by Ian Rodgers
“Just my luck,” Dora snorted.
As she was about to collapse onto the bed faint echoes could suddenly be heard. Tensing, she returned to the door and peered past the bars, and a breath of relief escaped her.
Lord Tiegan himself was walking down the corridor flanked by a pair of armored soldiers. Upon arriving at Dora’s cell the elderly man gave a thin smile.
“Hello again, Miss Dora. I don’t believe we’ve ever actually talked before now. Such a shame.”
“Greetings as well, Lord Tiegan,” Dora replied politely.
“I am quite sorry for this inconvenience, but you are sadly one of the prime suspects in Dominick Krave’s death,” the greying haired man said.
“I didn’t kill him!” Dora protested, grabbing onto the bars and pushing her face up close to stare at the Lord of the East Tower.
“Perhaps not, but you’re one of the few people without a collar to be as close to the deceased lord as you were over the past few weeks. Unfortunately, that puts you rather high on a very short list.”
“What does being uncollared have to do with anything?” Dora demanded.
“All slaves within the walls of Annod Bol are collared, as you know. What many don’t know is that a slave cannot try to harm any of the Tower Lords as long as they are within the city thanks to a wide scale spell tied to the runes on the collars, regardless of who wears them or made them. Not even if ordered can a slave attempt to damage me or Krave. As such, only a free person, like yourself, could have brought about the Lord of the West Tower’s death.”
“I’m a Healer! Plus, I’d never try to kill Krave, as much as I loathed him! He held my family’s life in the palm of his sweaty hand!” Dora argued.
“All true. Sadly, just because you are a Healer doesn’t mean much for your defense. After all, you’re not technically one, right? You’ve said so repeatedly.”
“Well, yes, but, I mean…”
“Miss Dora, I assure you that you and the Yellowmoon Menagerie will come to no harm. Unless you’re proven guilty, of course, but if you’re so adamant on denying your involvement I’m sure it will turn out fine,” Tiegan cut in. The half-orc was unsure if he was being sarcastic or not with that last sentence.
“Anyways, try to stay comfortable while we sort this out.”
“How long will I have to wait for a trial?” Dora inquired. Lord Tiegan’s expression soured.
“It might take a while. The city is on the verge of anarchy. The slaves are unhappy with our decision to arrest you and I’m forced to focus much of my attention on quelling this unrest. It may be a month before you’re given due process.”
“A month!” Dora exclaimed.
“Indeed. I do apologize for that.” Tiegan reached into a pocket on his finely made trousers and removed a small iron idol. “Here, a consolation gift. One of your crew mates, Reesh I believe, wanted me to give you this to keep you company in your cell.”
With shaking hands Dora accepted the miniature effigy of Naliot. Squat and made of cast iron, it was a simple, inelegant tool for prayer no bigger than a fist.
She’d never prayed to the Chained God, but it was something to spruce up the dreary room. And it proved her family was thinking of her. She offered Tiegan a weak smile of thanks and retreated to the bed.
Lord Tiegan merely nodded and turned to leave, leaving the half-orc to her solitary confinement.
.
“Bored. Bored. Bored,” Dora grunted, each utterance of ‘bored’ accompanying a grunt of effort as she did push-ups on the floor next to her bed.
Working out was one of the few things she could do besides sleep in the empty cell, and trying to keep herself occupied she dove into it with a passion.
Three days had gone by since Tiegan had visited. The only other person she’d seen since then was the guard who brought her food and water twice a day. The man was a silent one, never speaking or making a sound. Dora half believed he was mute with the lack of noise he made.
With a huff Dora finished her reps for the day, sitting down on the floor and panting softly. As she caught her breath, her attention was brought to the tiny idol of Naliot once more. Every day since she had received it her attention drifted towards the religious artifact but she resisted its allure. It sat under her bed, her only link to the outside world.
She kept it close, but hadn’t been able to bring herself to pray with it. It was a conduit of a dark god, after all.
However, in the pale blue light of her cell, the shadows cast by the bed on the idol made it look alive, almost as if the god in miniature was watching her. Staring. Judging.
“Fine! Damn your gift, Reesh, and damn me for using it,” Dora muttered angrily after staring back at the object for a while. She grabbed it and placed the iron artifact on the edge of her cot and settled into a cross-legged stance.
It didn’t matter what position a person took when they prayed. On their knees, cross-legged, on a bench, even upside down. As long as devotion and a desire to speak with the gods was present any style would suffice.
She closed her eyes and took a shaky breath. “Oh Lord Naliot, great master of chains and binder of men. I have never prayed to you before, but seeing as you are the god of capture and imprisonment, perhaps you might extend to me a boon so I might free myself?”
Dora paused, searching for her next words. “I hope this doesn’t sound flippant or anything. It’s been awhile since I’ve truly prayed or made vows on any deity, so I’m a tad rusty.”
Another pause. Nothing seemed to change around her or within her, and a frown took over the half-orc Healer’s face.
“Is it because I’ve never prayed before that you refuse to speak to me? Or are you like Cynthia and the rest of the Divine Family; staying silent and waiting for us to make our own choices?” Bitterness flooded Dora’s voice. “Fine. I suppose this was a stretch. Sorry for bothering you, oh trapper of souls.”
“My dear, you could never bother me. In fact, I relish the opportunity to speak with someone who isn’t bending over backwards to please me just to get a blessing or two.”
Dora stiffened as the unknown voice reached her ears. A lump of nervousness appeared in her throat and she swallowed it with an audible gulp.
“Lord Naliot? Is that you?”
“Why don’t you open your eyes and see for yourself.”
The young green skinned maiden obeyed, eyes flickering open. Her jaw dropped as she beheld her surroundings.
She was no longer in her grey jail cell. Instead she was seated in an iron cage, not unlike the ones that the Menagerie used to transport dangerous beasts. Said cage was on a yellow and brown carpet, which covered the floor of a wooden cabin.
Though cabin was perhaps the wrong word for it. It was too large and decorated for a mere ‘cabin’ like one would find in a poor village or town. The dwelling was made of rich dark wood and was filled with colorful tapestries and gilded artifacts. Whips, prods, and Mancatchers of countless designs and materials covered the walls like trophies. Chains made of gold, silver, bronze, and iron hung from the roof like festive streamers, while miniature cages covered every conceivable surface. Within them were tiny toys.
No, on closer inspection they held actual people and animals, shrunk down to fit inside their containers!
Before her was a being enveloped by an immense aura. On a throne made from dozens of small cages stacked together sat a male humanoid wrapped head to toe in chains. Only his mouth could be seen properly, though two copper orbs of lights peered out from the links in the chains that bound his head.
“Naliot,” Dora whispered in awe.
“Yes, ‘tis indeed I. Bask in my radiance, child. Feel honored that I am the first god to grace your eyes,” the Chained One uttered, holding his arms wide as if to receive applause. And he did, from the countless prisoners surrounding him.
“So, how might I serve my latest visitor?”
“I wish to be free. Though since that is unlikely to be granted, how about some t
ips on escaping myself?” Dora asked, hiding her fear deep inside as she spoke. She had no idea what had possessed her to speak in such a crass manner to a freaking god, but she just kept talking against her better judgement.
Thankfully, Naliot did not appear to be offended. The only acknowledgment he gave was a tilt of his head as he appraised the woman and her request.
“Unfortunately, I cannot wave my hand and unlock the door to your prison cell. I mean, I could, but what purpose would it serve me to do so? All who are in bondage serve me and my power, so why would I release someone who gives me strength?”
“So, you draw power from slavery. I suppose I should have known, given your moniker,” Dora sighed in defeat. For some reason though the god took on an offended air at that comment.
“’Twas mortals who gave to me the designation of ‘God of Slavers.’ ‘Twas not my original purpose. Or my intent.”
“Your powers and blessings are used to keep people locked up. Your name is inscribed on every slave-collar. Be they in prison for a crime or enslaved for other purposes, you are the one they curse or plead towards,” Dora replied.
Naliot snorted and shifted his body slightly. The chains wrapped around his body creaked and groaned and grated.
“Dear child, I am the embodiment of more than mere jailers and slavers. I am deprivation and restraint. I am loss and gain.” Naliot leaned in to the Healer who cowered under the god’s unblinking gaze. “And I am punishment and purpose. It is not my fault mortals fear such things, and forget the one Truth of existence.”
“And what truth would that be?” Dora demanded, though it came out shakier than she’d hoped.
“That there is no such thing as freedom.”
“What?! That’s ridiculous!”
“Is it?” Naliot leaned back in his throne of metal and prisoners as he regarded the child before him. “Can you walk on walls? Fly through the air? Bathe in lava?”
“Well, no, but with spells…”
“Bah! Shortcuts and temporary lies to befuddle reality! You see, little one, that there are rules everywhere, even if they are unknown to you. Why can a bird fly, but not, say, elves, even if they flap their arms? The answer is wings, but also, rules of nature. Of evolution and aerodynamics.”
“I’m not familiar with those two terms,” Dora admitted.
“Understandable. They come from a realm far more scientifically advanced than yours. But that is beside the point. More than mere laws laid down by mortals and their governments, there are some that exist in reality by dint of being part of said reality. If there was true, absolute freedom, mortals could walk upside down in the air while it rained gravy. But it is not possible to do so. Because there are rules in place to stop such things from happening.”
Naliot’s expression turned dark. “It’s thanks to those rules we are even alive right now. Aun’s commandments are all that keep the Void from swallowing us up whenever it pleases.”
“So, you see, rules and bindings are a good thing. They are what I am made of. I am older than Kardale, the so-called ‘God of Justice,’ and I was serving as Judge, Jury, and Jailer long before he stepped in. Mortals are who twisted my existence into something darker and less wholesome.”
“Eventually, what happened to me will happen to poor little Selika as well,” Naliot said sadly as he thought of Cynthia’s eldest child. “Even if it comes with a pretty face, death is something that is feared. She will be twisted and reshaped by the very believers she serves.”
“What does this have to do with me?” Dora asked, putting aside all of the Chained God’s words for the moment. “If you’re not going to help me escape, why bother bringing me here to your realm?”
“No reason, really. I was just curious. It’s not every century someone with a soul like yours prays to me,” Naliot admitted.
“You brought me here just to talk?” Dora inquired incredulously. Unconsciously she brought a hand over her chest at the mention of her soul. Why did that cause such uneasy feelings in her?
“Indeed. I was curious as to how someone like you ended up in the company of Scarrot Yellowmoon.” At the orc’s name, Naliot’s grim expression turned thoughtful.
“He is one of the few beings who understands me. Emulates me. He wraps himself in chains to bind his heart and mind so he never suffers again. They call him my Paladin, a champion who embodies my strength and greatness thanks to my divine blessings, yet I have never given him more than what he asked for. All his strength of both body and mind they fear? That is all his own effort and power.”
“He’s a bitter and cold man,” Dora spat, rubbing her throat as phantom pains stung her.
“True. But he has every reason to be. Think about that.”
Dora grimaced but nodded her head all the same. It would do her no good to anger a god. Well, anymore then she might have already with her flippant attitude and words.
Naliot merely smirked down at her and made an arcane gesture with his hand. Power bubbled up from the action and despite her bindings Dora felt the magic suffuse her entire being.
“Remember, child of lilies, it is one thing to be free, it is another to be happy. If you take nothing else from our meeting, then let it be this: Balance is Key.”
Her eyes shot open.
“Wha-what?” She looked around the cell in confusion. But she had been in another world just seconds ago!
“Urgh, what in the Hells,” Dora groaned as she felt a headache creep up on her.
“Can’t believe I expected anything helpful from a god. They help those who help themselves, after all,” she grumbled and slapped both hands down on the cot.
At that action the metal idol of Naliot, perched precariously on the mattress edge, wobbled violently. Dora sucked in a breath and watched as it bobbled and then slowly tipped over, smacking into the floor with an audible clunk.
Dora winced as the clang of iron on grey tile echoed through her room and more than likely through the hall beyond. However, no one came to admonish her. After her nerves settled a look of confusion crossed over her face as she stared at the fallen idol.
Tentatively Dora picked up the metal effigy and peered at it. Solid metal shouldn’t make such a hollow sounding clunk. She carefully looked it over until she spotted a thin line around Naliot’s neck. Without her superior orchish eyesight she wouldn’t have noticed it under the pale blue light.
And if the idol hadn’t lost its balance on the cot she’d never have heard the difference.
“Balance is the key, huh?” Dora mused, reflecting on the Chained One’s last words. She gripped the head of effigy and twisted. It took a few times to find the right way to remove the head but when it came off she stifled a gasp.
Inside the hollowed out interior of the handheld statue were three familiar color-coded ceramic jars.
Dora gingerly removed the containers of alchemical salve she had received from Reed way back when in Creidor. She’d all but forgotten them in the turmoil of the trek to Annod Bol and the subsequent excitement within and around its walls.
“Alright, message received. Thanks, Lord Naliot,” Dora whispered to herself. After putting the idol’s head back on she swore she saw it wink at her.
The next few hours were practically torture. She planned on making her escape after dinner was delivered and the dishes from breakfast picked up. Now that she had a goal waiting was painful.
But finally, the guard came and went, and after consuming the meal for energy she popped off the tiny metal effigy’s head like a cork and removed the yellow jar.
Daintily, Dora dabbed her left index finger in the Salve of Sharpness and got a bit of the enchanted oil on it. Then, she slid the tip of her finger along the edge of the cell door’s hinges. It took a bit of time and effort, but at last she had managed to cut through it allowing her to move the door slightly out of its frame.
The young Healer was thankful the door was not made of the same mysterious grey material as the rest of the room. Had it been so, she d
oubted her enchanted finger alone would have been enough.
Once done, she gathered the other two tiny jars and hid them in a pocket of her clothes alongside the Salve of Sharpness. Slipping out of the compromised cell, Dora crept down the hallway in the opposite direction from where the guard came. She wasn’t sure where she was exactly, but hopefully she’d find a way out soon.
At the end of the corridor the half-orc encountered a door. Mostly wood, like the one at her jail cell. And locked, much to her disappointment. With a little more Sharpness Salve her problem was solved. Though instead of taking her time to undo the door via its hinges, she just jabbed it into the lock, cutting it to pieces.
“Damn, this stuff is good,” Dora muttered in awe as her finger acted like a finely crafted iron dagger on the innocent obstruction. “I have to ask Reed where he got it so I can buy some more. Who care about price, this stuff is amazing!”
With the door now open, Dora peered out into yet another corridor, also uniformly grey and dull. She sighed in annoyance but crept out. It was better than nothing.
‘Alright, I just need a person who can tell me where I am and where I need to go to find Kari,’ Dora thought to herself. She planned on making her way to the only other person she knew in the tower to try and clear her name with the raven-haired beauty’s help. It should be easy with her two Bloodline Traits, right?
Stalking through the winding maze that was the tower, Dora found her patience growing thin. Everything looked the same in here! Only occasionally did something break the monotony of grey, grey, and oooh look, more grey! Vases full of bright flowers and masterfully done paintings and sculptures were the most common, but even then it was hard to navigate.
Luck appeared to be on the green skinned maiden’s side when a maid appeared around a bend, almost running into Dora. The woman stiffened in shock at the half-orc’s appearance, and once she noticed a lack of a collar around her neck, the maid opened her mouth to scream.
Dora could not afford that and clamped a hand over her mouth.
“Not a peep out of you, please!” Dora ordered. She pushed the maid up against the wall after a quick look around the area. She then faced the woman, who had a bronze ring around her neck, marking her as a slave.