VIII
The dark shade of the castle appeared in the murky gloom of the valley. The towering walls were made of grey bricks larger than Styx, and higher than the Academy. On the merlons, large red banners with the Inquisition's cross flapped in the wind. The sun had just set behind the mountains, and a cold wind blew hazes of fog through the air. The slopes of the western mountain range were lead-grey as the darkening sky and ragged like a dragon's back, covered in patches of snow on the fissured tops. A long, steep pass lead over to the main entrance of the castle, a massive gate that appeared ridiculously tiny in comparison to the walls. They had been flying for four days, and Styx was so tired of the cold that he almost looked forward to infiltrating the giant prison.
The huge grey griffin landed on a projection on the eastern wing of the castle, its talons scratching the stone.
"I'll pick you up in one week. If you're not there, I'll wait three more days, not longer. Good luck, Styx. Remember: Keep your head down!", the other assassin said. Styx grinned.
"I'm as good as done. See you!", he answered. The griffin hissed and beat the air with its wide wings, and off they went.
Styx took a deep breath. He wouldn't get fresh air for quite a while and filled his lungs with the crisp, cold mountain wind as long as he still could. He drew his dagger, glanced around the grey walls, saw the guards crawling in the labyrinth of yards and walkways below. All those clueless fools. This was his element. With a furtive grin, he stroked the blade.
"Candidus, the torturer... You'll soon have a surprise invitee in your precious dungeon. Well... here we go", Styx muttered to himself, jumped down and caught an iron wall hanging while falling. He concentrated and opened his inner eye, used his instincts. He saw that below him, there were more hangings. He dropped down one by one, his thick leather gauntlets protecting his hands from the rusty iron, until he reached the floor of an old, wooden walkway. Styx sidled along the wall to a corner, were a guard stood. Another one was close by.
"Did you see the tits of that half-blood girl they brought in yesterday?", one of them said with a dirty laugh.
"Don't you lay your hands on her!", the other one snapped back.
"Why? 'Cause she's about fourteen?"
"No, because we're going to play at dice for her this evening. Equal chances for everyone", the other guard explained. Styx made a disgusted face, aimed carefully and tossed a throwing knife into one of the guard's neck, and before the other had seen anything, he had a jagged dagger drawn across his throat. Styx stuffed the corpses into a nearby chest and took a short rest, taking the chance to investigate his environment further.
As far as he could see, the castle itself, surrounded by a ring of massive stone walls, had only one large entrance, which was down in the lower yard and heavily guarded. A big-ass iron-studded wooden gate with spikes and portcullis. Nope, not if he could avoid it. He took out one of Maera's maps and aligned it with the view, glancing from the parchment to the castle and back.
"Ahhh... perfect!", he said to himself as he saw a narrow tunnel next to the door on the drawing, probably some sewer. He could see it down in the yard, a small barred entrance, but there were at least ten guards nearby. Styx stuffed the map back into his pack and continued his way down.
He prowled through a maze of narrow walkways, careful to not make any creaking sound on the weathered wood. He had almost reached the bottom, when suddenly an Inquisitor strode around a corner.
"What was that? I think I heard something...", the man murmured, drawing his longsword.
Styx froze, and switched to his stealth stance, blending in the shadows. As long as he didn't get too close to that guy, he wouldn't see him. Slowly, the Inquisitor prowled along, looking in another direction, but getting awfully close to Styx. Styx quickly picked up a handful of dirt and tossed it on a nearby torch, and as the guard turned around he jumped up to him, closed his stringy arms around the Inquisitor's neck and held him headlocked. The Inquisitor squirmed and struggled in his grip, but it didn't help him. The next time he breathed in, Styx twisted his neck around with all his strength. It gave a crack, and he dropped dead. Cursing quietly, Styx took one of the acid vials out of his bag and emptied it over the body to let it disintegrate smoking.
Styx went on and finally climbed down to the yard. Carefully, he hid behind a couple of boxes and peered around. He was almost there, just a little further. Ten guards were patrolling the area, two of them were checking a large wooden wagon with a cage on top, probably some new prisoners. Styx gave a disgusted grunt as he saw that most of the prisoners were young women, different kinds of Elves and humans that looked a lot like mixed-bloods. He considered getting on the wagon for a second, but if the wagon would be carried straight to the cells, he'd be trapped. No, he was going to take the sewer.
It was getting darker, and torches were lit everywhere on the walls of the castle, which made it look like a sky full of fiery stars from below, with a pitch black circle up in the middle were the ring of walls opened to the cloudy dark sky.
Styx waited until one of the guards got too close to his hideout, snatched him and slit his throat in one smooth movement. He stuffed him in a box and made for the sewer entrance. Carefully, he avoided the guards, hid behind pillars and crates, and for his short stature nobody ever saw him. It smelled of smoke, blood and cold stones, and his long sensitive ears pricked every time he heard heavy footsteps coming closer. Eventually, Styx reached the small entrance to the tunnel next to the door and vanished inside. The tattoo on his shoulder lit up brightly. It gave him a feeling of safety, since he knew the shadows embraced and hid him.
He followed the narrow tunnel for a while, until it opened into a large, dimly lit room made of stone. It seemed to be a kitchen, by the look and smell of it. There were just a few servants and chefs busy, and Styx took the chance to hide behind a pile of crates to take another look at Maera's map. He knew now where in the castle he was exactly, and even if it was still quite a bit of distance to the dungeon, it seemed that lots of corridors, funnels and sewers diverted from the kitchen. A pretty good base, for a start. He decided to use it as a hideout to return to after having explored the area. Styx grinned, stored the map away and went to fetch himself some supper.
Sleep wouldn't fucking come.
Grunting with frustration, Styx turned to his other side. He was lying on top of some bags of flour in the back of an unused store room that he had barred with a heavy log from the inside, and as small and dusty it was, it offered some safety and shelter for him. With his short stature, he didn't require much space, and this was certainly better than the wet rocky floor of some prison cell. Even though Styx felt sore and tired, he wasn't able to fall asleep. Part of him blamed it on the damn stink in all the different sewer pipes and funnels he had been exploring before making camp in the abandoned store room behind the kitchen. Not really something to calm one's nerves.
Another part blamed it on the absence of Maera.
Rakash, get your shit together! You've done this for centuries, so what's your problem now?, the angry voice inside his head asked. Styx closed his eyes when he felt his aching head throb. He could almost smell the muddy water as images of his past, or at least the shitty nightmares he had so often, flowed through his mind, images of the swamp filled with Goblins. Images of a face that resembled his like his reflection in a tarnished, cracked mirror. Blinking angrily, he pushed all his thoughts away.
"For fuck's sake, sleep now. Maera is safe and sound back at the Library, feeding Bryn and poring over books", Styx muttered quietly. His long ears pricked up as he heard footsteps outside the store room.
Jumping to his feet and grabbing his dagger, he sneaked to the door, ready to either run and hide or defend himself.
He heard somebody step up to the door, saw the shadow of two boots under the frame as if some human was standing in front of the room, listening carefully. Styx held his breath. The human snorted.
"Hrmpf. Must be a rat", the man rumbled. Styx heard him pick up something heavy, and then he left again. Sighing with relief, the Goblin leaned against the wall. So much for his attempt at getting some sleep. He was hopped up on adrenalin, his heart beating frantically. If that servant, or whoever he was, had seen Styx, his entire mission might have been screwed, and his transport back to the city would still be away for at least a week. He really wasn't keen on hiding from a hundred guards. Only as long as they didn't know that he was here, he was safe.
Styx fumbled on his belt absentmindedly, and his fingers suddenly brushed along soft fabric. He pulled it out and looked at it. He grinned with surprise when he recognized the hairband he had taken from Maera's desk just before he left. He had almost forgotten about it, but now he turned it in his bloodstained hands, examining the strap of soft, dark brown wool Maera sometimes used to tie her dreadlocks in a braid. Before he knew it, Styx lifted the hairband up to his nose and inhaled her scent that still clung to it. He closed his eyes with enjoyment. It smelled so wonderful that pictures of her smile, of her messy, silver blond hair filled his mind immediately. Maera kissing him, leering at him while he stripped her down, her eyes black with desire. The scent of the small piece of cloth was enough for him to be reminded of how her glistening neck smelled when he moved inside her, with her winding under him.
This should help.
Don't you even think about it, Rakash…
Shut up, Styx thought firmly, and reached into his pants.
For five days, Styx roamed the castle, exploring the dungeon levels as well as the upper levels for the best routes and secret passages. He wanted to make sure that he would be well prepared to get away quickly after having killed Candidus, without any incidents. The damn store room still was as comfortable as a barrel of scorpions compared to Maera's bed, but thinking of her had at least helped him to get over his nights without bad dreams. Something about this place gave him the creeps as well as his constant irrational worry about Maera, but after all, he was still in the largest prison castle the Empire had to offer, trying to steal a magical knickknack from a professional torturer's dungeon. Not too surprising that he was more than just a little tense. Styx made sure he was well familiar with the environment, and eventually, he felt ready to pay a visit to his target.
Styx left the kitchen, crawled into an air vent and followed the long, narrow tunnel behind it. Blue glowing mushrooms grew from the wet stones, and he could hear the sounds of the castle muffled through the walls that enclosed him. The tunnel opened to a deep vertical duct. Styx dropped down to some wall hangings and made his way into the darkness. It got warmer the further down he got, the steam that rose from the dungeons below smelling heavy and stale. He kept climbing for a while, until he reached the lower prison level. Dexterously, Styx jumped across the duct to an opening that led to the dungeon.
The Imperial prison castle's dungeon was a huge open area with so many cells that it looked like the walls were made out of grills and nothing else. It was so murky that he couldn't see the ceiling even with his sensitive Goblin eyes. Wherever Styx looked, he saw spiky grids and heavy iron-studded doors, all shrouded in the unhealthy steam. The only light came from huge ovens and torches, and shadows danced everywhere. Styx hid behind a crate and picked up some more sand from a sack on the floor.
The prison reminded him of something that had happened long ago, and seeing the thousands of cells vanishing up in the dark stirred some vague memories in him. As if he had already been here, or in a place that looked almost like this. He knew he had forgotten large passages of his life, not only since he had learned so in the conscience of Arkence, the mage. After all this time, Styx still refused to accept all the bullshit his former self, that completely insane nutcase that looked like a nightmarish version of him, had been telling him. Well, maybe some of it was true. And there was more, things his burned-out doppelganger hadn't mentioned, things he had long forgotten. The reoccurring nightmares of his past in the swamps, all of those mindless Goblins staring at him, flashbacks of some dark, labyrinthine place reeking of Amber dust, crawling with guards that were only there to hunt him down, the voice… all of that shit surely had a meaning of some kind. There had been something in his past he couldn't wrap his mind around, and he had no desire to do so. Styx felt that the best way to handle this was to push it to the back of his mind, if he didn't want to go insane. It had kept him more or less healthy all those years, helped him survive. Maera had improved his mental state enormously with her affection, and Styx was thankful for that. Still, it was the opposite of comfortable whenever he felt that something reminded him of things he couldn't remember. It made his head hurt.
"I wonder what they burn in those ovens... No fucking cakes, by the smell of it...", he muttered to himself. Shaking his head, Styx advanced to what he thought to be the main torturer's chambers. He passed a few cells, tried to ignore the stench of blood and dirt and the screams and crying all around him. At least it muffled the sound of his footsteps on the slippery stones. He jumped up and closed the lid of a torch with a quick grip, and the darkness hid him. He used it to climb up a wooden pillar unseen and continued his way up in the rafters, watching the guards patrolling below. Soon, he reached a rusty iron door with the Inquisition's cross painted on in a bright red. Two heavily armored guards stood next to it, every once in a while taking a stroll. Styx cursed. Those assholes were way too densely covered with metal and plate, his dagger wouldn't help him. He peered around and grinned as he saw a bucket with drinking water close by. Styx jumped down, took cover behind a corner and made sure that no one saw him. He rose from his crouched position and seasoned the water with some poisonous Goblin spit. Then he went back up in the rafters, sat down comfortably and waited. Soon, the first guard went for a stroll and when he got to the back of the room, he drank a cup of the water. Styx counted to ten, and before the guard's body hit the floor, he caught him without making a noise. Styx carried it to the nearby closet and hid it, waiting for his next victim. After the other guard had died wheezing, Styx finally picked the lock, looking carefully left and right for possible visitors, and entered the torture's chambers.
The smell of rotten flesh and weird alchemistic potions was overwhelming.
"Phew...", Styx grumbled frowning. He hid under a table and observed his environment. The chambers of Candidus, the torturer, were dark and murky and had a low ceiling. The walls were stuffed with shelves full of books, jars filled with pink, slimy things swimming in alcohol, flasks, devices made of glass or copper, dried mushrooms and skulls. Somehow it looked like the gross opposite of Maera's comfy laboratory in the Library, with her charming mess of papers, vials and books, covered in the golden dusty sunlight that flooded her rooms under the roof. Here, the only light came from torches, burners and distillers. Narrow tables were overburdened with cut-up corpses, skeletons and piles of mushy stuff Styx didn't want to think about too much.
Suddenly, Styx heard footsteps. He narrowed his glowing yellow eyes and held still, waiting for the person to come closer. It was the torturer, Candidus. But he was not alone, unfortunately. An Inquisition disciple walked behind him, wearing the typical painted bronze mask.
"Have you fed him already?", the disciple asked.
"Not yet. I had hoped that if I cut his rations, he might be more cooperative. Lately, the usual methods didn't show any results, maybe he has gotten used to the pain", Candidus answered, his voice hollow behind the beaked mask he wore. His apron had been white one day, Styx presumed, but now it was mostly covered with red and brown stains up to his elbows.
"The Bigot has sent a message, he wants answers. The information about that Goblin can't be the only useful thing to squeeze out of that pesky Elf", the disciple said.
"I've broken the Elf once, I can break him a second time", the torturer answered offended. "If you'll excuse me, I have work to do."
"Very well. Just remember that the High Council will expect you in a couple of hours, and you better not disappoint their expectations."
The disciple left the room, while Candidus picked up a hooked knife and cut around in a pile of flesh on a surgical table.
In his hideout, Styx was groaning with agony.
His head hurt so badly he wanted to hit it against the wall. His ears rang, he almost couldn't see and he felt his blood pounding. The last headache this terrible he had experienced when he had met his former self in Arkence's mind. It felt like something was ripping his brain apart from the inside, with flashing dots dancing in front of his eyes. Why did this happen right now? Was it the talking between Candidus and the other guy? Did the torturer mention anything disturbing, anything that might have caused some kind of evocation of bad memories of his…?
Styx forced himself to stay calm, to breathe slowly, and thought of nice things. Payments, mead, and other, sweeter things... Maera's beautiful face showed up in his mind, her small hands pressed on his cheeks, talking to him in her soft, soothing voice. He desperately tried to picture her while she comforted him after one of his nightmares, not caring about the voice taunting him from the back of his mind. The pain didn't stop, but it was less insufferable. Styx blinked, exhaling slowly. It was probably just the mixture of rotten stench and alchemistic steams that he had been breathing in for too long. He still had a job to do, no time for acting wimpy.
Styx focused on his target. If the disciple was right and Candidus was being invited to a bunch of Imperial assholes in some hours, he had to hurry. It might be his last chance to take care of him while he was alone. Slowly, Styx approached the torturer, his dagger drawn. His feet didn't make any sound as he prowled forward carefully, his tattoo glowing dangerously. Then, with a sudden dash, he kicked the torturer in the knees, and as he collapsed Styx stabbed the dagger in his belly, pressed his foot on the man's neck and held him locked by one arm. With clenched teeth, Styx pushed the torturer's neck away until it broke. He plucked out the dagger and turned, observing his environment.
Nobody to be seen, just the corpses. Good. The next thing he had to do was finding the runestone. Styx took out the thaumatometer from his bag. The small fish-shaped piece of copper on the thread turned and spun in a circle. It was supposed to point to the greatest source of magical energy nearby, Maera had said, and that should be the rune Styx was ordered to steal back. The thaumatometer pointed quivering to a certain corner of the room, and Styx followed it. Back in the corner, a heavy iron door with a huge complicated lock towered above him. A tiny window was in the middle, with a flap to open it. Styx was too short to reach up and look inside.
"Well... This should be the place the fucking rune is hidden in... Either that or Candidus' favorite toy, together with some weird magical something. Better use the firecharm on this one, my lockpicks won't work...", he said to himself.
He took out the firecharm Maera had given him, and placed it on the lock. As soon as the parchment touched the iron, the rune on it inflamed and burned with a white, hissing blaze. Styx watched impressed how the iron melted away like wax in a campfire, dripping down in glowing drops. He took a few steps back, holding one hand above his eyes to shield them. A few moments later, a huge hole gaped where the lock had been. Styx grabbed a chair and pressed it against the door to not burn himself on the hot iron. The door opened, and Styx stormed inside, eager to pick up the rune and leave this shithole as fast as he could.
But there was no rune inside, there was a bleeding, tormented creature lying on the floor of a cell.
It was an Elf.
Emet... Creature of the Amber... You are the only one who can defeat Styx for us, and save the World Tree... Be reborn in the Amber...
Styx's head spun and hurt as if it was going to burst as a painful wave of long forgotten memories rushed through his mind faster than he could take. Pictures emerged, the face of an Amber-Elf, with his pale skin and golden glowing eyes, shining brightly just as his own... Styx remembered a stinging pain in the back as something... No, someone just like him stabbed him, leaving him behind to die alone, cast aside like a defective tool... A rush of anger filled him as Styx thought of that person, how much he had hated him... Hated him enough to do something so cruel, so reckless, that it had almost killed him... A gigantic golden tree, higher than every tree he had ever seen... That was before, before he was born, so long ago he wasn't even sure if it had been him...
Styx...
The painful flood of reminiscences stopped as Styx heard himself scream. He had gone down to his knees, holding his head. He gasped for air, waiting for the pain to disappear. He took a deep breath as he desperately tried to regain his composure, chase away the disturbing images. He slowly lifted his head.
The Elf looked terrible. His robes were ragged and dirty, stained with his golden blood. His pale, bluish skin was covered in bruises and cuts, obviously from systematic torture, and he was even thinner than he had been so long ago. Well, if Styx remembered correctly, that is. What has been his name again? Nym, or something? Maybe he had dreamed all this bullshit, just like the fucking nightmare that kept coming back again and again... The pain vanished slowly, and finally Styx felt able to speak again.
"Hey, am I going insane or have we already met?", he asked him carefully. The Elf looked up, his eyes glowing.
"You are who they now call Styx...", Nym asked with his ethereal voice echoing in Styx's mind. His head exploded with pain once more. He knew that he had met this guy already, he remembered the damn pain whenever the Elf spoke. He didn't even use his mouth like a normal person would, he just made words appear in Styx's head. As far Styx knew, all of the rare Amber-Elves, hated by the Empire and corrupted by the Amber they drank like water, spoke like that. Their strange magical abilities resulted in their excessive Amber consumption, including the telepathy. It felt more than wrong.
"Did you cause the Atrium to fall?", the Elf went on. Styx groaned.
"Shut up! Ahhhh, dammit, I'm never going to get used to that! Fuck... Where was I? Listen, I vaguely remember that we have worked together, sort of, long ago. I'm not sure if that's even true, besides. I don't know of any Atrium. But my name is Styx, I can tell you as much", Styx snapped.
"I helped you get rid of the first Styx, helped you to cut the connection between you and him, so he could no longer control you... You promised to stop him, for he was going to steal the Heart of the Tree... But the Heart was destroyed, and the Atrium crashed to the ground. You must have failed, and still you survived", Nym's wraithlike voice stated, without anger or accusation.
"What...? Listen, I don't know what you're talking about. Might be you think of my former self, but I have left that behind me long ago. That's not me anymore! Not me! I am the one and only Styx! What are you even doing here, for fuck's sake? Where's the rune?", Styx asked. He started to think that the rune was not the most magical thing in the dungeon, it was Nym the thaumatometer had pointed to. He sighed frustrated.
"I am very sorry... The Inquisition questioned me for so long, and I've become weak... They are desperately searching for a new source of raw Amber, and they think you know a secret. They know about you, and they will hunt you down to make you tell them how to get more Amber", Nym echoed. "You are in grave danger. I apologize for that."
"Shit, stop talking already! Ouch, my head... I already know the Inquisition hunts me, okay? That's why I'm here, to stay out of sight and kill that fucking torturer. And find the rune, besides... Where is it?"
"You do not understand. The Bigot plans to capture you, to lure you into a trap..."
"Let's see what's in this jar... Dammit, empty. What? A trap? Hah! They can't do that, I'm untouchable!", Styx snapped, rummaging around in nearby shelves and turning jars and containers upside down. "I can tell you, they've been trying to catch me for as long as I can remember and never succeeded. The Empire's dogs don't stand a chance against this Goblin here. A trap, huh? How are those wimps going to do that?"
"I have better hearing than Candidus knows. I overheard them talking about some person they want to kidnap. A hostage, to force you to come to them by yourself", Nym said. He had risen and stood on his long legs, though he still shook a little.
"I don't know anybody they could use for that", Styx muttered. Then, suddenly, he froze as if he had been struck. A horrible realization dawned in him.
"Wait... Did they mention a name?"
"I'm not sure... It is supposed to be some Dragonelf, as far as I remember", Nym replied.
Styx stared at him with panic in his eyes. His stomach felt like a piece of ember was burning its way through his insides, his head spun and his blood rushed in his ears as fear took him over.
It couldn't be true. It mustn't.
"Maera?! No, not her, that can't be, you must have misheard! Fuck those assholes, not Maera!", Styx shouted, walking up and down in sudden fear and worry. "It can't be! Think, bloody Elf! Are you sure about that?"
"I am certain. It was a Dragonelf from the Thaumaturgan Academy. That's all I heard."
"No! No fucking way! They can't! They don't know where she is, they don't know anything... How would they know about Maera? You didn't tell them, did you?"
"Do not get upset. I have never heard of her. They must have had another source", Nym replied calmly.
"Don't you tell me I can't get upset, I just saved your skinny ass! I need to get back to the city as fast as possible to see if she's alright!", Styx snapped, gathered his bag and made for the door. On his way out, he gave the torturer's corpse an angry kick. With a soft clatter, a fist-size runestone slipped out of his pocket, the magical rune a glowing blue pattern. Styx cursed wildly, picked up the damn thing and stuffed it in his bag. He didn't really care about his bloody contract right now, it seemed meaningless to him all of a sudden. All he could think about was Maera. He felt stupid and helpless. Why the hell had he not thought about that himself? If the Inquisition was so damn keen on capturing him, they might sooner or later also endanger the ones close to him.
Because I never had anybody who was this close to me.
Styx felt sick.
"Wait, Emet. I need your help, you cannot leave me here."
"Guess what, shithead, I can! If what you said is true, Maera is in danger! I swear if the Inquisition assholes lay their slimy hands on her I'm going to rip each one's throat out and shove them up their asses!", Styx shouted. He was angry and worried and more afraid than he had ever experienced in his entire life. It couldn't be Maera, it just couldn't... Maybe it was Sicca, which was bad enough, or Abbyss... He knew many Dragonelves, but none of them was as important to him as his Maera. Styx couldn't stand the mere thought of her being in danger, it made his heart burn in agony. He needed to leave as fast as possible, get back to the city and see if she was alright. He mustn't waste any time. On the other hand, the Elf might have heard more, he mused. Nym probably was the only source of information he had when it came to the Inquisition's plans. Maybe it was better to take him back as well.
"Come with me, fucking Elf. Maybe you know more things about the Inquisition's schemes I might need. We'll get to the highest wall of the castle, where a Dark Brotherhood member is going to pick me up soon. Try to stay close and don't make a sound, you got that?", Styx ordered. He thought that if the Elf had heard so much about the plans of the Bigot, it might be a bad idea to leave him to rot in the dungeon. Furthermore, now that Styx had mentioned Maera's name in his presence, if he left Nym behind he might tell the dear Inquisition that the Goblin they were looking for was heading back to the city, and he really couldn't use that.
The Elf nodded thankfully and followed Styx outside the chamber. He was still limping, but since he made wide steps while Styx sneaked carefully most of the time, he didn't slow him down. Together, they passed the cell area with the dead guards. Styx couldn't possibly fit that beanpole of an Elf into the tunnels he had used, so he had to figure out a new route. He was thanking himself that he had taken his time to explore the area and worked out several escape plans in advance. He took Nym down an empty hallway to an escalator for kitchen goods and supply that was so old that it was seldom used. Styx pulled a lever, and they ascended. Soon they had reached the ground level, and a breeze of fresh air came in through a vent. It didn't light up Styx mood, but it helped him concentrate. Carefully looking left and right, he made sure than the corridor behind the escalator was empty, then he whistled for the Elf. Together they made their way to a narrow spiral staircase that wound up high to a tower. Suddenly, the Elf stopped. His golden eyes glowed in the darkness.
"I sense a being coming from above...", Nym's voice whispered inside Styx's head.
"Ahhh... Shut it! I'll take a look, wait here."
Styx drew his dagger and slowly prowled upwards. Soon, he heard the heavy steps of a guard. By the sound of him it wasn't a knight, luckily. Styx waited until he was close enough, then he threw a slim knife at him. The blade thrust into the slit between the helmet and the neck armor, and the guard fell down the stairs. It made a hell of a noise, as if a pile of cooking pans had fallen down. Styx cursed as he heard more steps coming from above.
"Is anyone there? You better show yourself!", a voice demanded. Then, another guard popped into view and caught Styx offhand. The guard swung his heavy sword, and Styx quickly raised his dagger to parry the blow. He did it, but the impact of the sword on his own weapon made his arm ring with pain. The guard tried another blow, and this time the steel scratched Styx's arm. He gasped angrily, trying to ignore the pain, and parried another blow. Styx was starting to get tired, green blood oozing from the cut in his arm. The guard wanted to finish it and swung his sword widely, but it was too long for the staircase and the tip hit the wall. Styx used the guard's short confusion to quickly headbutt him, push him to the ground and bury his dagger in his face.
"Elf! Quick, get up here!", Styx called. He didn't have any acid left, and soon the other guards would notice the blood that ran down the stairs. Together with the Elf, he climbed up the tower until they reached the top of the castle wall. It was the gloomy grey darkness just before dawn, and an orange stripe on the horizon told Styx that the sun was going to rise soon. He looked out for the griffin, and luckily there it was, a faint grey silhouette against the foggy mountains that surrounded the castle. Styx and Nym rushed to the griffin. The assassin that rode it sat next to its huge talons, sharpening a knife with a whetstone.
"Styx, you're early. Hey, who's that? You didn't tell me about any guests..."
"Shut up and get your chicken ready, we need to get back to the Academy as fast as possible! If this guy here is right, the Inquisition has some really fucked up plans and if we don't hurry, we'll be too late to stop them!", Styx shouted.
"We won't be as fast with another rider... You sure you don't want to leave him?", the assassin asked. If Nym was afraid hearing this, he didn't show it.
"I can't! I'd love to, but he knows much about the Inquisition's plans! I need him. We'll just hand him over to the Archmage of the Academy, he'll take care of him. So, can we go now?", Styx begged.
"Fine, then. Climb on."
The three climbed on the griffin, which didn't complain about the extra weight, and flew up into the grey shroud of clouds that covered the morning sun.