Valkyrie Profile:
Lenneth Novelization AU:
Disclaimer: I do not own Valkyrie Profile or any other tri-Ace properties. Please support the official release.
Chapter Thirty-Seven:
Lucien II:
The Threshold Crossed
"When I was a kid, I played 'Knights and 'Invaders' wit' the boys. We used sticks and bin lids and went to war in the alleys. I always got stuck bein' with the invaders. Soddin' stunk."
Barren hung between the waking world and sleep, starring out through the darkness of the chamber. The cold numbed his sore body, leaving his mind to wander through random thoughts and memories.
"Den each evening, I watched the settin' sun with Big Sis. 'Til one day, she wasn't there no more. Never figured out what 'appened to her, no matter how hard I looked. Wit' her gone, the Lord Chamberlain took our house and made a shop outta it. Wit' no Sis and no home, that meant thievin' and beggin' if I wanted t' live. That was all I knew 'til I met Lucien."
His chains rustled as his body moved as much as it could with that thought. It had sparked something in Barren. His eyes fluttered open, although he didn't notice any difference.
"Its dark," he lamentingly thought. "Not a drop of light in this shithole. Is it daybreak yet? Is it time? I can't feel nothin'. Am I cold?"
He did his best to weakly lift his head and look around. The only thing that alerted him to his head's movement was the little square of orange that was the barred window through which torchlight flooded. He felt nothing. It was almost like operating his body from outside, and it threw him off. He faintly saw his now-pale, thin arm outstretched to the side, held in place by a manacle. It was the same on the other side.
"Right…" Barren despairingly thought as he reminded.
He hung, spread eagled in the middle of the Ferny's workplace in the dead of night, positioned to be in plain sight of anyone who looked through the little window. Then his weakened neck gave out, and his head flopped down, giving him a full view of his wrecked body. Tears Barren thought had dried up welled in his eyes and chilled his cheeks as they rolled down his face.
"Lucien… please…" his lips moved, and let out a sound that was almost what he was trying to say. He stopped just shy of begging for rescue. "No… Guys… don't come. I wanna just die. I ain't worth it. Just please… do the smart thing for once and get 'em all out… Forget me. Please."
Energized by the adrenaline these thoughts evoked, Barren's body twitched again as a bit of feeling returned despite the icy chills of the stone chamber.
"It hurts…"
The Mammem cemetery stood locked up. The caretakers had gone home for the evening. Nightfall had fully set in a few moments earlier and a fog had rolled in from the south sea, sweeping over the city. Tall oil streetlamps were the only light along the stone path around the graveyard's exterior. The Mammem cemetery lied near the heart of the city between where the aristocrats and commoners lived. People of all classes were buried within. In the middle was a wide span of flat land between a pair of hills which bookended it at the North and South ends. Down on that flat were the graves of the normal folk. Not a single ornate tomb was down where none would notice them among worn, cracked, and even broken slabs for the lowborn. No, the small stone buildings meant to entomb the families of the aristocratic elite were up on the hills where passersby would be unable to miss them. It was through the flat for commoner graves Bedelia led Lucien's rescue team. The old woman shivered slightly and wrapped herself tighter in her dark red shawl as they moved along. The cool of the night was made worse by the damp fog. The old woman had to admit the fog gave the cemetery the right look, though.
"Ugh… blast this mist. Can barely see a thing," Bedelia growled.
An oil lamp from Bedelia's belt, but she had not dared to light it yet. That was for the tunnel. It was mighty tempting, though. Behind her were Lucien and Claire, and clustered in the middle were Quint, Taran, Joe, and Thalia. Acting as rear guard were Maximillian, Gloria, and Ingrid. He already clasped his bow, but had not notched an arrow in it yet. He trailed behind the two hybrids, who walked side by side a few paces ahead of him.
"Ugh, this fog is most unsuitable," Thalia complained. She wrapped her arms around her herself, shivering slightly. The pale blonde dressed in a knee-length red tunic whined. "Why did no one tell me 'twas going to be so cold?"
"'Cause we find it funny ye moan?" Quint answered in his rough burr.
Thalia looked back at him and stuck out her tongue. Taran and Joe both chuckled at the exchange. Lucien glanced back at them, slowly growing annoyed.
"No arguing," Lucien ordered. "This is a city cemetery. It's still supposed to be quiet around here at night."
Thalia just sniffed in response, but said no more.
Bedelia led them towards a row of eight headstones. Amidst the fog, the group was well hidden. The gravestones they sought were ten yards ahead of them, so the old ex-assassin reached down towards her belt, again considering taking the oil lamp in hand.
"'Tis been years since I last entered through this way," Bedelia thought. "Won't be easy."
She had almost unclasped the lamp from her belt when Lucien leaned in close to her.
"Bad idea," she heard him murmur.
Bedelia glanced back and saw him shake his head. The old woman nodded and kept going. Ingrid squinted and craned her neck forward to try peering through the fog with her dwarven vision, but the fog just looked like a storm of water droplets so thick as to be a wall around them. Using regular sight, they could see the vague shapes of the graves and various trees. The most they could see in the distance was the light of the streetlamps, which were like dim little candles.
Bedelia pointed towards the eight tall tombstones.
"There be the entrance," Bedelia reported. "Third one from the right. I'll be needin' some manly muscle to get the passage open."
"What about us?" Ingrid pouted from the back.
"Ye need to stand watch," Bedelia answered back.
"Quint, Joe," Lucien ordered.
"Ay!" Both men obliged, quickening pace to come up beside Bedelia on either side.
The elder and two men walked behind the headstones. The rest of the crew stopped and fanned out in a circle around them, all watching each other's backs.
"You two," Bedelia told Quint and Joe, gesturing to the corners of the slab. "One on each side."
"Ay," Quint grunted.
They each took a side, ready to lean their full weights against it.
"Once I say so, you men push for all yer worth," Bedelia instructed. "It'll slide forward, revealin' the stairs into the underground."
"Yes, Elder," Joe answered.
Then Bedelia reached out and ran her hands along the stone's surface, slowly and meticulously feeling around.
"What're ye feelin' about for, Elder?" Quint asked.
"The button. Give me just a bit…" Bedelia answered as she continued to feel around.
Claire climbed onto a low headstone to sit on while they kept watch. Lucien stood beside her. On instinct, he dug into his pocket to sneak a look at the lock of Platina's hair he kept there and pulled it out. There was just enough of it for him to feel the soft tuft even through his thick gloves. Claire caught him looking at something in his hand, knowing right away what it was. She lowered her gaze, away from Lucien staring at the little braid. The redhead's expression hardened, and she growled a little.
"You're never gonna let yerself be free of her, will ya?" she asked.
Lucien hurriedly shoved the lock of hair back into his pocket. He looked around, trying to pretend nothing had happened. Claire scowled slightly.
"Why do you cling to her so, after all these years?" Claire asked.
Lucien sighed. Then, after a moment, he answered, "Reminder… to do better, I guess."
Behind them, Maximillian rolled his eyes at those words.
"Hel take ye," he thought angrily. "'Do better', my great aunt. Ye wouldn't be out here draggin' us on this fool mission if ye wanted to 'do better'."
Bedelia's fingers found the round, stone button sticking out from the gravestone's backside slightly.
"Found it," she reported.
Everyone turned, and Claire hopped off the tombstone. Her legs left like pudding in her nervousness, and she nearly stumbled.
"Hup!" Lucien yelped, grabbing Claire by the hand and under the arm, steadying her. He regarded her with some surprise and concern. "You alright?"
Claire laughed nervously and pulled herself free of him. "Just fine. Thank you."
Alright," Lucien responded, and turned to Bedelia. "Go ahead and open it."
Bedelia hesitated.
"Ye understand, Lucien, this be our last chance to turn back," she said.
"I understand," Lucien said, and then pointed at the tombstone. "Do it."
Click.
"Push," Bedelia ordered. "And watch yer steps."
Joe and Quint then both threw their weight against the tall, heavy tombstone, pressing their shoulders into it. Bedelia stepped back and two men dug their heels in against the cold, damp earth. The slab began to move, grinding against more stone as it did, revealing a square hole beneath the slab. The two men began pushing from the sides to avoid falling in. Lucien, Claire, and the others gathered around, looking down the square of black which gradually widened. Once the opening was big enough for them to enter, the slab would be moved no further. Quint and Joe leaned against the sides of the headstone, breathing heavily as they tried to catch their breaths.
"There… done…" Joe rasped.
Bedelia stood over the hole. To everyone but Ingrid and Gloria, it looked like a black pit. The two hybrids could see the descending stairwell. The hole was narrow enough everyone would have to duck going down the upper steps to avoid banging their heads.
"There be stairs. 'Tis not a drop," Bedelia told them.
Lucien stared down at the hole intently, before slowly raising his head.
"Before we head down there, gear check," he said.
"Again, Boss?" Taran's question was punctuated with light annoyance.
"Again," Lucien insisted firmly.
He tapped the sword hanging from his belt. "Good ol' reliable here."
Claire ran her fingers over the various blades on her belt.
"Two daggers, four throwing knives, and all my lockpicks for different size locks," she reported.
"Me axe," Quint drew the weapon partially from its holster across his back. "Plus, some potions in me pockets. Plus a bottle o' acid."
Gloria gave him a pained look. "I'd still love to know why you brought that."
Quint just pointed at Claire. "I told ye. In case we run into any rusted locks her picks can't pick. This stuff'll eat through metal 'n' wood, no prob."
"And people," Ingrid bluntly muttered, unhappily.
"Only one bottle," Quint shrugged. "I'll not be wastin' it on anyone I can just hit with me axe."
"Next," Lucien prompted, to get things moving again.
"My darling cutlass," Thalia lovingly tapped the blade on her cloth belt.
"Sword," Gloria, Taran, and Joe all reported.
"Me bow, quiver, and a few knives," Bedelia said.
"Bow, quiver, and a few knives," Maximillian nonchalantly added.
"And one dwarven enchanted axe," Ingrid proudly gripped her weapon, but kept it on her back.
"All accounted for?" Lucien asked.
He received various "Aye's" and "Yes, sir's" in response.
Then Lucien turned his attention to Quint. "And the acid?"
"Right here…" Quint reached into one of his pants pockets.
After a moment rummaging around for it, his eyes went wide.
"Oh, no," Quint said, causing worry in the whole group.
"What? What?" Ingrid demanded.
She looked over Quint's body, expecting it to see acid spill out from his pocket and begin to strip flesh from his bones. The large, muscle-bound man began to search through his clothes in a frenzy.
"Oh, no! Oh, no!" he gasped. "Did I drop it? If somebody finds it, they might…"
"Quint, what did you do?" Thalia demanded angrily.
"I… I…" Quint reached into his jacket pocket, and let a relieved sigh. "Oh, there it is."
He pulled out a small bottle of yellow liquid. "Safe and sound."
Claire let out a scoffing laugh. "'Safe', says he!"
Lucien leaned on the big headstone they'd moved, resting his forehead against it as the tension slowly left him. Around him, Bedelia, Maximillian, and Claire were verbally tearing into Quint for scaring them all. After a moment of letting them do his work, Lucien straightened out, regarding the big man evenly.
"Quint, hand over the acid to Bedelia or Maximillian," he ordered.
"Oh, no!" Maximillian threw both hands. "I ain't touchin' that stuff!"
Bedelia sighed. With resignation, she took the vial from Quint. She looked the bottle over closely. It had been corked tightly, and the glass was clearly treated to contain the harmful liquid. So, she reluctantly stuffed it into one of the pouches on her belt behind some handkerchiefs to insulate it from breaking.
"Alright, let's head in," Lucien said.
Bedelia unclasped the oil lamp from her belt and took out a box of matches before handing them off to Gloria.
"Head on down and then light 'er up for us, child," Bedelia instructed.
"Yes, Grandmother," Gloria compliantly answered.
She hopped over the side of the hole, landing on the third step down. Then she ducked and descended two more before lightning the lamp and turning around. She held up their light source to the ceiling, illuminating the first ten or so steps. Bedelia came down first, taking the lamp from her granddaughter, who stepped aside to let others pass.
"Watch yer steps," Bedelia cautioned the others as they began to file in. "I've no idea what condition the stairs or tunnel will be in after all this time."
The descending passage was only wide enough to allow them to go single file. All the close-range fighters followed first. Maximillian, arrow in hand, went last again. He lingered topside and pulled the bowstring partially back as he scanned the cemetery in a full circle. When he was satisfied no one was around, he slipped into the passage as well. As Bedelia had predicted, the stairs had not been maintained. They had been uniformly constructed, but time and trickling water seeping in when it rained had worn many of the steps down. Some would be in almost perfect condition aside from some cracks while others had crumbled or been smoothed out to becoming almost a slope. Lucien dared not keep count of the times they had to slow or stop entirely when faced with some perilous patches of stairwell. For that matter, Lucien had no idea how long they walked, plunging deeper underground. He only hoped they'd come to the end of the tunnel soon. He was beginning to feel claustrophobic.
"Attention!" a lieutenant shouted.
The line of men went rigid and saluted by raising their spears as their commanding officer arrived. Captain Mason stopped, looking down the line of his Cavalry-Breakers. The men stood at attention, each holding the reins of their horses in one hand and their weapons aloft in the other.
"At ease," Mason called.
His men lowered their weapons, slamming the blunt ends against the cooblestones unison, producing a sound almost like thunder. His unit had convened just inside the curtain wall of the Túr Raghnaill. They were the first line in case Lucien's group did anything especially foolhardy, like trying to lay siege to the fort. The iron gate was lowered but if it were opened, Mason and his Cavalry-Breakers could ride out into the city in mere seconds.
"Just as the Lord Mayor and the Sheriff want," Mason thought.
Captain Mason walked past his men, stopping halfway to address them. His second-in-command moved to stay at his side. Illuminated by the torches outside the Túr Raghnaill, Mason could see his men's grim faces. Occasionally, a grip on the body of a lance would tighten, the anxious gesture of men who had been informed of duties most vile.
"Good. Very good," Mason reported, pretending not to see. "Not a crooked cape or unpolished speck of armor among you. Tonight, you have been called to fulfill particularly… difficult orders."
He saw some of men stiffen at that words and one man look away to hide a scowl. Mason chose not to reprimand him. He heard his lieutenant's breathing hitch, but before he called out the man whose eyes were not facing forward, Mason raised his arm to stop his subordinating officer.
"But Captain, he's…" his lieutenant pointed.
Mason just raised his hand again, more firmly this time. His subordinate cleared his throat and backed off. Then, Mason crossed his arms behind back, interlocking the fingers.
"I understand there have been some objections," Mason said. His eyes passed over men he'd served with for years. "Believe me, I have my own share of misgivings about our current orders, but we must fulfill them, whatever they may be. And tonight… We have been called to root out the malcontents known as The Silver Saviors, who we now believe are none other than the Cheap Side Guard. They are based in the slums, and if tonight proceeds as the Lord Mayor and Sheriff Agatha predict, we will have the authority to purge these brigands from our city."
Some of the Cavalry-Breakers exchanged bleak looks.
"Understood?" Mason prompted.
"Yes, Captain!" the Cavalry-Breakers answered loudly, but without their normal robust enthusiasm.
After a moment, a single gulp made Mason's Adam's apple bounce down and then back up was the only crack in his facade.
"I trust there are no further objections," there was a slight strain in the Captain's voice.
After a moment of silence, Mason was about to call them into position when one man stepped forward, out of line. Both Mason and his lieutenant regarded the young man. He was a fair-headed youth in his late teens, only able to grow the thinnest layer of facial hair. His somewhat shaggy hair was still cut short. All eyes were on him, and some were even sympathetic among those who knew him well.
"Captain, sir?" the young man said, his voice cracking under his nervousness.
"Karl Lloydson," the lieutenant identified him.
"Yes, Soldier?" Mason answered.
Karl blinked frantically as he found his voice again. He gulped as well, before speaking again.
"I have an objection," Karl's voice turned level and firm.
"Go on," Mason nodded.
"Captain, sir, I grew up in the slums," Karl said. "For as long as I can remember, the City Guard's ignored us down there. Then, two, maybe thee years ago, Lucien startin' organizing the Cheap Side Guard, and they do what the City Guard won't. They look after us poor folk down there and ain't ever asked for nothin' back."
Karl sucked in a deep breath and held it, expecting punishment of some kind.
"Duly noted, Soldier," Mason instead simply answered. "As you were."
Karl released in his breath, visibly surprised as he stepped back into line. The man who'd taken the reins of his horse handed them back to him.
"I understand there is no honor to be found in our current orders," Mason admitted, hiding his unease under a veneer of calm. He mustered himself, knowing what had to be done. "I ask you all, will you trust your Captain just once more?"
After a moment, a good number of his men answered with a loud, "Ay, sir!"
The rest followed with some hesitation. Mason looked, nodding in affirmation.
"Thank you," now his voice betrayed some of his emotion. "'Tis been an honor to serve with all of you."
His lieutenant and several among the men gave him more uncertain looks. Those were the words of a man expecting to die in a difficult battle.
"I will not betray the trust you have placed in me, men," Mason said. "Tonight, you just follow my orders to the letter, and I vow here and now your honor will not be tainted. You are men of Gerebellum, and tonight, justice will be upheld. And your honor will remain intact."
Many of his soldiers did not know how that would be possible, but they still raised their lances, giving "Huzzahs," regardless. Mason shallowly bowed his head in response. His helmet hid a troubled brow.
"This night will be long remembered," Mason thought unhappily. "But it will not be a happy memory for the people of Gerebellum."
In his heart, Mason knew exactly what he had to do. He just had to ensure he met this Lucien to fulfill his part.
"When I say to obey my every order to the letter, I am most sincere," Mason reiterated. "To. The. Letter."
From a window of the tower, Sheriff Agatha was cooly observing the captain and his men before turning away. One of her Deputies looked out the same window, overlooking the fort courtyard.
"I don't like some of that talk down there, Sheriff," the Deputy said.
Agatha responded with a non-committal hum as she sat down at her desk and did some final paperwork while she still had the chance. The Deputy looked at her, seeing how utterly unconcerned she was with the Captain's exchange with his men below and not liking it.
"Do you think they will try something?" he pushed.
"No," Agatha answered as she worked. "He assuaged their consciences by burdening only himself with the responsibility. They will obey their orders 'to the letter', as he said. The Lord Mayor and I saw to it, ourselves, that Captain Mason will behave himself."
"Very well, Sheriff. I'll trust yer judgment," the Deputy said.
"Gothar Willem, the next bunch is ready to head down."
The holy man turned partially towards the person addressing him. Under his bulky brown robes and hood, it was difficult to make out much detail in the dim light of the candles. Only his long graying beard stuck out from the hood. The Gothar had a pipe between his lips, blowing out smoke rings.
"Very well, Rusty. Bring them down to the cellar," Willem's low rasp of a voice emanated from under the hood. "See you down there."
"Sure thing, Gothar," Rusty bowed and then quickly ran off to collect the next batch.
Gothar Willem brought the pipe back to his lips as he went in the opposite direction of the short, squat young man from his office into a back hall of St. Asterix Church, keyring in hand. He pulled back his hood. He was an older man with rounded features and thin, graying thinning hair. He often joked it was simply going back into his body to supply his long beard and thick mustache. Just down the hall in a small worship room for the church staff, his subordinating Gothi meditated. When the elder Gothar stepped in, the younger holy men and women quickly stood. There were ten in all present.
"'Tis time to send more through, Elder?" a soft-featured young man asked.
"Yes. Kix, Abba, 'tis your turn to venture through with them. Be on your guard," William ordered.
"Yes, Gothar Williem," Kix answered. He was the skinniest, lankiest among them, and his long blonde hair fell over his face as he bowed. "We won't let you down."
"You can rely on us," Abba added. She was a redhead of much short stature. Twin braids rested on her shoulders. "If the gods will it, we will return to you."
"By Hlin's grace," Willem echoed her sentiment. "The Undead down in the catacomb will be becoming more active as we send groups of people through. They may even try to enter once I open the door. You will need to be quick in repelling them."
"We have meditated and prepared," another of the junior Gothi answered.
Willem motioned for them to follow him. The other Gothi gathered up torches, lightening them as they went down the hall. They came to the stairwell of the church's cellar and ventured down. It was one large room with supplies stacked along the walls and in clusters in the middle of the room. There was a clear path from the stairs to the catacomb door, which stood closed, and locked.
Williem had already found the right key when he approached it. The door was ornate black cast iron and covered in engraved silver symbols, which kept the Undead out. It was six-inches thick and held shut with a long, heavy iron bar which was locked into place. Any who wanted through had their work cut out of them. Willem stopped at the door and leaned forward, pressing his ear against the cool metal of the door's surface. The subordinate junior Gothi kept quiet, some even holding their breaths. Behind them, they could hear many footsteps filling the back hall above as the next group of fleeing peasants approached. Willem leaned back from the door, looking at the others.
"I hear nothing. I think it's safe to open," he reported.
Rusty came down the steps, leading the refugees.
"Gothar Willem," he greeted.
The elder holy man and his juniors turned to greet them as they filed into the cellar. After Rusty were the groups' armed guards, a mismatched bunch with weaponry and gear ranging from proper armor and weapons to pitchforks. Next were the outdoor guides, carrying bows and an assortment of survival gear. None of them were wearing their trademark silver-beaded braided necklaces that night. Last were the peasant civilians, themselves. Men, women, and children of all ages filled the cellar. When the entire group had gone down, there were sixty in total.
Gothar Willem nodded to his juniors on his left.
"Begin distributing the wards," he ordered. "I want every person down here with a troll cross before they pass beyond this door."
"Yes, Elder Gothar," the young holy men answered.
The five men took large pouches form their belts and opened them as they went about, giving out evil-repelling blessed necklaces. The fleeing peasants took the amulets and put them around their necks, uttering quick prayers of their own as they did. Rusty was tempted to take one and just get out of Gerebellum right then, but he stopped himself.
"Yer leaving with the last group," he assured himself. "Ye'll be fine."
Yet, he did not feel convinced.
"Kix, Abba," Willem called on the two chosen guides.
The young man and woman came over and stood at the priest's sides.
"It's time," Willem told them.
"Yes, Elder," they both answered.
Willem turned and inserted the key in the lock. Kix and Abba grabbed the iron bar by the underside, preparing to lift it from the heavy double doors.
"Everyone has their troll crosses on?" Williem softly called to the crowd.
"Yes Head Gothar," several answered, and everyone held up their protective amulets.
Williem nodded with a grunt, giving his approval. Then he turned the key, freeing the bar. Kix and Abba lifted it, groaning in effort as they carried the great heavy thing aside before leaning it against the wall. Meanwhile, two more of the Gothi grabbed the double doors by a pair of rings rear where they met. They glanced at Willem and the other junior Gothi. They were all prepared to begin spiritual warfare, pulling out medallions hanging from their necks, each baring The Helm of Awe.
"Open it," Williem ordered.
The two nodded and dug their heels into the brick floor, groaning almost painfully from the effort of pulling open the vast, heavy doors. Slowly but steadily, the double doors into the St. Asterix catacomb opened. Light from the torches dimly lit the passage within. Willem had already raised his medallion defensively, reciting a protective prayer. Kix and Adda quickly joined the others generating a protective field of holy power to hold back anything that tried to come through. The guards assigned to the fleeing peasants fingers their weapons, ready for anything, as well. When nothing attacked, Willem motioned for the other Gothi to move aside before doing so as well.
As he backed out of the way, Willem turned to the crowd. "Alright, go, now. Kix and Adda will guide you to the natural cave and then to the beach. Be swift. You never know when the Undead will be about."
All at once, Kix and Adda quickstepped to the front as the fleeing peasants began to move into the catacomb. The civilians walked in the middle, flanked by the guards and the outdoors guides for safety. As they passed, most of the refugees profusely thanked Rusty and the church's Gothi for their aid in their time of need. Rusty and Williem just did their best to smile and say something in response every now and then.
"Gods, please, just let Lucien's mission go as planned," Rusty internally pled.
"We're in the tunnel now. Not a word. Move steady but quiet, now."
The small troop obeyed, taking swift, muted steps through the tunnel. It was much wider than the stairwell had been, allowing them to spread back out in a double-file line, following the light of Bedelia's oil lamp. Only Bedelia and Maximillian walked alone at the front and back, respectively. Behind the elder were Lucien and Claire again, nearly bumping each other's shoulders. The passage was tall, with a rounded ceiling. The empty corridor held no secrets, twists, or turns. It was a straight shot with a seemingly endless black void before and behind them.
"I never wanted to get cramped in another hole again as for I live," Joe muttered from the middle.
Taran grimly chuckled back.
"Not a word," Bedelia scolded from the front.
Joe offered no apology, deciding his silence was better.
"Barren," Lucien thought somberly. "You only need to hold out a bit longer. We're almost there, buddy."
Memories of their battles, victories, and failures in this fight played out, almost overtaking the living world to Lucien.
"We're always climbing against the tide," Lucien mentally rambled. "I could always count on you and Claire to be climbing with me. Maybe we lowly peasants are overreaching, but so what? If the Lord Mayor and the rest won't stand up for what's right, someone still has to, right?"
He heard Claire's breath next to him.
"She'd probably ask why it has to be me," he realized. Then he felt a pang of regret for letting her come along. "Maybe I shoulda fought 'gainst letting you come along this time."
"Sorry, Claire," his words were almost inaudible.
Claire's eyes flicked towards him and back to the front. She couldn't be sure she heard that. Then again, she couldn't be sure of a lot about Lucien lately. Even in the corner of her eye, Claire saw that same distant look on him from before. Now, she just hoped he didn't have another freak out. They were all so on edge, one of the others might just cut Lucien down if he suddenly shouted. At the front, Bedelia finally saw the pitch-black end as the light shined on something at the other end. She held the lantern up a bit higher, dimly illuminating the stone wall ahead. They had reached the other end.
"Here we be," the old ex-assassin announced.
"Ugh, finally," Thalia quietly groaned.
Quint, Joe, and Taran all sharply raised fingers to their lips. Thalia sheepishly clapped a hand over her mouth. Bedelia stopped ahead of them, staring at the seeming dead end ahead of them glumly.
"Bedelia?" Claire asked.
"Did they brick it up?" Lucien peered around the old woman's shoulder.
Behind him, Maximillian bit his lip, hoping to Valhalla it had been. Bedelia realized she had lingered a bit too long and given off the wrong impression. She huffed and motioned for them to follow.
"Come along," she ordered.
"Elder…?" Lucien started to ask.
Bedelia walked towards the wall without another word. Lucien and Claire exchanged looks. The redhead just shrugged at him as if to say, "I dunno." They quickly followed before having to stop again in front of the brickwork. Bedelia moved to the side, lowering the oil lamp, illuminating a partially rusted metal mechanism attached directly into the masonry at waist height. It was round, resembling a faceless clock, with exposed cogs and wear-work visible inside. Sticking out of the middle of its front was a lever with two long handles pointed straight up and down, which the inner-workings all connected to. It was large and heavy looking enough that Lucien surmised it'd take two people to turn it.
"Girls, Claire, Maximillian," Bedelia beckoned. "I'll be needin' ye. The rest of ye get back a few."
"Alright, make some space, everyone," Lucien ordered.
"Ay," Quint grunted.
They parted, letting Maximillian, Claire, and the hybrids through, before retreating a few steps. Bedelia also stepped away, pointing Ingrid and Gloria to the mechanism. The half-dwarves understood their task and grabbed the lever at opposite ends.
"We're ready, Granny," Ingrid said.
Claire and Maximillian remained by Bedelia.
"That contraption's gonna shriek like the Undead," Bedelia told them. "We best be fast to quiet the guards. Maximillian, ready bow 'n' bolt."
"Sure thing," Maximillian complied.
Bedelia turned to Claire, "Ye ready to do some knifework, girl?"
"Always," Claire answered.
The redhead then produced her daggers from her belt. Bedelia nodded with a grunt as she and Maximillian unshouldered their bows, notching arrows.
"What about us?" Lucien asked, spreading his hands to gesture first to himself and then Thalia, Joe, Tarn, and Quint. "We're the fighters."
"This needs quiet," Bedelia gruffly answered. Then she addressed her granddaughters, ordering, "Now. Clockwise."
Gloria and Ingrid pulled and pulled hard. The device resisted and groaned loudly as the half-dwarven girls turned it in a half-rotation, causing the whole crowd to cringe from all the noise it made. Lucien exchanged alarmed glances with Thalia, Joe, and the others, all knowing someone had to have heard that. The device clicked once the lever was in place. Then something that sounded almost like a drum sounded before the secret door opened outward, into a room somewhere in The Pit under Túr Raghnaill.
Bedelia motioned Claire out first. The redhead darted out, passing between Ingrid and Gloria. She stopped briefly to get her bearings as the archers slipped in behind her. The small room was dark, damp, and empty. The barren stone walls, ceiling and floor held no clues to what it might have been used for once. Its only feature was an archway to their right, which led into a dark hallway.
"Oi! Wut was that?" they heard a rough voice shout from the other end of the corridor. "It came from over 'ere!"
"Let's check it," a second said. "Bob, Cliff, to me."
As the three men guards approached, Claire fanned out to the wall opposite of the secret door. She put her back to it and lowered her hands to her sides, hiding her knives while she put herself in full view. Bedelia retreated just into the tunnel while Maximillian quietly crept along the wall, stopping in the corner adjacent to the door. He took out a second arrow and aimed them both at the entry, angling the bow almost sideways.
Back in the tunnel, Lucien crept closer, hand to the hilt of his sword. Bedelia halted him before he got too close and held up a finger to her lips. He nodded but did not move away. If anything went wrong, he was ready to charge out. Behind him, Quint got out his ax while the other three readied to unsheath their swords.
Claire felt her heart leap when torchlight reached the end of the hall. She forced down her fear and leaned herself against the stonework, raising one leg to show off her thigh, planting her foot against the wall. Claire wore her best seductive smile the guards appeared at the hall's end. They were all fully armored with the man in front carrying a torch in one hand and a sword in the other. Their open-faced helms made their surprise and confusion visible when they saw her. They paused only briefly. Claire puckered her lips, making a kissing motion before smiling impishly and winking.
"Hey, boys," she huskily invited them.
She grabbed the hem of her skirt and pulled it back, revealing more leg, almost up to the extremities. The man in front scowled and stormed forward.
"Just who the Hel are you?" he demanded.
"Bob, wait!" one of the other guards shouted.
He reached for Bob, coming up just short as his comrade barged forward. The other two guards swore and gave chase, raising their swords. Bob stepped into the room.
The first thing Bob saw was the open secret passage, making him freeze.
"Bob, what…?" the others demanded as they burst in.
Twang! Maximillian loosed both arrows into the throats of Bob and the guard behind him. The third guard barely had time to comprehend what happened as the other two dropped. Then he saw Maximillian in the corner beside them. He turned to shout for help, completely forgetting about Claire in his panic. She launched herself from the wall and was on him just as he started to shout, plunging one of her knives into his throat, silencing him before he was heard by anyone. He gurgled as he spit up a mouthful of blood and then then grabbed onto Claire. He tried to scream, but it only came out as gurgling. Maximillian leapt in and kicked him off Claire. The guard tumbled to the ground and struggled only a moment more before expiring as well. Claire stood there, breathing heavily. She and Maximillian could not believe how well that had gone.
"They almost shouted out an alarm," was Claire's terrified thought. "Oh, that woulda done it."
The redhead was still dwelling on that thought with a fist to her beating heart. Maximillian placed himself just inside the hall with his bow aimed straight down to the other end. Bedelia, then Lucien, and then the rest filtered out of the secret passage.
"Ah, good job," Lucien congratulated them.
He then wordlessly pointed to Bedelia, Maximillian, Gloria, and Quint, and gestured down the hall, wanting them to check ahead. The four nodded and stepped over the three dead men. Bedelia handed off the lantern to Quint, who led the way. Ingrid, Joe, and Taran pulled the bodies around the corners to hide them from sight and then searched them.
After they found nothing of use, Lucien grabbed up the torch the guards brought. As he held it up, he could see Claire was on edge. She had taken point next to the corridor, but visibly was shaken. Lucien came up beside her and put a comforting on her shoulder. She gripped it in one of her hands for a long moment. Then her hand fell to her side again, as did Lucien's.
Lucien then rapped on the stonework three times with his gauntleted knuckles. From the other end of the corridor, three knocks, followed by four answered, meaning, "All clear." Lucien motioned them forward, and then led bearing the torch. If not for the light of Bedelia's oil lamp at the other end, it would have looked like another endless tunnel of darkness. They could just see Bedelia and the others as dark figures at the other end.
As Lucien and the others passed through, the air somehow seemed to get chillier, and it didn't feel natural. Claire shuddered behind him. The walk wasn't long, but to the redheaded thief, it felt like an ordeal. When Lucien and the others exited out of the passage, they found Bedelia and the rest of the advance group looking up. As the rear half of the team stepped out of the hall, they all found their eyes drawn upwards, too. The sight was truly awing, but in the worst way.
They were at the base of a great, towering cylinder of a chamber. It was almost too big, as the interior of a grain silo would be to an ant. A stairwell ascended the entire breadth of the wall, spiraling up and up to a ceiling they could not even see, even with torchlight peppering the walls of that place, gradually going higher and higher yet, it seemed endless. Light sources were along the stairwell in regular intervals. One per story up as far as Lucien could tell. Moans filtered down from above, undeniably those of the poor broken souls that inhabited The Pit.
"Like listenin' to the wails of Hel's damned," the thought was unwelcome in Maximillian's mind.
He felt the cold go down to his bones listening to those lamentations. He was comforted only by the fact that Betty wasn't there to see and hear all this.
Iron cages hung from the distant ceiling at varying levels, but they were too far away in the darkness for them to tell if they had any occupants, living or dead. Not even Ingrid and Gloria could be sure of what they saw trapped in this inhumanely small cages. They could however see many red auras scattered all along the way up. Some of them still shined brightly. Others were dim, like the people held here were just barely clinging to life.
"So many," Ingrid murmured.
"Heh," Gloria breathed, finding it difficult to count exactly how many auras there were. There had to be at least a hundred prisoners held there. Broken or being broken.
Claire pressed herself against Lucien from behind out of fear, clinging to him with childlike fear. Bedelia was the first of the group to look away from the daunting sight, staring squarely at Lucien. Gloria also tore herself away from it to scan the bottom floor around them. There were other corridors aside from the one they had just come from. However, dust and grime covered everything down there, and there were no furnishings of any kind. If she had to guess, the army had abandoned this bottom floor a long time ago, but still sent guards down to patrol it as an obligation.
"Welcome to The Pit," Bedelia said with humorless irony.
At the words, the others all came out of their state of awe at the sheer size of The Pit. The old woman still focused on Lucien.
"Is it everything ye thought it'd be?" she asked him.
Lucien's gaze shifted from the towering underground prison to her several times, and his lips moved as he attempted speech. All he managed was some lip smacking.
"Truly breathtaking, ain't it?" Bedelia's droll tone was not appreciated.
"Enough," Lucien firmly blurted out.
As he stared Bedelia down, the elder waved dismissively as she looked away. Lucien faced the bottom of the long, winding staircase through The Pit, determined. He pointed his sword upwards.
"Let's get moving before we get caught," he said. "Bedelia, any idea where they might have taken Barren?"
Bedelia pointed up towards a section towards the top of The Pit.
"Traitors 'n' spies go to the teeny pens, just one floor up from the…" Bedelia paused. "…The interrogation chamber."
The others grimaced or scowled in response. Bedelia stopped just shy of speaking again, to remind them that their reunion with Barren would not be a pleasant one. Lucien motioned to the stairs.
"Lead on," he grimly ordered.
Claire looked between him and the stairs, eyes wide with fear. Mustering herself, she grabbed his arm.
"Lucien…" she suddenly whispered. "Hey Lucien."
"Rm?" he reluctantly stopped.
Claire wore her fear openly as she clung to him. She let go of him and clutched both fists to her chest.
"This place isn't right, Lucien," her voice cracked into a hoarse plea. "It's like the cold of death in here."
"That's cause it is," Joe muttered behind her.
Lucien shot him a displeased look, to which Joe shrugged as if to ask, "What? You'd rather I lie?"
"Besides that," Claire's voice was somewhere between a breath and whimper. "This-this Pit is just too big. No manmade dungeon's this big."
That got Maximillian and the half-dwarves' attentions. Gloria's eyes trailed back up to the absurdly high ceiling even she and Ingrid could hardly see.
"Now that she's said that…" Gloria muttered to herself.
When Lucien looked back at Claire, he already knew what she going to ask. He preemptively shook his head.
"We're not turning back, Claire," he said. He faced the steps. "Come on, let's pick up the pace before we're found out."
"Follow me," Bedelia said, and waved one of her granddaughters over. "Ingrid, carry your poor granny up these infernal stairs if ya want me to be of any use up there."
"Yes, Granny," Ingrid answered.
She turned and squatted, allowing Bedelia to climb up on her back. The pinkette hooked her arms under her grandmother's legs and stood. She then carried Bedelia towards the steps.
"Hold on," Thalia haughtily spoke up, pouting. She put her hands on her hips. "You surely can't expect us to climb all the way up there."
"'Tis better than tryna come in through the tower up top," Bedelia countered.
"Ye'll manage," Maximillian grunted as passed Thalia.
She huffed, but seeing as no one else was willing to back her up, she reluctantly followed. Quint came up beside them with the oil lamp as they took their first step up. Claire sighed in disappointment and followed along, keeping up the pace so as not to hold the others back. Her legs sure wanted to go slow, though. In fact, they were itching to bolt back down the hall and through the secret door.
Lucien passed the torch to Taran as he set foot on the winding stairwell and pointed to the back of the line with his index and middle fingers. Taran nodded and slowed, letting the others begin heading up first before taking his place in the back. Ingrid looked up at the sheer expansiveness of the stairwell and its many landings, spiraling along the wall clear to the top.
"This is a lot of wood to be headin' clear to the top," Ingrid observed. "…Sure makes me glad Lucien made Quint give up that little bottle of acid."
"What? Afraid I'd drop it?" Quint demanded, somewhat insulted.
Everyone else just gave him unimpressed looks. Looks which told him they had not forgotten watching him almost lose track of where he put a dangerous chemical on his own person. Nothing more was said, and they climbed to the third story, where they came to the second landing, and the door to one of the cell blocks. The platform was long enough for fifteen men and wide enough for a couple to stand side-by-side. The cell door was made of thick wood, with only a small, barred window for whoever was inside to see out through.
As they passed it, Thalia became curious and tried to look inside. At first, there was pitch black. Then a hand suddenly grabbed the bars, making Thalis cry out and stumble back. Those ahead all whirled around. Thalia had fallen to her knees, staring in horror at the door. Joe was on a knee by her side as Taran stood in the back, almost laughing. When Lucien looked at the barred window, he saw a hand gripping it from the inside and heard muffled pleading from within, as though someone were screaming with a gag in their mouth. Thalia clutched her chest, taking several deep breaths as she recovered from what she had seen. Bloodshot eyes belonging to a face with no nose had looked out at her. It breathed through a gaping nasal cavity in the front of its face. It looked as though someone had scraped this person's nose off with a grinding wheel. Bone was visible around the edges of the hole in the middle their face. As for the muffled screaming:
"Their lips… were stitched shut," was the woman's half-panicked thought.
"What happened?" Lucien came down, glancing between the startled woman and the door.
"Nothin', Boss," Taran gestured to the door. "Thal got too close and whoever's in there scared her."
"You alright?" Joe shook Thalia's shoulder to get her attention.
"I'm fine," she meekly answered, and held up her arm for him to take. "Please?"
Joe stood and pulled her up as he did.
"What'd you see?" Lucien asked, watching as the hand fell from the barred door.
"Ye don't wanna be goin' in there," Bedelia's spoke from above.
They all turned to the old woman sitting on Ingrid's back as she spoke.
"That be the penance cell for blasphemers," Bedelia told them. "They be brought down here, to the bottom floors as punishment for disobedience to the gods. Here, they sit and reflect on their sins in there. In silence."
Thalia felt ill, having just seen exactly how that 'silence' was enforced. She looked away from the others, deciding to say nothing.
"We should keep moving," Lucien said. "Move out, guys."
They were quick to get some distance on that door, moving up the next few stories in silence. As they went up and around the great spiral that was the Stairs of the Pit, their climb up was only made tolerable by having the stairs interrupted by the flat space of a landing once a floor. They were thankful for the small reprieve each time, but they never dawdled in front of another door after Thalia's incident.
Everywhere Gloria and Ingrid looked, they could see more and more human-shaped crimson auras of varying radiance. The sheer amount of citizens guilty of unknown crimes was becoming staggering, and unsettling. More than once, Gloria wanted to just batter a particularly crowded cell block open just to verify it was all inmates, and not the guards lying in wait for them. She always refrained from doing so, though. Gloria was thankful Ingrid had been tasked with carrying their grandmother up those damnable stairs. The impulsive pinkette might actually gone through with it.
Maximillian had become the most jumpy of the group, finding his hand moving to his quiver at every sound the place made. He never took one out or fired it, because, he still had his wits about him. He looked over the side of the steps, carefully, as there was no railing. The floor was just getting further away and harder to see and the top still seemed a mile away.
"How did they make this place?" Maximillian asked without thinking. "This hole hasta be as tall as the tower that stands over it. They woulda been digging this for years to get it this deep."
"Yeah," Claire breathlessly agreed. "Papa worked at a mine, but they never dug a hole this deep. At least, not this big around and never straight down. Can't figure why they bothered."
"They didn't," Bedelia answered. "This hole was already here when the Geras and Bellum clans first moved south to found Gerebellum. It be the place where Hel landed when she was expelled from Valhalla."
Lucien looked around, "Surely her landing alone didn't cause all this."
"Nay, son," Bedelia answered. "The ensuin' fight betwixt Hel and Freya did this. Ye won't find a deeper hole straight down in all Midgard."
"They really turned the site of such an important moment in Divine history into… this?" Lucien gestured vaguely around in disgust.
"Better than lettin' the Undead take it," Ingrid countered.
"Ay," Bedelia confirmed. "The kingdom's taken great strides to prevent the birth of Undead down here. That's why you won't find a single corpse left down here, unattended. This is no oubliette. They don't dare leave someone down here justa forget about 'em. Not in a place that's known Hel's touch."
"Somehow, that don't make me feel any better," Claire thought. She crossed her arms, rubbing her biceps to warm herself of the chill all this talk of Hel gave her. "At least this means they don't just dump bodies at the bottom."
"In the end, all the Geras-Bellum United Clan did was clear out the rubble so they could brick up the walls, and build the prison and stairs along the rim," Bedelia said.
The story's revelation did not settle their spirits, only making them more fearful of being on that dark place. They all, Lucien included, just wanted to leave as soon as possible.
"Is it far now?" Lucien asked after a long period of silence.
"Nay," Bedelia answered. "Just another few floors now. About a whole round's worth of walkin' yet."
"Let's go," Lucien ordered.
They began climbing those steps again, faster, as though driven by a cruel whip. As Bedelia said, they climbed a whole circle of the spiraling staircase, ending up directly above where Gloria had stopped. Bedelia pointed to the third door ahead of them.
"That it be, the detention cells for traitors and spies," she announced.
Lucien set sights it as a hunter would his prey. He was heartened and afraid at the same time. Claire and Maximillian felt lumps in their throats. The redhead glanced back at Maximillian as they shared a mutual, silent understanding that everything hinged on the next few moments.
"Barren," Lucien sorrowfully thought. "Just what will they have done to you in the week you were at their mercy? In the dark …"
While this thought crossed his mind, they came to the second landing. As they passed the door on that floor, Bedelia spotted something inside in the corner of her eye through the barred window. She looked and uttered a quiet, "Huh?"
"Granny?" Ingrid looked at the woman she was carrying.
It had been only a quick look before Ingrid carried her past the window, but Bedelia was certain she saw a person standing in the middle of the interrogation chamber. The old woman raised a hand to halt the whole crew.
"Hold," she ordered, "Child, set me down."
Ingrid was visibly confused but obeyed. She squatted down, letting the old woman slide off her back. Lucien glanced at the door, himself, but he wasn't angled to see anything through its window.
"What is it, Elder?" Lucien asked.
Bedelia held up a hand, silently keeping them all away as she approached the door, stopping beside it instead of standing in front of it. This was a cue for the others to fan out, so they weren't directly in front it, either. They either climbed the next staircase or retreated down onto the previous one. Flat against the wall, Bedelia stared at those bars, knowing she would have to peek through.
"In use?" she questioned. "This late?"
"Elder?" Lucien asked again.
Bedelia put a finger to her lips, agitatedly staring him down. She looked to the bars again. The others watched. Some, like Claire, barely dared to breathe. The window was almost too high for Bedelia, but she wasn't about to endanger any of the youngsters by having them check it out for her. She leaned towards the barred window. She had to stand on the tips of her toes to peer through and took just a quick look before jerking back automatically. In that split second she had, Bedelia confirmed there was actually a person in there, but he was far back enough that she couldn't make out any features. She peered through the window again, this time daring to linger just a moment.
The person inside the large chamber seemed to be standing with their arms and legs spread far apart with their head bowed. It took a moment, but Bedelia realized the person had been bound and hung up, spread-eagled. She could not see his bonds in the darkness, but there was no explanation for his stillness in that unnatural position. More importantly, they were alone. Bedelia's eyes swept around the torture chamber, certain that the dungeon's masters wouldn't really have just left an inmate there overnight. However, the room was indeed, empty, except for its one occupant.
"What in Creation?" she swore.
Bedelia sidled the next flight of steps on the verge of shaking.
"Like a dead rabbit hung up as bait over a snare trap," she thought.
Bedelia turned toward Ingrid and Gloria on the next flight of steps above her.
"Girls, look about," Bedelia's raspy whisper betrayed her fear.
"What? Why?" Gloria asked. She and Ingrid obeyed, scanning the area with their dwarven vision. "What are we looking for?"
"There be any big clusters of life forces ye can see?" Bedelia asked.
While Bedelia awaited their report, Lucien and Maximillian crept up to the torture room door and looked through the barred window as well.
"Who is that?" Lucien asked.
Maximillian shrugged unknowingly response. Gloria and Ingrid were meanwhile unable to confirm anything.
"There are so many everywhere," Gloria said.
"In ev'ry cell block and even a bunch above the ceiling," Ingrid pointed straight up.
"Blast it!" Bedelia swore.
She wasn't surprised to hear that so many of the cell blocks were full, but with such obvious bait laid out for them, the guards could have been lying in wait in any of them. Maybe every one. Bedelia was about to announce they were leaving, pausing only to cast a displeased eye on Lucien and Maximillian peering into the torture room.
Lucien leaned closer to the window, and called out as loudly as he dared, "Barren? Barren, that you?"
"Barren?" Thalia asked.
The others leaned in closer, staring at Lucien.
"Barren?" Lucien called to the man strung up in the torture again. "Answer me, will ya?"
There was no response, but he could see from the shaky rise and fall of the man's chest that he was breathing. Lucien almost banged on the door, but he held onto just enough sense to know that was a terrible idea. Instead, he looked toward Claire on the flight up.
"Hey, Claire," he whispered. "Get out of your lockpicks."
Claire weakly nodded and reached for her belt. When she reached the bottom stair, Bedelia held out her arm, blocking the girl.
"Nay, girl," the old woman ordered. "Stow the tools."
"Elder," Lucien protested unhappily.
Bedelia shook her head, pointing back down the way they came.
"We be leavin'. Now," Bedelia ordered.
Lucien answered with a firm, "No."
"Fool boy!" Bedelia growled, pointing towards the torture room. "That be a trap if I ever saw one."
Claire was terrified now. "Why? What's in there?"
"There's a man strung up in there," Lucien pointed through the door. "That has to be Barren!"
"What are those dark spots along his sides?" Maximillian asked. "Bruises?"
"Strung up?" Taran, Joe, Thalia, and Quint all blurted out in shock.
They crowded around the door despite Bedelia's protests. Only Claire and the half-dwarves remained up on the steps with the old woman. Ingrid took a tentative step to follow them, but Gloria grabbed her arm. The cousins had a silent argument through shared looks. Claire looked around the massive multifloored dungeon around them. Lucien and Bedelia continued to argue while the others looked through the bared window. Maximillian slunk back down to the previous flight, grabbing a torch from the wall.
The noise they collectively made roused the man suspended in the torture room. His body shook slightly as he was dragged from his restless slumber. A rasping moan escaped his lips as he slowly, weakly lifted his head. His muscles tightened uncomfortably in his bonds. The very motion caused him pain, straining an agonized grunt from him. His eyes rolled up to the door he had been positioned to face. There was a man standing at the barred window. The voices of the people just outside the chamber filtered in. The man's vision was a bit blurry at first and he found it hard to focus enough to get a look his visitors.
All the man could do was drearily think, "What now?'
"Lucien, just listen to someone else for once! Please!" a voice he knew right away cried.
"Claire?" The man snapped to attention and looked at the person standing in the window. Now he could focus enough to see and recognize the blonde man standing just outside.
"Lush'in? Cl-rrr?" he slurred out.
Somehow, Lucien managed to hear him. Recognizing Barren's voice even without understanding his words got his attention. Lucien looked in again, grabbing the bars tightly. The blonde swordsman pressed his face to the bars, but in the dark, he could not make out Barren's face even with his head raised.
"Don't ye turn yer back on me!" Barren heard Bedelia scold Lucien from out on the staircase.
"That IS Barren!" Lucien proclaimed to the others. "I just heard his voice!"
Barren shook his head, though his lack of length made the motions slow and limp. He tried to wet his dried lips, knowing he had to muster his voice to warn them.
"Damn it, Lucien!" Barren thought.
With whatever little vitality he had left, Barren forced out, "Guhth ouddew hrrr! Oo d'mn foolth!"
This time, the others heard him as well, but did not understand him any better. In an instant, three other familiar faces appeared at the window.
"You needn't fret anymore. We've come, lad," Quint reassuringly through the bars.
"Claire, the lockpicks!" Lucien called again.
Barren subconsciously pulled at his bonds, getting a quick reminder of his agony, and let out a garbled cry. Outside, Claire heard his scream, and his clear pain broke her heart. She'd never heard Barren scream like that. Her hands practically moved on their own as they reached for her pocket again. As frightened as she was, if they'd found Barren, she just didn't have the heart leave him to rot.
"Child, no," Bedelia warned.
Claire shook her head in response.
"Sorry, Elder," she replied.
She gently pushed past the old woman. Bedelia pinched the ridge of her nose, unable to believe these foolish children.
"Why don't ya just stop her?" Ingrid asked.
Bedelia sighed. "What good would it do?"
Barren weakly called out to them from inside. It was almost completely inarticulate babble, but he sounded scared.
"Why is he talking like that?" Ingrid whimpered. She looked at Gloria as though expecting an answer. "Just what'd they do to him?"
Lucien had that exact question on his mind as Claire held up the picking tools. Even with Taran holding the torchlight closer, they could barely see Barren, but something in the pit of Lucien's stomach told him that was a blessing.
"But we're not here for our own comfort," he reminded himself.
"Alright, guys, clear out," Lucien told the others. "Claire's gotta have room to work."
The others parted, letting the red head through. Claire looked through the window at Barren quickly before lowering herself to her knees. Her hands moved mechanically as she first checked the door for any traps or triggers as she tried to bury the doubting thoughts and just focus on her task. Barren was right in front of her. There was no turning back now that they'd found him.
Yet, his jumbled, "No! Goo awah!" almost made Claire stop.
The ginger then began to work the lock with her picking tools.
Maximillian gestured to Bedelia from the descending stairwell, waving the torch back down the way they had come.
"Come on," he mouthed. "Grab the girls and let's go."
Bedelia nodded and turned to her granddaughters above her on the steps.
"Come," she told them. "They can carry Barren as well as ye can. We are leaving."
The cousins regarded each other uneasily, but slowly came down the steps to obey their grandmother. Bedelia began leading them away, walking past the others huddled around Claire while they waited for her to finish working the lock. Both the half-dwarves hesitated at the door, but especially Ingrid. They could not see over the shoulders of the much taller men.
"Girls!" Bedelia hissed.
"Coming, Grandmother," Gloria answered. She grabbed Ingrid's hand and gently tried to pull her along. "Come, cousin."
Ingrid, instead, dug her heels in. "Wait."
Click!
"Got it," Claire quietly announced.
She pulled the door open, stepping out of the way of the others as she did. Taran with the torch and Quint with the oil lamp were the first ones in. When they crossed the threshold, the two men were hit with a nauseating odor and covered their noses.
"Mrf! That smell!" Taran choked.
It was like a refuse lot and the backroom of a butcher shop all in one, yet somehow worse. It transcended mere stench and stung their eyes. The two light-bearers wiped their eyes, and looked at their objective, squinting. Something was wrong. Now that they were in the room, they could tell the dark red spots along Barren's sides were too dark to just be bruises. They were something else, but they'd need to bring the lights closer to see what. The two men exchanged a nod and moved in, parting to make room when Lucien came to walk between them. Ingrid pulled away from Gloria. Despite the blonde half-dwarf and Bedelia's protests, she followed Claire into the cell.
"Get her!" Bedelia ordered.
Gloria nodded and followed her in.
"Barren!" Lucien breathlessly called out. "Don't worry. We'll get ya down, buddy!"
He, Taran, and Quint quickly traversed the final distance. Lucien was so lost in anticipation he barely noticed the scent, but the others did. Behind him, Claire and the others took to breathing through their mouths, with Thalia even retching. It wasn't until they were finally close enough to see their captured friend clearly that the spell over Lucien broke. They all slowed to complete stops, faces twisting in horror at the sight.
Claire's eyes teared up. From the smell, from disgust, from grief? She didn't know. No matter the cause, the sight of Barren was accompanied with overwhelming nausea. She heaved and covered her mouth as her stomach churned. She had to look away. Thalia and the others had gone still as stone, staring without blinking.
"Gods. Oh… oh, gods, what they do to ya?" Ingrid sounded ill, too.
They could see him now. All of him in his nakedness. They saw the dark spots along Barren's sides had indeed not been bruises at all. Chunks of skin that had been torn from his body, exposing bone and muscle. Under his arms and along the sides of his legs. His other wounds consisted of deep lacerations, actual cruises, burns, puncture wounds, and broken fingers. His thumbs and big toes had all been amputated to prevent quick movement or the ability to proper hold objects. More than that, Lucien saw for the first time how utterly futile this entire effort had been, as Bedelia had warned.
All at once, the wind had been taken from their sails. They had all come at great risk with the expectations of having to tend to wounds inflicted by Barren's torturers, but this mutilation was beyond any of their expectations. Never had a prisoner of The Pit that had been dragged out for execution ever been in such a destroyed state. From where they stood, they didn't even know how to go about touching him without breaking him further. The thought that it might be kinder to Barren to end him right there and then was beginning to worm its way into their minds. Lucien tried to push it away, but the bitter reality before him would not change. Barren was broken beyond fixing. As Lucien's eyes moved from one horrific detail to the next, he became lost in a world of his own, alone even among his teammates.
"See? What did I tell you?" Lucien berated himself. "You were too late again. You're the reason he's even here, and like… this."
"I know," Lucien answered aloud, but his seeming nonsense statement went unnoticed by the others.
"Take just one last group through the Turgen Mountains," the thoughts needled him. "If you'd just used your brain for once, none of them would be here springing this obvious trap with you. You'd all be out there too getting' those women, kids, and other helpless citizens outta town right now."
With bloodshot, dry eyes, Barren looked on his comrades as Lucien's gloved hand briefly reached out for him, and then stopped. It fell back to the swordsman's side. Lucien realized there was nothing that could be done for him now. He and Barren locked eyes. In Lucien's, Barren saw all the sorry and pleas for forgiveness roiling in the blonde's mind. In Barren's, Lucien saw his despair. It was just like watching the light leave Platina's eyes in those final moments again.
"I just want to forget. Forget… it… all…"
Barren squeezed his eyes shut, and said, "T.. trrraupth…"
"What?" Lucien strained to understand him. "Traph? No, trap!"
He gulped and nodded, almost unable to look at Barren. "We know, buddy. We know. But… we still came. We couldn't just…"
Lucien cut himself off, already feeling the others around him and the danger he had put them in.
Barren stirred again, "K… k'lllLl m-mMmugh…"
"Why is he talking like that?" Thalia asked.
Quint squinted, staring at Barren's mouth while it moved, trying to form words. Then he gasped, pulling back a couple steps.
"They took his teeth an' his tongue!" Quint cried. "Vicious bastards took his tongue!"
As that new horror sunk in, Barren tried to speak again. His slurred words brought Claire out of her shock. She faced him again, being prepared for what she'd see this time. Revulsion turned to anguish at the sorry state of him.
"…What?" Claire was almost certain of what he was asking.
Barren tried again. Claire's feet moved forward a step unconsciously as she moved to Lucien's side again.
"Barren, what did you just say?" she repeated.
Barren's lips smacked, trembling slightly as he did. The way his lips rested looked wrong to them. They were like how an elderly person's lips rested after they had lost all their teeth. Then his mouth gaped open as he struggled to force out more words.
"K! K! K!" Barren blurted out, almost like a cough. "K-k-K-kill m-UH-eEEe…"
"'Kill me'," Thalia quoted him.
Lucien and the others silently looked at the blonde woman and then at Barren again. The internal turmoil still raged in Lucien's soul. Quint bowed his head and lowered the oil lamp as he despaired. The feeling swept through the group. It was at this point, Bedelia appeared in the doorway, grabbing both sides of the frame angrily.
"Fool girls. What be takin' so… long…" Bedelia stopped dead in the doorway.
Under the light of the lantern and torch, she could see the state of Barren clearly, and it defied even her expectations.
"Animals," she cursed those who ran The Pit and Túr Raghnaill. She backed away from the doorway, and waved Maximillian off. "Max, go check down below a few flights."
"What? Without ya and the girls?" the other archer retorted.
"Ye ain't goin' far. Just go scout," Bedelia ordered.
Maximillian wavered, and then started down. Inside the torture chamber, Barren's body wracked as he sobbed once and looked at Claire, pleadingly. She weakly nodded, and nudged Lucien with her elbow.
"Lucien," Claire was gentle as she could while speaking. "We have to. Look at him. There's no coming back from what they've done to him."
Lucien was silent. Behind him, Ingrid leaned closer.
"She's right, ya know," she said. "There's no healer on Midgard who can save him."
Thalia, Tarna, and Quint shuffled about uncomfortably, declining to speak.
"It's yer call, Boss," Joe prompted Lucien. "We'll follow along no matter what, but we better hurry. They strung him up for a reason. The longer we dawdle is longer they have."
"So, this was all for nothing?" Gloria asked.
"Lush'in!" Barren' sudden, scratchy whine caught them by surprise.
Lucien looked down out of a mix of guilt and shame, for many things. Beside him, Claire scoffed, and pulled out a dagger.
"Fine," she declared.
She raised it, aiming for Barren's middle before plunging it forward. Lucien's arm shot up, catching Claire's stroke, halfway. The redhead looked at him, in angrily disappointment, but he wasn't looking at her. Her scowl began to fade when Lucien drew his own sword, stepping in close to Barren. This time, his eyes remained firmly fixed to Barren's. Lucien raised his hand, holding up the fingers to aim between Barren's ribs while he drew the sword straight back. Barren nodded once to Lucien, and the Scarlet Swordsman returned to it with one of his own. In those gestures, they acknowledged each other one final time, forgave all past offenses, and said goodbye. Then, it took just a moment for Lucien to steel himself and thrust the sword through one of his nearest, dearest friends.
"I'm sorry, Barren. May the Valkyrie lay thee down to rest peacefully," then with teary eyes, Lucien did it.
His free had pulled back and his body pivoted, reenforcing the thrust. Claire and the others covered their eyes or looked away as Lucien's blade pierced Barren. The hanging man's pained wheeze broke through the chamber. Fresh tears rolled down Claire's cheeks just hearing it. Barren was hit with a burning, freezing pain before he began to fade. With his final seconds, he focused on his friends one last time, before his head hung forward again, and he went still.
There, in the dim, flickering lantern and torch light, stood Lucien, with his sword almost hilt-deep in Barren's body. His still body slightly swaying in his bonds as his blood oozed from his newest and final wound, rolling in little streams down his sunken stomach, thighs, and legs. It didn't seem real at first. Lucien couldn't think. There was only a heaviness inside him he had no words to define. Platina's death had shattered him in ways he had never recovered from. This, though? Was what this?
As Lucien pulled his sword out, the sensation of it sliding through Barren's body and the wet noise it made broke through the disassociation he'd felt. This was real. He'd really just killed Barren. Lucien's face was blank and limp as he wiped off his sword and turned his back on the corpse. He didn't acknowledge anyone as he left that accursed chamber. With automated motion, he sheathed the blade again.
Claire tried to speak, and reached out to Lucien, but stopped herself. She felt terrible for pushing him to do the deed, himself. Her hand fell to the side again and the redhead simply followed Lucien out. The others followed, one by one, just as downtrodden. They each cast one more heartbroken look upon their fallen friend before turning away for good. Bedelia was still at the door, but her former gruffness was gone. Her head was bowed. She stepped out of his way, allowing Lucien to come back out on the platform. The others filtered out, as well, much more slowly than before.
"Sympathies, Lucien," Bedelia said. "But I did try to warn ye."
Lucien blinked as he held back the tears. He stepped away from the rest of the group, towards the edge of the platform. He stopped near the precipice. Furious, blazing deep blue eyes scanned around the vertical dungeon.
Then, with every ounce of power he could draw from his diaphragm, Lucien shouted, "SHERIFF AGATHA! I KNOW YOU'RE DOWN HERE! SHOW YOURSELF!"
Everyone except Bedelia cringed down at the sudden outburst, and continued to wince as his words seemed to echo endlessly throughout The Pit. Maximillian came running back up from the below, about to verbally tear Lucien full of holes.
"The Hel, man!" he growled. "Do ye want to kill us all?"
Claire clapped her hands over her ears.
"Lucien!" she admonished.
Bedelia looked toward her granddaughters.
"Anything, girls?" she asked.
Gloria and Ingrid were already looking around and then their eyes widened.
"Yes," Gloria's voice trembled. "There's movement in some of the cellblocks."
"The… what?" Thalia hoarsely whimpered.
"The cellblocks," Ingrid repeated, and swallowed down some panic. "There are warm bodies inside some of them are marching towards the doors in lines and ranks. They're bright and full of life."
"Where? Above? Below?" Taran asked, waving the torch around as he turned about in a panic.
"Both," Bedelia answered for her granddaughters.
As if on cue, the sounds of locks being undone filled The Pit, and many doors interspersed throughout the dungeon swung open, from both above and below. Lucien's team watched as deputies and armored members of the city guard filed out onto platforms around The Pit. Claire wanted to scream as she hid behind Lucien while the other gathered in closer in the middle behind them. Bedelia had whipped out her bow and notched an arrow, aiming at the clearest target she could get. Maximillian had done the same.
Thalia, Joe, Taran, and Quint's heads jerked back and forth as they looked at how any escape had been blocked off. They had drawn their weapons, but had no idea what good they were going to do. On each platform between stairwells, there were at least about ten or a dozen men. All armed, all ready to arrest or kill them. There was a distinct lack of archers among them, but it was no surprise.
"Too close a-quarters 'n' the angling's bad for a row of archers," Bedelia knew. "Once the fightin' starts, they'll be wantin' to avoid hittin' their own."
"Hey, boss," Joe nervously asked Lucien. "What's the call?"
Lucien said nothing. He silently scanned each clustering of Deputies for the enemy he wanted to kill above all else at the moment.
"Where are you? Where are you?" Lucien impatiently thought as he failed to spot Sheriff Agatha.
"Make way, for the Sheriff!" someone announced on a platform above them, a half-circle up.
Lucien zeroed in on Agatha as she appeared at the edge of the platform. She stood with perfect pois, with her arms crossed behind her back. She looked down on them with her remaining eye. Lucien's fists clenched at the sight of her. Even from that distance and in the dim light, Agatha could see his fury, and smiled.
"Good evening, Lucien of the Cheap Side Guard. Or do you prefer Scarlet Swordsman, leader of the Silver Saviors," she greeted. "Did you enjoy your reunion?"
Lucien still said nothing. He simply continued to stare her down like a wolf that had found his prey. Then a thin older man appeared next to her, smiling smugly down at them. Agatha gave him a half-grin.
"May I introduce Mr. Ferny, Lucien?" Agatha's faux-amiable tone burned in his Lucien's ears.
"At your service, young Master," Ferny bowed. "I am the Chief Inquisitor in charge of this respectable place of justice."
Ferny's smile deepened. "So, did you enjoy your reunion, as the Sheriff asked. Brutus and meself, we tried to have Mr. Barren ready to welcome guests tonight, but our work had to be done on short notice."
As Lucien's stare of death shifted from Sheriff Agatha to him, Ferny felt a twinge of fear. He took a small step back from the landing's edge, intimidated by the young man's killing intent even from there. It was almost overwhelming, as though Ferny might expire just from Lucien's stare.
Then Lucien spoke. Although he did not raise his voice more than he needed to be heard, there was a shakiness and a controlled hatred as the words came out, betraying the intent of a man about to explode with rage.
"Ferny, yes?" Lucien asked. "You… did that? All of that… to Barren?"
Ferny collected himself and stepped forward again, deciding he was well-protected enough behind all of Agatha's men and the city guard.
"I did," Ferny confidently smirked at the little group of intruders.
Lucien quietly growled, feeling himself beginning to lose control, prompting Claire to grab him around the waist.
"Lucien, don't, please," she pleadingly whispered.
Feeling empowered, standing over the young man from afar, Ferny decided to provoke him further, "It's easily my best work yet. I've never seen a man endure so much and still refuse to betray the secrets of his friends."
Maximillian was half-tempted to turn his bow from the soldier on the chattering old man just to shut him up, but he knew that'd begin the fighting, and they weren't ready for that. They'd never be ready for that, because he knew they were all going to die down in that miserable hole.
"Betty, I hope yer outta the city by now," he silently prayed.
Ferny's head tilted to the side as he shook his head, clicking his tongue. "Yet you still came and rendered all his effort and resolve meaningless, Hero."
Lucien tensed, ready to argue his case, but… Behind him, Ingrid, Gloria, Thalia, Joe, Taran, and Quint slowly lowered their heads as it hit them how badly they had bungled it by coming. Then, Lucien's own body untensed. Ferny's words did their work. The blonde swordsman looked back on the past day and remembered all the warnings and pleas he had received to turn away from this course. To move on, to lead the innocent masses to safety. Instead, he had abandoned his post guiding hundreds, thousands, out of Gerebellum.
"Now, we know the Cheap-Side Guard and the rebellious Silver Saviors are one and the same," Agatha took over from the torturer. "We at last have the evidence we need to burn the whole slums to the ground to eradicate the rogue element in our midst. I have but to order Captain Mason's men to begin, and it all ends for your cause."
The slums were going to burn, and Lucien knew it was his fault.
"No, it can't end here. Not like this!" Lucien thought.
He raised his head again, looking around, determined not to despair just yet. Then he turned and looked into the interrogation chamber, eyes skimming some of the equipment and large, thick tables.
"I bet Ingrid and Gloria could lift one of those tables like they're nothing and use it to batter right through them all," Lucien was willing to play the odds. "We'd have a moment to let them run in, grab one."
"See anything interesting, Scarlet Swordsman?" Agatha asked him from above. "You may yet be spending your fair share of time in there, should we decide you are a valuable enough prisoner."
To that, Lucien looked up at her again, almost smirking.
"You'll not have us tonight, Sheriff," he answered.
"So you say," Agatha replied, and motioned to her men. "Kill them."
At once, every squad began moving towards them, and would arrive shortly.
"Boss!" Joe shouted at Lucien.
"Ingrid, Gloria!" Lucien shouted, pointing back through the door. "Into the torture room! Move!"
Both the half-dwarves stared back like frightened deer until Bedelia also spoke up.
"He said get goin', ye ninnies!" the old woman shouted. She pushed them towards the door. "Move!"
Ingrid and Gloria raced past the others into the room as ordered, and Lucien grabbed Claire, bringing her with him as he quickly followed.
"Everyone, form a perimeter of defense! Archers by the door!" Lucien ordered the group as he ran past. "Be ready to move when I say!"
As ordered, they formed a perimeter around the door with Maximillian and Bedelia behind the fighters. Quint had set down the oil lamp and faced the soldiers coming from below with Joe. Thalia and Taran stood at the bottom of the ascending steps as the Sheriff's men bore down on them. As soon as the armored city guard came to the top of the steps, Bedelia adjusted her aim, prompting the shield-bearing knights in front to raise their steel barriers as they continued to come down. The old woman smirked and waited for her chance while Taran and Thalia were beginning to sweat, as it was just the two of them against a dozen men about to reach them in a moment. As soon as the back rank of men reached the top of the steps, Bedelia fired.
The shield-bearers instinctively slowed some more, but the arrow flew right over them and the middle ranks, finding its mark in the ankle of one of the men in the rear. The man cried out as he first fell into the person next him, sending them both toppling forward into those in front of them. A domino effect sent them all tumbling either down the steps or over the side, falling to the bottom of The Pit. Thalia and Taran jumped back as the shield-bearers, slammed down, facedown on the platform at their feet. Then swordsman and swordswoman lunged forward, thrusting their blades into the stunned armored men's backs.
As soon as the armored city guard neared the top, Quint took a big step down onto the stairs, swinging his ax widely, forcing them to a stop. They tried to charge the large man, but Quint's backswing was quick, buying his team just a moment longer. Maximillian stepped forward, and loosed his own arrow. It flew through the narrow space in the visor of a city guard's helmet, piercing him through the eye. The large, armored man fell dead, flopping backwards onto his own comrades, momentarily halting two of the three lines of men. The third still came forward. Quint used the opportunity to pluck one of the potions from his pockets and hurled it towards them. The glass shattered against the helm of one of the armored guards, and a barrage of ice spear erupted from it, skewering most of the unit. Quint and Joe were forced to jump to avoid the same fate.
From above, Agatha watched, sneering. Beside her, Ferny looked almost amused.
"Quite talented, are they not?" he quipped.
The look she gave was enough to send the torturer backing away in fear.
"Be. Silent," Agatha hissed. "Or I'll be using you as ammunition to throw at them."
"Yes, yes, right away," Ferny hastily answered. "Wouldn't dream of being a bother!"
Agatha gave him one final scoff before pointing down at Lucien's crew as they defended themselves.
"Men! Get down there, and try not to fall for their pathetic little tricks!" she shouted.
"Ay, yes, ma'am!" one of the troops saluted as they ran past with the others.
From within the interrogation chamber, Lucien's voice rang, "Make room! We're coming out!"
Lucien's team glanced toward the chamber, unsure of what Lucien was even talking about until Ingrid burst out carrying the front end of a long, thick table used for restraining prisoners. She immediately turned left out of the doorway, to head up. Somehow, the two hybrids managed to angle the table out onto the landing, but Ingrid came much closer to the edge than Bedelia would have liked. The old woman nearly felt herself panic watching her more impulsive granddaughter thread the edge before being able to swing back inward when Gloria emerged behind, carrying the other end. Lucien and Claire followed her out close behind.
Lucien looked at Bedelia's group, and shouted, "Duck!"
Bedelia, Taran, and Thalia did just that as Ingrid and Gloria effortlessly raised the large, heavy wooden slab upright over their heads. Then they ran up the steps, past the three huddled persons who maneuvered to avoid being hit by the table legs. Ingrid didn't bother to step carefully, trampling over the downed guards and deputies or kicking them out of her way if they tried to hinder her as they went. She sent at least two more men down The Pit.
Then, as soon as Gloria was passing beside them, Lucien ran up and tapped Taran on the shoulder.
"Come on, help we're gonna help them push from behind," he ordered.
Taran looked at him uncertainly, but obeyed. He handed the torch off to Claire as the half-dwarf girls adjusted how they carried the heavy table again. Ingrid squatted down, lowering the front of the table and grabbed its legs instead of holding it up by the bottom. Gloria also lowered the back end, stepping out from under it to keep it lifted from behind, with Lucien and Taran grabbing the corners to assist her.
Bedelia raised her head, judgingly looking at Lucien again.
"We be goin' up?" she exclaimed, demanding to know his logic.
"They hafta know how we got in," Lucien answered.
He set his gaze up at the next unit of men that came changing down at them. They slowed for just an instant, taking in the unusual sight before continuing to rush forward.
Undaunted, Lucien shouted, "Charge! Everyone, follow us!"
Above, Agatha watched in confusion. She looked squarely at Lucien with one thought on her mind:
"That man must want to die."
Bedelia sighed, reluctantly admitting that Lucien was probably right as he and the others charged forward with their makeshift battering ram. She took off after them. Only Quint lingered. He braced his foot against the man his axe was imbedded in and pushed him away to pull his weapon free. The man slumped against the steps, making the it difficult for the next two men to step over him. Quint took one more swing to make them back off before he retreated upwards as well.
Agatha's men charged Lucien's makeshift battering ram, unaware that the thick slab of wood coming at them was backed by dwarfish strength. So, when they collided, Ingrid and Gloria just plowed through them with Lucien and Taran's help. The guards and deputies were slammed into those behind them before being pushed to the ground. However, the next group after them was quickly closing in.
"Set 'er down!" Lucien ordered.
The others complied, and Lucien jumped up on it and ran across its surface, shouting back over his shoulder, "Joe! Take over for me!"
Ingrid had come out from under the table was making quick work of the men they plowed over with her axe. Lucien leapt from the table's top and clean over Ingrid's head and the downed men. The next unit of a dozen men knew not what to make of the Silver Savior's leader jumping into the point position alone as he sailed down towards them. Lucien's swung his sword in a side arc at a nearby wall-mounted wooden torch just as he was touching down, breaking its flaming head and sending a shower of red hot embers into the oncoming enemy. The deputies and armored guards had no time to react before the burning debris flew into their faces. The men screamed, clawing at their faces in agony. Lucien heard the battering go back into motion behind him and threw himself flat against the wall. The force of their charge left a breeze which rustled his hair as he watched his team barrel past into the stunned enemy. The deputies and guards were mercilessly trampled or sent plunging to their deaths in their wake.
Lucien pushed off from the wall, giving him extra momentum to keep up. Maximillian and Claire flanked him. They both drew knives as they came to the enemy that had just been bulled over, slowing to slice their throats as they passed. Quint with his axe still brought up the rear. Lacking any heavy armor, he was able to keep ahead of his pursuers. He glanced back at them, tensely, knowing he couldn't fight them all at once. They had to be stopped or slowed, somehow. His eyes strayed to the wooden steps and platforms they all stood on. He got an idea.
"Bedelia, my acid!" he called.
The old woman looked back, and drew the small bottle from the pouch on her belt, seemingly already knowing what he intended to do. She passed it back to him. As soon as he came to the top of another flight, Quint stopped and turned, holding up the veil. His pursuers skidded to a stop.
"Hold it, men! He's got another concoction!" the commanding officer ordered.
"Damn right I do!" Quint shouted.
He uncorked the bottle, sending their pursuers running back down the steps. He just smirked as he splashed the steps below him with the corroding liquid. He threw away the bottle, and ran away. The Sheriff's men and the city guard below were left gaping as they watched the acid eat through the steps, giving off a horrible smell. Quint found the others had not waited up, which was fine by him. It gave him room to run, impeded. His speed served him well, as several spears either stuck into the floorboards behind him or bounced off its surface, thrown by the city guardsmen he had cut off from chasing them any further.
"Blast it all!" the officer cursed.
He watched as the stairwell fell from the wall, altogether, leaving them completely cut off. The officer about-faced, glaring furiously at his men, and pointing at the fleeing man who had just outrun their spears.
"I will stand not for this insult!" he shouted. "Gather whatever you can from below! I want this gap bridged! Go!"
"Yes, sir!" his men saluted and turned back.
Bedelia ran along behind the battering ram carriers, looking on ahead at the next unit they had to get through. This unit had stopped and waited to be joined by another. One of the men had also dug into his pocket, getting out a set of keys. Bedelia's eyes shifted to the door he stood beside. She realized it opened outward.
"They can barricade that door and block us," she realized.
The old woman then notched two arrows, taking aim on two simultaneous targets as Lucien's group neared them. Finding her shots, Bedelia set the arrows loose. The first went through the man's hand, causing him to drop the keys as he screamed, and the second hit a hanging oil lamp, shattering the glass and causing it swing wildly, spilling out its oil through the new opening, and igniting it with the still burning flame.
Bedelia smiled victoriously as the flaming oil splashed on two men and all over the floorboards, sending the whole lot back up the steps in a frenzy where they collided with the next unit. Her granddaughters, Taran, and Joe stepped around the oil flame and up the next flight before they rammed through the next set of men.
"What on Midgard?" Agatha muttered.
She watched the Silver Saviors rampaged through unit after unit on their way up and cut off their pursuers from below. Lucien looked up at her and Ferny. He wasn't far now, and could relay in a single look that he was coming to kill them. Ferny backed up, towards the base of the next set of steps leading up. Agatha, however, stayed put as her mind worked. She had not planned for them to try something so impossible and reckless. It was vexing, and she ground her teeth in annoyance. By all rights the idea of them using a one of Ferny's slabs as a battering ram and plowing over multiple units of her men was…
"Inconceivable… If not for the inhuman strength of those two little girls," Agatha thought. She looked between Gloria and Ingrid, unable to tell their ages by their appearance. "They cannot be entirely human."
Agatha had to admit she had not factored in the possibility of Lucien's Silver Saviors having half-human members into her planning, but it didn't matter. Agatha had planned for the possibility they pulled off a daring escape from The Pit, as they had done in times past. Full-human, half-human, hald-dwarf, elf, whatever, Lucien's group would die if their hearts were pierced by the armor-piercing crossbow bolts awaiting them topside. Still, it was vexing to watch her men fold like cards in the wild like this.
"I must remember to reevaluate how we train deputies and the city guard after this," she concluded.
Agatha thought no more on it, and raised an arm, signaling her men.
"Pull back! They're breaking through!" she ordered, gesturing upwards. "To the tower! We'll stop their momentum there! Fall back on our first contingency!"
Ferny didn't need to be told twice. Fear had taken him, and he was already fleeing up towards the base level of the Túr Raghnaill. He frequently looked over his shoulder, eyes filling with terror as the man they had thought to corner like a fox instead closed in on them like a wolf. He watched Lucien and Ingrid in front of the stopped makeshift ram, fending off soldiers. The group's two archers supported them, firing from a couple of flights back where they were angled to hit the Sheriff's men before they could reach Lucien and the pinkette.
Sheriff Agatha and her men also thundered up the steps, quickly catching up to Ferny and passing by the elderly torturer.
"Huh?" Ferny cried as none of them even gave him a sideways glance, let alone help him along. "Wait… wait!"
He reached out and grabbed one deputy's shoulders, but the man roughly shrugged him off, causing Ferny to stumble and land on his side at the top of the steps. There was an audible crack as something broke. Ferny doubled over in pain and was kicked around by Agatha's retreating men who either didn't see him or didn't care. It took a moment for Ferny to let the pain out as an almost inhuman scream. With desperate, tearing eyes, the torture tactician reached out for the Sheriff and her men again, trying to find his voice again to beg for their help. At the top of the next flight, Agatha stopped only briefly to spare him the quickest of looks back. Ferny almost felt hope, but then the woman just turned away and continued her own retreat, having decided he was an acceptable loss.
"No!" Ferny begged. He grimaced in pain and pulled himself up onto the platform fully, lying on his uninjured side. "Wait, Sheriff! Wait!"
He continued inching his way across the landing, crawling on his side.
"…Wait," he pitifully begged.
Clunk! A heavy footstep against the wooden surface behind him gave Ferny a fight. He gasped, turning toward whoever had just come behind him. Terror froze Ferny in place. Lucien's crew had fought their way up through the last of Agatha's men and caught up to him. Lucien himself stood in front, staring down at Barren's tormentor. Ferny's fear-stricken eyes met the vengeful hate radiating through Lucien's. The blonde swordsman slowly began to approach the injured interrogator, and the only thing Ferny could go was feebly push himself backwards in a futile attempt to escape. Lucien's crew joined their leader up on the platform after casting the slab aside. And there was no room mercy in any of their stares, Ferny found.
Ferny raised his hands in surrender, cringing away from them as they closed in.
"M-mercy," Ferny begged. "I was just…"
Mercy? Just that one word made Lucien's rage to boil over. He pounced at Ferny, grabbing him by the front of his shirt and dragging the thin elder to up to his feet before he could even finish his plea. Ferny moaned and cried as his injured side was roughly moved, but his pain did not matter one little bit to Lucien.
"Please…" Ferny begged. "'Twas just my job. That's all…"
Lucien shook him, once but roughly cutting the old man off again. Ferny's nearly gagged from the pain in his side.
"Just your job? JUST YOUR JOB?!" Lucien's mind burned.
As his grip tightened, beginning to cut off Ferny's air, so many words he wished to shout and scream at the sadistic pig got lodged in a corridor of Lucien's mind. His face turned into the closest thing to a demon's snarl Ferny had ever seen. A growl to match bubbled up from the base of Lucien's throat. Ferny realized nothing was going to deter this young man's vengeance. Then he spotted Bedelia among his companions.
"What?" he thought, almost unable to believe his good fortune.
He smiled with a desperate laugh, reaching out towards the elderly former assassin.
"Milady Midnight Bedelia!" Ferny cried.
Bedelia just grumbled and backed away from him, glowering at him in pure disgust. Lucien and the others gave her surprised or neutral sideways glances.
"You knew this man?" Claire asked.
From Bedelia's stare, she could already tell wasn't a pleasant acquaintance.
"Beddie!" Ferny cried. "Come on, help an old colleague out. You know it's just business. That's all it ever…"
"CEASE YER PRATTLING!" Bedelia shouted. She turned her head away from him sternly, unwilling to look on him anymore. "Never sat well wit' me what ye took so much pleasure in doin' to folk. I did what I hadda for the old king, but ye just loved the power this gave ye over others. Ye'll find no aid from these old bones. 'Specially not after wot ye did to Barren."
Then, with sorrow she could not contain, she murmured, "The poor boy."
Lucien looked back at Ferny as the old man began trembling his grip. He'd had a million different retributions planned for when he got his hands on Ferny, but now Lucien had not the time to carry any of them out. The pathetic bully Lucien held was but a mere obstacle between him and getting the others out. He was also a threat if left alive that Lucien could not ignore, given his knowledge and the command he had within those walls. Lucien's looked over the edge of the platform into great big pit just a couple steps away.
"What… what are you looking at?" Ferny asked, trying to follow his gaze with uncertainty.
Lucien still said nothing. He just dragged Ferny over to the edge. The old man's eyes widened once he realized what Lucien was doing. He grabbed Lucien's wrists weakly.
"No, I pray you!" he plead. "I…"
Lucien again didn't let him finish. He simply pulled the old man away from the edge first to give himself extra momentum. Then he unceremoniously heaved Ferny over the side. Lucien watched him flail helplessly in the air as he careened to the bottom. Ferny, Chief Interrogator of Gerebellum, keeper of The Pit, the Torturer of a Thousand Souls, Loosener of Lips, Breaker of Wills, Knees, and Toes, the almighty lord of the prisoners in that underground dungeon. He shat himself in the fall to the bottom.
"Good riddance to bad rubbish," Bedelia quipped. The former assassin then looked toward the top where the closed door awaiting them at the top. "Now, to get movin' before they can prepare whatever trap they 'ave too well."
"Right," Lucien said, pointing his sword upwards. "Into the tower."
He was the last to get moving. Claire lingered the longest, giving Lucien a sad, worried look. In his eyes, there was a darkness that had not been there before, and it scared her. Lucien motioned her on ahead, and she obeyed.
"Sheriff Agatha. I'm coming for you," Lucien silently vowed.
From atop the Turgen Mountains, Lenneth suddenly stirred and stared down at the city broodingly as a wave of human emotion reached her senses.
"Something has offset Lucien's soul," she thought. "He is close to becoming unstable."
Feeling the eyes of her einherjar upon her, Lenneth had to stop herself from nervously curling a strand of her hair in her fingers as a cold feeling settled into her stomach. She was compelled to do something. Anything.
"The time draws nearer," Lenneth announced. She hopped down from her perch, landing among her einherjar on the ledge. She pointed down at Gerebellum, issuing the order. "We will descend into the city and observe the situation more closely. Come, my einherjar."
Then, she took flight, bringing them with her as she flew down, towards the city, unknowing of what they would encounter before the night was over.
