by Ben Hale
The second guard cursed again and struck the dice, and Shadow tipped them upward, bouncing them off the top of the wall. The surprised guards stepped to the courtyard wall and watched as the dice fell into the lake of acid.
Shadow grinned as he watched the dice melt and disappear.
“Shadow,” Elenyr murmured. “Do remember we need their help.”
“I thought you said gambling was a filthy habit,” Shadow said.
“It is,” Elenyr said. “But that doesn’t mean you can melt their dice.”
“Gambling is fun,” Sentara said. “But fun is not a virtue possessed by the Hauntress.”
Elenyr glared at Sentara while Shadow laughed. Few dared to stand up to the formidable Hauntress, and he enjoyed the spectacle. Elenyr noticed his expression and her scowl deepened, but before she could speak the last guard returned and waved for the gate to be opened. The thick portcullis clanked upward, allowing them into the small courtyard.
“Captain Jefsor would like to speak to you.”
Although he tried to hide it, his voice was hard. Elenyr glanced to Shadow, who shrugged like it didn’t matter. Rune and Sentara were talking about the prisoners, and Sentara was pointing to one of the prisoners, who had retreated to the back of his cell. He stared at Sentara with abject fear. Lorica frowned, making it clear she’d noticed the guard’s tension.
“Thank you,” Elenyr replied to the guard.
The five entered the courtyard and the guard swept a hand to the other two. They straightened and ambled to the portcullis, sealing it behind them. As Shadow crossed the courtyard, another trio of guards appeared from the barracks, and holes in the courtyard floor opened up.
“That doesn’t bode well,” Shadow said, pointing to the holes.
Captain Jefsor appeared at the gate to the control chamber, dressed in the customary green and grey of a dark elf captain. He was short for an elf, and oddly, had a beard. Shadow burst into a laugh.
“That’s better than a dwarven beard,” he said.
Captain Jefsor growled, his eyes on Elenyr. “An elf, two human women, a girl, and a vagabond.”
“Hey!” Shadow protested, looking to his traveling clothes. “I’m not a vagabond.”
“You expect me to believe the five of you are here on an order from the queen?”
“We are here to speak with Mimic,” Elenyr said.
“Not until we find out who you are,” Jefsor said.
He made a motion to someone out of sight, and there was a rush of sound. Shadow stepped away from one of the holes just before acid burst from the floor, spurting upward. A dozen other geysers rose, sealing them all inside.
“Captain, you’re making a mistake,” Elenyr said.
“No mistake,” Jefsor said. “Tell us who you are, or we’ll put you inside a cage and let you rot until you do speak.”
“I’m sorry,” Elenyr said. “But I really don’t have time for this. Someone else will be coming for Mimic soon, and we cannot afford to let her be taken.”
Elenyr turned ethereal and leapt through the acid. She drew her blade as she passed through the captain’s body, who cried out in fear. Elenyr placed her sword on his throat as she turned back to flesh. The courtyard was visible by the prisoners, who began to shout and call, rattling their cages.
“Captain,” Elenyr said, “please lower the acid. I’m only going to ask once.”
“Do as she says,” the captain said.
A guard obeyed the order and the acid dropped back into the courtyard floor. Just as it did, one of the guards at the gate called back to them, and all eyes turned to the three newcomers that had just entered the cavern.
“Two visitors in less than an hour?” Captain Jefsor asked.
Elenyr removed her sword and pointed to the new arrivals. “That, captain, would be the others come for Mimic.”
“You know them?” the captain asked.
Shadow smiled as he recognized them. Now it was getting interesting. “That would be two mind mages and a former rock troll king.”
Chapter 16: The Prisoner
Shadow watched Bartoth advance up the road to the prison entrance. It was the first time he’d seen the troll without his black armor, and he looked different. His brown skin was shadowed, tinged with grey, almost sickly. The helmet he’d worn had scarred his face and features, leaving lines across his nose and cheeks.
His two companions were obviously Zenif and Zoric, the two mind mages dressed as dark elf soldiers. As they approached, their features seemed to change, and he felt a faint tug on his consciousness, the whisper of mind magic.
“They’re going to look like dark elves,” Elenyr said.
“They do look like dark elves,” Captain Jefsor said.
The captain led them up a set of stairs to a room above the entrance. Through a narrow window, they watched the trio approach, the two mind mages in the lead. Shadow noticed Zenif’s uniform was that of a high captain, and Bartoth looked like a rock troll mercenary.
“They don’t want a battle,” Elenyr said.
“Too bad,” Sentara said, her sword in her hand. “They’re going to get one.”
Elenyr pointed to the hanging cages. “The guards could drop Mimic’s cage into the acid, and it looks like Zenif doesn’t want to risk them killing her.”
“They’ll be here in two minutes,” Lorica said. “We need a plan.”
“What exactly is going on?” Captain Jefsor demanded. “I believe you are here on Erisay’s order, but why so much effort to get one prisoner?”
“Mimic is no normal prisoner,” Lorica said. “She was first of the Queen’s Hand, the greatest assassin your people have had in ages. And Serak wants her.”
“Where is she?” Rune asked.
The captain stepped to the window overlooking the acid lake and pointed into the hanging cages. “There are four quadrants of the prison, each with a type of prisoner, mage, murderer, thief, and surface dwellers. The central platform is the common area, and the prisoners are permitted limited time together. Mimic is in the furthest cell of the murderer quadrant. She has anti-magic shackles and bars.”
“Is there a back exit to the prison?” Elenyr asked. “One where we can slip her out?”
“You want to take her?” Captain Jefsor asked. “She’s the most dangerous person here. If she escapes, we won’t catch her again, and there’s no telling how many she will kill.”
“If they get her,” Elenyr said, “they will give her more power.”
“I don’t know what the problem is,” Sentara said with a shrug. “There’s only three of them. And we have Rune, an assassin, the Hauntress, and a former fragment. Let’s just kill them.”
“She’s right,” Shadow said. “Bartoth doesn’t have his armor, and I don’t think we’re going to get a better chance.”
Shadow didn’t say that he cared little for Mimic. He just wanted to fight Bartoth when he didn’t have his armor, and imagined telling his brothers he’d defeated the former rock troll king when his brothers had failed. A smile spread on his face as he foresaw that conversation.
“Mimic is the priority,” Elenyr said. “We need to get her out.”
“Elenyr?” Rune asked. “I think the choice is being made for us.”
Shadow darted to the window. The three on the road had come to a halt, and Bartoth had drawn his sword. Shadow’s smile widened as he realized the two mind mages had probably sensed their presence.
“Captain?” Elenyr said. “Whatever defenses you have, I suggest you get them ready.”
“There’s just three of them,” Captain Jefsor said. “What can they do?”
Bartoth surged into a run, sprinting up the roadway with shocking speed. His feet pounded on the stone, and the prisoners of The Melting came to their feet, sensing the impending strike. Captain Jefsor barked an order and acid burst from above the road, pouring into Bartoth’s path.
The rock troll leapt into a flip that carried him above one spout. He landed on the opposite si
de and flipped again, and then used his sword to deflect the next spout of acid. The liquid sprayed to the side, but the rock troll managed to evade, moving even faster than the flowing green liquid. His sword went unscathed.
“Lieutenant!” the captain shouted. “Full defenses! Now!”
Elenyr drew her sword. “Lorica, Shadow, get Mimic out. Do whatever you have to. Sentara and Rune are with me.”
“It’s about time,” Sentara said.
She too, had her sword in hand and darted to the steps leading to the courtyard. Rune cast an uncertain look out the window and then followed. Elenyr stepped close to Shadow and lowered her voice.
“Whatever it takes,” she said. “Don’t let them have her.”
“Done,” Shadow said.
He sprinted over the steps and dropped into the courtyard, landing as Bartoth reached the outer portcullis. The rock troll leaned his shoulder into the blow and slammed into the steel bars. Flesh and bone met steel, and it was steel that gave way.
The bars bent inward, the stone moorings cracking from the impact. Seeing that Bartoth was momentarily on the opposite side of the gate, he reached to the shadows in the alcove and cast a sliver of darkness, which he stabbed into Bartoth’s foot. The mighty rock troll began hopping like a child with a stubbed toe.
“I’ll cut you to shreds,” he growled.
“You should put some herbs on that,” Shadow said. “Before it gets infected.”
“Shadow,” Lorica called, dropping to his side. “Will you stop messing around.”
“Never,” Shadow said, but followed her into the control chamber.
Guards rushed to the courtyard, gathering weapons tipped with acid. Shadow and Lorica passed through the soldiers to reach the interior, where a pair of operators franticly sought to work the levers.
The hanging cages began to shift and move, spinning around the inside tracks, moving further from the guard station. The dark elf in command, a woman with silver hair and a scar on her arm, looked up at their entrance.
“We’re moving all the cells to the back wall, as far as we can from the conflict.”
Clang.
Bartoth struck the portcullis again, the metal bending and screeching, the stone crumbling. Lorica leaned back and looked through the door. She grimaced at what she saw and stabbed a finger to the entrance.
“That’s not going to last long.”
“Any way to make the cages move faster?” Shadow asked.
“Only in emergencies,” she said.
“I think this qualifies,” Shadow said.
The woman reached for a lever, and hesitated. She blinked in confusion, her hands trembling before she reached for a second lever and pulled it. The hanging cages came to a halt, where they rocked on the chains before reversing direction.
“What are you doing?” Lorica demanded.
“I have new orders,” she intoned.
“Zenif is manipulating her mind,” Shadow said.
The woman shook her head and grimaced, and then her features smoothed out before she pressed a second rune. The cages accelerated, gliding toward the roadway, closer to Zenif and Zoric.
“Sorry,” Shadow said, and struck her on the side of her head.
The woman collapsed to the floor and tried to rise, so Shadow struck her again. A shout came from outside and two of the guards sprinted toward the control chamber. Lorica blocked one swinging sword and deflected the other upward. The two weapons were both tipped with acid, and one tumbled from the dark elf’s grip. It fell into the levers and runes, the acid causing it to sink into the controls.
A dull whine came from within, and suddenly the tracks in the ceiling shifted, turning into concentric circles. The chains began to accelerate, spinning around the circles and dragging the cells. The prisoners howled as their cages spun above the acid lake.
“What did you do?” Shadow demanded.
“It’s not like I meant to,” she said, pulling the lever that would shut the portcullis. “We need to get Mimic.”
“There she goes,” Shadow said.
He pointed to her cage as the dark elf sped by. The woman looked exactly as she had the last time they had met in Mistkeep, her skin sallow and mottled, diseased. Her eyes were cold and unblinking, even as her cell whirled above the acid lake. The shackles were on her ankles, binding her to the cage.
“We need to get to her before Bartoth does,” Lorica said.
“You want to get on the spinning cages of deadly prisoners that hangs above a lake of acid?” Shadow asked.
“You don’t?”
Shadow laughed. “Of course I do. I just wanted to make sure you did.”
“At least my wings work down here,” she said, and her cloak unrolled. “If you fall, you’re going to land in acid, and I don’t think even you can survive that.”
“A lake of acid makes everything better,” Shadow said.
“Nobody would think that except you.”
He climbed up to the window’s edge and looked out at the spinning cages. They were arcing twenty feet away, at least on the outer ring, and once he was on a cage, he would have to jump from cage to cage to reach Mimic’s cell.
Lorica leapt out the window, her cloak unfurling into bright wings. She flapped once and Shadow jumped, catching her hand and swinging outward. A hundred feet above a sea of boiling acid, he soared, and then landed above a cage. He caught a chain and held on as they spun past the outer guard house.
Crunch.
The portcullis crashed inward, the stone mooring unable to withstand Bartoth’s blows. He charged into the gathered solders in the courtyard, leading with his sword. At impossible speed, he spun into a whirlwind of blades, deflecting weapons and striking guards. Elenyr, Sentara, and Rune joined the battle, but Bartoth still had time to rip a spear from a soldier and hurl it at Lorica.
“Look out!” Shadow called.
She ducked, but the spear scored a line across her wing, the acid-tipped blade cutting into the fabric. It fluttered, and she dropped onto a cage several back from him. She examined the rent and grimaced, and Shadow realized that it would no longer be safe for her to fly, not while Bartoth was there.
Bartoth deflected Elenyr’s sword and picked up a dark elf, tossing him into the acid lake. The elf screamed as he plunged into the liquid. His hand resurfaced, waving wildly as the gauntlet melted. Then he was gone.
The prisoners were in an uproar, shouting and screaming in the cavern. Spinning around the outside of the prison, Shadow searched for Mimic’s cell, and spotted her seven cells ahead. He charged the edge of the cell roof and jumped to the next, just managing to land on the edge.
“Hey Shadow,” the Red Elf growled.
The prisoner had climbed the bars and he reached up, attempting to grab his ankle. Shadow yanked his ankle free and kicked the elf in the face, knocking him back into his cell. The elf shouted and held his face.
“You broke my nose—again!”
“I wish I could play,” Shadow lamented, “but I do have a task to complete.”
Shadow sprinted to the next, leaping to the following cell. He looked back and spotted Lorica following his example. They’d rotated halfway around the cavern and starting to turn back, bringing the guard station back into view.
Half the soldiers were dead, and Bartoth had cut off the acid flow on the approach road, allowing Zoric and Zenif to leap forward. Then Bartoth landed a blow on Elenyr, knocking her into a wall. He spun and deflected a blast of fire from Rune. Driving past Sentara, he stepped on the edge of the courtyard and leapt high.
The prisoner in the cell cried out as Bartoth caught the bars of his cell, the rock troll’s weight throwing it off balance. The cell careened into a neighboring cell and crashed together, the chains groaning from the weight. Bartoth dragged himself upward just as a chain broke. He leapt to the nearest cell, allowing the careening cell to break free. The dark elf inside screamed as his cell fell into the acid lake.
In the courtyard, the two mind m
ages engaged Elenyr, Sentara and Rune, the battle quickly turning bloody. Shadow turned away and leapt to the next cell, charging across and jumping to Mimic’s cell. He landed hard, ducking as a piece of chain flipped about from a broken cell, nearly striking him in the head. He leaned over the roof and looked down at Mimic, who met his gaze with the same disturbing calm.
“Shadow,” she said coldly.
“Mimic,” he replied. “Would you rather end up with him? Or me?”
She regarded him for several moments, and her eyes flicked to Bartoth, who had destroyed three cells in his charge across the prison. Thresher screamed as he plummeted into the acid. Then Mimic reached down and withdrew a small sliver of metal from under her sleeve, which she jammed into Shadow’s arm.
“I choose him,” she said, and shoved him free of the cell.
Chapter 17: Vanquished
Dazed from the impact with the wall, Elenyr cursed Bartoth’s speed. It had been some time since anyone had landed such a heavy blow and it had nearly crushed her chest. She rose to her feet and looked to the swinging cells—and saw Shadow be stabbed by Mimic.
He flinched from the sudden wound, and Mimic dislodged his fingers and shoved, sending him tumbling away from the spinning cell. In horror, Elenyr watched as her son fell towards the lake of acid.
Lorica dropped from the cell she was riding and her cloak spread into wings. She dove for Shadow, both hurtling towards the deadly surface. She reached her hand out and Shadow reached up. Their hands clasped and she swooped upward, but Shadow’s feet grazed the acid, melting the heel of a his boot as she banked upward. Elenyr released her held breath, her head pounding with relief.
“He’s not your son, you know.”
Elenyr rotated to meet Zenif’s gaze. The mind mage regarded her with contempt, his lips curled into a sneer. She flicked her sword, the anger sharp and sudden, empowered by her fear. She stalked across the bloody courtyard.
“My family is mine,” she snarled.
She darted in, slashing low, her sword passing through his leg as if it was a mirage. She scowled and spun, finding another Zenif standing nearby. And then another. Zenif was not strong enough to pierce her thoughts, but he was strong enough to insert one of his own, and make her see duplicates of himself.
