Much to Azlia's disappointment, the gan'arg had shown no sign of treachery. He led her swiftly through Xoroth's labyrinthine wall spaces, glancing back every now and then to ensure she was following and eye her claws warily.
Azlia smiled seductively at him and winked, causing him to speed up even more. She giggled softly to herself. Her ire at not being permitted to tear the gan'arg into bloody gobbets was tempered by the knowledge that he was leading her towards something even more amusing: a dreadlord in a cage. It was a thing she had never heard of in all her very long life. Azlia and her sisters had been slaves of the Legion since time out of mind, and much misery had been inflicted on them by the Nathrezim, favored servants of Kil'jaeden, over the millennia. Now one was at her mistress', and by extension her own, mercy. How perfectly delightful.
The ganarg stopped abruptly. "This is as far as we can go on the inside," he said gruffly, looking up at her with pale eyes. "Go right down this hall then take your second left, he'll be there."
"Mmm, anything else I should know?" Azlia asked, inspecting her slender claws for any imperfections.
"Yeah. Patrols every fifteen minutes. Last one just passed us; that's how long you'll have." He did something to the wall that made it dissolve into flowing ripples and looked at her expectantly.
Azlia caressed his wrinkled cheek playfully with the tips of her clawed fingers, laughing when he flinched. "I'll see you later," she said, cloaking herself in invisibility before stepping through the wall.
The dungeon proper was very different from the maintenance tunnels of the gan'arg. Instead of roughly-hewn blocks, this passage was tiled in some matte black stone that swallowed the light of the green flames that illuminated it. It was a long and wide hall, lined with cells barred with crackling barriers of fel energy instead of steel. These varied in proportion from hardly large enough for a gnome to ballroom-sized. Azlia walked swiftly past them, hips swaying.
It was an interesting menagerie the Legion had collected here. Void terrors, Ethereal nexus-princes, many-tentacled emissaries of powers that gave even the great demon lords pause. Anything deemed too dangerous to keep with the common prisoners on the upper levels.
Azlia turned down the passage the gan'arg had indicated and easily picked out Nerothos' cell. She paused to observe for a moment, barely repressing a malicious giggle as she peered through the translucent green curtain of magic at the sorry state of the creature inside. Oh, this really was delicious. For a mortal, her mistress did make the most amusing requests.
In addition to the broken horn and scarred chest that Nerothos had previously sported, his entire left side was now a gory mess, most of the skin having been stripped from it. He wasn't so much standing against the back wall of the cell as gingerly leaning on it, one of his wings hanging at an angle that was not at all natural. His eyes were closed and his breathing was shallow. Azlia, who was well-versed in all manners of pain, guessed he was suffering from at least one broken rib.
She dropped her disguise and smiled cruelly, sauntering closer to the barrier. "My my, looks like someone's been naughty."
A lesser creature might have been startled by the succubus' sudden appearance, but Nerothos merely opened his eyes and snarled softly.
Azlia tilted her head, almond-shaped eyes glittering with sadistic curiosity. "Have they cut out your tongue, dreadlord? Oh dear, this will be a very dull conversation."
Nerothos' gaze raked over her contemptuously. He had little patience for succubae under the best of circumstances. Though they did, occasionally, have their uses, they were liabilities more often than not. They had little stomach for real combat, and very few of them seemed able to grasp any sort of strategic agenda beyond mindlessly tormenting any creature in their power. As this one was attempting to do now. It was a sorry effort, and Nerothos was wholly unimpressed. "What is your purpose here, Sayaadi slave?" he sneered.
"Oooh, that's not very nice at all," Azlia said, tossing her head so her hair rippled like dark silk. "Better behave or I'll tell mistress to let you rot here forever!" She sounded delighted at the idea.
Nerothos looked slightly more interested at that. So, it seemed the warlock had survived Vathregyr's treachery and was still in a position to make herself useful. This was unexpected news, though not unwelcome. His eyes burned into the succubus from the dark of the cell. "Where is your mistress now?"
"Nowhere that's any business of yours, dreadlord," Azlia said, idly running a claw along the magical barrier and loosing a shower of green sparks.
Nerothos growled softly, looming over her through the translucent partition. "I assume your mistress has inflicted this tedium on me for a purpose, slave. I suggest you come to it."
"Or what?" Azlia mocked, preening insolently in front of him. "You'll glare at me some more? Oooh, I'm trembling already," she said, giving a sarcastic little wriggle.
Nerothos refused to be baited, gazing at her with his lip curled in contempt.
After a few seconds she sighed and rolled her eyes, realizing her limited time was almost up. "Mistress says if you don't tell your interrogators anything foolish, she'll come and fetch you. Though I can't imagine why," she added, looking his injured form scornfully up and down. "I daresay she could do better."
Nerothos stared impassively back at her. This impudent thrall had best hope she never encountered him without a powerful arcane shield between them. "Tell her I have not yet been interrogated, but should they choose to question me in earnest there is little I could hide regardless of my intentions. If she has a plan, she should implement it quickly."
"I'll think about it," Azlia said, full lips quirked in a malicious smirk. She was bored with this demon; it was time to leave. "Try not to miss me too much," she said, blowing him a kiss as she faded back to invisibility.
Nerothos stared at the place she had disappeared, eyes narrowed in contemplation. The warlock was clever enough in her own way, but he had little faith in her. Even if she did manage to evade Xoroth's guardians long enough to unlock his cell, there was something else to consider. He no longer knew where her allegiances lay, what resources were at her disposal, or what she was trying to accomplish; whether she desired his assistance or merely his silence. If it were the latter, then it would be equally effective and far more expedient for her to simply kill him rather than attempt a rescue. Normally he would've found the idea of a mere mortal even daring to attempt such a thing laughable, but the unfortunate fact of the matter was that Callista was free, and he was suffering Lord Hel'nurath's "hospitality." Much more of it and he'd be fortunate to be able to stand, let alone defend himself.
He snarled quietly as two felguards swaggered past his cell, armored boots ringing against the stone. Without more information, this was all naught but idle conjecture. There was nothing to do but wait.
Several miles away across the twisting catacombs of Xoroth, Callista perched cross-legged on a pile of dusty debris with her chin in her hand, skewering Tazlik with her gaze as he explained the logistics of their assassination plot. Na'rii and Tun sat or leaned nearby. They had all started out standing, but the one-armed mo'arg had been pontificating for a while now.
"The most crucial part of this venture," Tazlik said, pacing back and forth before them, "will be drawing away Vathregyr's personal legion long enough to actually kill him." He paused for a moment while he scrutinized their faces, making sure (Callista assumed) that their feeble mortal brains had fully grasped this point before continuing. "Once that is accomplished, the rest should be simple."
Na'rii laughed skeptically from where she was lounging against the wall to Callista's left. She was a professional sword-for-hire; she knew that was tripe.
Tazlik glared at the interruption. "You are in luck; Vathregyr suffered a grievous wound in his attempt to subdue your party. You were not overrun as easily as he expected. He is weakened."
Callista cocked her head a little in interest. So, it seemed the Tothrezim hadn't carried off his change of allegiance totally unscathed after all. That had to have been Nerothos' doing. Perhaps the demon wasn't entirely a nuisance after all.
"Ya mentioned somethin' about needin' a diversion," Na'rii said, toying thoughtfully with one of the bear claws around her wrist. She seemed completely indifferent to Tazlik's ire. "What did ya have in mind?"
Tazlik peered down his nose at her as though she had just said something painfully stupid. It was an expression that reminded Callista of her old runescripting professor back at the Academy, and set her teeth on edge even more than they were already.
"I had nothing in mind," he said with killing disdain. "My mental acumen is far too valuable to waste pondering the details of base combat."
Na'rii gazed back at him, unimpressed. "Ya got no idea what ya doin', do ya?"
Tazlik sputtered, the metal claw that served as his one good hand whirring mechanically as it opened and closed in outrage. "How dare you even insinuate such a thing!"
"Because you're clueless as a concussed trogg?" Callista volunteered, amused by his agitation.
He blinked down haughtily at her through his green-tinged goggles. "I don't recall asking for the opinion of under-evolved lab refuse."
Tun sighed and shook his head. He climbed to his feet and brushed some of the dust from his robes, preparing to try to impose some order on a discussion that was rapidly spiraling towards anarchy.
Azlia interrupted first. She strolled out of a side passage preceded by a frazzled-looking Darmog, who quickly slunk behind Tazlik.
"I did as you asked, mistress," Azlia said, posing in the middle of the group with a milky hand placed languidly on her hip. She had positioned herself so that a wall sconce provided a flattering backlight, lending a rosy glow to the curve of her throat and breast. The effect was not lost on Tazlik, who eyed her with interest that was a bit more than cursory.
"And?" Callista prompted. She straightened a little and uncrossed her stiff legs to stretch, dislodging a cloud of dust and a small avalanche of debris.
Azlia sniffed, flicking her slim tail disdainfully. "He's a very dull creature, mistress. You should find a new one."
Callista snorted and allowed herself a fleeting moment of horror at the thought of more dreadlords. "No, it has to be that one. What did he say?"
"Oooh, he was very insolent, mistress," Azlia said. She had noticed Tazlik's stare and preened for his benefit, flexing her wings and running a hand through her glossy hair. "He claims he hasn't told them anything, but says he'll probably break under torture."
Callista nodded, staring thoughtfully into space.
Tun looked up at her, the expression on his round face tinged with disgust. "You're not still thinking of freeing that thing. There's no time!"
"Killing Vathregyr's no good if Hel'nurath knows we're trying to assault the Outland-gate. Besides, we need a diversion anyway." She craned her head, looking for the drab form of the gan'arg. "Darmog!" she called, spotting him lurking at the edge of the group farthest from Azlia. "How close is Nerothos' cell to Vathregyr's quarters? Would his troops respond to a disturbance there?"
"Maybe," Darmog said, peering out from behind Tazlik's stocky legs. "If it was messy enough."
"Maybe is not good enough," Tazlik said. He was trying to look as though he wasn't ogling Azlia out of the corner of his eye, but it was a failed effort as far as Callista was concerned. Really, you'd think another demon would know better. She could only suppose there weren't very many succubae in whatever laboratory he usually sequestered himself. It would hardly be surprising; the Sayaad didn't really have much of a scientific bent.
She sighed. "Well, is there anything important near there? Anywhere you could plant explosives, maybe?"
Darmog suddenly acquired a shifty, trapped look and seemed to try to shrink into himself, vanishing back behind Tazlik.
Callista wrinkled her nose. She was beginning to see why Lady Sarlah had delegated this job to mortals and not her own servants. Brilliant inventors they may all have been, but they took spinelessness to heretofore undreamt of pinnacles. "By 'you,' I mean 'me,'" she clarified.
Darmog perked up again and stepped back into her line of sight, eyes brightening at the thought of destruction now that he didn't expect to be forced into harm's way. "You could blow the magma forges."
"Yes, yes, that would most certainly draw Vathregyr's forces!" Tazlik said enthusiastically. He bared crooked teeth in a fiendish smile. "And you would never survive. How unfortunate."
"She might if she did it right," Darmog mumbled, scuffing a foot sulkily on the stone.
Tun frowned at that. He couldn't understand the small demon's Eredun, but the large one with the metal hand had been speaking Common. Callista was obstinate, a liar, and he would ring her about the neck if he thought it would have any moral effect – but he certainly didn't want her truly harmed. "Out of the question," he snapped.
"I dunno, mon. If she wants to go, let her go," Na'rii said carelessly, leaning back against the wall and putting the sole of her bare foot up against the stone. The warlock had caused nothing but mischief as long as she had known her. If she wanted to go risk her skin somewhere far away from Na'rii, that was good, and if it would help her rescue Kar'thol, well – even better.
"Darmog seems to think it can be done," Callista said, glancing down at Tun in surprise. For a moment he looked back with a familiar expression of skeptical concern, and she ventured a small smile, hoping perhaps she had been forgiven, but his face quickly walled itself off again. She quirked a lip unhappily, knowing she didn't really have a right to expect much pardon from anyone at this point. She had, she was beginning to realize, handled things rather poorly. And she wasn't even finished yet.
"Excellent! Then we have a consensus," Tazlik said, now openly gawking at Azlia.
Callista did a quick double-take and choked back a laugh. She had to admit it wasn't entirely his fault for staring. The succubus had begun adjusting the straps of her leather bustier in a way calculated specifically to look as though the garment were in danger of slipping off at any moment, though it was, in fact, quite secure.
Tun shot Callista a disapproving look. Azlia's antics hadn't escaped his notice either. Despite her repellant personality, she was a stunning creature, and he would've been hard-pressed not to look, something which annoyed him. He wished Callista would keep her pet fiends on a shorter leash. He knew she was capable, but whenever he pressed her on the matter her excuse was always a dismissive hand wave and the fact that blood pacts worked both ways, she was stuck with her demons for the rest of her life just as surely as they were stuck with her, and she'd prefer they not be any more recalcitrant than it was in their natures to be. Really Tun suspected that she just found their escapades amusing.
"I fail to see what you are laughing at," Tazlik said, staring at Callista as though she were a particularly repugnant specimen of carrion worm.
"I expect you will shortly," Callista said, snickering. The only creatures she had ever seen Azlia proposition with any degree of sincerity were doomguards and Sin'dorei. Tazlik was neither.
Na'rii shifted impatiently from where she lounged against the wall. "Don' we have business to be discussin'?" she asked pointedly.
As amusing as watching Azlia lead that irritating mo'arg around by his ugly nose would be, Callista suspected that the troll's priorities were probably the correct ones. "Alright, Azlia, I think we've seen enough," she scolded, rearranging herself to a more comfortable position on her rock pile. "You're making that demon useless."
Azlia looked up at her slyly. She stopped fiddling with her top and moved to a less conspicuous position at Callista's side. "Am I really?" she giggled, showing perfect teeth in a sultry smile and shooting Tazlik a heavy-lidded glance. "I hadn't noticed."
"Of course not," Callista said dryly.
Tun rolled his eyes, shaking his head. This was going to be a disaster. He could feel it.
Hours later, the three mortals bedded down for what would be, one way or another, their last period of rest on Xoroth. Even if Lady Sarlah was to be trusted (and Tun had his doubts about her, based on the way he had seen the demons of Xoroth treat with each other thus far), she had promised them only a few paltry hours after Vathregyr's death in which to flee. Things would move very quickly after this.
Tun rolled restlessly onto his side, trying to find a comfortable bit of floor on which to lie. The enchanted fabric of his robes was thick, but still did little to cushion the lumpy stone.
Jhormug's claws clicked softly as he loped past Tun's head on his tireless rounds. The other two demons, Lady Sarlah's servants, had left not long ago in order to keep up the pretense of loyalty to Vathregyr and, in Darmog's case, procure some sort of explosive device. Na'rii, an old campaigner, had already drifted into sleep.
Callista stirred uncomfortably a few arm lengths away. Her eyes were shut but she wasn't sleeping, unpleasant thoughts chasing themselves 'round her head. She could hear the soft swish of Tun's robes against the floor and knew that he lay awake too. She felt as though she should say something to him, but she didn't know what. "Sorry" wasn't quite adequate, and she wasn't sure it would be true anyway. She didn't, if she was perfectly honest, regret her part in Nerothos' schemes. His plan had failed, but at least he had had one. She didn't think she would even have regretted lying about it if she hadn't been caught. The only thing she was really sorry for was the one thing for which she couldn't apologize, and, even if she could, Tun was not the one whose forgiveness she should ask. Unfortunately, Folgrim was in no position to give it.
"You know you're an idiot, right?" Tun's voice was muffled by the fact that his back was still turned towards her.
Callista propped herself up on her elbow to look at him. All she could see was the purple and blue design of his robes and his short mop of green hair. "I'm beginning to figure it out," she said sheepishly.
He rolled over to face her, arcane-blue eyes bright in the dim light. He blinked, rubbing tiredly at them, and then stared at her silently for a long moment. "You swear you're not letting that one-armed fiend pack you off on some sort of suicide mission?"
Callista gave him a wry half-smile. "After all that's happened, would you really accuse me of altruism?"
"No," he snapped, looking at her sternly. "But reckless stupidity might fit."
Callista made a face at that, acknowledging his point. "Darmog says as long as I set the charges at the proper intervals, there's practically no danger at all. I can get Azlia to do it. Hardly more risky than what you'll be doing."
"I won't have That Demon skulking at my back," Tun said. Logically, he understood why it was necessary to set the dreadlord loose, but his gut still told him it was a mistake.
"I think Nerothos will be cooperative enough," Callista said, rubbing a finger absently through the reddish dust that coated the floor. They were, after all, only following through on what he had started. And if a two-day stint in a Legion prison didn't dispose him to be helpful, she didn't know what would.
Tun didn't look convinced, but there was no use in arguing a settled point. "I hope that's true," he said, expression reproachful. He went quiet again for a moment, examining the spidery cracks in the stone floor. "I'm still very angry with you, you know," he said irritably. "And I plan to continue being angry at you for a very long time, so, for Light's sake, don't do anything foolish."
Callista couldn't smother a grin. "I won't if you won't," she said sincerely.
"Agreed then," Tun said with a firm nod.
There was a slightly awkward pause.
"After all," Callista mused, just to break the silence, "who else would threaten to ring my neck after I do something awful? I mean, I'm sure Na'rii would volunteer, but it wouldn't be the same."
"Yes. Because she'd actually do it, and I'm not sure I'd blame her," Tun grumbled, throwing an arm over his eyes. "Go to sleep."
Callista snorted and rolled over onto her back, yawningly hugely. For a woman who expected to spend the next day (and maybe the rest of her life) slinking around a Legion stronghold stirring up demonic wrath, she was feeling surprisingly well-disposed towards life.
A/N: Well, believe it or not, we are finally drawing towards the end of this thing. I expect to have another two or three chapters plus an epilogue, and then it's all over, haha. I actually started this story with the ending in mind first, I'm interested myself to see if it ends up where I meant it to after all:-p