Chapter Nine: A Matter of Pride

Vex didn't know which was worse: sitting here waiting for Ripley to get bored, or hearing what happened when she finally did.

Somewhere beyond the tiny chamber in which she was confined, some poor soul was having the life torn out of her, piece by excruciating piece. Every shriek, every howl, every desperate, despairing sob echoed off stone walls to spear through Vex's gut like flaming arrows, leaving her shaking, sick, and breathless. She squeezed her eyes shut as if that could block out the sounds, but of course, it was no use. And they went on and on until she thought she might go entirely mad.

Until they stopped, and a terrible, smothering silence fell, stretching into .

She decided she would almost rather hear the screaming.

Vex had a lot of vices, she knew, and she was ashamed of none of them. Not least among them was her pride. But she wasn't too proud to admit to herself that she was truly, properly frightened of Doctor Ripley and what she had in store for her. To die like that poor girl had, presumably bound and helpless as she was, in such agony and terror—the thought crawled down her throat and filled her heart with ice and crushed the air from her lungs.

But there was no escape. She'd spent what felt like forever trying every trick she knew, every escape tactic Vax'ildan had ever taught her, to no avail. The more she struggled against her bonds, the tighter they seemed to hold. All she had to show fer her efforts were the streaks of dried blood on her hands and the burn of rough rope on raw, torn skin.

Footsteps approached from behind. Every instinct she had wanted to burst into tears, to beg, to cry. But that, that, her pride wouldn't allow. So she held her head high, even as every muscle tensed in anticipation of what would come next.

What she didn't expect was the voice, hoarse with a combination of terror and triumph, that whispered her name like it was a holy word. "Vex'ahlia!"

"Percival?!" Vex jerked her head around as far as she could to find him dropping to his knees behind her, working at the knots that bound her wrists. Never in her life had she been happier, nor more dismayed, to see him. "What are you doing here?"

He met her eyes with an almost giddy smile. "Rescuing you, darling," he said.

Under normal circumstances, she loved it when he called her that, turning a word she often meant as friendly at best or condescending at worst into a term of utmost endearment. But now was not the time. "You can't be here, Percy," she hissed. "It's a trap!"

But Percy, damn him, only nodded, undeterred. "I know. Vax'ildan is just outside the door, keeping watch. We're getting you out of here." His deft fingers finally worked the knots loose, and Vex flexed her hands to restore circulation. Every muscle protested as she brought her arms around from behind her back for the first time in what had to be at least a day.

As soon as Percy loosened the rope at her chest, she bent forward to attack the ones binding her ankles, her fingers numb and clumsy. When she was finally free, Percy stood in front of her, his hand extended to help her up. She wasn't too proud to take it. But her legs nearly collapsed underneath her as she did, and she fell against him, clutching his left shoulder to stay upright.

"Ah!" Percy flinched and bit back a cry as her hand made contact.

That was when she finally noticed that his arm was bound up in a sling, his clothes torn in places and streaked with blood. "Percy, you're wounded!"

"It's nothing, Vex'ahlia. I'm fine," he said. "Let's get you out of here. Can you walk?" His eyes swept up and down her body, penetrating and full of worry. His voice trembled a bit as he asked, "Did she hurt you?"

"I'm all right, darling, don't fret," she reassured him. "I've just been tied to this chair for Gods only know how long, and I'm a bit stiff." She took a step toward the door, but her knees buckled again and she stumbled.

Percy was at her side in an instant, catching her with an arm around her waist, pulling her close to keep her upright. She hadn't realized just how cold it was down here until she was pressed up against him, the warmth of his body comforting and soothing her. She turned her head to press a quick kiss to his cheek, and couldn't help but smile at the faint blush that spread across his cheeks. "Thank you, love," she murmured.

He guided her out of the room as her strength returned, bit by bit. And just outside the door, as he'd said, a familiar shape hovered in the shadows. She pulled away from Percy, squeezing his hand once as she did, and then flung herself into Vax's arms. "Brother! I knew you'd come for me."

"Of course," he said, his voice rough, as he kissed the top of her head. "I'll never go far from you, Sister."

But there wasn't time for a prolonged reunion. "Come on," said Percy. "We need to go before Ripley—"

"Too late, Percival," that smug, superior voice all but sang from the darkness. And before any of them could react, three arrows streaked toward them, blunted tips bursting on impact into tangling strands of rope that dragged them gracelessly to the ground.

The vision faded as Pike brought her hands to her mouth, tears spilling from her eyes. Her stomach heaved and she gagged, but somehow managed not to vomit. The image of Lady Kaiya's broken, bloody body would be forever seared into her memory, she knew—as would the look on Anna Ripley's face as she watched her die.

Pike had seen more than her share of violence in her lifetime. Had committed plenty of it herself. But this kind of utter, senseless brutality, this pointless cruelty, shocked her to her core. Was she doing the same to Vex, right now? Was this what she'd done to Percy, years ago? What kind of absolute monster was she?

"What is it?" Count Wesley demanded, shaking her out of her spiral. "What did you see?"

Pike drew a long, shaky breath. "I-I'm sorry," she managed. "Lady Kaiya is dead."

All the Count's restless energy seemed to drain away at once. His shoulders slumped, his hands trembled, and the color drained from his face. "How?" he asked in a strangled whisper.

Dancing around it wouldn't make the news any easier to take—nor to give. "Murdered," said Pike bluntly. "You were right, she was kidnapped. And… and I know who did it."

"Who? I'll have him thrown in the dungeon and left to rot!"

"Her name is Dr. Anna Ripley. We—Vox Machina, I mean—we've encountered her before. She helped the Briarwoods take Whitestone from the de Rolos, and she's the one who took Vex on our way here." Pike's hands balled into tight fists. "The rescue party I mentioned at dinner? They're going after her."

"I will send troops at once to help them apprehend her, and to retrieve my sister's body." The Count swallowed thickly, as if the words were foul-tasting medicine. "Where is she?"

"I-I couldn't tell, exactly," said Pike. "It looked like she was in a… a dungeon or a tunnel or something. Underground. And I got the sense of it being somewhere a few miles to the southeast."

"Redwater," said Count Wesley immediately. "There's an old manor there that once served as a hideout for a band of insurrectionists, decades ago. They dug a maze of tunnels under the foundation to form their base, and it's been abandoned since their movement was put down. I'd wager that's where this Ripley took my sister, and you friend." He stood and crossed the room to the door in two long strides. "I'll lead the men myself."

"With all due respect, Count Gildspire," Pike said carefully, "you might want to let your men retrieve Lady Kaiya on their own. You… you don't want to see her like this."

The Count whirled around to face her, eyes flashing. "Who are you to tell me what I do and do not want?" he snapped.

Pike stepped toward him and laid her hand on his arm, meeting his gaze and willing every ounce of compassion she felt to shine through. "I'm only trying to spare you more pain," she said softly. "The condition Ripley left her in…" She sighed. "You asked me for wisdom. This is what I've got."

Count Wesley looked as though he wanted to protest further, but finally thought better of it and hung his head with a bitter chuckle. "And here I was, about to go charging in headlong, just like my father. After that speech I gave at dinner, you must think me quite the hypocrite."

"Not at all," Pike replied. "I think you're doing what any loving, grieving brother would do. But your people need you. Between your men and my friends, trust that she'll be taken care of and brought back to you." Her jaw clenched. "And that Ripley will get what she fucking deserves."