Right turn. Third left. Or was it the fourth? Another hall. Past the prison cells. Left. Left again. Right. Down the stairs.
The path to the torture chamber was much shorter than Janus would have preferred. The chamber's rusty metal door opened with a loud creak, letting out a whiff of rot and decay.
The chamber itself was small and lit by torches. On one wall was a rack of various saws, barbed whips, and other small torture devices. In the center of the chamber was a large torture rack. Its previous victim, a male human, remained, its flesh rotting off and its torso stretched far too much for the spine to remain intact. The corpse wore a Freeport Militia tunic, likely part of the price for Daks and his friends meeting Xen and Claw and walking free.
The orc shoved Janus into the chamber, hard enough that Janus tripped and hit his head against the end of the torture rack.
Beside the rack was the torturer, a scrawny orc, sitting on a stool. The burly orc that had led Janus there barked an order at the scrawny one, who sneered and yelled something back. The burly one kicked Janus off to the side and continued its argument with the scrawny orc.
A rusty knife lay by Janus's head, but his hands were shackled behind his back.
He thought of Tyria. An image of Xen carving her heart out came to mind.
Janus pushed the thought away. There was a chain between his shackles. But was it wide enough to work around?
The orcs continued arguing. The burly one's fists quivered as the torturer taunted it. Tyria might be being boiled alive right now.
Janus bent his right knee, searching for the shackles' chain with his foot.
The burly orc slammed its fist on the rack's victim, breaking the shin in two.
Janus's right foot cleared the chain. They might be taking their time with Tyria, cooking her piece by piece.
He gritted his teeth, silently praying to the Marr twins. He asked Mithaniel to grant him and Tyria the valor needed to fight and escape, and Erollisi to protect the woman he cherished so much. Janus couldn't bring himself to ask anything for Elliot.
He bent his left knee, glancing at the rusty knife just inches away from his face. The burly orc left the chamber, swearing and slamming the door shut.
Janus's left foot was almost past the chain. The torturer hopped off its stool.
Its beady eyes met Janus's. Then it glanced at the paladin's work with the chain.
Janus shifted as the torturer lunged for him, the chain awkwardly stuck between his legs. He rolled under the rack, grabbing the rusty knife. The torturer stuck its head beneath the rack, and Janus stabbed at its face.
The angle was awkward and there wasn't nearly enough force to pierce the skull, but it was enough to cut the orc and scare it. As it screamed and clutched at the wound on its cheek, Janus finally got the chain in front of him. He grabbed the knife again.
Finishing the orc was brutal and bloody, but quick and efficient. Janus always made a point that if he had to kill someone or something, he would do so as quickly as possible, while minimizing the risk to himself. As the Lord Marshall of the Knights of Truth had always taught, there was a difference between honor and tactics.
Janus grabbed the key ring off the dead torturer's belt. After a few tries, he found the key to his shackles.
Just as he released his left hand, the door opened to reveal the burly orc, spear in hand. It took a step forward, but stopped as it saw the dead torturer. It grinned at the corpse.
The orc barely got its spear up as Janus lunged. The paladin swung his loose shackle into the orc's face, ignoring the sharp pain in his side. He wrapped the shackles' chain around the orc's neck, snapping it with a sickening crunch.
When the orc slumped to the floor, Janus winced and clutched his side. Blood stained his torn tunic and ran through his fingers. The paladin closed his eyes, quietly praying and invoking the power and authority given him by his deity. His hand glowed blue, and the pain dissipated as his wound closed. All other hurts and injuries disappeared as well.
The usual empty feeling that came with using this power filled him, and he wanted to rest. He ignored the urge. There could still be hope for Tyria. He grabbed the orc's spear and rushed out into the narrow hallways.
"As little as I may care for the company of high elves," Xen said as he examined the hem of Tyria's skirt, "I must confess that I've always admired your people's fashions. This is pure silk, isn't it?"
Tyria said nothing.
"It's quite lovely, although I'm fairly certain the disciples of Mithaniel Marr frown upon such extravagance. I applaud your rebellion against your god."
Tyria still said nothing, but Elliot was certain she was glaring at the dark elf. The ropes bit into Elliot as Tyria pulled at their restraints. The two of them were now tied to a column. The orcs had been dismissed, leaving Tyria and Elliot alone with Xen and Claw, the latter still silent and unmoving.
"You told me—" Elliot said slowly, "—that you would let us go."
"He lied, Elliot," Tyria said sharply.
Xen gasped. "That was uncalled for, my dear. I did not lie. I said that I would consider letting you go, and I am still doing that."
Elliot grimaced. Janus was lost, but he could still get Tyria out of there. He simply needed to bribe the shadowknight further.
"I could serve you, Xen," he said. "Squire, slave, you name it. Just let the two of us live. I'll go to Felwithe and bring you back a high elven family if you wish."
Tyria let her breath out slowly. He couldn't quite see her face, but he had a clear view of her tightening fists. He would apologize for the offer later and make her see why he had to do it.
Xen laughed. "You are simply too much, Elliot. Too much. Tell me, what do you think would be the result if I let you go?"
"I would be useful to you."
"Yes, you've addressed that, but I'm asking what you think will happen between you two. You and Tyria. What will happen?"
Elliot said nothing, and neither did Tyria.
"Do you think that she'll sing your praises? Call you her hero? Visit your room at night and beg you to make love to her?"
"Shut up." There was a low growl in Elliot's voice.
He had indeed fantasized such things about Tyria, but his feelings for her were much more than that. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, to pledge themselves to one another for all eternity. He wanted to be hers, and her to be his.
"I know that you can't see her face right now," Xen said, "but I wish you could. The glares she's made every time you've spoken. Or even better, the way she was so close to tears when you had Janus taken out of the equation."
Elliot thought of Janus. Everyone had to die, and Janus would die in service to his god. If anything, he had done the man a favor, not to mention exchanged one life for two. He could comfort Tyria with this later.
Xen continued. "Her accusation against my honesty is the only thing she's said to you for a while now. She hasn't shown any concern for you since you had your brave commander dragged off to the rack."
Tyria failed to stifle her gasp. Xen smirked as he turned to the elf.
"In fact," he said, "I believe she fancied him."
"Shut up!" Elliot shouted. Tyria had always shown interest in Elliot. She would always hug back whenever he hugged her. They would eat meals together, just the two of them. They would talk and laugh together.
"Is that not the case, Tyria?" asked Xen.
Elliot always initiated their hugs, but Tyria would sometimes initiate them with Janus. His meals with her only happened whenever Janus was otherwise detained. They had talked and laughed together, but Tyria always had much more to talk and laugh about when Janus was around.
Tyria spoke through gritted teeth. "That's not your concern."
Elliot's heart sunk. It wasn't a definite yes. It wasn't a no, but at least it wasn't a yes. She just didn't want to give the dark elf information of any kind. That was all.
"Of course. Forgive me for asking something so personal," said Xen. "In any case, Elliot here seems quite taken with you. How do you feel about that?"
No answer. Elliot's heart pounded and his breath shortened.
"I'll bet—" Xen's voice quieted as he leaned close to Tyria's face. "—Janus has stretched a few inches by now. Our torturer is very good at his work. He doesn't even need magic or potions of any sort to keep his clients alive as long as we ask."
Elliot felt a little nauseous. He might have done things differently had he known how long Janus would be tormented.
"He will be dead in a few days, or a week, or even a year if we wish it," said Xen. "But every hour, he will wish he were dead. He will break in every way. He will feel his flesh rip and his bones snap. If he loses consciousness, he may very well wake up to find that he is missing an appendage or two."
Elliot listened quietly as Tyria sniffled. Her breath quivered.
"And when he finally dies," Xen whispered, "he will already have long been unrecognizable."
Tyria finally cried out. Elliot would have reached for her if they weren't so tightly bound. The dark elf simply smiled as Tyria wept.
"Not a word, Elliot?" asked Xen. "Did you enjoy my description of your rival's suffering? After all, I upset Tyria quite a bit."
Elliot looked to the floor.
"You didn't even try to help her. Tsk." The dark elf shadowknight shook his head. "It's no surprise she doesn't love you."
"You worship hate." Elliot's fists trembled. "Don't talk to me about love."
"You seem to hold a lot of hate, yourself. I'm actually tempted to take you up on your offer of service. You could be a decent shadowknight one day.
"Still," he said with a sigh, "I do love high elf hearts, and I just can't let this one go. Not when I haven't had one in, by the gods, years at this point."
Elliot pulled against his restraints, eyes narrowing.
"If you'd like," Xen said, "you can cut her heart out for me. It's your last shot at ever feeling her breasts. She wouldn't be able to stop you from touching other places, too."
Spit flew from Elliot's mouth as he screamed in fury. He wanted nothing more than to kill Xen. Break his jaw. Gouge out his eyes. Tear off his pointed ears. Cook him piece by piece, and feed him those pieces.
Make him hurt. Make him pay. Make him fear. Make him die.
Sharp pains stung Elliot's wrists as the rope bit into his flesh. His breath slowly returning, he stopped pulling at his restraints. A small amount of blood dripped from his left hand.
Xen stared at Elliot, mouth partially open and eyes wide in amazement.
"A simple 'no' would have sufficed," he said.
The dark elf had to die. He had to. Elliot would kill him and escape with Tyria. They would work things out, and without Janus's interference, she would finally see why they should be together. It would all work out. It had to.
"Xen," grunted Claw. Elliot had forgotten the shaman was even there. The orc's expression was graver than usual as he muttered something in Xen's ear.
"And what makes you think that?" asked Xen. Claw pointed to his glowing staff.
"Assistance. Dungeons," said Claw. "Now."
Xen scowled. "Let's go." Not bothering with another glance at their captives, the shadowknight and shaman left the hall.
Tyria's sobs turned to angry grunts of exertion as she resumed her efforts at escaping.
"Can you move at all?" she asked, fury lacing every word.
"Maybe—" Elliot said slowly. It was a long shot, but he had to take it. "—maybe you should offer to serve him, too."
Tyria stopped her struggles. "I will die before I kneel to Innoruuk."
"Then fake it or something! What other options do we have?"
"Pray for a miracle." Tyria resumed trying to wiggle out of the ropes. "And keep trying to escape."
Elliot scoffed. "That didn't work out so well for Janus."
He knew that was the wrong thing to say when Tyria stopped again, breathing slowly.
"Don't," Tyria said. "Don't you dare."
They both stood quiet, and the boiling water in the cauldron became the only sound in the hall.
Elliot choked, and his voice shook. "Did you love him?" he asked quietly.
Tyria didn't answer as she returned to her struggling. Elliot closed his eyes and hung his head.
Janus hit the floor yet again, sliding into a closed door. A massive orc stood above him, a disgusting smile on its green face. It grabbed the haft of Janus's spear. The paladin got to his feet, desperately clinging to his weapon. Nevertheless, it fell from his hand as the orc rammed its shoulder into Janus's stomach and lifted him from the ground. Roaring triumphantly, it threw Janus into the door, breaking it into pieces.
Dazed, Janus barely recognized the room. Tables, vaulted ceiling, pillars. He had made his way back to the main hall.
"Janus!" Tyria cried from the other end of the hall, a wide smile on her face. With the orc appearing in the doorway, Janus couldn't help but find Tyria's tone far too happy for the situation.
"Behind you!" she called. Janus turned, discovering the orcs' trophy table. Lying past the pile of gold and jewels, just out of reach, was his sword.
Janus grabbed a handful of coins and threw it at the oncoming orc. The beastly humanoid snarled, briefly turning away to protect its face.
It was all the time the paladin needed, and his blade easily sliced the orc's neck open. As the orc slumped over, Janus tucked Elliot and Tyria's swords under his arm, also grabbing his dagger from the table.
"Are you all right?" he asked Tyria as he cut the two of them loose. She nodded, at a loss for words and still beaming a relieved smile at him as she took her sword. Elliot didn't look Janus in the eye as he took his weapon.
"Incoming," said Tyria, raising her weapon as armed orcs entered the hall. If she was scared, she was hiding it perfectly. Her tone was even, her eyes intensely focused on the enemies ahead. The smile had been replaced with a determined glare. Elliot whirled his sword around, his face red with fury.
"Can you lay hands yet?" Janus asked Tyria.
"No. You?"
He shook his head. "Let's just try to not get hurt."
Janus didn't let himself think as he met the enemy. His muscles moved on their own, following the lessons he'd taught them through hours of training. The first orc was no different from a pell. He cut through the next like the many animal carcasses he had sliced open in his classes. Another orc was just an overly aggressive sparring partner.
Tyria moved just as Janus did. She went from one enemy to the next, preventing them from attacking her in unison.
Something glowed just at the edge of Janus's sight. The piercing headache returned, and he barely countered an orc's attack.
Claw raised his staff in the air, chanting and staring intently at Janus. The paladin staggered, as did Elliot nearby. Janus's vision darkened slightly as another orc raised its sword. He struck at the orc, but his cut was awkwardly angled, weak, and utterly ineffective.
The pain evaporated and Janus's vision cleared. As he finally cut down the orc in front of him, he found Tyria where Claw had been, dealing with two more orcs as others dragged the wounded shaman out.
"Xen!" Elliot shouted. The dark elf had returned, clad in a full suit of fine steel plate armor, longsword in hand. Sighing in resignation, he closed the skull-shaped visor of his helmet and gracefully wound his way through the chaos.
Elliot roared furiously as he charged the shadowknight. He swung as hard as he could, his sharp blade crashing into Xen's armored shoulder. The sword slid off harmlessly.
"That was your chance," said Xen, grabbing Elliot by the throat. "You wasted it." He threw the squire to the floor. Elliot tried to move, but the dark elf stomped on his head, rendering him unconscious. Xen lined his sword's edge up with Elliot's neck, and Janus knew that try as he might, he couldn't get there in time with orcs in the way.
Xen barely dodged Tyria's attack. She continued her onslaught, attacking with her sword's hilt and moving in and out of the dark elf's reach. She was faster than him, but only by a little, and the continuing effort of protecting Elliot, fighting orcs, and now a heavily armored Xen was wearing her down.
Tyria whirled her blade all around her, keeping every orc at bay, save for the one that came too close and lost its nose. Janus felt some relief in the dwindling number of orcs.
Then Tyria screamed in pain. Janus didn't see how it had happened, but Xen had moved in while she was focused on the orcs, his armor protecting him from her swings. He had caught her right arm, her dominant one, and snapped it at the elbow. Janus watched in horror as Xen pinned Tyria to the ground.
The dark elf's hand glowed red, and he clutched Tyria by the face. His palm muffled the high elf's scream. She spasmed in pain, finally falling limp as Xen released her. It had lasted less than a second, but Tyria's scream echoed in Janus's mind. He had to get to her.
Three orcs stood in his way. Janus raised his sword into a high guard.
Xen opened his visor, grinning malevolently. He raised a dagger. "I will have that lovely heart of yours now, my dear."
Doubled cross strikes at the head. Two orcs left.
Tyria closed her eyes and laid her head back as Xen pressed the dagger between her breasts, stopping just shy of piercing the skin.
Crooked cut followed by a thrust through the heart. One orc left.
Xen grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her head back up.
This last orc did little more than defend itself. It couldn't survive long with that strategy, but it was keeping itself between Janus and Xen.
"No!" said Xen. "No, Tyria, I want you to see this."
Janus rushed the orc, their swords binding together.
Xen lifted his dagger.
Roaring at the top of his lungs, Janus shoved the orc backward. They crashed into Xen, the paladin's sword and the shadowknight's dagger ending the orc.
Janus and Xen got to their feet. Both breathed heavily as sweat ran down their faces. Xen glared with sheer hatred. Janus kept one hand on his sword's hilt and placed the other partway down the blade.
Xen growled. "I loathe paladins." He shut his visor.
The shadowknight swung first, the paladin receiving the blow with the flat of his blade. In that instant he turned the edge toward Xen's, leveraging around the dark elf's blade and thrusting at the gaps in his armor. It was all Janus could do to stay standing. He was tired, and he was already hurt from several glancing blows. Xen was fresher, and his armor gave him extra weight and power in their struggles.
Janus kept moving, not wanting to be stuck too long within Xen's reach. The paladin's grip on his blade allowed him more leverage and more precise thrusts, but it greatly lowered his reach. The shadowknight had no such disadvantage.
Anger tore at Janus's mind. Anger for falling for Daks's trap, anger for Elliot's betrayal, anger for having Tyria involved in all of this, and anger at the thought of her not surviving. He wanted to unleash all his rage and hatred on the dark elf.
The paladin ignored these feelings and focused. Xen was just another enemy, one of countless, and he deserved no thought save for his neutralization. He was no more than a steel practice dummy that fought back.
Their blades bound together again, and Janus's leg grew warm from the cauldron behind him. Xen pressed down, and Janus stepped aside. The dark elf's armpit was exposed.
Xen's cry was muffled by his helmet as Janus's sword ran through the armpit and shoulder, stopping only at the armor's spaulder. The shadowknight swung wildly with his other arm, completely missing Janus. The human shoved him back against the cauldron. Xen swung once more just as he tipped back over the rim.
Janus stepped back, shielding his face from the splash of scalding water. Xen screeched, his horrific cries echoing throughout the hall. Squealing and wailing, he desperately thrashed at the rim and finally caught hold of it.
Xen never emerged from the water. His screams silenced, and his hand slid back into the cauldron. Steam hissed from the boiling water.
Janus ignored his body's urge to collapse on the floor. He looked out into the corridor, seeing and hearing nothing. He looked out one of the main hall's windows, and sighed at the sight. A small band of orcs was escorting a wounded Claw away from the fort.
Elliot groaned and rolled over, spitting blood on the floor. "What happened?"
"It's safe for now, but they might come back. Get up and collect your gear."
Ignoring Elliot's pained moans and profanity, Janus knelt by Tyria's side. She was beat up and her arm was bent at an unnatural angle, but she was breathing normally.
"Hey," he said softly, gently brushing hair from her face, "it's time to go, Tyr. Wake up."
She opened her eyes slowly, smiling softly as she met Janus's gaze. She wrapped her good arm around his shoulders, pulling him close so the crowns of their heads touched. Elliot stared despondently.
Tyria weakly squeezed Janus. "I thought you were being tortured."
"They didn't get the chance." He pulled away slowly. "Let's get your arm taken care of and get out of here."