by Adam Watson
Noise, loud and terrifying, overwhelmed the shaking. The ceiling seemed on the verge of failure. The door split and burst open as the pressure on its frame pushed down, even in the muted ambience of the Temples inner rooms Dray could not help but feel as though the outer shell of the Temple was being ripped apart by some monstrous force. 'Help me,' cried a voice from the void. Oracle. All thoughts of fear, all thoughts of regret, all thoughts of self-preservation left Dray's mind and were replaced with one thought: 'Protect the Oracle' - the mission wasn't over yet.
***
Dray had made it out of the room, the shaking of the building had stopped, but he knew that somewhere, some part of it had been severely damaged; torn asunder by ... something. He wasn't sure he wanted to know what that something was, not when finding out could kill him.
On his way through the warren of corridors and hallways, he had managed to salvage some clothing, a knife and some armour from a dead guard whose throat had been cut. He knew where he had to go, he could feel it somewhere inside of him - the same way he could feel the Oracle. He knew where she was, but didn't know exactly how to get to her. She was alive but was in some kind of trouble, and this knowledge made him frantic.
The place was like a maze, just when he thought he was getting nearer to the Oracle, the corridor would come to a dead end where he would be forced to backtrack and find another way through. Eventually, he made it into the lower levels, down where the entrance of the dungeon lay.
By this time, he was sweating, stressed and out of breath, he felt like he had walked miles and the welts on his body flared red. The corridors on the way down had been eerily silent and devoid of all life, it felt like the whole place was somehow static.
The intermittent shaking of the building around him was the only sign that he was in any danger at all, it was the only thing that told him he was not alone – he wasn't about to wait to find out who or what was in the Temple with him, he needed to get out of this place as soon as possible. Hang on Oracle, I'm coming.
***
The dungeon was a dark, dank and ominous place. Green moss lined the dirty grey stonework, roots and vines hung down from cracks in the walls and ceilings. The floor was covered with a light film of dirty water, and rats scurried at the sound of Dray's footsteps. He didn’t care about the noise he was making though; he was in too much of a hurry to worry about being stealthy.
He was getting closer to the Oracle, he could feel that strange bond calling him; whispering inside his head. At least it felt like whispering, but there was nothing intelligible, nothing he could understand, but something was telling him where the Oracle was and if not for all the corridors and walls in the way, he could have walked a direct line to her.
He made his way down the stairs and began to traverse the dimly lit passageway on the second level below; prisoners watched as he walked by. Some begged for release, some just watched with pleading eyes, some shouted and made demands of him, but Dray ignored them all. Even if he had wanted to help them, he wasn't sure that he should, they were criminals after all, and there was probably a good reason as to why they were locked away. But maybe they are innocent. These clerics seemed to find guilt wherever they pleased, even in the innocent, even in him, even in the Oracle.
Still, it wasn't his place to help these wretches, he had seen too much carnage to waste time worrying about every single person he encountered, and he already knew that he couldn't save them all. He couldn't even save a girl he had just made love to, he couldn't even save her from himself - save her from his uncontrollable rage.
Bright lights sizzled across the surface of Dray's eyes like azure lightning bolts, his right hand turned ice blue and burned like fire. The thoughts in his mind unleashed a fury that he couldn't control, and then, in an instant of untamed rage, Dray reached over and pulled the door next to him clear off its hinges. He hurled it to the floor, and the door shattered on contact; sending a thousand shards of metallic ice into the corridor beyond.
The man in the cell looked at him wide-eyed and awed; the crystallised fragments of ice and metal now lying scattered around were a testament to Dray’s raw power. The prisoner wanted to run, but fear had him in its grip; unmoving he sat there, paralysed.
Dray eyed the man with a degree of contempt; icy blue arcs of electric power crawled across the surface of his eyes as he contemplated his fate. Let him go or destroy him with power. He didn't know what his powers were, but he knew that they came from the ring.
"Leave now or die here." It was a simple but powerful statement. Leave and live, stay and die. The man got up and ran as fast as he could, his footsteps echoed throughout the dungeon.
Dray slumped against the wall and brought his hands to his head. Was the world spinning? He felt like it was. He needed to get a grip, he needed to gain control. He had spent years training to be a soldier; they said he was a natural, that he was born for battle – but he knew better. It was his discipline, the unrelenting regime that he had imposed upon himself that made him the best. Where was that discipline now? He punched the wall in frustration. I need to get control of this thing. He knew he could never rest until he did.
Help me. It was the voice of the void again. Somehow the Oracle was telling him something, but it wasn't the Oracle's voice, it was more like a whisper in his mind - he hurried down the passageway at speed.
***
Ahead Dray could see a light, he knew he was close now; the Oracle's presence called out to him like a beacon in the night. Horned silhouettes splashed and flickered against the cold stone walls. He was not alone, and neither was the Oracle; he drew his sword and approached with caution.
"Yes, this is where it's coming from. This one is radiating the power." It was a woman's voice, and to Dray, it sounded like a woman in her forties or fifties. "Tell me who you are prisoner." Dray slowly approached closer as the women continued their conversation; silence was his priority, but he also took great care never to leave the shadows.
"My-my name is Kaitlin Faera," answered a nervous voice which Dray knew to be the Oracle's. Hang on Oracle, I'm coming.
"Kaitlin ... Faera?" The tone of the woman's voice told Dray that she didn't believe the Oracle's alias for one second.
Dray could see far down into the stonewalled corridor; a sconce lit with fire flickered brightly outside the Oracle’s cell making the shadows dance like distorted puppets against the wall. He could see three figures; one was a female, who wore a black robe. White wisps of hair protruded from beneath her cowl.
Dray knew instantly that she was some kind of caster, whether divine or elemental he was unsure, but either way, she could probably kill him with ease.
The blood-red sigils that ran down the front of the woman's robe told him she was of the Creed and a minion of the dreaded god Solus Bal, as did the horns and glowing red eyes. She'll need to be taken out quickly.
With her were two huge bestials, nine-foot giants with massively muscled humanoid bodies. They were armoured in heavy black plate, adorned with the blood-red of the Creed and armed with axes big enough to cleave a man in two. Each wore a blackened helmet of heavy gauge plate which covered the eyes but left the mouth exposed or in this case the snout; one had the face of a goat, the other a bull. Dray never thought he could be scared of a goat, but this billy was straight out of one of his nightmares. Clearly, they were there to protect the caster, and Dray had no doubts that he would be cleaved asunder if he tried anything.
Dray rubbed at his finger. The ring was still there, and the thought of it gave him some confidence, but only some. He knew that with its powers he could defeat this trio, but he also knew that the powers were unreliable and that he had no real control over them - the thought made him rage inside. Why do you give me powers I can’t control? What use are they to me now Tempus? The god gave no response, but Dray swore he could hear laughter in his mind.
Dray held his sword out in front of him. I never needed magical powers before. He was a veteran of battle, better than
most if not all of the soldiers at Candelier in melee combat; he would defeat these beasts with his skill at arms. Yes, they were stronger, but he was faster, much faster, and they couldn't kill what they couldn't touch.
If it weren't for the Oracle, he would have turned around and snuck away. The Oracle needs me. He knew he wouldn't turn around, he knew he wouldn't sneak away. He knew he could never just leave her there to die - there would be no ‘walking away’ from this. Just have to take that bitch caster out first. He had to be careful, if he screwed that up, he would be dead.
"Well then, Kaitlin Faera, how did a pretty thing like yourself wind up in such an ugly place?" The caster threw her hands out in reference to the cell, it was clear she didn’t like being in the dungeon - not because she found the place frightening, but because she found it ... distasteful.
The Oracle looked into the cowl of the caster. The only thing she could see were glowing red eyes and some wisps of white hair that stuck out at the edges - it unnerved her, to say the least.
"I-I was s-seeking refuge when the battle broke out," she blurted. "The clerics at the Temple took me in, but one of the inquisitors said I was a witch. They said they were going to question me, but they put me down here instead. I haven't seen anyone for two days." The Oracle smiled, but only on the inside - she could almost believe the story herself.
She knew the mage could feel her divine ability, just as she could feel her magic. Her strategy here was to feign ignorance, as many people on Mya go through their entire lives, never knowing they had some kind of ability. Other times the ability would manifest itself late in life. The Oracle was very strong in divine power, but there was no way this mage could know just how strong she was. Or could she?
"He said you were a witch?" The Oracle swallowed nervously.
"Yes, Mistress. I don't know why. I'm not a witch, I swear!" The woman stared hard at the Oracle, trying to determine whether there were lies in her words. The glowing red eyes seemed to bore into her mind, and tears began to trickle down the smooth, delicate cheeks of the Oracle as she was reminded of the confessions she spouted under the undying gaze of another.
"I believe you're not a witch Kaitlin," answered the caster, the Oracle sighed relieved. "But I know you're keeping something from me. Tell me what." The Oracle looked away. She knows I'm lying. The Oracle had been considering trying to beguile the woman. Would it even work on Creed? Especially a high ranking magic-user? The glowing red eyes filled her mind with doubt; there was a real possibility that this one knew how to protect herself from mind attacks. No. She dare not risk it.
"I-I'm not hiding anything Mistress," she said, in her meekest voice possible. The caster's eyes flashed, she didn't believe that for a second.
"Bring her out here."
"NO!" screamed the Oracle. Her fear was real this time. The bestial on her left, the one with the bull's head lifted its axe high into the air. The Oracle wanted to scream, but only silence came from her mouth. The axe came down hard, smashing the lock on the door; splintered steel fell to the floor with a metallic clang.
The Oracle backed her way into the corner; it was dark there, but her eyes were as wide as saucers. The bestial ripped open the door with a reverberating bang and walked into her cell, ducking down in order just to fit. He loomed over her and reached out with his colossal right hand - there was no escape.
The Oracle was paralysed; the meld between animal and man was more than she could fathom. The giant stature of the beast made her feel like a mouse. It’s erratic, violent nature created a fear different to that which she had ever known.
It grabbed her by the hair and dragged her out of her cell. She kicked and screamed, but had no choice but to move with it unless she wanted to be scalped. It dumped her at the feet of the caster. She looked up only to be greeted by those fiery red eyes, which were even more terrifying close up.
"Don't play games with me. You're here for a reason, and it has to do with your powers." The black-robed magi grabbed the Oracle around the jaw and made her look up. "Look into my eyes child and tell me who you are."
The Oracle looked into the eyes of the demon caster; terror had her in its grip. She knew what was coming - it was the Master Confessor all over again. She wanted to turn her head, she wanted to look away, she wanted to scream and run, but she couldn't - the caster was just so strong.
"Give up girl, there’s no use in resisting me. You will tell me your secrets eventually." Vile eyes ... milk white sickness ... diseased ... and repulsion. The Oracle wanted to retch, to vomit, to spill her insides across the floor. In her mind she relived the pain and agony; the torture imposed, the scars inflicted and worse - the shredding of her mind.
She could feel them now, those tainted tendrils probing through her mind and infecting her thoughts. Those foul fingers reaching in to pull her defences apart. Those grotesque, black serpents slithering into her thoughts, whispering their dirty lies and murmuring their false promises. She could feel her defences breaking away, one by one, snapping and unravelling; revealing glimpses of her secrets, spilling them out, unto the caster, like so many presents and gifts onto her lap.
She felt as if with fever. Sweat that poured from her face, her hair was drenched and her robe was soaked. In her mind, she was fighting a desperate battle, but she knew that this demon caster was too strong and soon she would reveal to her everything.
She held on through sheer will, swarming her mind with distractions and repelling the tendril’s false imaginings, but she was weak, the Master Confessor had shown her that. She closed her eyes, and instead of two red eyes boring into her mind, there were now two white. She could feel the diseased slick washing over her; the sickly taint seeping into her mind, corrupting her with its filth, infecting her with its lies. It was more than she could bear and it was taking her to a place that she swore she would never revisit.
The crimson-eyed sorcerer bore down upon the Oracle with greater power than she could have ever imagined. The Oracle knew that there were only moments before the caster would realise that she was the Oracle of Tempus. She had withdrawn her mind as far as it could go and it wasn't far enough. In that moment she called upon the same thing countless other Oracles had called upon before her - the power of her protector. She could feel him near, so very close; he was the only thing that could save her! Through sheer will, she managed to break the hold that the caster had on her.
"TORAC!" she cried, with all her might. "KILL HER!" She smiled, somehow she knew that Dray had heard her. There was no need to explain to him who 'HER' was - he was already coming.
Bright lights sizzled across the surface of Dray's eyes like azure lightning bolts, his right hand turned ice blue and burned like fire. He could see the caster looking his way; her face illuminated by the firelight of the sconce. He only had moments to react, but the distance was too great.
Power flooded into his body, a power that came from the ring. The reactions of his mind sped up dramatically; time seemed to slow down. He could see the caster's lips moving. She was casting a spell, if she finished it, he would be dead and if he died the Oracle would be next. PROTECT THE ORACLE! The words boomed in his mind like a voice from the gods. I will not fail!
Desperation reigned supreme. He had no choice, he had to react; he had to react now and close the gap. There was a flash of light. He could feel his body moving down the corridor with unnatural speed, but to him it felt as if he was stationary and the whole world was moving to him; the stone walls around him turned into a blur.
His eyes were on the caster's lips, he had to reach her before she finished the chant - there was no other choice. Before him, he clasped his hands together and watched the icy sword crystallise in front of him. He knew the caster wanted him dead, but he would be the one to finish her.
Suddenly and before he even knew what had happened, there was a tremendous impact and he stopped dead. The caster’s head had frozen instantaneously when he impaled it with his sword, the force causing icy shards to explode o
utwards in a violent eruption; spraying the Oracle with a mixture of frozen blood and bone. The body fell limp to the floor - the caster did not finish her spell.
A guttural roar rang through the dungeon as the armoured bestials reacted in an instant; glistening steel swung through the air, and Dray had to roll further down into the corridor to avoid being cloven in two.
He rolled to his feet, sword in front and tried to block the second incoming swing, but the beast was strong and smashed Dray's ice sword into a thousand glacial pieces which sent him crashing into the wall so hard he almost dislocated his shoulder.
Dray ducked in desperation as the axe smashed into the wall where his head was only a moment ago; sending chips of hard stone flying out. He's too fast, too strong. For a creature of that size, its speed was remarkable. The next blow missed him by an inch and carved a deep groove into the ground in front of him. Another swing from the giant axe, this time he had just enough time to jump back to avoid having his stomach ripped open. Another swing and sparks flew from the cell bars as the axe ripped across them.
Dray was in trouble. He looked into the blood-red eyes of the beast and saw his death. This is it. This is the end. The power of the beast had shaken him to the core. He never thought he could be overwhelmed so quickly, after all, he was the top of his class and one of the best fighters in the army - a master of combat. He thought about the endless hours he had spent training. And this is how it ends? Cleaved in two by a demonic goat? He would have laughed if he had not been so terrified.
The axe went up one last time, and then everything seemed to move in slow-motion, death had reared its ugly head, and Dray wanted to scream. He put his arm out for protection; he knew it would give him none, but it was all he could do. The axe began to fall. Dray refused to look away, if he was to die today, then he was determined to watch it to the end. He wouldn't close his eyes - he was no coward.
Steel gleamed in the firelight, and the axe fell closer and closer. Dray took a deep breath. Tempus help me. It was the last thought he would have. SWOOSH!! The axe hit the ground hard, and then there was silence. Dray watched the bestial as it loomed over him. How had it missed? It was still for a moment, then fell to the ground; on its back was a huge slash with a gigantic axe embedded in the wound.