Chapter Seven
THE TOWER
Purgatain
On the outside it was vast, tall, and cylinder with a pointed tip. A dark pitch-black void amidst a golden sea of sand. On the outside its adamantium born body towered nearly two miles above the sand dunes below. It's four blackened spires, spaced evenly apart two hundred feet below the tip, reached up as if they would pierce the blue barrier between earth and the ebony heavens above. On the outside there was no source of light emitting from the black thing that grew from the bright golden ground like an abnormal scab over a long since healed wound. A scab that now took on a life of its own, harboring no pity for those trapped within.
On the inside it was dark. No light from the life giving sun penetrated the inner sanctum of the black thing. The inner sanctum being the many thousands of cells that lined the walls. Prison cells. Two hundred and fifty identical levels each with twenty five prison cells made up eighty percent of the structure. There were no bars. There were no windows. Not one sound generated from inside the small six foot by six foot cells could ever be heard by anyone from the outside world.
Inside the cells, however, those who had not yet been educated on the hopelessness of hope were often times prone to shouting, shrieking, and cursing the very existence of their dark prison. Enveloped in an endless seemingly borderless black void, those trapped within the black mesh would scream to their heart's content. First they would curse their captors, those that brought them to their current hell. Next they would curse their past mistakes that resulted in their being captured. Finally, though the exact time would vary among prisoners, they would curse themselves. They would curse themselves for allowing their own capture. They would curse themselves for not dying before being captured. Ultimately, those that still drew breath would curse themselves for not having the courage to end their own existence, resolved in their decision to endure another dark day of insanity inducing solitude.
One prisoner had just reached the final stage that preceded self inflicted death.
His once bright green hair was now blackened by the dirt, sweat, and grime that covered his body. It now clung to his scalp and forehead never moving. His clothes were gone. Replaced by the human waste covered prison clothes of the cell's former resident. Not that it mattered as no eyes, not even his own could look upon his broken body. An unbearable stench surrounded him. The odor literally burned the man's nostrils as the rotten air flowed into his lungs. The prisoner soon realized after exploring his small soon to be tomb that the stench came from the cell's former resident. There was nothing inside the cell except the decaying remains of its former residents and their waste. The current prisoner discovered these horrid facts while feeling around in the dark, exploring the room.
Death didn't only cross the prisoner's mind as an inevitable outcome. His disoriented thoughts soon began visualizing the end as his only salvation. A peaceful slumber from which he would never have to wake. A portal into a new realm of bliss far away from the inhumane tortures of his current residence. Slowly, the man's consciousness started wavering. The frequency of this phenomena increased as the length between the prisoner's meals increased. Everyday another hour was added on to the time a small automated rectangular section of the cell door would slide open and a robotic arm would garnish a tray full of insect infested bread and water.
No light shined when the hole opened.
When his consciousness finally left him the prisoner's dreams filled yet again with images of his past.
Here in his dreamworld, the prisoner was no longer a prisoner. No. He was a powerful warrior, surrounded by his comrades and enemies in a mythical magical battle. The type of battle written of in fairy tales. The type of battle spoke of in myths and legends. The warrior was in a battle against things that those of the distant past would refer to as demons and what lay before him was none other than a monster many, even in his time, believed to be a god.
This particular god held sway over the very essence of water itself and used the life giving substance to hand out the most gruesome of deaths.
The warrior could only gaze out at the god in terror, knowing that his time had come. However, as his mind prepared itself for the end, the most unexpected thing that could happen to the warrior, happened.
Take him.
The words echoed inside the warrior's mind even while the snake-arm of water crushed him against the metallic walls of the mythical battleground. The words stayed with him even after the snake-arm flung him across the landscape into a dark void inside a metallic transport. It was then the warrior became a prisoner.
Darkness was his entire world now.
The impenetrable door that kept him trapped within the cell did not remain closed forever. Every so often, it would open. No light would shine through the newly formed entryway. No. The technological horrors of the prison saw to that. Every so often the door would open, and through it two dark figures would seize the prisoner and carry him off down the darkened pathways of wherever it was the prisoner was. After sometimes a few seconds and sometimes an eternity the prisoner would be thrown against something and tormented.
Laughing. Snickers. Chuckles. The prisoner could hear it with what was left of his sense of hearing.
Poking. Prodding. Cutting. Burning. The prisoner could feel it with what was left of his sense of touch.
The pain was excruciating but oddly welcomed. The pain, the prisoner felt, it at least let him know he was still alive. It was the only thing he felt save the continuously cold stone floors of his cell.
They wouldn't kill him. So he wouldn't die.
Who am I? The prisoner somehow brought his mind into focus. Who am I?
How long had it been since his own words echoed inside of his head? Were these his own words? The prisoner didn't know.
Where am I? Again the voice spoke to him.
Where...is she? Where...is...Claire?
Purgatain: Ground Level
Another bright and sunny morning shined onto the face of Cheng Suzaka, head warden of the infamous mana prison, Purgatain. His quarters inside the gargantuan black spire, an expensively furnished luxurious apartment, said more about the warden's character than any dossier author could hope to portray. Everything, down to the placement of his toothbrush was meticulously set in his own mandated order down to the last centimeter. The ventilation system that ran through the spire was given a special integration inside Cheng's home. The system worked as a makeshift airlock sanitizer, not letting one germ or speck of dust inside the apartment.
Cheng was not germaphobic. He wore no special protection suits while walking the halls and circular catwalks of his prison. No. Instead, Cheng valued luxury and status over almost anything else. If there was something as sophisticated and expensive as a personal germ filtered disposal system that could be installed within ones home that only a select few could attain, Cheng would be one of those select few.
Back in Nakul, while revered as one of the few gifted Generals within the Kazunian regular army, the respect Cheng received was not from those he wanted it from. Only those with little aptitude towards magic saw him as anything more than soldier.
A soldier. The former General frowned at his thoughts while getting dressed.
Those who wielded the real power in world, the Techmages, those were the ones he demanded respect from. The acknowledgment was something that should never be given, only earned. Cheng knew this and felt that after twenty-five years of excellence in service to the army, after thousands of battles won against foreign aggressors, and after going as far as defeating an entire battalion commanded by five enemy Techmages with his heavily unmatched armor company back in his glory days as an N.C.O., Cheng felt that his respect amongst the magical warriors of his nation was due.
However, none of them shared Cheng's opinion.
It was common knowledge amongst the regular branches of the military and the one special branch that harbored Techmages that those with a high affinity towards magic were the new upper class of society. They were the ones thrown into the public's eye on a daily bases even though their missions and identities were largely kept secret. Cheng would always scoff at how the media would never bother reporting any military operations unless they in someway involved a Techmage. This fact sickened him.
There were many individuals under his command that suddenly began showing signs of latent magical endurance and were immediately pulled from his units into the testing grounds at Drakoneasho. Individuals that Cheng deemed to be wastes to the Kazunian Empire. These disobedient, self centered, insubordinate, undisciplined rejects were whisked away to become the new "rock stars" of the military. They would return to Cheng's unit, cocky and arrogant with none of the small respect they had for their commanding officer's rank.
They never respected him as a man, only his rank.
Cheng would have none of it. He would not have some pompous magic using private ordering him around during a mission just because they happened to be up against enemy Techmages. The transfer papers were waiting for the newly trained soldiers before their training even began. Against the suggestions-as his superiors always called them-of his commanding officers, Cheng never allowed Techmages into his unit. Not even when his unit was designated to be at the forefront of every large scale conflict the country would endure. His superiors would never change those suggestions into orders for two reasons.
One: his unit never lost a battle.
Two: he would resign if ever forced to operate with a Techmage.
Cheng knew he was too valuable to the army for them to simply brush his personal feelings aside. So they gave him what he wanted. However, to Cheng's great dissatisfaction, what he really wanted he could never have.
Until now.
While respect from Techmage units would forever remain out of his reach, fear and the satisfaction of being the cause of that fear, the fear that filled the hearts of every magic user within Purgatain...
That satisfaction would be his.
It was on this bright day like any other that the ground level floors that made up the first twenty percent of Purgatain came to life with the bustling activity of the one hundred prison guards and twenty prison staff workers currently stationed at the facility. That twenty percent being the first three floors of the mana prison. On the ground floor, Cheng emerged from his lavish apartment and shut the door behind him. He placed his hands on his hips and his commanding presence beamed from his stance. He gave his clothes a brief once-over before starting out towards the front lobby of the prison.
The long black boots he wore clicked with each step he took and his dark beige khaki pants, tucked into the boots, ruffled as he walked. A thin black belt with a bright golden buckle adorned with three stars, which represented his former rank as a General, held up the khakis and kept the beige button down dress shirt tucked beneath the pants in place. The long beige overcoat he wore born from expensive vicuna fabrics fluttered behind Cheng as he walked and his dark red tie whisked along the wind, occasionally brushing against his shoulder.
When Cheng reached the center of the spire his eyes, covered with dark brown sunglasses gazed up towards the two mile high ceiling of the prison. Built rather ingeniously in Cheng's opinion, above ground level floors used by the prison guards and staff, no traditional means of reaching the upper levels such as stairs or elevators existed. Instead there were fifty cheap low powered shuttles that harbored no doors or roofs save for the pilot compartment that at any given time during the day would transport a number of guards directly up the center of the spire to one of the many prison floors. There the guards would step off onto the circular catwalks that connected the prison cells. As an added security measure several thick adamantium born sheets of metal were built into the walls just below each catwalk. If need be, the sheets would extend outward and connect in the center of the spire forming a circular shield preventing anyone from escaping that level of the prison.
It was this morning that Cheng decided to pay a visit to the newest "guest" to arrive at his prison. Cheng took pleasure in riding the shuttles up the center of the spire. He felt, while gazing down from the borderless platform he now stood on with two armored guards at his sides, more now than ever he felt that this spire was his kingdom and everyone in it his subject. Here, surrounded by the vast barren desert known as Zerkana, Cheng's will was law. This fact was the reason why the former General declined the regular work schedule all wardens before him had followed.
Prison guards and staff that operated Purgatain had a one week on, one week off schedule due to the fact that the prison was located so far away from civilization. Every week a shuttle transport would take one shift away and replace them with another. Even while the guards and staff were for all intents and purposes "off duty" while away from the prison they were still paid during their off time as long as they returned to the prison. Only the select few shuttle pilots ferrying the employees back and forth knew of the facility's location. Only the select few pilots and, head Warden Cheng Suzaka.
As Cheng and the guards stepped off of the shuttle onto the fiftieth floor the darkness of the upper levels had already consumed their vision. Cheng hated the idea of constantly having to fiddle with night vision goggles so instead he sent out a request to an old friend, Cyrus Blank, to design a new brand of night vision devices suited for the unique prison facility. The results of that request were the sunglasses that Cheng and every prison guard wore while on duty. The glasses automatically compensated for light and darkness. When the presence or absence of light touched the outer lenses of the device a small microchip set a series of tiny machines into motion that automatically compensated for the change. Now the prison employees could literally see in the dark with no need of even flipping a switch. The invention, now in mass production has spread to most of the Kazunian military.
Cheng knew that the torture officer currently on duty at Purgatain had already begun utilizing his expertise on the new prisoner. A fact evident by the loud screams emanating from the center hall that led to the torture chamber that every floor harbored. The excuse the government used for the creation of the chambers and branch of officers that ran them always brought a slight smirk to the former General's face. Those in power argued that since such individuals who are blessed with the gift of magic would turn to crime such as those whom started the great magic wars of the past, which nearly destroyed the human race, any cruel and unusual form of punishment for such individuals is not only acceptable but encouraged.
A low hum echoed down the hall as an automated metal door slid back after receiving the proper entry codes from the head warden. The loud agonized scream that erupted from the captured Techmage strapped down to a large metallic chair brought a grin to the warden's face.
"I see your dedication to your...work is still...lucrative" Cheng chuckled and removed a pair of brown leather gloves from his overcoat.
The warden's words barely penetrated the bubble of deranged ecstasy emanating from the torture officer or Shadow Claw as they were known through staff gossip. The Shadow Claw gazed up at the new arrivals to his chamber and a toothy grin covered his face at the sight of the warden.
"Warden Suzaka." With the handle gripped tightly in the Shadow Claw's right hand, the lethal end of a small cutting tool that resembled a crude crossing between a scythe and a scalpel was buried beneath the prisoner's skin. "Always," he yanked the blade from the prisoner, extracting another pain filled shriek, "a pleasure."
"How is our guest holding up against the hallucinogens?" Cheng asked while placing his gloved hand under the prisoner's chin, lifting the man's head to better examine his eyes.
The torture chamber was brightly lit, so in order to avoid letting any light into the vision of the many prisoners within Purgatain, specially designed contact lenses were stuck to their eyes. The technology within the lenses gave them the reverse effect of the sunglasses Cheng wore. The lenses were coated with a moisture resistant glue that kept the prisoners from clawing them out.
The Shadow Claw chuckled at the question. "All perception is lost. Hours become days. Days weeks. Weeks months. Months years." His protruding belly bounced as he made his way over to a table littered with many different tools used in the ancient art of torture. "You really have it in for this one." He plucked a small syringe from the table and filled it with the thin purple liquid contained within a small bottle. "I wonder is your grudge personal or professional? Did this one wrong you in some way?"
"No." Cheng eyed the man, the Shadow Claw as he filled the syringe. "No more than any of the other arrogant magic users in this world."
The torture officer also wore a brown overcoat although less expensive. A white shirt covered by a red buttoned down vest covered his large upper body while dark brown pants and black boots covered his lower half. Long red hair covered his head, extending just below his chin, some strands clinging to the side of his cheeks. His dim green eyes returned from the syringe to the prisoner.
"You know. I had only used this on one prisoner after I invented it." The Shadow Claw admitted while injecting the drug into his victim. "The effects were so potent that I didn't have the heart to inflict its wrath on the others."
Cheng scoffed at the comment as his eyes took in the many torture tools the Shadow Claw wielded on a daily basis. The bloodstains and human waste covering the walls and floor did much in contradicting the torture officer's statement.
"I think what you mean is, you found the one torture method that even the government found too cruel to sanction." Cheng said, correcting the Shadow Claw's false statement.
"Yes. That is until, at your request, a mass production and daily dosage protocol was set in place. You have my deepest gratitude."
"Happy to help."
Cheng caught himself grimacing at his last statement. Was he indeed really "happy" to help? When it came to Techmages or anyone with magical affinity for that matter, Cheng never turned a sympathetic ear to their pleas. However, had his hatred consumed him so much to the point that he no longer viewed these individuals as human, deserving of dignity and compassion?
After another scream from the prisoner brought yet another flutter of sweet grudge induced satisfaction to the former General's lips in the form of a small grin, an answer to those questions echoed inside his mind.
I guess so. The warden chuckled as he thought. Normal humans can have my sympathy. These pompous freaks can rot just like the burnt witches of the past continue to rot.
"Doctor Sogawa." Cheng called out to the Shadow Claw after the torture officer had finished slicing off another piece of flesh from the prisoner.
"Yes?" Sogawa glanced up, splattered blood dripping from his chin.
"Keep up the good work."
With that the warden turned on his heel and exited the torture chamber, his two guard escort in tow, and made his way back to the shuttle platform that extended out from the circular railing. As the shuttle descended from the darkness of the upper levels, Cheng reminisced about the new prisoner and the reason he received more attention than his peers.
Zerkana Desert: Eighteen Days Ago
Cheng slowly stepped down the exit ramp of his personal A.T.R. and slowly gazed up into the brightly sunlit sky as a standard Kazunian military transport shuttle descended through the dust filled air to the ground. The shuttle hatch opened with a snap hiss and Koren Danton emerged from the craft with a satisfied smirk and confident stride. Behind the Techmage two armed imperial soldiers led a bound and blindfolded Vandarian prisoner towards the A.T.R..
A tremor of anger arose inside Cheng's chest at the sight of Koren's magic oriented equipment.
"Specialist Danton." The anger subsided quickly. Cheng decided he would rather revel in the gain of a new magic prisoner rather than let the presence of a magic ally ruin his good mood.
"Specialist? It's been so long...I had forgotten my official rank." Koren chuckled.
"A disgraceful luxury among many disgraceful luxuries afforded to you spell casting abomi..."
"We're both grown adults here, warden." Koren interrupted. "We can conduct our business without childish name calling."
"Indeed." Cheng frowned while folding his arms. "Well then. Get to the reason why you are still standing here."
Koren glanced over Cheng's shoulder at his former prisoner being led into the A.T.R. then centered his cold caramel eyes onto Cheng's sunglass covered eyes. "I have touched the essence of a god, Cheng. I have seen into the depths of eternity. The things we cherish here...these pitiful distractions we hold so near and dear to our hearts. Pointless...pointless and dangerous distractions."
Cheng's eyebrows rose at the near spiritual words from the evil Techmage. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"Hell..." Koren smiled as his eyes trailed off into the cloudy sky. Soon. His gaze returned to Cheng. "That one," Koren pointed briefly at the prisoner's back and then lowered his arm, "I saw him too."
"Saw him where?"
"In the first age...there were four. There were four of them...bathed in light. Among those four...there was always one that increased the light of the others." Koren lowered his stare to the sandy ground and closed his eyes. "Your new...addition...I saw him...bathed in the light."
No words came to Cheng's mind. He could only gaze out in complete bewilderment as Koren turned and reentered his shuttle with the soldiers. As the exit ramp rose, Koren stopped and turned his head to the side, leaving Cheng with one last slew of words.
"You can have your fun but remember that I'll be back for him. Keep him...intact until then." The ramp closed with a metallic clank and Koren Danton was removed from Cheng's sight.
Cheng watched as the shuttle ascended into the air, the look of confusion remaining glued to his face until the craft had long since left his range of sight. "Bathed in the light?"
Purgatain: Now
Even now, twenty floors below Sogawa's chamber on the fiftieth floor, Cheng could hear the screams erupting from his new prisoner. Each agonized fit of torment cut and beaten out of the magic using bastard was sweet music to Cheng's ears.
Suddenly the feint yet familiar sound of a blowtorch ignited into existence bringing a satisfied smirk to the warden's face.
Oh I'll keep him intact. Even though your deluded insanity died with you I'll keep him alive.
His smirking lips slowly formed a maniacal smile.
"Just so I can listen to him beg me for death."