by J D Astra
I crouched low as I came out the other end of the barrier spell and inched behind a column. Otto’s tormented cries were so loud I thought he had to be right beside me.
“You’re not fit to be with them, Otto, you’re a monster. You’re a traitor! Surrender to that fact, and the pain disappears.” Another voice, not Patrick’s, spoke with a staticky interference. It sounded... fake. “Join with the Vastatores Vitae, take the place you were always meant to serve in, and become the man you were supposed to be.”
“Horace, please. Release me from this,” Otto whimpered. “I can’t stand to watch her die another time!”
“Then surrender to me, Otto! Surrender to the will of the Imperial masters.” Patrick spoke loud and clear behind the door straight ahead. I crept close on soft-soled shoes, trying not to breathe, not make a sound, for fear of losing my one chance to stop Patrick from ever hurting Otto again, or anyone else I cared for.
“I can’t,” Otto said with a whimper, then he growled, “I won’t.”
“You don’t have a choice, traitor.” Horace’s voice was filled with contempt, but still sounded as if it were coming through a low bandwidth connection.
Blazing Weapon was on an eight-minute cooldown, but I had every other spell in my arsenal, ready to annihilate him. No point in buffing myself, as Patrick wouldn’t cast on me in the ways I could protect myself, and would likely resist my Burning Affliction as before. So it was just the glass cannon, with the element of surprise.
I stood and held my hand against the rusted iron loop of a door handle. Otto bellowed in agony at the sound of a blade piercing his skin. I pulled hard with one hand and the door scraped against the stone floor with a loud screek! Patrick whirled just in time to see me trigger Raging Inferno Blast.
The ripple knocked the hazy illusion of a man next to Otto out of the air, disrupting Patrick’s spellcasting and concentration. I didn’t let up, running at him with both hands outstretched as my Spirit drained away.
“Guards!” Patrick wailed under the heat of my fire.
I refused to look away. Patrick couldn’t distract me, and I wouldn’t let him slip out through a portal this time. I wouldn’t show mercy this time.
“Abby, look out!” Otto shouted from behind me, but Patrick had used this trick before.
“No!” I screamed as I bore down on him and he scrambled toward the corner of the room, his body fully engulfed in my fire. Patrick shrieked as my flames ate up his Health—
Errh!
A blinking notification let me know my Spirit was empty, and Inferno Blast cut out with a stutter. Patrick lay panting against the scorched stone wall, his Health barely visible at 5%. I kept my eyes on him as I moved to the table that held Otto’s gear and pulled the Soulbound dagger from its sheath.
“I don’t know if you can hear me, Patrick, but I want you to know I didn’t want this. I didn’t want to kill you—”
“So don’t,” he wheezed, his missing lips contorting the words. “Don’t kill me.” His face was just as ruined as Sandra’s had been, the flesh ripped away by fire, revealing the burnt muscle tissue. The stench of cooked meat and singed hair was inescapable as I knelt close to him, Otto’s dagger poised to strike.
I’d burned him alive, and nearly killed him. He existed here in this ether of suffering, and it was my choice to end it, and decide how it ended. I could use Flame of Holding, give him a potion, and take him back to the rebel court for judgement and sentence, which would likely be execution. He’d have many opportunities for escape, and more still to trick and confuse us.
Patrick wasn’t evil, but close enough that the world we wanted to live in wouldn’t miss him.
“I must,” I said and lunged forward, stabbing the blade into his heart.
He gasped, grabbing my wrist as I pushed the blade all the way in to the hilt.
Patrick’s foggy gaze searched for my face and he gurgled a whisper, “Auralia.”
His hand slid away as his Health hit zero and his body went limp. Another citizen, dead forever at my hand. His crimes were great, and I was the only one able to enact punishment...
But should it have been death?
“Abby?” Otto croaked.
I stood and spun to him, clearing the guilt from my mind as I saw his wretched form. He was clamped down to a torturer’s table several inches too small for him with only a pair of bloodstained shorts to clothe him. His bare hands and feet were a puffy, deep green beneath the metal clasps, the circulation cut off. His Health hovered around 35%, dropping a bit and jumping back up.
“I’m here, Big Green,” I said with a lump in my throat.
His eyes moved between Patrick’s corpse behind me and my face. “Prove it,” he said, lip quivering for a fraction of a second. His gaze lost focus as he looked at me, as if he were looking through me. What could I say to show him I was truly me and not some illusion?
The ring.
I unequipped my Keensight Ring of Spirit and slipped it on his finger. “There’s one charge left. Use it.”
He looked down at the silver band on his pinky finger, then back to me. I opened my arms to him, showing him there was nothing else here but me. A few seconds later, the ring gave an audible pop along with a bright orange fizzle of sparks.
Otto nodded, visible relief washing the wrinkles out of his features. He let out a breath and closed his eyes as his head fell back and off the end of the table. “Well,” he said with a hoarse groan, “get me out of here already.”
I turned back to the charred corpse of the Illusionist and searched his inventory. He had some trinkets, an interesting set of boots I could certainly inspect—later—and the [Shackle Key]. I grabbed up everything, including a hefty amount of gold, likely blood money for his gainful employment with the Imperials, and turned back to Otto.
The locks fell away easily at my touch, and Otto wrenched himself forward on the angled board. He rubbed at his wrists and ankles, flexing his fingers and toes intermittently. I fished a Health potion from my inventory and passed it his way. He flinched, but then accepted the bottle with a nod and a “Thanks.”
“What happened?” I asked, taking in the truly shaken husk of the Risi I knew. He was acting skittish, scared even, and that wasn’t my Otto.
He drained the potion and chucked the empty bottle against Patrick’s still-smoking body. “I could ask the same of you. I didn’t expect you to come.”
“Are you kidding?” I said, giving his arm a playful nudge. “I couldn’t leave you behind.”
He smiled, but he was waiting for the worst of it.
I sucked in a breath and steeled myself. “Renzik and Eisen didn’t make it back to the hideout. We’ve staged a massive operation to get them back, and you.”
Otto harrumphed. “I’m sure Arcona could’ve done without getting me.”
I put my hands on my hips. “Actually, she seemed really concerned you were captured. Threw me across the room even.”
Otto’s gaze narrowed on me.
“Get up.” I shoved his shoulder as his Health reached full. “We still have to get Renzik and Eisen, then meet up with Arcona and call everyone back to base.”
He groaned as he wrenched himself off the table and walked to the chest against the wall. He raised his arms to put on an undershirt, and the pungent smell of old cheese, corn chips, garlic, and sourness punched my nose.
“Blech.” I retched as I stuck my tongue out. “And you need a bath, sir.”
Otto turned back with a harsh look, then pointed to the bottom of my robes. “Speak for yourself, Sewage Queen. I’m surprised Patrick couldn’t smell you coming.”
“It’s because his sense of smell was dead from you,” I jeered as I plugged my nose and waved my hand at him. He pulled on light cloth pants, then opened the chest next to the table. The plate gear popped onto Otto’s body easily, and within seconds, he looked like his old self again.
He slipped the ring from his pinky finger and passed it to me. “Thank you.”
/> “For what?” I grinned as I accepted the band and equipped it.
He smiled and patted me on the shoulder. “Let’s find our friends.”
“I wouldn’t know where to start.” I sighed as my eyes wandered around the room, seeking a map, or plans, something to give us the next step. We needed to find Eisen, or every rebel faction would be in great danger. He’d break eventually, and I was sure Patrick’s merry band of Illusionists would be hard at work doing just that. And then Renzik...
I shouldn’t have let him take on the portal task alone. I should’ve made someone come with us to help him, or had them start back at the DrinkZzz tavern, where it was safest. I’d been so worried about Otto and my safe escape from the archive I hadn’t considered the risk I’d asked them to accept.
“Stop that,” Otto grumbled as he shook my shoulder. “We’re going to find them.”
I nodded, my eyes unable to meet his. We were deep in enemy territory, with no way out, no way forward, and no help. Sandra was undoubtedly at full Health now, with an army at her back.
But I still had one ace up my sleeve. I checked the time: 12:15.
I looked to Otto, the fire in my belly igniting anew. “Let’s go find our friends.”
Slave Pits
“OTTO, POTION!” I YELLED as I tossed the red vial his way.
He caught it with deft ease, parrying a blade as he did. I’d been wrong. Sandra didn’t have an army at her back, she had them scouring the war district for me while she hid like a coward.
“Left passage!” Otto shouted as he skewered the Dawn Elf soldier before him. The woman went down in a heap, her Health bar empty.
I stepped past Otto to the hall on the left and opened my palms for Inferno Blast as Otto handled the last guard in the courtyard. The advancing trio cried in fear as my flames licked at their faces. They turned tail and ran from my heat and I followed after them with a fireball. The straggler dropped to the ground, dead, but the other two soldiers scurried behind the corner and out of sight.
“Move up!” Otto called, and I jogged to his side. His eyes went distant for a moment. “Two more buildings to the detention center. Let’s move!” He took off, sword in one hand while he sucked the Health potion dry with the other.
We’d lucked out after leaving the Vastatores Vitae “breaking room” when we found the new recruit barracks. A map on the wall outlined and labeled every building for us, and updated our maps automatically with the additional information. If I were a bit more vain, I’d think the V.G.O. gods were actually watching out for us.
“Here, here!” An Imperial soldier skidded to a stop in the gladiatorial-esque training grounds, kicking up dirt as he did.
The man trembled for a moment as he stared down the advancing Otto, but his buddies rushed in, five total, just in time to embolden him. Otto charged into the group with unnatural speed, and I dropped Rain of Fire on the back side of their cluster, preventing retreat. With no ground to fall back to, they fell onto Otto’s blade instead.
I smacked a fireball into an intrepid soldier trying to flank Otto, and followed up with a Burning Affliction. The man ran blindly into Rain of Fire and collapsed as his Health emptied. Just two remained, and Otto didn’t seem to be struggling, so I opted to conserve my Spirit.
Rain of Fire ended and the back soldier turned to run as Otto cut down her friend. “We must be fighting recruits,” Otto grunted as he looked up at the terrified woman. She gave a weak whimper and dropped her sword, running for one of the many exits.
“Let’s keep moving!” Otto called, and he took off the opposite direction from the fleeing girl for the detention center.
“She’s going to tell where we are,” I panted as I caught up to him, my Stamina bar more than half empty.
“We’ll be gone. We can’t waste another second chasing them. The city’s garrison could return any moment, and they will not go down as easily,” he warned, his voice uninterrupted from panting like mine. Or worse, I thought, Sandra might come back. I didn’t have a flash grenade this time.
I pushed myself harder, trying to keep up as Otto charged from one open courtyard to the next. Even from the other side of the final archway, I could see the top of the detention center looming. Elevated walkways connected archery stations at the top of the dark, windowless building.
I followed Otto as he slowed to a trot and took in his surroundings. Empty guard stations lined the entrances to the detention center, likely four in total but only three were visible. The building was tall, at least five stories, with no windows and only a tiny slot on the door directly in front of us.
“How many guards do you think are still in there?” I asked as we looked on the giant, blank edifice of criminal sentencing.
“Few,” Otto grunted and flicked the blood from his sword into the dirt.
The constant chaotic noise of the city was a sad comfort. The distant explosions from the quarry meant Zakarey’s team was still going strong, even after an hour, and the cries of citizens near and far meant the Camoa-moa poison was as effective as we’d hoped.
I sighed. “Let’s get in there, then.”
Otto grabbed a fistful of the blood-spattered dirt and walked to the door of the detention center. “Stand back,” he said to me as I followed. He lobbed the dirt at the door, and the grit landed with soft patters against the wood.
“No traps?” I asked with a glimmer of hope.
Otto shrugged, then stuck his hand past the tiny awning. Nothing happened.
Jingling chainmail and tromping boots sounded around the corner of the last courtyard as a familiar voice cried, “They’re headed for the prison block!”
“Sandra,” Otto growled as he spun on his heel to face the oncoming challenge.
I grabbed his arm and yanked him toward the door. “Renzik and Eisen first, they can help us. Let’s go.”
He wasn’t the only one who wanted to watch that monster get what was coming to her. I’m sure after Otto killed me, she’d done very creative things to him before leaving him in Patrick’s torture-capable hands. He must have been just as interested in seeing her slain in the most painful fashion as I was.
I pulled on the door to the detention center and it swung open with ease. “No locks?” I asked as I looked inside. The passage before us was short, only a few feet, and narrow. We had to walk single file to another narrow door.
“There!” A young man shouted with excitement, and I poked my head around Otto, getting a good view of the little soldier boy. He ran toward us, sword first, his helmet wiggling back and forth on his head. They’d tapped the whole army reserve for this one; it seemed even the freshest recruits were required to fight.
“Keep them off us,” Otto said as he squeezed past me to the closed door.
“Can do.” I lobbed a fireball at the charging child, whacking the loose helmet right off his head. He yelped and dropped to the ground, chasing his headgear as it rolled away through the powdery white sand. If this was all they had left to send at us, we would be in good shape.
“It’s locked by conventional means, but securely.” Otto rammed into the closed door with a heavy thunk and a “Gruh!”
“If only we had a thief right now.” I gritted my teeth as I thought of Jack and Cutter. If they’d come along, we likely wouldn’t even be in this situation, Tabor wouldn’t have died by Carrera’s goons, and we’d already know what the Faction Seal was for.
This was no time to be thinking of what-ifs. We needed to get through that door, save Eisen and Renzik, and get the hell out. The door was wood, and locked or not, wood didn’t like fire.
The kid retrieved his helmet with a groan and fiddled with the latch as he yelled, “Here! They’re over here!”
I turned back to my NPC, convinced the kid wasn’t going to advance without some backup. “Move over, Otto. I’ve got it.” He looked at me quizzically, but scooched around to face the open door. I opened my hands and placed them against the ironbound wood panels.
“Please
work,” I whispered, then said louder as I noticed Otto was directly behind me, “Maybe cover your ears or something, and get farther away. Like out of the tunnel.” He scowled and took another few steps toward the opening as the child-soldier shouted madly for backup.
I sucked in a breath and triggered Raging Inferno Blast.
Wood shrapnel, red-hot flames, and metal clasps bounced from wall to wall as I careened backward. I landed on my ass with a thump five feet from the second door. I’d blown a hole right through the six-inch-thick wood, just big enough for us to fit.
“Yes!” I pumped my fist with a gasp.
Otto scooped me from the ground and pushed me toward the still-smoldering opening. “It’s not time to celebrate yet,” he said as he lifted me through the jagged hole in the door.
The other side was another wide-open courtyard, with white sand stained by pockets of brown and red. There were chain and pulley style elevators on the east and west sides of the courtyard, and two narrow platforms that wrapped around the building, one ten feet up, and the other, thirty. Cages appeared all along the walkways, each with an opening at chest height, and a quiver of arrows hanging next to it. They were archer stations.
Pikes lined the windowless walls at the very top, and on them sat the lifeless heads of Risi, Wodes, Svartalfar, and more. “What is this?” I gasped in horror.
Otto jumped and dove through the opening, tucking and rolling as he hit the dirt. “They train the new recruits on live prisoners,” he said, coming to his feet. “It gets them familiar with killing, desensitizes them to pleas for mercy.”
Otto pointed to the pulley. “They’ll be down below.”
I gritted my teeth as I jogged along with him to the lift. The whole system seemed so cold, so like Osmark. Executing the prisoners by training their soldiers, two birds with one sword. Everything about it felt wrong, dirty, and despicable.