by Ian Rodgers
“What about the control room? Where is the place we can command the Aegis Sphere?” Krave demanded. Kari silently looked around before pointing to a wall.
“Through there is the room where a Titan drove the Aegis Sphere,” she announced.
With the spherical key held before her the wall melted away, revealing an unassuming room. A single chair faced a wide desk covered in knobs, buttons, screens and levers.
“We’re going to need to get some ladders in here,” Tiegan mused as he looked around at the gigantic upside surroundings.
“Will you be able to use the Aegis Sphere?” Krave demanded of Kari. She hesitantly placed a hand on the wall and let her powers flow.
“I think I can,” Kari said hesitantly. “There’s so much this thing can do, and all of the steps to use the Aegis Sphere are complicated. It might take me a while to figure out how it all works, even with my Godhands Trait.”
“Very good. That will make everything easier,” the Lord of the East Tower praised. Krave just nodded, his breathing labored.
“Now that we have the artifact under our control, all we need to do is set up some guards to make sure none of the other Tower Lords get any bright ideas about ownership,” Tiegan stated. He then turned to Kari and Dora.
“I believe we’ve made use of you long enough. Unless Krave has any other plans for you?”
“Not at the moment,” the fat lord wheezed. He faced Kari. “Return to your room and await further instructions.”
Kari gave a stiff bow and headed off, the half-orc Healer hot on her heels. Clutched to the collared woman’s chest was the Aegis Sphere’s key, glowing brighter than it ever had before.
They did not stay in the Aegis Sphere or the ruins themselves for much longer, much to Dora’s delight, and the two women returned to Annod Bol much earlier than they usually did.
“Now what do you think will happen?” Dora asked as she sat across from Kari in the carriage.
“Don’t know, don’t care,” Kari said tersely.
“Is everything alright?” Dora inquired, leaning forward. The raven-haired slave looked down at the oblong key in her hands and sighed.
“There is just so much power in this tiny object. And the device it goes with is even more incredible than rumors said! I want nothing more to examine it in depth. But now that my job is done I doubt I’ll be afforded such freedoms and luxuries anymore. I just wish I was stronger. Maybe if I was, I could find the strength to escape.”
Dora had nothing to say on that matter and awkwardly looked away.
“At least Krave won’t be bothering me for much longer,” Kari said, a tiny smile on her lips. “Tiegan seems much better as a master.”
“What do you mean?”
“Look at how sickly my illustrious lord has gotten,” the slave said with a cruel chuckle. “I bet he’ll keel over dead any day now. Fat bastard has it coming anyways.”
“And when Krave dies, since Tiegan is his ‘partner in crime’ in this endeavor, I don’t doubt he will spare no expense to buy me from my previous owner’s estate.”
“Krave isn’t sick, he’s just tired,” Dora protested weakly. “And I saw no signs of poisoning.”
Kari just let out a harrumph and settled back into the seats. “A girl can dream, can’t she?”
The rest of the ride to the City of Slaves was mercifully uneventful, even though Dora felt a tingling sense of worry gnawing at the back of her mind. But whenever she tried to figure out what it was, it slipped away.
.
“Dora!”
The half-orc turned around at her name, smiling when she saw Reesh running over to her.
“Hey, Reesh. How’s it going?”
“Don’t you ‘how’s it going’ me!” the handyman snapped. Dora raised an eyebrow at his attitude.
“What are you doing walking around the market without an escort? Hells, what are you doing back in Annod Bol?” the Yellowmoon Menagerie’s fix-it fellow hissed, taking her by the arm and escorting her down the streets.
“Kari and I finished what the two Tower Lords wanted for us earlier than expected, so after we returned to the city I thought I’d like to look around for a bit,” Dora explained. “I’ve never seen anything like it! There’s so many different goods from all over! I saw ivory from Val’Narash, and silk from Distant Qwan!”
“And so, you thought gallivanting around was a good idea?! Do you not remember what I told you about how the slaves here might see you as a savior of sorts after what you did?” Reesh demanded angrily.
Dora flinched. She had forgotten. She’d tried to suppress and forget a lot of what had happened yesterday, and that particular piece of information had been put far to the back of her mind.
“I’ve been careful!” Dora protested. “I haven’t used any magic, nor have I gotten close to any of the slaves!”
“You can’t avoid them, Dora, they’re everywhere!” Reesh retorted. “This is the City of Slaves! Did you think they named it because they thought it sounded cool?”
“Why are you so mad, Reesh?” Dora asked, shoulders slumping. The man she saw as a brother sighed and ran a hand over his face in defeat.
“Because if anything else happened to you, I don’t know what I’d do,” he said softly.
Dora stared at him in confusion and more than a little bit of embarrassment. Reesh coughed into his fist and explained.
“What I mean is, we’d all be hurt. The caravan. Everyone in the caravan. Not just me. You’re a precious part of the family, Dora. And if I, I mean we, lost you for whatever reason the world would be a darker place.”
The half-orc maiden smiled kindly and held out a hand to the blushing crewmember.
“Would you mind being my escort for the day, Reesh? I’ll need someone to carry my purchases.”
“Lead on,” Reesh said, giving a playful bow. Dora giggled and took the taller man’s hand, feeling oddly at peace in this place of depravity.
.
“Do you think Rindel will be able to cook all of this?” Dora asked in concern as she shifted the burlap sack slung across her shoulder to a better position.
“If he can’t that just means there will be leftovers,” Reesh joked, two sacks of his own underneath his arms.
“At least this will make a good going away feast,” the Healer said. “Now that Krave has his artifact up and running hopefully he’ll release us.”
“One can only hope,” the handyman agreed. They arrived at the barracks earlier than when Dora would normally return from her job as Kari’s handler, so the crewmembers of the Yellowmoon Menagerie who had been milling around were caught by surprise when they saw her walking over with Reesh and several sacks full of ingredients.
“Hey guys! I got out of work early and decided to pick up some stuff for Rindel to work with tonight,” Dora said happily with a wave.
The Menagerie’s workers smiled with relief at seeing their precocious Healer smiling again.
“Looks like a feast!” one of the men called out.
“Aye, it does! Our minty Healer is too good for us!” another replied. Dora looked away, embarrassed by the cheerful comments. She brought the stuffed bags into the barracks and passed them off to the kitchen where their Quartermaster was taking note of their food supplies.
“Yes, I suppose I can whip up a decent meal with this,” Rindel assented as he looked over what Dora and Reesh had brought.
“Plenty of flour and honey and jam, I see. I suppose I know which treat Dora wants me to bake,” the gnome said with a knowing smirk.
Dora blushed.
“Alright, if you want to help me prepare, I won’t turn down some extra hands. Otherwise, try not to get underfoot,” Rindel said as he started to bustle around the battlefield known as the kitchen.
With a smile, the green skinned young woman stepped up to help, feeling as if her worries were all permanently part of the past.
It was a few hours later when the half-orc and the gnome emerged from kitchen car
rying plates and platters laden with hearty meals.
“This all looks amazing, Rindel! I suppose what they say is true: a woman’s touch makes everything better!” Reesh exclaimed as he looked over the food. His sentiment was echoed with a cheer as the crew settled down to eat.
The mess hall soon filled up with the chattered up of the Menagerie’s men, and Dora ate the food in contentment. Scarrot was not there, electing to eat in his room. Which was for the best after what had happened last night. Dora wasn’t sure if she could face him at the moment.
In the end, she didn’t have to. Dinner ended without incident, but just as the last of the dusk bled away into true nightfall, something else occurred.
At first, there had been more clanking of metal outside the barracks than usual. Perhaps a large shipment of slaves had come in for the West Tower.
But it only grew louder, and it wasn’t the clink of chains, but something more solid. And it was accompanied by the thud of boots.
Without warning the door to the mess hall blew open, and a dozen men in armor rushed inside. Most wore the livery of House Krave, the rest wore the dark green vulture emblem of House Tiegan.
“What is the meaning of this?” Holt shouted as he rose from his seat.
“We are here for Dora of the Yellowmoon Menagerie,” one of the knights declared.
“On what authority?”
“That of two Tower Lords, that’s what authority,” one of Tiegan’s household soldiers stated. As one of them made to approach the half-orc Healer a new individual could be heard charging towards the conflict.
“DO NOT TOUCH HER!”
Scarrot burst into the room, his bladed whip drawn and a mad look in his eyes. The warriors of Annod Bol’s nobles tensed when they saw him, and several of the Menagerie’s crew took the opportunity to draw their own weapons.
“You lay so much as a hand on Ildora and I will rip it off and feed it to you,” the orc promised.
“Why do you want me? What did I do?” Dora spoke up, trying to defuse the situation before it boiled over into actual battle. She refused to see her comrades hurt. And there was no way they could fight through an entire city.
“On suspicion of involvement in the death of Dominick Krave, you are to be arrested and investigated,” one of the soldiers said.
“What? He’s dead?” the Healer gasped.
“Yes. Foul play is suspected. Come quietly, and you won’t be harmed. Nor will your companions,” the talkative knight assured. He did rest his hand on the hilt of his sword though, a silent but deadly reminder of what would happen if she refused.
“Fine. I submit. Just don’t hurt anyone!” Dora exclaimed as Reesh and several other crew members tensed at the blatant threat.
She stepped forward and held out her hands. A knight obliged and swiftly clapped a pair of silver manacles on her. They were almost identical to the ones Kari wore when she was being moved around.
“Don’t worry, I’m sure this will all be sorted out in no time,” Dora said with a shaky smile at her friends and family.
“Come. Your cell awaits,” the leading soldiers commanded, and she filed out behind them.
A low growl issued forth from her boss as he watched her leave the barracks, and for all the insecurities Dora currently had, it felt oddly pleasant having Scarrot worried about her.
Being marched the admittedly short distance from the barracks to the West Tower was humiliating for Dora, but more than that it was the looks of shock and unbridled fury in the eyes of the slaves she passed.
Those looks weren’t aimed at her, though, but at her armed and armored escort, and at the entirety of Annod Bol. A shiver ran down her spine. There was rage in the air, and she recalled Reesh and Scarrot’s words from last night.
The city was a pile of dry tinder, and this could become a very dangerous spark.
Chapter 13: The God of Chains
“Mother, why do we pray to the gods?”
Irene looked up from where she was compounding herbs and other materials into a medicinal salve. It should have been done by Doctor Argus days ago, but once more he had ‘forgotten,’ no doubt thanks to a hangover of some sort.
“What brought this up?”
A twelve-year-old Dora stared at the prayer book in her hands with a depressed expression as she formulated an answer.
“We pray to the Divine Family for all sorts of reasons. Protection, guidance, and of course, spells. But we can only be given Divine Spells from a god that we can use on our own. What’s the point of praying for that particular reason?”
“Ah, I understand what you’re asking,” Irene said. She put away the unfinished medicinal compounds before speaking with her daughter.
“While it is true that the Divine Family, and indeed the other gods that exist, can only offer up spells that a person can already perform, their spells tend to be far more potent. For example, were I to give supplication to Lady Cynthia for the Level Two healing spell Mend Minor Wound, it would be far superior to anything I could actually cast. I could use that spell myself, but Lady Cynthia’s version of the spell would be closer to a Level Four spell in terms of potency.”
“So, they’re stronger, then,” Dora mused.
“Of course, not everyone has the aptitude for healing, so my example would be an extreme case. Healers would be better at utilizing a Divine healing spell, but an average person or a warrior wouldn’t have the same level of compatibility,” Irene elaborated.
“Alright, that answers one question of mine. But I still don’t understand why the gods don’t intervene more directly when people pray to them,” the young half-orc wondered.
“‘Gods help those who help themselves,’” her mother quoted from the scriptures. “And as powerful as they are, they cannot be everywhere and do everything. It’s why we have Clerics and Paladins to carry out their will as the eyes, mouth and, if need be, strong arm.”
Dora remained silent and the blonde Healer peered at her daughter trying to comprehend where her brooding mood and questions had come from.
“Did something happen, Dora?”
“Some of the kids in town were being mean again,” the apprentice Healer admitted, her mature mask falling away now that her mother had seen through her. “They didn’t do anything too major, just lots more name calling and insults.”
She slammed the tome she’d been reading shut, anger and pain on her features. “I keep praying to Cynthia and Nia for help. For some kind of guidance or a method to stop the other kids from being so cruel. But they’ve never answered. Am I not worthy enough of having my pleading acknowledged?”
“I’m so sorry, my precious mint leaf,” Irene said, getting up and wrapping her daughter in a hug. Dora allowed it and simply sat staring morosely at the cover of the prayer book.
“I don’t know what I can possibly say that can make this better. Just promise me you won’t give up in your efforts. I’m sure one day they’ll answer all of your questions.”
“I have to go. I have crossbow practice at the blacksmith’s place and I don’t want to be late,” Dora said, breaking free of the embrace after a bit. She stood up and grabbed her weapon from where it was propped up next to the door and walked out without another look behind her.
.
“Why is it that the best sleep I’ve had in weeks was in a jail cell?” Dora muttered groggily to herself. She looked around the bare room with a sigh.
There was no sunlight or morning sounds to awaken her this time. Instead a lamp above the simple yet disturbingly comfortable cot had flickered to life, slowly causing the half-orc to stir from her slumber.
The pale blue glow of the lamp filled the grey room with even luminescence, removing any and all shadows save for the ones beneath the prison mattress. It was unsettling to the young woman to be in a room lacking shadows. She couldn’t put a finger on why that was case. It just felt unnatural.
Besides the bed there was nothing but a bucket-like contraption bolted down in the opposite
corner, most likely for bathroom purposes, and a wooden door with bars in the upper half that acted like a window to the corridor outside. Like the room and the rest of the tower it was in, the walls were smooth and dark grey and made of an unknown material.
She had been brought to the room last night by the Tower Lords and was currently awaiting her ‘trial.’ She snorted at that. They just needed a scapegoat! As much as she’d wanted to end his miserable life, Dora had not harmed Krave in any way. It would have been foolish to try.
Someone was framing her, and by extension the Yellowmoon Menagerie. She stood up from her bed, wiping the last of the sleep from her eyes. This would not stand!
“Hey, anyone out there?” Dora called out as she walked up to the barred door. “I want to speak with Lord Tiegan! I’m innocent!”
Nothing. No heavy footfalls, or shouts at her to shut up and wait. No mocking laughter, or cries of fear and suffering from other incarcerated victims. Just silence.
With an explosive sigh she returned to the bed and flopped onto it, feeling the soft mattress flex beneath her.
‘This must be how the keep their prisoners complacent and avoid attempts at jail breaks,’ Dora thought as she glared at the bed. ‘No one would ever want to leave something this fluffy behind.’
The Healer dearly wanted to examine the bed with her magic to see if it was enchanted or not, and maybe copy the spellwork if it was, but the damned silver cuffs around her wrists effectively sealed her abilities off.
She looked at the offending objects with a scowl. Silver and high-grade steel, etched with runes to redirect any attempts at external mana manipulation away from the body before it could even begin to solidify into a spell.
Only a master mage could bypass these restraints and cast magic while trapped. Or someone with a potent Bloodline Trait that could allow them to use something other than their hands to cast spells with.
Part of Dora suffered a hit of melancholy at that, thoughts of Kari drifting into her mind. She shook her head violently. No time for that!
“Damn it! Is anyone out there?!” she shouted. Straining her ears to catch the faintest of sounds, she slumped when there was nothing for several minutes.
