Without Magic

by Tye Tivillus

  Chapter 12: Arguments and Action

  The night dragged on, as Bo and Erasmus waited tensely. Neither said that they were wondering how Arty and Hayes were faring, but it was clear to see they each had a lot on their mind. Eventually Erasmus removed Bo's bandages, and declared that his wounds were all closed, if not healed. Pulling on his shirt, Bo fell asleep in bed while Erasmus stayed up to do some studying.

  The next morning, Bo woke earlier than usual. Erasmus was still sitting in the chair, but unlike the day before he was still awake, studiously writing notes and squinting seriously at the page before him.

  'Erasmus?' Bo asked quietly, not wishing to break the serious study. It took a moment, but the mage eventually looked up at Bo. He blinked slowly, and then yawned and stretched.

  'What time is it?' asked Erasmus, rubbing at his eyes.

  'Uh, just before dawn. Did you stay up studying all night?' Erasmus nodded, saying he had, and yawned again. The lanky mage was yawning so much that soon Bo also found himself yawning, much to the teen's irritation. 'Go to bed if you're so tired!' exclaimed Bo the third time he was forced to yawn just by looking at how sleepy Erasmus was.

  'I was worried, so I couldn't sleep last night,' the mage explained, grimacing. He had dark bags under his eyes that gave his face a somewhat wasted look. Bo decided to boil some tea for himself and Erasmus, and the two talked unnecessarily quietly about what they thought had been going on with their friends.

  Just before dawn there was a light knock on the door. Erasmus jumped up to open it.

  'My my, you're awake early' came a familiar honeyed voice. Arty and Hayes seemed tired, but nothing worse than that. Before Erasmus could speak, Hayes held up her hand to indicate the need for silence. She grabbed a pen, drawing a symbol on the palm of her hand with ink, and muttering a few words. Slowly the ink disappeared, as though it was being evaporated. After she had finished the woman spoke up normally.

  'I spelled the room so that no one can listen in, at least not magically.' The other three nodded to show they understood, and Arty took over the explanation of events.

  'We went down to the slave compound last night, and we almost didn't see them. You're not going to believe this, but they were leading a group of five slaves. They were all under some kind of spell, like they were sleep walking, but it was unnatural. We followed them as far as we could, but when they entered the secret passageways between the walls. There must have been a strong misdirection spell, because we were lost for half the night. For a few hours we thought we'd be lost in there forever. It was an amazingly powerful spell.'

  'No one saw you though?' asked Erasmus thoughtfully. At the mention of sleepwalking slaves he had gone a tad pale, but he rallied well enough. Hayes shook her head.

  'Whatever they are hiding, it's something more than a handful of slaves.' Erasmus seemed to agree. He cast a glance at Bo and the warrior women seemed to take the hint. They nodded their approval.

  'Bo - Arty, Hayes and I are not here as a regular part of the peace talks. I have already told you I'm no politician, and Arty and Hayes are both warriors. The thing is, a great ancient artefact was stolen from the desert. We have studied it for centuries, but … The only thing anyone can figure out is that it has an ancient powerful spell on it, and that it is not made of any known or replicable material, one that exudes great power. Huge volumes have been written on exactly what we don't know about this – uh hrm, yes, but that's not the point.' Erasmus cleared his throat and rubbed his leg ruefully where it had been kicked by Arty.

  'Anyway someone stole it. I mean no one really expected it to be stolen, it's next to useless, but here we are, on the brink of war, with no idea why your King is so keen on invading our lands, and an ancient mysterious artefact goes missing, you see?' Continued Arty, clearly irritated. 'So on the off chance that it was stolen by your King or his people, we got tacked onto the end of the peace talks and have been given orders to,' she paused furtively, 'look around a little bit. Make sure nothing suspicious is going on. Hayes and I have magic, but nothing as powerful or in depth as Erasmus, so we're the brawn here, and he's the brain. It's top secret, and I hope you understand that we are only telling you this because we trust you to keep it to yourself – not even the other members of our party know of it.' The two warriors were giving Bo a piercing gaze, and the teen considered what they were telling him. The information they were trusting him with suggested that they were confident that he would rather betray his King and his birth country than them, with their strange magic and desert ways. Never-the-less it was true. They were already more of a family to him, and more deserving of his trust and respect than anyone else. With a serious expression, the teen nodded,

  'I already threw my lot in with yours when I said I would like to go with you when you leave. An escaped slave is as good as dead and- it's more than that. I trust you, so I want you to trust me too.' This seemed to be enough to appease the other three. Bo continued thoughtfully 'Seeing as I am immune to magic, wouldn't I be able to find my way through the secret passages with no trouble?'

  'They aren't unguarded Bo. Also there is a barricade that might need magic to shift, if we can't find a way around. You might be able to lead a group through, but I don't know if you could get through the passages by yourself,' said Arty. She sounded hopeful but Erasmus grasped Bo's shoulder, pulling the boy back.

  'It's incredibly dangerous! Wasn't Alexander's warning enough for you? You might be killed for your folly!' Arty and Erasmus began to argue. On one hand Bo might be able to lead them to the source of the mystery, on the other it would be undoubtedly dangerous for the teen.

  'Am I free to make my own decisions?' Interrupted Bo firmly. He looked Erasmus hard in the eyes, and the mage struggled to think of anything that could combat Bo's question. Eventually Erasmus breathed out through his nose, still irritated.

  'Yes you're free to make your own stupid choices, I won't force you to stay where you won't die a horrible death,' the mage huffed childishly before turning and walking back to his chair. The lanky man slumped into the comfy chair sulkily. It was a rather hollow victory, as Bo didn't like being on Erasmus' bad side, but he did want to help. Anxiously he turned to Arty who merely raised one questioning eyebrow.

  'When are we going to do this?'

  Before the conversation could continue, there was a gentle knock on the door. Everyone in the room stiffened anxiously, before Hayes finally opened the door. On the threshold of the room stood Ruben, who merely looked up at Hayes like she was the first woman he had ever noticed.

  'S-Sorry I thought this was Erasmus' room' the teen stuttered. Hayes smiled kindly, and stepped back to reveal that Erasmus, Bo and Arty were with her.

  'It is, I was merely visiting him.'

  'Oh that's ok!' said Ruben, clearly relaxing now that he knew he was in the right place. The blithe mage wandered happily into the room with no further prompting and set a small cheap wire cage down on the table. Inside it was the little mechanical bird that he'd been constructing when he and Bo still did training together.

  'I'm not sure Erasmus will want a bird on his papers' cautioned Arty, but Erasmus had already leapt up and waved her away.

  'It's fine Arty, don't you have exercises to do or something?'

  'I will be back tonight to talk with you and Bo, even if you chase me away now,' grumbled Arty, but she and Hayes took their leave as it became clear that Ruben and Erasmus were deep in conversation. Erasmus admired the illusion spell that cloaked the small bird, and complimented Ruben on his fine work at animating it. Bo was more interested in the actual bird than the talk about the magic involved in its creation. The little thing cocked its head one way and then another, and fluttered from its perch and onto the bars of the cage, which must have been much sturdier than it looked, because it didn't rock unsteadily at the weight being thrown around inside it.

  'Amazing' breathed Erasmus. Ruben took the bird out of the cage, and whispered some instructions so that it landed o
n Erasmus' shoulder. Bo could see that Ruben was pleased with the reaction to his bird, as Erasmus laughed at the creation's antics, and held out a finger for it to jump onto. Gently the lanky mage petted the bird with on finger. 'It even feels feathery!' he exclaimed, impressed. The bird seemed to enjoy the attention as much as Ruben did. 'I've never seen such fine work before, how could you have woven the right spells for this with so little gold? I thought only a study of the great tomes must reveal such knowledge and skill as you've put into this, and it would have to be a life long study!' Ruben shrugged.

  'I make it so it works, I guess?' Erasmus merely shook his head in jealousy. 'I'm not good with magic unless it's in metal, or stone, or earth, but weaving magic and metal is something that is sorta easy for me,' the boy added anxiously, in case Erasmus was planning to quiz him on other spells he may have performed. 'That reminds me,' Ruben turned a curious gaze on Bo, 'those wires you helped me with – what did you do to them?' Bo frowned, shaking his head he explained that he'd done nothing except what Ruben had told him to do. Ruben scratched his head, 'well whatever it was I can't put any magic in 'em now. I tested the thing today, and it's only the wires you put in that don't work. I melted 'em down, and redrew them, and they came good, but it was bloody strange, I tell you.' Bo laughed anxiously,

  'I couldn't tell you! I suppose it is a mystery!' Ruben seemed to accept this, mostly because Erasmus started asking more questions about the bird and the easily distracted teen was keen to answer them.

  At around midday Ruben finally left, claiming he still had work to do. He left the bird in Erasmus' possession with a list of commands, written in a sturdy hand. Bo spent the rest of the day practising his exercises, more out of habit than anything, while Erasmus spent it reading, examining the bird, trying out the commands, and trying to talk Bo out of helping with the investigation. Sometime in the early afternoon, Hayes and Arty came back.

  'Let's have an early dinner, we're going to need it to keep our strength up.' announced Arty. Erasmus looked as though he wanted to continue arguing, but swallowing hard he stood and turned away from the group.

  'I'm coming too. I can't leave Bo to just you two. You might need a proper mage with you anyway.' Arty shook her head.

  'No, risking one of you is enough. I'll make sure he doesn't get too scratched up for you.' Erasmus however wasn't in the mood to jest.

  'You promise that no harm will come to him?'

  'I can't promise that, but you know I'll take care of him Erasmus.' The lanky mage didn't seem satisfied with his friend's answer, but with Bo willing to take the risk, and Arty arguing that it was important, Erasmus couldn't very well force them to comply with his wishes.

  As soon as the sun was setting, Arty, and Hayes outfitted Bo in a spare jumpsuit. The collar was pulled up to hide his collar, while the sleeves had to be rolled up twice so that they would fit. The cloth was a dark blue, apparently one of Erasmus' spares. The warriors explained that it would help him go unseen at night time. Stealing out into the corridor, the trio walked unhurriedly along the stone walkways. Afternoon sun slid pleasantly over the rocks of the walls and floor, giving them an orange hue, while the scent of the flowers that were strategically placed around the castle made the air sweet and heavy.

  'We will wait in the corridors. If tonight is like last night they are bringing in many slaves at a time. It will be easier to go unnoticed if we don't have to follow them all the way from the compound.' Casually glancing around, Hayes watched to make sure no one was nearby, and the three slipped behind a wall hanging that lead to the secret passageways. Quietly they waited. There was no speaking while they were hiding. Outside there was often the lazy slap of feet on stone as people passed by, occasionally accompanied by giggles or chatter. Bo had never realised hiding out and putting his life in danger would be quite so horrifyingly dull. The only thing he was likely to die of was ennui. Using their time economically, Arty tied a length of cord from Hayes to herself, and from herself to Bo to keep them together when the time came to traverse the maze-like secret passages. Finally the teen dropped off into a light doze, resting his back against the surprisingly cool wall. The next thing Bo knew, Arty had clapped a hand around his mouth and was shaking him awake. The teen quickly froze, as he heard an approaching group of people. The sounds came closer and closer until finally they stopped. Bo breathed as quietly as he could, but the sounds of his own body filled his ears, making him all too worried that he would get everyone found out.

  After a long tense wait filled with the furtive rustling of cloth as the sleeping slaves were lead past the wall hanging, the group was gone. Arty whispered in Bo's ear,

  'Just follow them. Stay on track but don't get seen. If it comes to a fight stay behind Hayes and me, Erasmus will kill us if anything happens to you.' The woman flashed a grin at Bo in the dark that said she found the whole situation very amusing. Slightly uncertain, and with his heart in his mouth, Bo peered out, suddenly aware that two seasoned warriors, and at least a handful of slaves were relying on him to follow a group of people snatchers, while staying unnoticed. He was suddenly assailed by doubts. What if he wasn't immune to magic after all? What if they found him out -that yellow eyed woman might be acting as the vanguard again. He waited for a moment or two, almost paralysed by the sudden responsibility, but recalling the labyrinth of secret passages, he didn't want to let the slave party get too far ahead. Seeing no one waiting to pick off unwanted guests, Bo crept forward cautiously, his mouth dry.

  The passageways were damp, and every tiny noise seemed amplified. other than the occasional glow of light, often coming from an unexpected exit from the passageways, there's was only darkness. The further Bo lead onwards, the longer it got between exits, until they stopped altogether. If they were detected, and there was a chase, Bo had lead them too far to easily escape the passages. He hoped they would not be forced to flee. The tunnels were often very narrow, and sometimes even Bo could not avoid brushing up against the damp stone walls. He shuddered as a fat drop of water slithered from his hair, behind his ear, and down his neck, before brushing it away impatiently. In most cases they sloped downwards, and Bo got the impression that he was winding further and further into the ground, like an erratic cork screw. The air grew fridgid as the group progressed. Bo tried to stop his teeth from chattering, as he strained to hear the group of stolen slaves. Luckily the sleep walkers were shambling slowly, otherwise Bo would have had no hope keeping up. As it was, he felt as though he was slipping further and further behind, and he feared he might soon lose his quarry after all, only to be lost in the dark, pressing passageways somewhere under the castle. His immunity to magic seemed to be proving itself time and again as Arty and Hayse would begin to wander purposefully in the wrong direction, and Bo was forced to pull them back into line via the life-line.

  Finally after a good ten fifteen minutes of occasionally slow, occasionally fast, gut wrenching shuffle through the dark passages, there bloomed a soft light up ahead. The walls and floor shook slightly as a heavy stone door was slid open, and Bo saw (to his alarm) that he had almost caught up to the group ahead. Stiffling a gasp, and trying to be as furtive as he could, the teen took a step backwards, and then another, pushing at Arty and Hayse to get them out of the way. One of the hooded kidnappers reached out to shepherd a sleep walker into the doorway, but paused as though sensing that they were being followed. The figure glanced over their shoulder with an unhurried, accusatory stare. Bo froze hoping he had crept back far enough that he was hidden in the gloom. His pulse raced in his throat as the hooded person peered suspiciously into the shadowy corridor behind them, but finally they turned back to their task without comment, having already become more accustomed to seeing in the light. Bo dared not even let out a sigh of relief, instead shuffling further back to get more space between himself and the group ahead. He watched as the tail end of the group disappeared through the door, and the stone began to grind its way back into place. Having no idea what was beyond the door, Bo
didn't want to press on, but if he didn't hurry then he could lose the opportunity to find out what was going on. Steeling himself, the teen hurried down the corridor, near having to drag Arty and Hayes who were trying to go in the opposite direction. Struggling to the door, Bo could see that it was unguarded. Clearly whoever was down there trusted the potency of the misdirection spells to keep intruders at bay. The door looked as though once it closed, it would be staying closed. It was made of a thick rock and must have been moved by magic. It was out or in. There would be no half measures. Bo scrunched up his face, hoping he wasn't making a stupid decision, and pulled himself through the slowly closing portal, taking the warrior women with him. As soon as they stood inside the door they stopped trying to go the wrong way – the thrall was lifted.

  The group found themselves on a balcony that overlooked a large open area. The balcony was not well lit, and the three explorers hugged the shadows. They must have managed to travel down and under the castle while following the slaves. Arty let out a low whistle, confident that they would not be heard. A long winding set of stairs led down from the balcony to the ground where there were a number of cages to either side of the expansive room. In those cages were a few bedraggled looking slaves, half mad with fear, and obviously not well kept. All of them wore brass collars, and all of them appeared to be of about the age of 16. Bo recognised a few of his fellows there, as they sported the short cut hair that he did, but there were other brassers there as well. The group of five slaves were all lead into one of these cages, and it was shut and locked. In the middle of the room there was an altar lit by a number of large braziers that belched an acrid black smoke. It was at the to of a hill, made out of stone stairs that were shallow enough to make the elevated platform look more like the peak of a natural incline. The floor around the altar was home to many boxes of non-uniform shape and size, like a warehouse for imported goods.

  Bo's breath caught in his throat. Looking down at the altar he saw a monster of epic proportions. It was at least three times the size of a regular human. It had a bulbous head that gleamed with hundreds of thousands of beady eyes, while its mouth was a long tube-like construction that curled and uncurled as the creature breathed its laboured breaths. From the creature's head there sprouted a crown of horns that were jagged and broken, and tentacles that seemed more incorporeal than was really useful, that stretched, wavered and curled in an endless wave-like motion, covering a large portion of the upper stairs. Bo's gut clenched with horror looking down at the abomination. He'd never seen a real live monster before, and he had to say it wasn't at all what he had expected. Arty and Hayes, on the other hand, seemed unphased.

  'Look Art!' whispered Hayes excitedly, pointing at the monster, 'there's the artefact.' Bo paled. They had come to get the monster back? Surely anyone in their right mind would be more than happy to have such a horror stolen? Arty looked grim. With nimble fingers she untied the length of rope holding the three together.

  'Stay out of trouble Bo, Hayes, let's get down there and see if we can find out anything more. We may not get another chance like this.' Hayes nodded. The two of them seemed to share a mental connection, moving swiftly and silently together without the need for conversation to know what the other was about to do. It just went to show that they had been together for a long time. Arty didn't have to say that they were going to have to take it upon themselves to steal back the artefact or destroy it, but Hayes understood that they were under the obligation to do anything to prevent misuse of the mysterious magical object.

  'Wait!' whispered Bo urgently. He had the notion that Hayes and Arty had no idea what they were getting into. Unfortunately they had already slunk off. Heart in mouth Bo peered down at the activities below. More than anything he was looking for a way out of the area, now that he had been shut in, but there didn't seem to be any. There were a number of holes in the ceiling where the black smoke from the braziers coiled and collected, but they were too far to reach, and Bo didn't fancy being smoked to death. Looking closer at the floor down below, Bo noticed the there were gutters carved into the floor near the prison area. The Gutters lead to grates that probably lead to the castle's sewer system. Bo recalled Will once told him an amusing story about being forced to escape through a drop down toilet to avoid a beating for one of his more daring pranks - he had been 'in deep shit' as the saying goes. Bo took the lifeline that had been discarded, and began to slowly creep down the stairs. He kept an anxious eye out for anyone watching him. Fortunately all attention was focused upon a small group of hooded people that approached the altar. Bo paused in shock as one by one they peeled back the hoods to reveal themselves. They were all slaves that had been stolen. With a quick search Bo quickly saw that Allie was among them. Her neck was free of her collar, but around her wrist was a golden bangle. It was the same with the others as well. Looking closer Bo thought he recognised one of them as Johan, but with the dim light and the bad angle, it was difficult to tell. Bo had backed up until he was hugging the wall. Shaken but not deterred, he began inching his way around the room. The walls were coated in a strange black grime that must have accumulated from the smoke coming from the braziers. It was much more pronounced around the ceiling than anywhere else, and it rubbed off all too easily on Bo's clothes.

  Bo froze as the monster shifted its great head to direct most of its eyes toward the group in front of it.

  'I am ready!' it boomed. It's voice was audible, and it seemed to shake the very walls with rumbling bass tones. Bo shrank into the shadows, not keen on moving until he was sure he wouldn't be seen. He felt as though any one of those little eyes might turn on him and alert the whole. The group before the beast bowed low, pausing a moment, before executing a controlled rush toward the cages of slaves. The hoods flew back as the figures jogged towards their goal, ducking, swerving, and dodging crates. Occasionally they would jump over the crates, rather than going around them. Finally they arrived at the cages, and leant against the bars, snapping and growling at those held within. They seemed like hunting dogs on leashes, keen to go about their tasks, only barely restrained from leaping to savage the nearby slaves.

  One hapless slave boy was selected. His arm was snatched up, and he was dragged kicking and screaming from the cage, eyes rolling with fear. He was pulled laboriously back through the crated area, up the stone incline to the altar, and to the waiting beast. The poor teen was shaking as though he had been caught outside in a snowstorm. Snot ran from his nose and tears from his eyes as he pleaded in a broken voice to be spared whatever fate was to await him. As Bo watched, frozen in place, the great monster leaned forward, and placed the wide end of its probiscus on the slave's chest, before wrapping it around his body. Although the man was terrified, he seemed curiously unaware of the tendril that was slowly spreading up his chest and across his arms. At the very last second, however, as the tendrils crept into his ears and threatened to consume his face, the slave's eyes widened, and he started screaming again. His voice rang out, with a new shrill edge of panic, cutting off only as the blackness covered his face. There was a visible pulse from the creature that seemed to distort reality, and the slave shuddered and stiffened in the monster's grasp. One of the eyes on the great monster flashed white, but when the light dissipated, the eye was gone. The beast slid back ponderously, retracting its proboscis, and leaving his victim slumped, but still standing. For a moment all was calm, until the man straightened his back. There was a new aura of calm power about him. With his bare hands he reached up to the collar at his throat. His fingers sank into the brass as though it was made of butter, and with a quick jerk, he wrenched the metal apart. The hulking person that Bo had seen taking slaves from the compound stepped forward, holding out a golden bangle. This was slipped over the man's arm. As soon as it was past his hand, the bangle readjusted itself to an appropriate size – small enough that it would not come off, and large enough that it would not be restrictive. Raising his arms high in the air, the man called out in a strangely hoarse voi
ce,

  'I am called Naberius! I am free, and will assist you, as you wish. Although my power may be small in this vessel, and my body subject to the savage nature of mortal life, you have saved me from imprisonment and I will serve you as best I can.' For a second there seemed to be a three headed raven perched on the shoulders of the ex-slave, with its claws dug deep into his flesh.

  Naberius' voice was hoarse and dreadful, scraping like sandpaper against the ears of those who heard it. Soon however the image faded, and the slave was lead away by the group that had presented him to the beast. They accepted him into their ranks. The hooded ones disappeared into an alcove underneath the stairs that Bo was standing on. It was almost invisible in the shadows that surrounded it. Bo breathed a small sigh of relief as the room became emptier, and silent but for the horrified moans of the slaves left behind in the cages. After a pause, to make sure no one would return, Bo continued to creep toward the grate. He could only hope that when he reached it, he would be strong enough to open it. The teen looked around carefully for any sign of Hayes, or Arty, but they were too well hidden for him to make out in the gloom.

  The staircase down was long, narrow and irregular. It was a wonder that the sleepwalking slaves had made it down safely. Along the wall there were grooves and bricked up windows in the wall, indicating that the area had been repurposed. Bo froze as the smack of foot on stone approached him, ducking into a shallow bricked off window, and pressed himself desperately into the available shadow, worrying that he'd been seen. After a moment, however, it became obvious that it was just the odd acoustics of the chamber that brought the sound of footsteps to him. The three fiends he had seen, who had stolen slaves from the compound the night Bo was locked out were slowly approaching the altar. They stopped a good five meters from it, outside the range of the monster. The dark skinned woman stepped forward, cloaked in her hooded apparel.

  'I believe we were followed here. The Founder forbade me from conveying this information until after the nightly ritual.' Her voice was unexpectedly light and feminine. For a moment the monster said nothing. Impatiently the woman turned to the cloaked man. 'Well? What does he say, Founder?'

  'Don't be so impatient!' growled the cloaked man, clearly irritated. In the light, Bo realised that his back was severely hunched. Before he could admonish his fellow further, however, the shadowy beast replied.

  'These are your problems! Use the demons if you must. We are not concerned with your troubles.' Bo shrank, hearing the voice of the monster was unnerving, and he didn't like the way the floor trembled.

  'The Great One says that this is our fault. It is brought about due to your lack of vigilance Tracer. In his benevolence, however, The Great One proclaims that you may make use of the chosen converts.' announced the Founder gravely. Tracer sighed angrily,

  'Well clearly Spellborn's precautionary misdirection magic is to blame, it isn't my fault!' The third figure who had been hulking quietly at the back of the group shifted uncomfortably but did not say a word. 'Anyway, the converts are supposed to serve us so I don't see why it is such a boon,' Tracer grumbled. An argument quickly broke out among the three. Taking advantage of their distraction Bo scurried toward the grate. He didn't feel that listening to any more of their talk would aid him, as he couldn't understand most of the terms they were using. A few of the slaves saw him as he slipped towards them, and reached through the bars, whispering pleas for assistance.

  'Please save us! We'll be as good as dead if you leave us. Those chosen ones are husks with demons inside! They suck the human outta yer.' One man stared passionately out at Bo, his eyes dark, and his expression desperate. The small teen paused, taking in the slaves that stared after him, as though he was their last hope. There was no way he could help the slaves, they were surely beyond his abilities to free. Bo shrugged in a silent apology, feeling his gut clench at the thought of leaving so many people to what was probably a terrifying fate.

  'What can I do? I can't pick magic locks,' he whispered. The slaves burst into restrained motion, excitedly pointing toward the wall behind the cages, and standing aside to let Bo see through the bars. On the wall he could just make out a metal bracket and several keys on a thin chain. Bo's stomach twisted at the thought of staying any longer than he had to, but all the stories he'd been told while he lived in The Gutter instructed him to help other people who were in need, despite any danger to himself. Bo thought of what Erasmus would do, and knew his friend would at least try to help the slaves that were pleading for their lives. Taking a deep breath, the teen crept forward toward the keys. He had to pass between two cages to get to the wall.

  'Wait! I see an intruder!' Bo froze. He whipped around fearfully to see Tracer, both hands wielding long daggers. She wasn't looking in his direction however, she was looking in the direction of Hayes and Arty, who had been midway to sneaking toward the alcove under the stairs. Realising that the game was up, Hayes gestured casually with one hand, on which she had already drawn a complicated symbol. The symbol vanished, and the heavy braziers around the altar toppled violently to the ground, splattering the burning sludge in every direction. Hayes already had a brush in hand, and with a practised flourish she drew a rough symbol that ran the length of her arm. The two warrior women quickly jumped, using Hayes' magic to propel themselves towards the door at the top of the stairs, and using up the ink spell. Mid-air, and quite a long way up, Hayes was caught by a thick vine that burst unexpectedly from the wall, showering the ground below with debris before violently slamming her into the wall. Far below, Spellborn was gesturing emphatically, controlling the movement of the vine as it flung the two warrior women down. Arty, once released, fell gracefully, but Hayes was limp, having taken the brunt of the blow, and landed heavily on the stones below. Using the fight as cover, Bo hurried over to the key. The chain holding it to the wall was pathetically thin, and the teen could only imagine that some form of spell had been used to make the keys more secure. Luckily whoever had thought to magic the chain, hadn't bothered to do the same for the bracket it was attached to. A few strong tugs were enough to wrench both chain and key from the crumbling mortar of the wall. Bo hurried back to the cages and shoved the keys between the bars.

  At that moment, the gold banded 'chosen ones' began to swarm out of the alcove opening some distance away. At first they concentrated only on restraining an angry Arty, and a swiftly recovering Hayes, but soon the slaves managed to open the cage doors and were attempting to escape in any way that they could. A number of those who had friends in other cages were also taking the time to thrust the keys into the waiting grasp of their fellows. Bo looked longingly at the sewage grate, but knew that he couldn't leave Hayes and Arty behind. There was an angry shout from across the room as the demons realised their slaves were winning free, and half of them hurried away from Hayes and Arty to deal with the break out. Feeling vulnerable in the open, Bo ducked his head, pushing through the swarming group of slaves to get to the cover of some nearby packing boxes.

  Despite not being able to match Hayes and Arty in skill, the 'chosen ones' were frighteningly powerful, and it looked like the two warriors would soon be overwhelmed. Bo could easily believe each of the former slaves was housing a demon when he witnessed their furious strength. Of the demons that walked among the fleeing slaves, some hit out with fists while others used sticks, trying to beat the slaves into submission. For a few of the slaves this worked, and they cowered pathetically on the floor. For many, however, it only served to enrage them, and at least one demon was buried in a group of biting, kicking and screaming slaves. Some of the other slaves lay about on the ground, not in supplication, but already dead or dying.

  'Be careful with the slaves!' commanded a familiar, feminine voice. It was too close for comfort, and Bo turned to see Tracer approaching his hiding place. A number of slaves had been working a section of the grate loose a short distance away, and together they had already managed to wrench one small section from the floor. Some, in their panic, were
trying to squeeze themselves down the small hole. A few of the scrawnier slaves even made it through, finally dropping into the stinking darkness below with cries of terrified triumph. Two of the demons pushed through the rabble, tearing them away from the escape route and flinging them away. They slithered down the hole, hunting any slave who had managed to win free, while a third took a guard position over the hole, blocking it off. Bo growled in irritation, moving further into the shadows and away from Tracer. He glanced toward the staircase which was packed with a scrum of slaves and demons battling for control. The chosen ones were far superior in strength, and more often than not slaves would go flying over the edge of the staircase or balcony with terrified screams of dismay. All of the possible exits seemed to be blocked.

  The heat of the room increased as the flames oozed slowly from the tumbled braziers and across the floor on a carpet of oily sludge. Bo gave up looking for a way out. Instead he threw caution to the wind and dashed toward his two friends, bent double to make the most of the available cover. They were still fighting valiantly, but one of Arty's arms hung limply by her side, while Hayes was trying to fend off three overly powerful foes at once. Hayes and Arty spun, dodged, and weaved, using their experience and precision to keep them out of harms way, while the chosen ones attacked with uncontrolled violence, attempting to cause crippling damage with each blow. Bo saw, even as he ran to help them, that Hayes was being overwhelmed, and finally one of the demons managed a glancing blow to her knee. The warrior buckled, and almost at once it looked like the two women would be overpowered. The two huddled together, attempting to prepare a joint spell, but it looked as though they had left it too late as three of the largest demons loomed over them. Thoughtless now of the consequences of his actions, Bo leapt forwards, closing the remaining ground without the benefit of cover. He scooped up a globule of the burning tar-like substance at his feet and threw it at Hayse and Arty's attackers, aiming for heads and faces. They were not expecting a volley from behind and more than one went down screaming, clutching at a hunk of burning flesh. The muck was hotter than Bo had expected – it was not at all like when a showman 'magician' had poured alcohol over Bo's hand and lit it on fire without hurting him; it was more like Bo had thrust his hand into a pile of burning embers. The teen shouted in dismay, shaking his hand to get rid of the flames and the gunk, but the goop was as sticky as honey. He had given the desert mages enough time to finish casting, and with a final, powerful and desperate spell they blew the demons away from them. Chosen ones flew left right and center, propelled away from the warriors by an invisible force. Bo remained unaffected by the magical blast, but was forced to duck and cover his head to keep clear of flying debris. Arty leapt over a fallen demon and grabbed Bo by the scruff of his collar. Bo gagged as he was wrenched into the air, clutching at his collar as he was tugged upwards.

  As Arty leapt for the door, dragging Bo with her, his eyes met those of the beast as it swelled and wavered in an agitated manner. There seemed to be a pause in time as they each regarded the other, before the creature let out a command, its voice was uncharacteristically tight, screeching like a piece of metal being wrenched apart.

  'Get that boy! I want him, he's mine! My body!' Simultaneously around the chamber the demons stopped what they were doing and turned to look at the monster that commanded them. It was clear that they too were aware of it's presence. Before they could figure out which boy the enraged elder was talking about, Arty and Hayes, with Bo in tow, had already landed at the top of the stairs. Hayes whipped out her paint brush, drawing a mark directly onto the door she muttered a spell. Ink flowed from the brush like water from a fountain, an ever lasting supply that burst readily from the tip, spattering.across the rock. The rock shattered into pieces as though hit by a large explosion, unable to stand under the onslaught of Hayes' magic. The three hurried away, even as the chosen ones gathered their wits about them and came sprinting after the boy that was so sought after. Stumbling after the two women, Bo was horrified to see Hayes go one way, and Arty another as they were both hit by the misdirection spell. In indecision he paused, wondering who he should follow, and whether he should try to get them back together. He had no time, however, as the howled screams of excitement coming from the chosen ones echoed down the passageway. In desperation he simply chose the same passageway as Hayes, and ran down it. Hayes, however, was long gone, and the passageways twisted and turned deviously, some almost completely enshrouded in darkness, and others doubling back on themselves. Bo ran heedlessly down corridors, bouncing off walls when he came to corners, tripping over loose stones and occasionally veering off course and crashing into the walls in disorientation. Although he was on the look out for his friends, he was on his own, with a pack of demons hot on his trail. Their crazed shouts echoed wildly through the corridors and alleyways, making it seem as though they were everywhere at once. Bo bounced off something living in the darkness, colliding with it and tumbling to the ground. It snatched blindly at him, tearing the leg of his pants and gouging into his leg. With a gasping cry, Bo kicked out, scrambling away to continue his flight.

  Breathing in gasps Bo ran as quickly as his feet would carry him, trying to remember which way to go, but not daring to pause at each intersection to see if his guesses were correct. The creature was still close behind him. In desperation, Bo ducked around a corner, waiting for the demon to rush past his hiding spot, foiled by the darkness. As quietly as he could, Bo turned back the way he had come, taking a few corners at random until he had put some space between himself and his pursuer. Even with the newly regained breathing room, Bo was certain he would be caught in a matter of moments. What did the monster-artefact want him for? His body – did that mean it wanted to convert him into a husk of himself - a body for a demon to inhabit? Hardly able to run any further for lack of oxygen Bo stopped. He wasn't going to be taken down while running away. If he could get the time to catch his breath he would try to fight off the chosen ones, although he knew he would have no chance against them. His body felt light and powerful, but fragile as adrenalin, pain, fear, and exhaustion, ran through his limbs. The teen turned and fell into a fighting stance. His burned hand remained loosely curled, as he was unable and unwilling to clench it into a fist. The skin felt tight, and the burn was already weeping. Bo couldn't prevent his body from shaking as he waited. Taking deep breaths and willing himself to calm, Bo bit his lip, frowning into the darkness as the demons drew closer. Their footsteps echoed ominously, so loud that he was sure they must be right on top of him by now. At the last second, just as his pushers footsteps had become undeniably clearer, the teen suddenly wished he had simply continued running. He was about to turn and flee again when, without warning, something clutched at his shoulder and he was dragged sideways into a passageway that was so narrow he hadn't even noticed it in the darkness. There was a rumble as a rock slid across the covering and the small crack he found himself in was pitched into complete darkness. Bo struggled against his captor, until he heard the footsteps of the chosen ones running in the corridor outside. The teen froze, remaining as silent as possible, and thanking his lucky stars that whoever had grabbed him also had the good sense to stay quiet. Soon enough those running by outside had moved on. He was safe for now. Thankful for his narrow escape the teen drooped in his captor's grasp as his rush of adrenalin gave way, leaving him weak. The person who had dragged him into the alcove sat him down, and dropped down next to him. Bo didn't bother attacking – quite apart from being too tired, he was hoping that whoever had saved him from the demons was a friend. They too were panting, but it was controlled, unlike Bo's wheezing for breath. In a familiar voice the other person grumbled

  'I tell you not come here! Vhy you no lizzen?'