by HDA Roberts
"Ugh, another filthy human. What do you want?"
Already hated that girl. So glad I crossed dimensional boundaries to help her out of trouble.
"Queen Elora sent me to get you out. Where are the other prisoners?"
"Elora?" she said, standing, "It's about damned time! Do you have any idea how long I've had to sit here with that simpering little slime? Ten days! Ten days with nobody to do my hair; my nails are a mess. I've only got six outfits here, did you know that?"
"My heart bleeds for you," I said in my most neutral tone as she pulled a cloak from the cupboard.
"I'm not sure I like your tone, Human," she said acidly, glaring at me.
"I'm not sure I care, Princess," I said, just as coldly, "Now where are the other prisoners?"
"Prisoners? Oh, the lower creatures. The slime keeps them downstairs. Sometimes they scream. It wakes me up."
Downstairs? Why hadn't I Seen them? I hadn't even noticed a basement.
I refocused my Mage Sight and looked downwards. I still couldn't see any lower floors, but now that I was looking I did see several spells I'd never encountered before. They reminded me loosely of Illusion Magic, but more potent, with just the hint of Space Magic worked into the constructs. Space Magic is one of the few ways to conceal things from Mage Sight, mainly because you could use it to warp the very fabric of reality.
But the kidnapper still needed to be able to access his prisoners, and that meant that there was an entrance to the prison somewhere. I looked more carefully through the walls and rooms; eventually I found what looked like a doorway on the ground floor that led nowhere. That was a place to start.
I pulled the stone Grontor had given me out of my pocket and tossed it to the girl, who'd been watching me very intently while I searched. She caught it easily.
"I was told to give you that," I said.
"It doesn't work in here, fool! If it were that simple, I'd have left myself, ten days ago!"
I sighed, "Fine, you'll have to stay with me until I've gotten to the others."
"Unacceptable, I wish to leave now."
"Then go. Best of luck with the wards."
I turned and walked away. I heard her make a very frustrated sound, but she followed. As soon as she crossed the threshold of her room, I heard a distinct rumble. A second later, I felt a pulse of energy, and a chunk of wall seemed to come alive. The wooden panels splintered, falling away and a massive, squat shape pulled itself from the very stone. It was eight feet tall and six wide; it looked like some sort of half-finished sculpture, ugly and crude, with twin pools of sickly green light for eyes.
"You didn't disable this hole's defences?" the girl asked, her tone full of contempt, "Is this your first day, or something."
"Maybe," I said as the golem (I was guessing, it sure looked like a golem) charged.
I called Will and simply lifted it off the ground. It was heavy, strong and powerful, but it was built to fight Fairies, not Shadowborn Sorcerers. I saw the enchantments that were keeping it going, two little clutches of something energetic in its head and chest. I called my Shadows, and sent them forward, two heavy tendrils that stabbed into the stone, expanding to shatter the golem's outer layers until I could rip out two rather delicate crystals and crush them into powder.
The girl jumped up and down, clapping madly.
"Do it again! Do it again!" she squealed.
"No," I said, stepping around the golem chunks.
She chuckled and followed me.
It wasn't long before we were at the door that led nowhere, and I pulled it open. It revealed a set of stone stairs descending into a basement level. I walked down carefully, eyes and magical senses peeled for traps and monsters. I was picturing cells, maybe a rusty table, your traditional serial-killer type setup Hollywood has taught us to expect from such places.
But what I found down there was far, far worse than that.
It was a laboratory. And it was the most horrific thing I'd seen in my entire life. The room was massive, lined on one side by cages of all shapes and sizes. In every one was a Fairy creature, and each had been mutilated in some way.
There was a Centaur with a missing leg, an otter with shaved fur and surgical scars, three tiny women with scars on their backs where wings should have been, a red and black striped cat the size of a Labrador with a single horn on its head, two cages containing beautiful humanoid creatures, a man and a woman with dark-brown skin, each reaching for the other, just out of touch. Two more contained women with light blue skin, each seemingly badly dehydrated, their skin flaky and peeling.
It was horrible.
My thoughts immediately went to triage.
"Princess, get to the far end of this room and stay there, please," I said, walking down the line.
"Can any of you speak English?" I asked.
There was no response for a moment, but then the otter looked up. He had brown fur and intelligent eyes that were full of pain and hopelessness.
"Most of us can, Lord, but... most of us won't anymore," his voice was rich, but croaking.
"Queen Elora sent me, I'm here to get you out," I said, kneeling in front of his cage.
"Most of us are too weak, Lord. We wouldn't survive," he said sadly.
"I can heal you," I said, ignoring the ward on his cage and simply ripping the door away with my Will.
"You're one of his kind?" he asked, his eyes widening in terror. I think he would have backed away if he weren't in so much pain.
"No," I said softly, "I'm nothing like that... thing who did this."
I reached in for him as slowly as I dared.
"If that's true, then help them first, Lord," he said, gesturing weakly at the desperately stretching people, "they've been apart too long. They're a mated pair, you see; they're dying without each other."
I nodded and darted to their cages, ripping their doors off as well. I picked up the girl with more Will and moved her to the man, she seemed too light, like she was about to float away. Both looked nearly dead, barely moving or breathing. I placed her against him, gently moving his arms around her.
"Their hands, Lord, join their hands," the otter said.
I did as I was told, and sighed in relief as energy began to flow between them. Their colour improved almost immediately, lightening to a nut brown. At their joined hands, the skin began to turn a light green.
"That's good, Lord, now the Nymphs!"
"Nymphs?" I asked.
"The blue ones, Human," the princess said in a bored voice, leaning against the wall where I'd told her to go, inspecting her nails but otherwise appearing completely disinterested.
"Thank you," I said politely, moving to them, repeating my trick with the doors.
"They need water. There's a cistern in the corner," the otter said. We'll just call him Otter for simplicity.
The cistern was huge, connected to a pipe. I called more Will and simply yanked the top off. I peered in, and it was about half full of fresh water. I floated the half-dead girls over and into the liquid. They awoke after an moment, squealing happily as they splashed about in the water, drinking and pouring it all over themselves and each other.
"The Pixies, now, I think," Otter said, "but I don't know what you can do for them. The animal took their wings."
The cage contained three tiny women, none taller than my knee. They sat in a little heap, huddled and afraid.
"It's alright," I said gently, pulling the door away, "I'm here to help. Two recoiled, but one stayed still. I think she was almost catatonic. My eyes watered as I looked at those tiny, adorable creatures, brutalised by a monster. I would have moved the earth to help them if I had to.
Fixing her injury was just like repairing any other missing body part, it just happened to be a body part I had no experience with. Thankfully, the little fairy's body knew what it was missing.
"Is there food here?" I asked Otter.
"Over there, a vat of something," he replied.
I went over and filled a s
mall bowl with something that smelled vaguely edible, bringing it back and placing it next to the fairy along with a cup of water.
"I'm going to fix your wings now. You must eat and drink while I'm doing it, your body will need the nutrients, do you understand?" I asked gently.
"Fix... my wings?" she said in a hurt and tiny voice that broke my heart.
"Yes. You'll be alright, just eat, okay?"
She nodded and started eating mechanically. I focused on the ragged scars first. I used Mage Sight, examining her aura, which showed me exactly where her wings should be, and what they should look like. Her very essence knew and still remembered. I used that to build the Flesh Magic lattice, taking my time to make sure that I did it perfectly. It took a while, but eventually I was happy and cast the spell.
Slowly at first, the spell pulled her cells into place before causing them to divide and differentiate rapidly. That's the essence of Healing Magic, helping the body to restore its healthy, natural state. So it was really her own flesh that was doing the work to replace what was lost; I was simply providing the power and the mutability.
She ate and drank faster and faster as her metabolism sped up. The wings started growing, the underlying structure first, tiny bones and cartilage joints, spreading and growing until the thin membranes of glimmering tissue followed and slid into place.
Her little butterfly wings glowed and sparkled in a hundred wondrous colours as she flexed and fluttered them. The Pixie stood, looking over her shoulder with wonder in her teary eyes. The tiny creature just stood there for a long moment before she let out a scream of pure joy and darted into the air. She flickered around the room half a dozen times before flying back into the cage and landing next to her friends, who were beaming and hopeful, hugging her tightly.
Even Otter had perked up, his eyes showing some semblance of hope at last, the Centaur too. But just as quickly as it appeared, the hope was gone, and terror replaced it as a booming, ugly voice sounded from the stairs.
"What's going on here?" a man shouted, as he glared at me, "And who the hell are you?"
He was tall and handsome, with piercing blue eyes and a strong chin, blonde hair and strong shoulders. He wore a dark grey suit and a white lab coat, the latter stained with red and brown.
"I'm Graves," I said softly, standing to put myself between him and the Fairies, "Are you responsible for this?"
I was fairly sure he was, but I didn't want to mangle the wrong fellow. And after seeing what had been done in that basement, that's precisely what was going to happen to whoever I decided was to blame for it.
"And what if I am?" he asked, smiling nastily.
I felt him calling power, and my Mage Sight let me know right away that he was a Sorcerer, I couldn't detect any of the Black on him, but he was still high end, with a Flesh Magic affinity. I felt him readying an attack.
I beat him to it.
It was the first time I'd used my power to deliberately hurt a human being. The other times I'd been defending myself, doing what was necessary to survive, nothing more or less. This time I actively wanted to hurt someone.
A tendril of shadow punched straight through his hips, just above his groin. Razor sharp and stronger than steel, it pinned him hard to the wall, breaking every bone it touched. He screamed, and whatever spell he was planning collapsed instantly.
I cast my hardening spell, and the pike nailing him to the wall became permanent, leaving him pinned there like a butterfly in a display case.
I walked over to him and used my Telepathy to slide into his mind. He was in too much pain to defend himself, so it was easy to put him to sleep.
Then I started working on him, shoving a whole bunch of inhibitor spells into his psyche as deeply as I could, as well as some other things out of pure spite. I didn't touch his memory, as I wanted answers, but I altered just about everything else in some painful way. Finally, I checked the pin, and found that the pressure from my shadow-construct was holding his wound closed; he wouldn't bleed to death. Good, he wouldn't die before he could face justice for what he'd done.
I turned back to the cage, where the three pixies were cowering again. The rest of the creatures in the room were staring at me, fear back in their eyes.
How did Elora put it?
"On my heart and soul, I give you my oath, my word of honour, that I'm here to get you out of this place and set you free. I swear that I mean you no harm, and want only to heal you and get you home," I said, kneeling in front of the Pixies again.
They nodded, taking in my words. Oaths were a big thing to Fairies. And while I was in their realm, I'd be bound to my word as much as they would. Their Realm, their Magic.
One of the wingless Pixies came towards me.
"I trust you, Lord," she said, turning her back to me.
I noticed then that they were all a little different, but looked mostly of a type, delicate features, long, graceful limbs (proportionally speaking), thin and lovely with pointed ears and cute noses. They had golden hair and wore dresses made of tiny green leaves, turning brown now.
I brought more food and continued my work. It took another hour to restore both other Fairies' wings, by which time the other Fae had gathered, apart from the Otter and the Centaur, who couldn't move (and the Princess, who didn't care). The three Pixies flew around the room together, singing and happy, flying along to blow raspberries at the impaled Sorcerer before darting away again.
I warned them not to try and leave yet, because of the wards, and then turned towards Otter.
"No, Lord, Mercucio next," Otter said.
I shook my head, "He's missing a leg, you're missing a kidney and a lung."
This was far more delicate work, and took much, much longer. Everyone had time to eat from the vat of muck and grow bored before I was done. It took a couple of hours, in fact.
"Can I kill the slime, at least?" the Princess said in a whiny tone that I was growing increasingly annoyed with.
"No."
"Why?" she asked with an even louder whine and a pout as I finished up the last of Otter's repairs and moved over to Mercucio.
"One, because I want to know what he was doing here and why, and two, dying is too good for him. You can't suffer if you're dead," I replied, my voice getting a little ugly at the end there; I began my work on the lost leg, "And for this abomination, he really needs to suffer."
"Needless humanitarianism aside, I may be starting to like you, Human," she said.
I snorted and carried on; it took me the better part of another two long hours, all of it spent using energy and in intense concentration. I could rebuild everything the centaur had lost, but it would take weeks of careful exercise and eating to make it all work properly again, and I told both him and Otter so, though the latter wasn't listening too closely. The furry little creature was in the cistern with the nymphs, who stroked and played with him, much to his delight. The sight warmed my heart.
Mercucio stood tentatively on his restored leg.
"Gently," I warned.
He nodded and carefully placed weight on the limb, and it held, even if he had to walk with a slight limp for the moment.
"My gratitude," he said, bowing, "a Centaur who can't run is no Centaur."
"It was my pleasure," I said, returning the bow. And it really was. This was what Magic was for, I truly believed that, and for the first time in a very long time, I really felt as if I was doing something right.
Finally the cat, which should have been a simple job, just rebuilding that one missing horn, but it turned out that the horn was a very complex organ with thousands of energetic pathways linked to the other one. It took a while, but he purred like a traction engine when I was done, and nearly knocked me over rubbing against my leg. The horns arced with energy and he yawned widely, showing long and vicious fangs before walking over to sit next to the Flesh Magician, watching him like a shark eyes up a minnow.
I walked over to the man, who looked much the same; alive and slightly unwell.
I woke him.
He saw me, took in the spike through his torso (the pain of which I was suppressing), and tried to call his Magic. The commands and hexes I'd installed went to work and he screamed, losing his concentration, and control of his spell.
"Who the hell are you? What do you want?" he shouted as the pain disappeared, leaving him panting and sweating.
"I already told you, I'm Graves. And I want to know what you were doing here."
He ginned nastily, "You're far too late, you bastard!" he spat, "I've already made my delivery. There's nothing you can do to stop it now!"
"Stop what? And try not to overdo the amateur dramatics this time."
He swore at me and suggested I do a number of anatomically implausible things. I let him get it out of his system before speaking again.
"That spike in your hips can come out, or it can expand downwards, it's your choice," I said coldly, looking pointedly at his crotch; a threat no man could easily ignore.
He went pale, glaring hatefully at me, his eyes darting, looking for an escape. Finally, he sagged as if in surrender, "I provided Black Magic, pure energy. I got it by taking the subjects' essences and distilling them down, violating the magic to get the Black. I gave it all to my employer."
"Who?" I asked.
"I never knew. Rich though, powerful. They moved this house over here for me, funded my work."
"What's it for?"
He clammed up. I let the numbing spell lapse. He started screaming again.
Dimly, I thought that perhaps I shouldn't be torturing a man to the edge of his sanity, but whatever conscience I had didn't bother me in the slightest. If ever there was an evil man who deserved a good torturing, it was this guy.
"What's it for?" I repeated quietly.
"I don't know! I don't! He said something about Revenants, but that's it, I swear!"
I'd been looking in his mind while he spoke. He'd told the truth.
"How do I get these people out of here?"
