A/N: Thanks again to AerithRayne for beta-reading this chapter for me!
Chapter 13: Beneath the Surface
Katarina kept to the trees, leaping from branch to branch to avoid leaving a trail. The chances that she was being followed were not high, but war was breaking on the Noxian horizon, and she wasn't about to take any chances. The occasional glance at her compass kept her on course – directly north. She knew from studying a map of the Institute's surrounding terrain that exactly ten miles north of the Institute lay a small creek that could serve as an adequate landmark.
Noon was approaching, which meant that the Noxian military van would soon arrive, if it hadn't already. Her heart accelerated at the thought, but she didn't allow herself to think too deeply about what that ride would entail. Every move she made was fluid but robotic, her body on autopilot as she moved to get to the creek as fast as she could.
Another hour passed before she began to hear water in the distance, soon followed by the sight of a thin silver band that wound its way through the forest. She slowed as soon as she saw the water, flattening her body against a tree trunk and glancing around for any signs of life. When she saw none, she edged forward, silently moving to another tree, ducking low to stay concealed among the leaves. She kept moving in this manner until she was nearly at the creek's edge, at which point she glanced left, then right.
There.
The vehicle was well concealed, but she could make out the dark outline hidden beneath a pair of large shrubs.
After a moment of deliberation, the assassin dropped down to the creek and began casually strolling towards the hidden military vehicle. As she approached, two soldiers emerged, armed to the teeth. She greeted them with a salute, which they each returned.
"Sinister Blade. Was your mission successful?"
Katarina glanced back and forth between the two of them. "That information is for my superiors only."
The man seemed disgruntled, but didn't say anything more. His companion stepped forward, opening the rear door. "While you are technically correct, your destination will depend on the answer."
The assassin smirked, folding her arms across her chest. "If the answer is yes?"
"Classified."
"How cute. I order you to tell me where this van is going."
The first man smirked right back. "Our silence has been ordered by those who far outrank you, Sinister Blade."
"I see," she murmured, watching as the two men exchanged glances. She tried to determine the source of their defiance – did they have reason to suspect her treachery? Not enough time had passed to receive any word from Swain, or so she suspected. No, they were filled with the attitude of fresh soldiers, about to march into a confrontation that they had been assured they would win.
After a few moments of mental calculations, Katarina made her move. An instant later, she was behind the man closest to her, swinging a wicked punch at his temple that dropped him before he was even aware of movement.
"Hey!" yelled the second man, reaching for the sword strapped to his back, but Katarina recovered from her punch and dove at him, catching his wrist and twisting it viciously, earning a yelp of pain from the significantly larger soldier. The hold was painful, but he was already recovering, and before he could reach another weapon the assassin moved behind him and dropped to a crouch, plunging a dagger into the soft flesh behind his kneecap.
The man's scream sent every bird in the area to the skies.
"Let's try that again," whispered Katarina, her voice dripping with venom, "where were you ordered to take me?"
"D-Dodkjole..." stammered the man through his fear and pain as his knees buckled. Katarina let him fall, watching as he moved to grip the handle that was still embedded in his flesh.
"And what's there?" she asked while she watched him struggle to remove the knife.
"Swain…gathering forces..." his words trailed off into a series of pained noises as he pulled the blade from his knee.
"How hard is it, to just be helpful?" Katarina squatted beside him, pulling the knife from his hand and using it to cut his belt, which she deftly circled his wrists with. He attempted a vague struggle, but the assassin shoved her boot into his wound, ending his resistance. After he was subdued, she pulled his canteen from his belt and opened the cap, pouring it over the wound. The man was recovering from the initial shock, and he tried to kick her with his good leg. In response, Katarina drew a second knife and rested the tip at the back of his other knee.
"Really?" she asked.
"What the hell is wrong with you!?" he screamed.
"Shut up," she snapped. "If you let me treat it, you'll be fine. It didn't even go in that deep. Who the hell let you out of the Academy if you can't even take a scratch like that?"
"A scratch?" he exclaimed, staring at her incredulously. "More like an attack! And from you?!"
Katarina turned to the man, feeling a brief flash of pity for the poor soul. He was young, and though his response to the attack had been pathetic, she had caught him quite off-guard. Underlings were trained to trust their superiors, to follow orders without question, and that was all he'd done. She read the confusion in his face, the hurt at being betrayed.
He stands between me and Ashe, she reminded herself.
"Next time, answer my question." She punctuated her statement with a swift punch to the temple, nearly identical to the one she'd given the first man, and carefully bandaged the wound at his knee using the first aid kit in the van. After checking each man's vital signs, she nodded to herself and walked away from the two.
She entered the van. As she held the steering wheel, her hands were shaking. She gripped it tighter to make the trembling stop. There was no looking back now.
Her driving skills were certainly not wonderful, but she had a basic knowledge of military vehicles and how to operate them. After several attempts, the metal beast roared to life, and she shot out from under the bushes, turning the wheel wildly to aim north, directly between two distant mountain peaks.
As she drove, she thought bitterly of the Institute she was leaving behind and cursed the events of the morning that had brought her there.
Several hours earlier
"I need to speak to Grímnir. Immediately," insisted Katarina upon entering the Ionian hospital.
Soraka looked up from the desk in surprise. "You're early."
"Never mind that," she growled, tightening her grip on the desk top. "Where is he?"
The Starchild's expression was wary and tinted with concern. "What's so important?"
Katarina resisted the urge to respond with a curt, "none of your business." Instead, she took a brief pause and tried to compose herself. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary for the healer in front of her, which likely meant that Ashe's sudden disappearance had not yet been discovered. That made sense – Katarina was usually the first person to enter the rooms with breakfast. But it was only a matter of time before someone else noticed. "I just need to know where he is," she explained. "…Please," she added awkwardly after a moment of silence.
Soraka seemed to debate with herself for a moment. "I'm not sure, to be quite honest, but the best place to check would probably be the dungeons. He's been spending a fair amount of time down there."
Katarina raised an eyebrow, not expecting the strange response. Still, the Ionian had seemed honest enough, and the assassin nodded in acknowledgement before turning away.
"Why would a senior summoner frequent the dungeons?" she muttered to herself as she moved through the hallways, wandering distractedly, too lost in thought to even notice the strange looks she was receiving. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she was aware that the Noxian disappearance would be noticed soon, as well. There is no time to wait for Swain's instructions, she told herself repeatedly.
As she moved, the corridors began to thin, and by the time she reached the winding stone staircase that led down into the dungeons, there wasn't a soul around. The trek took several minutes and the air gradually grew thicker as she descended in the dim light.
Soraka had better be right about this, thought the assassin as she considered how long it would take to climb the same staircase again.
She finally reached the bottom and entered a small, narrow passage, which opened to reveal a high stone gate that glittered with gold symbols that seemed to emit their own light. The sight surprised Katarina, who was startled out of her own thoughts enough to take a step closer and examine the stone. The symbols were, at first, completely unrecognizable to her, but as she watched, they began to shimmer and flicker beneath her gaze. After a short moment, the thin golden loops formed words that covered the archway from the bottom left column to the bottom right.
"Beyond this gate lay dangers fierce,
Though do not stand alarmed,
For back and forth you may traverse,
Protected from all harm.
But have some caution, visitor,
For though you now roam free,
If ever sealed within these walls,
The sun you'll never see."
As Katarina read the words, she felt a powerful wave of summoning magic wash over her, lending her the protections promised by the spell. The feeling was not unpleasant, but the assassin still shuddered at the unnatural feeling of summoner energy dancing across her skin. She swatted at the itches, as if the feelings were insects, but her movements had no effect until a moment later, when the spell had taken hold. With a soft sigh, she stepped through the gate.
She hadn't gone five steps before total darkness consumed her.
The change was immediate, as if all of the dim light that shone from torches on the stone walls had suddenly extinguished at once, though she had felt no breeze. Before her mind could register an enemy, two knives were in her outstretched fists.
"What interesting nightmares you have," came a grating, whispery voice that sounded as much like an echo inside of her own head as anything else.
The assassin forced herself not to panic, remembering the protection charm that had taken hold of her. Still, though she knew she had nothing to fear, a sliver of terror stabbed at her heart.
"A soldier's nightmares are always…fascinating," continued the voice. "How wonderful it is…to see the thoughts of those who have been trained to hide their fear…even from their own selves." Cold tendrils began to crawl across the Noxian's skin, but she could do nothing to react, unable to see anything at all in the total darkness. It reminded her of her nightmare from the previous night…
A bloodcurdling scream sounded from off to Katarina's left, and the assassin stiffened, staring off into the darkness, feeling the hairs at the back of her neck rise. The horrible sound continued for several seconds before she realized that the scream was her own, an echo from many years ago.
"Stop it!" she yelled into the black. Immediately, the screaming ceased, dropping her, quite suddenly, into total nothingness. Her ears rang quietly, unable to detect any sound at all.
An ice-cold breath fanned across the back of her neck. "Traitor."
Katarina threw out her dagger in a blind swipe, falling back against a rough stone wall in an attempt to put distance between herself and the whisper.
"I said stop it, Nocturne!" she roared, her voice ringing with an authority that was only heightened by her terror.
A chilling laugh sounded from the darkness before the oppressive wall of blackness began to lift, allowing the chamber to fill again with a dim light. Still, the shadows remained, swirling around the walls, clinging to the ceiling as if they were solid. In the very center of the room, several of the shadows converged, and from them formed a faceless silhouette that almost looked like a person. Katarina held her position against the wall, dagger raised to cover her heart, watching the figure warily.
Just when she was convinced nothing more would happen, a pair of piercing white eyes opened and stared at her from the gloom. "Why have you come to disturb me with your fear?"
Katarina did not lower the knife. "I need to speak with someone. I think he's down here." She had to fight to keep her voice level.
The eyes stared at her unblinkingly. "Then you seek the summoner who passed by with his lights, to keep me away."
Katarina could only nod her head.
"It must be important, for you to brave these walls…it isn't often I encounter new minds to examine within this place…" The shadows made an echoing "hum," almost as if they were thinking of something. "Ah! I see. You fear for the life of one precious to you…oh, but she is the reason you walk with traitorous steps!" The chilling laughter sounded again, though the most disturbing part of the noise was the fact that the eyes made no movement at all. "Your mind is a feast, Sinister Blade; consider yourself lucky I am forbidden from harming you."
As he spoke, the shadows on the floor in front of her receded, revealing a huge, golden circle of symbols in the stone. As Katarina watched, the scrawls again reordered themselves, only this time, the message was crushingly simple.
Bind.
The assassin felt a sharp pain in her head as she read the word, accompanied by a sudden tightness in her chest. The mere sight of the symbol pinned her to the wall, and all at once, she felt as if she would never move, would never leave the room she now stood in. Her eyes squeezed shut to ward off the onslaught of sensation. Immediately, the feeling passed, replaced only with confusion.
Nocturne must have sensed something. "Summoning magic is more complex than most realize…yet the spell that holds me here is not dissimilar from the spell that prevents you from being attacked, which is not dissimilar from the spell used to bring you to the Fields of Justice. Restricting movement, enhancing movement…it's all the same thing."
Slowly, the assassin's eyes opened, only to find that the empty white eyes were now inches from her own.
"This is as close as I can get. Go, before I decide to test the strength of this chain."
Katarina shot away from the wall, sending the shadows scrambling. She hurled herself through the opposite gateway, not daring to look back as another grating laugh echoed off the stone walls.
Slowly, the paralyzing terror faded, and by the time Katarina's pace had slowed to a gentle jog, she had forgotten why she had been afraid in the first place. She stopped and turned to glance over her shoulder, but saw nothing. Her eyes narrowed in annoyance. "Freak," she grumbled, before continuing down the hallway.
Soon, the sounds of her footsteps echoing off the walls mingled with another sound. She quickly realized the sounds were voices, and though she could not quite distinguish direction, she knew that the voices were vastly different from the ghostly whispers. Encouraged, she continued forward, her footsteps gradually growing softer and softer as she blended into the shadows. The voices were discernible now, and she began to make out a few phrases.
"…need to know…this disgusting behavior of yours…just tell me why…"
Grímnir, she recognized. So he was down here, but who was he talking to? She listened for another moment before receiving her answer, loud and clear.
"I am your King! I don't have to answer to you!"
Katarina's eyes narrowed and she shot up from her crouch, abandoning all attempts at stealth.
The summoner looked up as she approached, and despite the odd nature of her appearance, his face remained impassive and unsurprised. Tryndamere, however, was quite the opposite.
"What the fuck is she doing here?" he roared, rushing closer to the bars of the cell that held him and fixing the assassin with a glare that could melt lead. He was ragged-looking, his armor abandoned for simple, shredded pants that barely seemed to fit him. On his bare, dirty chest was a carving that shimmered with golden writing, but Katarina turned away before she could read it and clenched her jaw tightly, pointedly ignoring the barbarian. She directed all of her attention towards Grímnir. "I need to speak to you in private."
"What matter is pressing enough for you to seek me here, Sinister Blade?" his voice was cold, devoid of all emotion, a stark contrast to the passionate shouts she had just overheard.
"Come with me and I'll tell you," she answered.
The summoner shook his head. "Here is where I am needed. If you have anything to say to me, say it now."
Katarina again turned toward the barbarian, who was staring her down with fury that was almost palpable. "Go ahead, say it in front of me!" He lurched forward, his hands gripping the bars, pulling at them roughly. As his skin made contact with the metal, a golden light emerged from his hands, and smoke began to rise where he held the bars.
"That isn't going to accomplish anything," said Grímnir calmly as the barbarian pulled and strained, finally releasing the metal with a vicious, frustrated growl. As he lowered his hands, Katarina could see that his palms were scorched, the skin horrifically blackened and blistered.
"Noxian bitch!" he bellowed, balling his still-smoking hands into fists.
"I'm waiting, Katarina," said Grímnir with authority, ignoring Tryndamere is if he were a disobedient child.
The assassin felt her stomach lurch as her brain cycled through the endless possibilities, the lies and excuses that she had conjured to try and stall for time. All of them seemed to disintegrate in her brain as she met the cold eyes of the senior summoner in front of her, and for a fleeting second, she felt as if he could see into her soul. The words fell from her lips without her permission.
"Noxus is planning an invasion of Freljord."
Tryndamere's tantrum fell silent.
"I see," said Grímnir slowly, showing no outward reaction to the news.
"…What did you say?" asked Tryndamere incredulously, coming closer to the bars again, this time without touching them.
"I don't know all of the details," she explained, feeling sick to her stomach, "but it will happen, and soon."
"Is that all?" asked Grímnir, still expressionless.
The assassin shook her head. "They have weapons. Bombs. Something big. They could destroy the entire region-"
"Why are you telling me this?" he interrupted, catching Katarina off guard.
"I…what do you mean?"
"You come to me, claiming that your own city-state, who you've been fiercely loyal to thus far, holds secret plans to break a binding contract of peace?"
The assassin felt her betrayal like a hot blade against her throat. She swallowed deeply, but the feeling did not pass. "Yes."
Grímnir sighed and shook his head. "I'm not sure why you're telling me this, Katarina, as there isn't anything I can do."
"I know that it…wait, what?" she asked, staring at the man in confusion. Of the reactions she had anticipated, that certainly wasn't one of them. "Do you not believe me?"
"Whether I do or not, there is nothing I can do," he repeated.
Tryndamere, who had been silent until that point, erupted, his face whiter than a sheet. "What do you mean there's nothing you can do? You're our fucking peace keepers, for fuck's sake! That's the whole reason you assholes exist!"
As much as Katarina hated the barbarian, she found herself expressing the same sentiment. "Isn't this something the League should mobilize against?"
Grímnir shook his head again, filling Katarina with a strong desire to cut it off. "You misunderstand our purpose. We have no standing army, only controlled battle arenas –"
Tryndamere cut him off, pounding against the bars, sending showers of gold sparks into the air. "Bullshit! Let me out of here!"
"You aren't going anywhere," he said, his tone almost bored.
Katarina stared at the summoner for a long moment, her frustration rising. "I just told you that your homeland is about to be invaded and possibly destroyed," she repeated, "and you're seriously telling me that you don't care?"
A spark of anger flashed across the man's face. "That isn't what I –"
"Your queen is there, did I mention that?" The Noxian felt her distress rising, and she had to fight to keep the emotion out of her voice. "Ashe returned to Freljord. She could be killed."
"Then why are you still standing here?" he asked coolly.
The question rooted Katarina to the spot, and Tryndamere paused his pointless pounding against the bars.
"I have duties to attend to, if you'll excuse me," said the summoner, and he picked up a lantern that shimmered with magical golden light before turning away from the two of them, who stood staring at him with incredulous expressions. Katarina almost called out to him, but couldn't find her voice.
"You fucking coward!" Tryndamere called to his retreating figure. "You're a coward and a traitor!"
"Just stop it!" yelled the assassin, channeling her frustration and shoving her face towards his, glaring at him through the bars. "You aren't going to do anything!"
The barbarian glared back, his eyes narrowing to slits, his fury seeming to hang in the air around him. "This is your fault!"
Katarina balled her hands into fists. "My fault?"
"You're a god damn Noxian," he growled, saying the name as if it were a curse, "and all of you are exactly the same."
Katarina again ignored the heavy lump in her throat. "That doesn't change the fact that Freljord is in danger."
"Why should I even believe you? You're just a Noxian bitch with a few knives," he spat.
"Why the hell would I lie?" she countered.
Tryndamere seemed to consider for a moment. "It could be a trap."
Katarina scoffed. "You're an idiot. And even if it was, it didn't fucking work."
"Why would you betray your own people like that?"
"None of your fucking business. Why would you be such a fucking asshole to your own wife?"
The anger in his eyes flared. "None of your fucking business!"
The two glared at each other, their mutual dislike rising.
"Tell me what you know about the invasion," he finally said.
"And why the fuck should I?"
Tryndamere seemed to vibrate with his anger, but he kept his voice level, surprising Katarina. "Because thousands of my people are in danger, if I'm to believe you."
The Noxian stared at him closely, gauging his movements, watching his expressions. She knew that, normally, she would have left the dungeon and ignored his yelling, but something in Grímnir's demeanor unnerved her greatly, though she couldn't yet entertain those thoughts. Tryndamere wasn't an ally, but neither of them wanted to see Freljord invaded at that moment, unlike the man she had thought would help her.
"Honestly, I don't know much. Swain is Grand General. He's amassing forces, which likely include very large Hextech bombs. And unless there's been another information leak, no one in Freljord should have any warning of this."
Tryndamere swore loudly. "How is that not under the League's protection?"
"I have no idea," said Katarina. Her thoughts about Grímnir were darkening, and after a long moment, she spoke them out loud. "I fear the League might be corrupted."
The barbarian grunted. "That, or they just don't want to get off their asses. They'll just sit there with their dicks in their hands while the rest of us kill for them. Not any different from what they do every fucking day." He stood in silence, but only for a moment before the thundering anger returned. "And that cowardly bastard Swain!" he roared, pounding his burned fists against the stone wall of his cell, "Attacking while I'm imprisoned!"
"And while the queen is weak," added Katarina coldly.
Tryndamere froze with his back towards the assassin. For a long time, he said nothing, prompting Katarina to speak again.
"If she dies, I will do what it takes to end your life, barbarian."
The big man made no movements.
"Go," he mumbled after several long moments. "Get out of here. The League is useless to me now. I'm trapped here. Get to Freljord. Warn them."
Katarina turned away from the bars and began to walk away.
"Noxian," he called, halting her in her tracks again. "If the invasion succeeds and my people die, then I will do what it takes to end your life."
SMACK!
Katarina was instantly pulled from her reverie as a huge black object collided with the windshield.
"Shit!" she screamed, her hands jerking to the side while she slammed on the breaks, earning a scream of protest from the vehicle as it fishtailed, spinning in a circle before it came to an embankment, sending the assassin flying from her seat and through a haze of broken glass before crashing onto the ground shoulder-first.
The forest swam around her in tight circles. Everything blurred, refocused, and then blurred again. Katarina clung to consciousness with an iron grip, willing her surroundings to stand still. Pain crept up on her slowly, then exploded in her shoulder and her now-re-broken wrist.
The circles gradually morphed into lazy ovals, then gentle back-and-forth motions. As she very carefully lifted her head from the mixture of dirt and blood on the ground, her ears detected a faint, yet very familiar
Squawk.
Her eyes met Beatrice's.