by Riley Keene
Thing was, Ermolt knew what he was about to do was stupid. And he even knew there was very little he could expect as an outcome, other than Ingmar dismissing him. But there was a chance—a thin, tiny chance—that Ermolt would get to put his hands on Ingmar. And while Ermolt wasn’t entirely sure what he would do if he got that chance, a thousand images—each more brutal than the last—raced through his mind, fueling him forward with a sinister grin.
Ermolt shoved his way past groups of prisoners loafing in his path through the cell blocks. The same thing happened again and again. The prisoners would get upset about his show of force and yell for him to stop. Ermolt would turn, with that bloodthirsty glare plastered to his face, and they would flee.
He almost enjoyed it. This didn’t feel heroic, this sadistic march through the prison, but it felt right. And if, at the end, he got to remove a monster from the world, wouldn’t all be forgiven?
Unfortunately, Ermolt was stopped by two guards as he approached the doorway leading back to the administrative hallways.
“What’s your business here?” the guard barked, a hand on the grip of his baton.
Ermolt looked down at the weapon and laughed low and slow, a boiling, angry chuckle that caused the guard to grip the weapon tighter. “Take me to Ingmar.”
“No,” the guard said, and Ermolt respected the lack of shake in his voice. “There’s a situation going on. Nobody is going around back here without an escort.”
“Take me yourself then,” Ermolt answered, anger clear in his tone. “I have some business to take care of with him.”
The guards shared a glance and seemed to arrive at the same decision after a moment. “Follow. And don’t try anything. There is a decided lack of tolerance for stupidity right now.”
One of the guards stepped into the hallway, taking the lead. Ermolt followed him while the other took up the rear. Both of them kept a hand on their batons, ready for anything.
As they traversed the hallways, Ermolt was surprised by the level of activity in the area. Guards were everywhere, appearing and disappearing in doors all over the place.
They were clearly searching from room to room.
Ermolt wasn’t sure if they were still looking for Athala, or if Detlev was causing some commotion beyond breaking the wizard out of Ingmar’s lair. It was a testament to the disorganization of this place if they were looking for Athala. She was likely still sitting openly on her cot’s mattress on the floor of their cell, not even aware she was being looked for. Secretly, Ermolt hoped they were trying to find Detlev before they went looking for the wizard.
Some of the guards stopped and watched as Ermolt was escorted past. He recognized the one from outside the storage room, but from the blank stare, it was obvious it wasn’t a shared memory. It was a shame, really. Perhaps if he hadn’t scrambled the man’s brains so hard Ermolt could use his fear as a weapon against Ingmar.
The guards led him directly to the place Athala described as Ingmar’s tacky sitting room.
“Prisoner to see you,” one of the guards said. Ingmar glanced up and met Ermolt’s smoldering glare, but made no attempt to acknowledge him otherwise. The man was seated in one of the large chairs with another man attending to a swollen bump on his jaw.
Ermolt let the silence stretch for a moment, even as he shifted his weight impatiently from foot to foot. Ingmar looked away again, tilting his head back to give his assistant better access to his swollen jaw.
“Don’t ignore me, you monster. Do you know who I am?” Ermolt growled finally. He started forward, but the two guards quickly grabbed his elbows and they struggled to hold him back. Ermolt pushed onward against them anyway and he made it halfway between Ingmar and the door before they could fully stop his momentum.
“Yes. Of course,” Ingmar said coldly. “Athala’s pet barbarian. Who could forget?” The man turned to look at him once more, and this time his eyes narrowed. “Do you know where she is?”
“Away from you,” Ermolt snarled, still struggling against the two guards holding him back. “You’ve crossed a line with her. And I’m not going to stand for it anymore.”
“That’s not how things work in here.” Ingmar gestured impatiently, and the servant attending to his jaw stood and left the room quickly. “I am the one with all the power in this situation. You can do nothing to me. And I will keep doing whatever I want with her.” Ingmar spread his hands, daring Ermolt to advance. “If you want her to know what it’s like when I cross the line, I can certainly accommodate you.”
Ermolt bellowed in challenge, and lunged, bringing both guards nearly from their feet. Ingmar abandoned his attitude of haughty indifference and jumped out of his chair. He scurried around the back of it, keeping out of reach of Ermolt’s grasping hands. Three more guards burst into the room, the servant who had left before following behind. The new three guards had their weapons in hand, and one of them smashed her baton into the back of Ermolt’s leg, knocking him down to his knees. The two guards on his sides pushed down with the momentum of his fall, forcing him to the floor face-first. Knees were planted on his shoulders to hold him in place.
“You’re a monster,” Ermolt spat, his words muffled by the force of his face held against the floor. “And worse than that, you’re a stupid one. Are you so incapable of solving a simple puzzle that you need to torture an innocent woman for the answer? Or is it just what you do for fun around here?”
“Oh, a simple puzzle, is it?” Ingmar stepped out from behind the chair. Two of the new guards took up protective positions at his side. Ermolt wondered why everyone was so protective of this monster. Did they know what he did? “I imagine you know the answer, then? A simple-minded barbarian knows the missing runes to a spell of deific magic?”
“Maybe you could figure it out, too, if you weren’t so busy cutting people up for no reason.” Ermolt struggled against the guards holding him down, but was unable to get any leverage.
“Perhaps you can enlighten me, then. Educate me, if you will.” Ingmar leaned down over Ermolt, his broad and lopsided grin coming into view. Ermolt admired the damage Detlev did to the man’s face. Shame he hadn’t killed him though.
“No, I think you’d appreciate it more if you figured it out yourself.” Ermolt heaved, trying to shove the guards off of him, but he made no headway.
“My apologies, did I lead you to believe that you had a choice?” Ingmar brought his hands together, steepling his fingers. “You have been informed of how persuasive I can be.”
“Ha. Do your worst. I think you’d find me a bit more resilient than a young wizard.” Ermolt tried to turn his head to get an angle to spit into Ingmar’s face. His struggles were fruitless.
“Oh?” Ingmar leaned back, putting a hand to his chest, feigning shock. “No. That sounds too easy. I prefer a challenge.”
Ingmar paused for a moment. “See, if you know anything, it might be fun just to have you with us when they find Athala.” The man smirked and Ermolt growled. “She might be too strong-willed for my methods. But if you witness it? How long will it be before you think she had enough? I’m sure she avoided telling you the full extent of what was done to her, but can you imagine how much farther I could go if she is not the one I need to hear from?” He tapped his chin. “There are many things I could do that normally make my subjects unwilling to speak. Not to mention things that render them physically unable to.”
Realization washed over Ermolt and his expression of rage melded to one of warring disgust and horror.
“Oh, you don’t like the sound of that, do you?” Ingmar leaned in, his grin filling Ermolt’s vision. “How long could you take watching it? Hearing it? How long could you let her suffer?”
Ermolt felt the color leaving his face, but he tried to smooth his expression.
“Well, you have some time to make your decision. She will be found eventually. I believe the guards should be searching the cell blocks by now. Once they find her, they will bring her to me and I—or should I say we—wi
ll get to work.” Ingmar touched the swollen spot on the side of his head. “I might have some anger to work through, so it will be nice to have someone under my knife. Perhaps all through the night, if it takes that long.”
Ermolt could think of nothing to say in response. How many more times would he have to call Ingmar a monster before the man started to see the truth? Ermolt wasn’t as educated as Athala by a long shot, but even she could likely tell him there was no number large enough.
After enough time without response, Ingmar leaned down a little closer. “Alternatively you could tell me now and the order goes out to stop looking for her altogether.” Ingmar leaned in studying Ermolt’s expression. “Once I get what I want, I no longer have a reason to hold you three. You’ll be free to go.” He paused. “Well, eventually. I will naturally be holding you until I finish my work below the Temple. But after that? It would be more trouble to keep you here. And there would be no incentive for me to do so. She has nothing else I want.”
Ermolt thought hard on this. He couldn’t get up. The guards at his back had all the leverage. He couldn’t get Ingmar close enough. And he couldn’t allow Ingmar to keep doing unspeakable things to Athala. Especially not right in front of him.
He could endure whatever was done to him, but the idea of being responsible for Athala’s suffering? Being able to stop it at any time, and choosing not to?
“Alright,” Ermolt said, his words muffled as he spoke into the floor. “Just, please. Just don’t hurt her anymore.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Athala was surprised when Ermolt came back, alone and unharmed. She and Elise had been putting together plans for a daring rescue—especially with Athala’s newfound knowledge of Detlev’s secret ways through the facility—when the barbarian returned. Athala felt her face light up when he approached, but he refused to make eye contact.
Something was wrong.
“Ermolt!” Elise said, relief clear in her voice. “Did you get to see him? What’s going on?”
He nodded, but refused to look up or speak.
Something was very wrong.
Athala looked to Elise and the worry and returning outrage on the Conscript’s face was striking. She knew as well. Athala gathered her courage. “Ermolt. Please. Tell us. What happened?”
Ermolt told his story. The entire time he sat on his cot with his head down and his hands between his knees. Athala had watched him closely as he told her and Elise about Ingmar’s horrible threat, and he hadn’t moved once. He hadn’t raised his voice or paced. He just sat and stared at a spot on the floor. A cold fear swept over Athala as he explained what he gave up in exchange for Athala’s safety.
When he finished his tale he looked up finally. His eyes were rimmed with red even though Athala didn’t see any tears and his voice was low and even. Emotionless. “I’m so sorry, Athala.”
“You just gave him what he asked for!” Elise shouted, her tone incredulous. She paced three steps and then turned sharply to do so again in the other direction. Athala wasn’t sure why she didn’t just pace the whole room, but attributed it to nervous energy. Either that, or the fear that she would physically harm Ermolt if she got within hitting range.
“I didn’t have a choice,” Ermolt said. He sighed. “It was either I told him on the spot, or I’d tell him after Athala suffers for hours right in front of my face.” He looked up at Elise finally and Athala could see the pain. “What else could I have done? Just watched until he killed her?”
“He couldn’t have gone that far!” Elise stepped up to him. Ermolt flinched away as she got close, but didn’t withdraw. He just lowered his head again. But the flinch seemed to break through Elise’s temper and she backed off slightly. “He knows that if he killed her you would never tell him what you know.”
“Is this really so bad?” Ermolt looked up again and Athala saw a spark of anger flash. “He gets his stupid spell and we get to leave alive!”
“It’s not just about the spell,” Elise said, putting her hands on her hips, then immediately crossing her arms over her chest instead. It was like she didn’t know how angry or disappointed she was, and so didn’t know how to express it. “Athala said they’re after the dragon.”
“Oh! Fantastic!” Ermolt threw his hands up. “So they get a dragon. Good for them! It’ll either kill them for us, or they’ll kill it and the world is a better place.”
“How do you mean?” Elise cocked her head to the side. The Conscript drummed her fingers on the curve of one of her biceps. “We’re supposed to free the dragon to unleash the Age of Mortals!”
“You know the dragons are supposed to be gone, right? They were all killed or imprisoned or whatever else.” Ermolt pointed an accusatory finger at Elise. “And from what the stories say, it happened for a reason. Whatever they’re going to do with that dragon, the monster has it coming.”
“You don’t know that.” Elise said, her tone turning cold. “If that is Ydia’s dragon, then it needs to be set free to serve Her interests. Especially since Her interests are for the good of humanity!”
“Is that what this is about then? Your precious shining God and a dragon that might not even be Hers?” Ermolt tilted his head up, looking Elise straight in the eye. “Then I made the right choice. Athala is more important to me than that.”
For a brief moment, Athala’s heart grew warm. But then Ermolt added: “is she not more important to you?”
Elise took a step back as if he slapped her. “That’s not a fair question.”
“It doesn’t seem like that hard of a concept, Conscript,” Ermolt said, his voice lowering into a growl. “Which do you care about more?”
“It’s not the same!” Elise stomped her foot, but her voice had taken on a lost and almost panicked sound. Athala didn’t like being drawn into the middle of their conversation like this, but Ermolt’s point was good. Elise and Ermolt were her friends, but they were also her employees. They were supposed to be protecting her. And while she didn’t mind that they had other agendas as well, her protection should have been the first thing they cared about.
“Humanity is the strength of the Gods. Ydia needs me.” Elise looked back at Athala who immediately tried to make her expression as neutral as possible. “But Athala doesn’t need me,” she said, her tone wistful and almost pained. “She’s strong all on her own.
“And that’s strength you wasted!” Elise took a step forward again, her arms rigidly held at her sides as if she wanted to strike him. “She suffered all day today, and most of yesterday as well, to keep this secret. But you just gave it up! You threw away all her effort!”
“If that’s what this is about, you should be thanking me, because if he stuck a knife in her right in front of me, I’d have told him anyway just to make him stop!” Ermolt stood up and shoved Elise away from him. “It would just be more of her effort being thrown away!”
The two of them glared at each other, and Athala could tell they were close to devolving into an actual fist fight.
“Would you both just stop?” Athala had meant to speak at a normal tone, but her voice squeaked with both volume and anger. She was glad the other prisoners were off at the workshop and weren’t here to tease the fighting. Elise and Ermolt stopped and turned to her, both of them blinking at her interruption. If she let them, they’d argue all day. And they’d just keep circling around to the same arguments. Neither of them were wrong. But neither of them were right, either.
“This isn’t helping,” Athala finally said, quietly. “We can’t focus on what we should have done when we can’t take it back. We need to think about what to do from here.” She turned to Ermolt. “Please, Ermolt. What exactly did you tell him?”
“I told him about the runes on the stone and on the door.” Ermolt shook his head. “I’m sorry, I just—”
“Stop,” she repeated. “It’s alright. Did you tell him any details about the stone? Or did you tell him about the rubbings I took?”
“No.” Ermolt seemed to
visibly deflate. He sat back down on his bed, hands returning to rest between his knees. “I tried to get him to leave you alone by taunting him that he couldn’t figure it out himself, so I figured I’d make him do as much work as possible.”
“Alright. See, that’s something. Depending on how many people he has working for him down there, it could be hours before he has any progress. Maybe an entire day. And that’s if he’s already left instead of gloating or tending to the swollen jaw Detlev gave him.”
Athala thought for a moment and then started to pick at her cuticles. “First, he has to find the inscribed stone. If he comes in from the sewers like we did, they’ll pass all sorts of plaques and markers. So unless he has other wizards working with him or does it himself, that will stall him trying to sort out which stone it is. If he comes from the big room with the spell, through wherever those stairs those guards came from, he still has to comb the entire ruins. That alone will take most of the day, maybe into the night as well if he’s unlucky.
“Second, Ermolt left the door in terrible condition. Mostly shattered, with spell scorching and scattered fragments all over the place. They’ll need to reassemble the door, too. Some of the pieces were pretty large, so that will take manpower. And some of the pieces broke down pretty small, so that will take skill.”
“So, what are you saying?” Elise asked before she touched Athala’s hand to still her incessant picking.
“If we can escape now, we can get back into the sewers and get to the chamber with the spell before he fully figures out the missing runes.” Athala brought her hand to her mouth and chewed on the tip of her thumb while she thought. “If we attack him there, we can stop him before he can get the spell. From what he’s said, whoever he works for is going to do something extreme. It’s not just about the spell. It’s not just about the dragon. It’s about what they’re planning. Whatever it is, it needs to be stopped.”