The tortured magister's breaths were shallow as he sat propelled against the dungeon's cold, damp walls. He came to his senses just a few minutes ago with the help of Lohse's healing magic and now he was guarded by seven sorcerer escapees. Distrustful eyes were piercing through the feeble silhouette.
"So we've saved him," Ifan made a point, "for what?"
"Well, he must have known something for Magisters to beat the living daylights out of him," Vermil noticed, gesturing towards the still visible cuts and bruises on the victim's face.
Magister's head suddenly sprang up, as if he was finally ready to address his saviors. With a pleading look he raised one hand up as if to stop them or beg for mercy.
"Wait, if you spare me I can share valuable information."
Elane shot him a questioning look and crossed hands on her chest, "Go on then."
"There is a boat that can take you out of here, not every Magister agrees with the order-" A wheezing breath stopped his explanation, despite mended wounds the human was exhausted after hours of brutal interrogation. "My name is Delorus. Me and Magister Atusa were doing what was in our power to save Sourcers from this place-" His breathing failed him again. "They didn't drag her here so she must be out-"
Vermil interrupted the man's speech with a particularly grim look plastered onto his usually playful features, "I'm afraid your comrade had already departed for the Hall."
Shock, then bitter grief shifted the Magister's expression. He let his shoulders sink as he raised his gaze to the dungeon's ceiling. Elane turned to the scholar who broke the grim news, mouthing 'how?'.
Vermil understood the unspoken question and continued, "We arrived on the island just in time for her execution, it was the commotion right before the Fort's gate. Happened minutes after we parted ways. They didn't even bother to bring her to a fair trial. She failed to respond to Alexandar's questions and the Hammer gored her where she stood. The Order is truly in a pitiful state…" he finished with a condemning shook of his head.
The news took some time to settle in. Delorus listened to the story with a blank look, his gaze fixated on nothingness for six sluggish heartbeats. It wasn't until he got on his feet that his eyes finally blinked, sending a few stray tears down the wounded cheek.
"It's dangerous here," he took an uncertain step clinging dearly to the wall for support, "you need to get out now."
As if to emphasize the needed haste he began to rummage through his tattered uniform, wincing from the rapid movements. After a short search he produced a key with a sigh of relief. He handed it over to the closest Sourcerer, Lohse.
"Take this and go up the stairs to the big door. The dungeon is not heavily guarded and the Monks-" He cringed, as if mentioning the creature filled him with absolute disgust, "The Monks won't attack you without command but stay clear of Kniles' laboratory. Take a turn left and head for the docks, there should be a few associates of mine. Tell them that Madam Zoor sent you and they'll let you through."
"What of you?" The redhead asked, grasping the key tightly.
"I'll lay low for a while. Try to make contact with the Seekers outside the Fort. They are somewhere on the island, if you find them they'll be able to help you."
"We cannot linger here for long," Elane ordered as she took a first step towards their freedom, "Onward."
The party bid their unexpected ally a brief farewell in the form of nods and determined looks and rushed to the aforementioned door. Their feet clothed in rags and found garments made almost no sound on the stone steps, save for a quiet click of bones. Reaching the door filled them with a surge of hope but it was dulled as quickly as it arose by the cold sting of the source collar. Lohse went ahead and slipped the key into the lock and turned it slowly. The mechanism clicked.
"What if it's a trap?" The Wolf stepped forward, head low and listening.
Vermil snorted with laughter. "All the better. I could do with a bit more sport before we're done with these idiots."
Sebille followed with a short laugh of her own pulling the needle out, "I quite like this idea."
"What could go wrong with people like you by my side?" The widest grin appeared on Lohse's face and she laid her hand on the doorknob.
"I'd say let's go in and be done with this," The Prince unsheathed a blade that wasn't strapped to his hip before, clearly magister of design too…
"I see you had your fair share of rummaging through the corpses, Prince?" Elane smirked her own sword making small circles in the air, "But he is right, let's give them hell."
"Are you failing to notice that this is indeed fishy? I'm loath to walk through a door without knowing what awaits behind it." The skeleton scolded with an irritated tone.
The noble elf shot the Eternal a cold look. "You can sit here and wait for this place to crumble to dust, your choice."
"Very well but I am going in last."
Elane nodded to Lohse to open the door. Whatever it was that awaited them further, they were ready.
"No boat! There's no boat!" Lohse cried in defeat.
They made it to the docks in minutes, passing the mute, mindless guardians and a cell of baying hounds. The torches shed a flickering glow to the calm waters rippling below the wooden pier. Crates piled on the stone that marked the edge of the canal, ropes and sails were in disarray on the ground, soaked in a puddle of oil that was spilled all over the place.
No Magisters in sight made it all too suspicious.
"He lied. Probably sent his pals to get rid of us, too," The tone of Ifan's voice made it clear that the wolf was on edge and ready to spill blood. He aimed his crossbow to the top of the stairs that led down to the docks and waited only for silence to be his target.
"Something's off here…" Sebille crouched down to inspect the substance on the floor, sweeping the place with a scrutinizing gaze.
Elane nodded, sliding her fingers over an odd dent in the wood of one of the crates.
"There are oily footprints, someone was running towards the edge of the pier," The assassin pointed to the dark trail.
"Few stray blows landed on the crates. One most likely crushed a barrel with oil," Elane was quick to observe, patting the damaged wood. "A fight broke off here."
"But no bodies left behind...No blood either?" Vermil asked, twirling his moustache between fingers.
The elves sniffed around, searching for a familiar scent but the thick, earthy odour of oil mixed with the salty breeze of the water below hid any other smell.
"Nothing, as far as I can tell…" Elane stared into the black puddle, trying to whiff a hint of something underneath but to no avail.
"So, what now?" Ifan asked from his guarding post.
"Whatever we do, I'd advise against going up unless we want to battle the whole garnison of Magisters," The Prince stated with his usual cynic tone, standing a healthy distance away from the investigating party. His tail swishing to and fro from disappointment.
"Kniles' dungeon should be here somewhere, at least if Vasnya is to be believed…" Vermil reminded, although not very eagerly.
"If the information about this individual is true, this 'Magister freak' might be of use," Fane nonchalantly noted, his tone bearing interest if not excitement.
The party looked at him befuddled, unsure how he acquired such knowledge.
"Magister who, pray tell?" Sebille purred from her spot where she was examining the puddle of oil.
"When you were busy scattering around for your crucial supplies I was occupied with actually important matters. As you know without a mask I cannot traverse this land freely, so I looked for the tools to craft it."
"And this 'Magister Freak' has them? Tools to rip face from a body?" Elane asked in disbelief.
"This sounds...hardly optimistic," Ifan growled.
"Do we have any other way? Well, besides jumping into Voidwoken-infested waters…" Lohse's voice trailed off as she stared at the dark surface glistering below.
Elane and Vermil turned their attention to the possible escape route, but the more they stared into the depths, the bigger anxiety overtook them. At some point, Elane could swear she saw a giant, toothy tentacle crawling right under the very platform they were standing on, cold sweat showering her back at the thought.
"I'd rather not risk becoming Voidwoken food, thank you," Vermil spat before awkwardly hopping back onto the solid stone.
"Into the throat of the beast, then," Red turned on his heel and began to scurry towards the other end of the corridor, disregarding the silent creatures 'guarding' the way.
Now that they had more time to sniff around, the party couldn't help but stare at the morbid husks of beings guarding the place. Their complexion was waxy pale and reminded more of a corpse's apparition rather than one of a living creature. They were often disfigured in one way or the other, lacking eyes or other facial features. Despite fresh looking wounds they weren't flinching, weren't even groaning. Quite on the contrary, some were poking their wounds, much like a clueless toddler would pick their nose. Some creatures' lips were stitched shut. Those were quietly moaning but none would react, let alone answer to questions targeted at them. The levels of horror and disgust varied from Sourcerer to Sourcerer, Fane seemed the least bothered of them all.
"If this is some kind of a joke, I do not want to wait for the punchline..." Elane whispered quietly as they were passing another monstrosity, an elf by the shape of its body.
"That haunted look in its eyes….Whatever it was, it's in terrible pain," Vermil walking right behind the elf murmured, clearly unsettled.
The Sorcerers were advancing through the corridor in a straight line, one closely to the other, Red Prince on the lead. They were sticking to the centre of the passage, careful not to bother any of the grotesque guardians.
"That's unnatural. Abhorrent. Evil. I can't take my eyes off it," Lohse followed the hushed conversation.
"That's an abomination. It is what it is, now be silent for Gods' sake," Sebille walking last scolded them.
And she was right, this level was quiet, even the tiniest of murmurs echoed with a deafening ring.
They neared the corner of the corridor, to their surprise no door guarded the entrance to the next big chamber. Elane and Ifan scouted the stone pathway ahead and noticed no hidden traps on the way. All was quiet and calm to a point of being unnerving. The wolf gestured everyone to keep silent and smoothly scurried ahead. The rest followed suit.
The quietness was indeed not natural, Vermil, Lohse and Fane felt it as soon as they crossed the marble archway beyond which the corridor broadened significantly. The room was protected by a Silence ward and the sounds coming from deep within the next chamber seemed truly unholy. After the cacophony of wails and metallic ringing, the putrid air hit them like a hammer. Elane grimaced at the smell of blood and decay assaulting her nose the moment she passed the barrier. With every breath her brain
was flooded with echoes of screams and sobs of the tortured. Sebille, pressing a hand closely to her face, lost her footing in spite of the sensation and tripped.
"Stolen blood, flesh not freely given…" she whispered with terror ringing in her usually coy tone.
"Sickening, I know," Elane breathed and helped the other elf up. "We need to get out of here."
Someone's laugh followed this muffled observation causing the escapees to tense in a heartbeat, hands finding their way to weapons' handles in a blink. They couldn't see the entirety of the chamber from their spot, thick mist emanating from the crated floor below blocking most of the view, but in the distant cages the most keen of eyes could see something...moving...living inside.
"...but I told you that so many times, didn't I?" The voice that previously laughed continued, masculine and surprisingly young.
Fane moved as if he was waiting for a signal from the unseen Magister and rushed forward, not concerned with guards or monstrosities confined to cages whatsoever. His movements so sudden and unpredictable that no one from the group was able to stop him before getting exposed. Remaining Sourcerers exchanged confused or shocked looks between each other. With a heavy sigh Elane was first to follow the undead, annoyed but silent. Repeating a spell from an old grimoire in her head just in case dark magic should prove itself necessary to get out of this dungeon alive.
The magister, of course, quickly took notice of the unexpected company in his workshop turning to the incomers not with surprise and anger but rather with curiosity.
"Good grief! Guests!" he cried, examining the incomers, especially the elves, very, very carefully.
The undead scholar, moving flamboyantly towards the wicked human eventually stole most of Magister's attention.
The man's appearance, as most of the magisters were human nowadays, bore the resemblance of a vulture with sharp and crude features. His light blonde hair and bright blue eyes contrasted with his face. It was difficult to tell whether the posture belonged to a cold blooded murderer or to a charming young man.
The bright blue in his eyes flickered with a different glow when Kniles laid his eyes on the bandaged creature nearing him, bandages and paddings he quickly saw through.
Purring in a grotesque manner to the undead, he laid a hand on the bandaged arm,"And who are you, you lovely little puppy?"
Fane, unbothered and even overjoyed to meet a human comfortable with physical touch, began to tug on the other's cheek...to the magister's twisted delight.
The rest of the intruders were seemingly forgotten about and stood there confused, or disgusted, beyond words. The torture chamber filled with chatter, just as grim as its interior.
"My, my," the maniac continued, "a fellow aficionado! How rare to meet someone else interested in the corporal arts. Won't you stay?"
"Oh no," Fane shrugged off the offer, "my interest is merely practical, not artistic. You see, I need a simple device to help with ripping the faces from corpses. Once I acquire it I will be on my way…"
The magister fell silent for a second, his eyes glistering feverishly with sick fascination.
"Did I say aficionado? My sweet boy, you are a connoisseur!"
Sebille shifted uncomfortably, unsheathing her rusted shiv in one, elusive motion. Elane, who was standing near noticed this with a corner of her eye, shaking her head subtly at the assassin.
"Not yet," the noble mouthed, "they have advantage…" Having whispered that, she scanned the room once again, now from a better spot.
The mute creatures were wandering the area freely in significant numbers, what's more, abominations woven from flesh sat behind iron bars of crude cages in every corner of the room.
"...As it happens, I do have a toy you might find useful. But nothing comes for free, my dear," the conversation between Fane and Kniles continued. Finally, the magister turned his eyes away from the undead, seemingly acknowledging the crowd behind him for the first time.
"Indeed, a fine selection of specimens you have brought."
"Those are not-" Fane tried to point out but the human had disappeared without a word.
Disappeared, but only briefly, emerging from the shadows right next to Elane. The party took a cautious step away from the commotion, witnessing not without a hint of revulsion how the blonde-haired magister sized the two elves up. His eyes were on the level of their chests, making the situation all too uncomfortable.
"Would you look at that…" He sighed with unhidden pleasure, "living bark, living wood. "
The magister cared little for the noble elf's personal space, being close enough to breathe in her scent. She did not react, unsure how things would escalate if she headbutted the fool right here and then.
"Unnaturally dark eyes for an elf too, fascinating little thing are we, darling?" He noticed with a nauseatingly sweet tone, "Almost as dark as those little girl's hair, but it seems she got lost in here somewhere-"
Ifan, Sebille, Vermil and Lohse exchanged terrified and angry looks. "He brings children in here?!" their startled stares were saying.
Kniles shifted his attention away from the elf, addressing Fane again.
"Bring me the kid back and I'll gladly…" During his monologue, the magister made a grave mistake of turning his back to an elf with an incredibly strong sense of morals. Blind rage took over Elane's at the thought of a child being dragged to this place. She reached out and cut the foul human's sentence short with a strong grasp on his neck. Her fingers felt the quickening heartbeat and the vocal cords struggling to produce sounds with restricted airflow. Everyone else had already unsheathed their weapons but the enraged elf cared little for this fact. With one seemingly effortless motion, she threw the man across the room, crushing a table stocked with amputated limbs. The wood cracked under the weight of the falling magister. Within a heartbeat she was onto the man, now scattered on the floor, punching mercilessly and ruthlessly in restless fury. The puddle of gore they were already in grew larger and larger with every hit aimed at the sadist's face. Soon it was nothing more than bloody mush dotted with splintered bones. The wet sounds echoed in the chamber, and would echo till nothing of the magister's corpse resembled a human being if not for…
"He's dead, El. More than dead," Vermil's hand grasped Elane's raised, bloodied fist.
She turned her face to him with a clueless, clouded look.
"It's enough," he said with a little more force.
The elf snapped out of her amok and relented, standing up and only now witnessing the result of her outburst. The Magister was laying dead, his head massacred beyond recognition. She looked to her bloodied hands, then glanced around in panic.
The faces of her companions were equally grim and surprised as they looked for any sign of aggression from the mindless monks. The death of their master did not alarm them, but that couldn't be said for the caged monstrosities. The moment the smell of Kniles' blood filled the room they let out a bestial growl, clawing at the iron that held them captive. It was not before long the metal gave way to the claws of bone and they were set loose. Some launched themselves at the sentinels, who in turn finally reacted, some chose the Sourcerers as their victims.
Elane wiped her hand with the hem of the ragged tunic she was wearing and grasped the hilt of the sword strapped to her back.
"Look for the child first!," she roared as she plunged towards the closest creature.
Vermil dashed towards the right side of the chamber, covered in steam and piles upon piles of corpses and bones. Running towards the pit, he reached a ladder with a monk making its way towards the uproar. This effort was cut short by a brutal kick to the head offered by the rogue and a crack in its neck. The creature fell back to the floor twitching in agony before the man's dagger released it from suffering. With the guardian dead, the scholar proceeded to look through the fresh corpses, but found none belonging to a child. A small relief.
Above, the ferocious fight continued. The Sourcerers were slashing both abominations alike. Ifan was sending bolt after bolt from his makeshift crossbow to the meat golems and yet, with the creatures being oblivious to pain, it took a lot of effort to bring one down. Spellcasters had more luck, Lohse's lightning was spectacularly potent in paralyzing the foes. The redhead was approaching the stairs descending from the mezzanine they were on. Hurrying down she didn't notice one cage hidden in the corner of the lower level, with a monster still lurking inside. Sensing something alive passing by it's cage it jumped towards the unprepared woman, intending to rip her to shreds with its long, bony claws. In a risky maneuver, The Red Prince jumped straight down from the upper floor, aiming for the monstrosity and pinning it down with mighty force.
"That was close….Thanks!" The woman shouted as she pressed on to reach the exit from the complex. The red lizard shook the blood from his blade with a quiet "hmph!" and followed her tracks. They reached a barred wall but the door in it must have been used rarely and in result it had rusted. Lohse cursed as she pulled the door with all her strength to no response from the petrified hinges.
"Make way," said the Prince before kicking the door down with a clawed foot. The woman rushed in first, carefully looking around the dark area. With her next step she felt something wet and panicked. Her senses overloaded with the scent of decay dominating the air here only barely registered the odor coming from a pool of blood. As she took a frantic step back she heard a quiet whimper and when she turned to the source of the sound her eyes caught a little curled shape, pressed tightly to a stone wall to her side.
She sighed with relief spotting the girl. "C'mere, we're getting out of here," Lohse whispered softly, extending her arms to the terrified child.
The kid launched herself in Lohse's embrace as soon as the words left the woman's mouth.
In the meantime, Red found their escape route- the sewer pipe draining the bloody waste- and beckoned the two in.
"Go in and wait in there, I'll let the others know," he ordered in his usual stern tone.
Lohse hesitated, repulsed by the thought of walking calf-deep into a gory sludge.
When the Lizard made his way back up, none of the creatures were left alive. Elane was standing amidst the carnage, her apparel heavily stained with blood.
"We found the child and the escape route down there," Red stated.
With a relief the party moved towards the mentioned point- all but Elane.
"Great, take the child and make a run for it…" she proclaimed loudly as she turned, weapon still in hand, back where they came from.
"And you? Where are you going?" Vermil asked, unsettled by the savage glow in the elf's eyes.
"To the Fort proper," her empty stare scanned the gateway , then with a blink she looked back to the rest, who froze mid-step awaiting explanation.
She took a ragged breath, fighting with emotions swelling in her heart. "This." Her blood-stained hand encompassed the chamber with one swift motion, "This cannot go unpunished. If magisters knew what was going on in here…" Swallowing hard, her eyes turned back towards the entrance, "They cannot be left alive."
"It's suicide," Ifan protested.
"That is why I am not asking you to go with me. I am strong, stronger than all of you-"
"You are as strong as you are stupid. Going alone in there is idiotic," Fane mercilessly summarized, patting a strange circular device dangling on his belt.
"I hate to agree….this can't go unavenged," Sebille sighed heavily as she took a few steps towards the other elf. "I'm going with you."
"...So what do we do?" Lohse's voice called from the staircase. She was holding the girl gently, with one hand covering the small one's eyes.
"You." Elane spat out in an unyielding tone. "You will go through the sewer and look for the Se-"
"You've met someone sensible down in the prison, no?" Sebille targeted the question at Lohse, ignoring the other elf's orders. "Take the girl to them, we will be back for her once we're done."
"You want to storm the Fort?" Ifan asked, his voice full of grim acceptance instead of expected disagreement.
"Listen-" The black haired elf snapped at the assassin, who crouched next to the body of the mutilated magister.
Lohse sensing the incoming argument rushed her small companion out of the chamber, intending to leave the kid under the care of the dwarf she met earlier. Ifan followed the woman, crossbow loaded and ready.
"No. You listen," Scarred elf spun around, undoing the belt of the deceased that was holding two intricate daggers. She unsheathed one of them in time to stop charging Elane dead in her tracks, holding the noble at a knifepoint. "You can be indifferent to pain and death alike, good for you, but that doesn't put you in charge. Be as strong as you are, you're not stopping me or any of us, should they wish to follow," the brunette purred.
Elane's pointy ears flattened against her will as her eyebrows twitched in anger and her lips curled to reveal white fangs, making the noble look feral. "I cannot promise your safety. I will not protect you there…" She snarled, her body pressing against Sebille's knife.
"It wouldn't hurt if you left the battle to the real fighters," The prince shrugged.
Sebille sneered at the remark, "Magister's headquarters could be full of useful goods, don't you think?" Her other knife pointed at the ragged tunics they were both wearing.
Savage flickers slowly died off in Elane's eyes, her posture relaxing and straightening.
"Let it be then," The scavenged greatsword found its place strapped back to the elf's back.
"All bark and no bite, as I thought," the sly smile widened on Sebille's face.
The elven noble turned her back to the assassin,"I wouldn't want to risk biting you, Seven know what had gone through your body."
The Prince snorted audibly, to Sebille's growing annoyance. "You might want to start praying for me not to eat you," the elf's threat met with the woman's back.
"Rhalic save me," Elane rolled her eyes
"I believe you can settle this between yourself later," the undead stepped between the bickering elves.
Quiet whistle rang from the stairs leading out of the chamber, Ifan standing atop.
"That probably means the coast is clear…" Vermil dipped his head in acknowledgement, his soul aching to just get this over with.
Sebille turned to her companions with a disarming smile painted over her diamond-like face.
"Time to make magister blood flow freely for once."