Chapter Eight: Mercy
A soft knock at the door startled Pike out of her evening meditation. "Uh… c-come in," she called out as she collected herself.
The door swung open, and when Pike saw who was there, she leapt to her feet. "Count Gildspire! Is everything all right?"
The Count winced a little, and Pike silently chided herself for the stupid question. "Not really, no. May we talk?"
"Of course," said Pike. "How can I help?"
Closing the door behind him, Count Wesley shifted his weight from foot to foot, taking a beat to gather his thoughts. In that moment, as he let the stern and stoic mask of noble duty slip away, it struck Pike how young he still was. Before her now stood not the Lord of Castle Gildspire, but a grieving son and worried brother, lost and in pain. Her heart broke for him.
"I had wondered if I might avail myself of your counsel," he said finally, his voice strained. "We have priests here, as I said, and they are wise. But they are loyal as well, and I wonder sometimes if that loyalty supersedes their wisdom. I trust that you, a relative stranger, will not simply tell me what you think I want to hear."
"I'll do my best," Pike pledged. "Tell me what you need."
Count Wesley began to pace back and forth. "My brother Robert spoke truth when he said the exploits of Vox Machina are the stuff of tales told across the realm," he said. "And so when Lady Kaiya went missing, I wanted to send for you immediately. I was, and still am, convinced that there is some foul play afoot here. My father was not." He sighed, and his shoulders slumped. "The truth is, my sister was never happy with the life of a noble lady. She wanted to joust, to fight, more interested in the art of the sword and bow than the needle. She wanted adventure, not marriage. So Father believed she'd run away—it would not be unlike her. He went out to search for her himself, but…"
Pike nodded. "But he never returned," she said softly.
"Indeed. And now I am more certain than ever that Kaiya has fallen victim to some plot. Kidnapped, though to what purpose, I cannot guess. I have asked the priests to scry what they can, but they can tell me nothing. Or will tell me nothing." He bowed is head. "If I might prevail upon you to perform the spell…?"
"I'd be happy to, Count Gildspire."
"Gods above, I swear I shall never get used to that," Count Wesley muttered. "What do you need?"
"About ten minutes, and some stuff… let me see…" Pike picked up her bag and rummaged through it. "I have candles and some incense, but I'll need a focus of some kind—a big crystal ball, or a silvered mirror, or something like that. Um, and something of hers would help. A lock of hair would be ideal, or something she's worn?"
Count Wesley nodded once, sharply. "You shall have them. Wait here; I will return with what you need."
Pike began to set up while she waited, placing her censer in the middle of the floor with a dozen or so candles in a wide circle around it. The candles weren't strictly necessary, but the ambiance they created helped her focus—and for a high-level spell like this, she needed all the help she could get. Sitting cross-legged inside the circle, she lit the incense and breathed deep of the fragrant smoke.
The Count returned a few moments later with an ornate silver mirror, and a hairbrush with a few fine black strands trailing from the bristles. "Will these do?" he asked.
"They're perfect, thank you." Pike took the mirror and brush and set them behind the censer, then clutched her amulet and began to pray. Everlight, I need you. Show me Lady Kaiya Gildspire. Make her known to me.
Staring into the mirror, she saw nothing but her own face, scarred and worried. Everlight, please.
Slowly, the mirror began to glow, a warm golden light starting from the reflection of her eyes and spreading outward until—
"Oh!" Pike gasped in horror. "Oh, no…!"
Percy locked eyes with Vax, the pain of his wounds abruptly forgotten as a fresh surge of adrenaline flooded his veins. "Which way?"
Rather than answer, Vax simply took off running. At the end of the tunnel, he darted through the left door, not even trying to quiet his footsteps, all thoughts of stealth thrown to the wind. Percy followed, sprinting to keep up, through what looked like a barracks room and into another dark tunnel. It seemed to stretch out before him, becoming longer and longer the further he ran.
The scream they'd heard had been too far away to identify. But knowing Vex'ahlia was down here somewhere, under Ripley's power, made the uncertainty entirely too much to bear.
After what seemed an eternity but was in reality perhaps closer to a minute, Vax skidded to a stop, cursing. Percy nearly barreled into him in the darkness.
The tunnel once again branched off in two directions. And no sound indicated which way to go next.
The silence was worse than the scream.
Vax looked both ways down the tunnels, breathing heavily from exertion. What he saw, Percy couldn't tell, but he took off again to the right.
Percy wasn't usually one to pray, having lost all faith in the Gods' mercy toward mortalkind long ago. But with little else but guesswork to go on, he found himself offering up a silent plea to the Dawnfather. Guide our steps. Lead us to her. Keep her safe.
Whether guided by the Dawnfather's hand or Vax'ildan's darkvision, they soon turned a corner to find a cold blue light spilling through an open doorway into the passage ahead. No sound reached them from the room beyond. Percy dreaded seeing what lay within, even as he sprinted toward it.
Vax got there first. He stopped abruptly just outside the door, stared inside… and fell to his knees.
Percy's own knees felt weak as he caught up to him. "Vax'ildan—" he began, but more words wouldn't come.
"It isn't her," Vax whispered between shuddering breaths. "Thank all the Gods, it isn't her."
Relief washed over Percy with such force it made the world spin around him. His breath left him in a rush. Steadying himself with a hand on the doorframe, he bowed his head and willed his heart to slow its panicked thundering.
When he felt he'd regained sufficient control of himself, Percy looked up and stepped into the room. There, he was met with a scene from his darkest nightmares.
A chair sat in the middle of the small chamber. And bound to it, the body of a young woman, covered in blood and scored with the all-too-familiar marks of Doctor Ripley's tender mercies.
The girl's head was bowed, her thick, dark hair obscuring her face. She'd been stripped down to her smallclothes—all the better for Ripley to practice her brutal "art," and to humiliate her even in death. Percy's jaw clenched as a fresh upwelling of rage surged within him.
A glint of gold caught his eye, and a closer look revealed that the girl's tormentor had left a small locket around her neck. Percy gently unclasped the chain and inspected the pendant. The sight of it hit him like a blow: on the front was engraved the Gildspire family crest; on the reverse, the letters KG.
"Vaxi'ldan," he gasped, "It's the Lady Kaiya. Count Gildspire's daughter."
"Lady Kaiya?" Vax demanded. "What would Ripley want with her?"
"If I had to guess, the same thing she wants with Vex'ahlia," replied Percy grimly. His fist closed tightly around the locket. "She took Kaiya in the hope that Count Gildspire would call upon Vox Machina to get her back. And when that didn't work, she struck closer to home." He tucked the necklace into a pocket in his vest. When this was over, he would return it to the Count—and fall upon his mercy. "Her death is on my head, too."
"Don't be ridiculous, Percival. You can't possibly—"
"You don't understand," Percy snapped. "Before… everything, my family was to be united with the Gildspires—Kaiya was promised to my brother Julius. Failing that… well, she would have been my wife."
"An arranged marriage?" asked Vax incredulously. "I didn't think that was still done."
Percy shrugged, unable to tear his gaze away from Kaiya's torn and bloody form, his traitorous mind supplying images of Vesper and Whitney and Cassandra to match until tears pricked at his eyes. "It's still a common practice among some of the noble houses of Tal'Dorei," he said tonelessly. "For political alliances and such." He knelt and swept Kaiya's sweat-damp hair away from her face with a gentle, trembling hand. Dawnfather's mercy, she was still warm—but so, so pale. "Julius didn't like the idea much, either, nor did she. But she was… we were friends, once. A lifetime ago."
A hand landed softly on his uninjured shoulder, and he turned and looked up to find Vax'ildan standing behind him, dark eyes full of sympathy and determination. "I'm so sorry, Percival," he said, "but there's nothing we can do for her now. We need to keep moving."
"Right. Of course." Percy drew a deep, shaky breath and stood. "Ripley can't have gotten far. Let's go."