thin and bent at the knees in a way that suggested his legs were tired of hauling his body around. But Elfbones was wary of appearances after his earlier experience. He took a shaky but brusk tone with the man. “What do you want?”

  The man’s mouth moved, wordless, as he jabbed a finger towards Elfbones’ jacket.

  Elfbones hugged his arms. “Please, just leave me alone.”

  The man remained in the doorway. He ran a hand down the back of the door until it found the handle. As he did, he shot an insistent look at Elfbones while patting the door handle. Again he pointed at Elfbones’ jacket, then made his way to the other side of the doorway. On the wall here was a short, stone protrusion. It may have once been the support for a shelf, but now stood naked and useless. The man’s hand patted the protrusion in the same eager manner as the door handle.

  “What are you doing?” asked Elfbones.

  For a third time, his hands pointed to the jacket. As his wordless mouth spoke instructions, his arms twisted the air in front of him into a knot. Then he stopped and assessed Elfbones for signs of understanding. Disappointed, he shrugged and left.

  Elfbones closed the door behind him. He immediately realised what the old man had been trying to tell him. He took off his jacket and tied the end of one sleeve to the door handle. The other sleeve he tied around the old stone shelf support. Luckily, the broken shaft of an old screw stuck out of the stone and helped to hold the jacket in place. His door was now ‘locked’. It might not hold up to much force, but it was better than nothing.

  For the first time in a long time, Elfbones felt a sense of relief. A wave of exhaustion swept over him. He lay down on the stone slab that was his bed and, despite its hard, rough surface, and the cold, he fell asleep.