Abductees

by Alan Brickett

  All prisoners have their memory wiped when they arrive, no matter the being, creature or monster they may have been. Most skills are lost and only instinct remains. Fenix’s instinct is survival, and an overpowering need to escape, somehow driven by the slimmest of chances that he can…

  The prison is an amalgamation of landscapes smacked together hodgepodge in its own pocket dimension, each piece of it floating around the giant creature that carries it through space and time. There is no escape because there is no way out.

  The door only drops people in.

  It is the cosmic penal colony where the worst beings in the universe spend their life sentences.

  If you do not get executed, you get sent here, which means someone really wanted you to suffer.

  Fenix has a plan, or he did before he was imprisoned, the problem is that he must regain his memories quickly enough to make his plan work for him.

  Day 34…

  It was amazing how durable Torn was.

  The goat man had taken quite a beating and kept on going. Fenix was surprised the strange being had been able to endure all the punishment he had dealt. Some of his most potent magic had been used to little effect.

  Torn was quite possibly as invulnerable as he claimed.

  Fenix had noticed there were only minor wounds and smaller injuries. It was those that had given him the hope to continue, if he could mount just one more attack, one more strike, then he could break through the defenses of the massive man being.

  But to no avail, the protection granted to Torn by the Warlock’s magic and creative devices was impressive, and more than Fenix could overcome. He had pushed so hard that the armlet had warmed again, burning against his skin as he threw out bolts of fire.

  Now he had been saved by an unexpected source.

  Torn had walloped him, so hard his bones groaned from the impact that sent him tumbling over the ground helplessly. Another strike like that would probably have severely injured him, and then the goat man would have been able to take out every sadistic desire that his eyes promised.

  That the final blow didn’t land had been a saving grace, one brought by the old man Convenient, living up to his name once again.

  The strangely armored figure in his dirty tabard held the sword aloft from before, but now, instead of steel, the blade was made of light. A power emitted a white so pure it almost hurt the eyes, and yet was dark enough not to blind, although it should have.

  An outpouring of the light sheltered Fenix, and Convenient, who stood over him, in a dome of silvery argent energy. Outside the dome, Torn pelted the shield with blows.

  As Fenix caught up with events, his head still ringing slightly, he realized that Torn had now been trying to break in for several seconds. Convenient looked down at him with concern.

  “Art thou all right, my friend? Have you regathered your flock of wits?” he asked.

  Fenix’s head hurt. The ground was shaky, he assumed it resulted from his head trauma.

  “I…need a moment.”

  Convenient grunted as Torn slammed his clenched hands on the shield overhead. “Take your time.”

  Strangely, it wasn’t a sarcastic comment. Instead of pausing to wonder at the respect Convenient showed him, Fenix pulled at the pouch around his neck and touched a finger to the Vitae. A moment of concentration, his own magic rising up, and the restorative energy flowed into him, channeling first to his head, where it cleared the ache and the dizziness at once, then to restore the stamina he had used in flinging wild magic at the goat man.

  Fenix got his feet under him but stayed in a crouch. He looked up at Convenient, who still held back the mighty Torn’s attack.

  “I am recovered. What now?”

  “Now, lad, now we make good on our escape. Doth thou have the energy to run for a while? I would rather that we make some distance from this monster before I employ our means.”

  “Escape?” Fenix looked past Convenient at Torn. Fury enveloped the creature, his anger radiating off him in waves. Maddened like that, the goat man would not be thinking clearly—an advantage.

  “We can defeat him together.” Fenix hoped to take this opportunity while it was still available.

  The old man knight shook his head. “Perhaps we could, my friend, perhaps. But not before the Warlock arrives. Even now, I expect his master is on the way, knowing that Torn is engaged in battle. The magical drain will be evident.”

  It made sense, an abrupt and practical insight that he just couldn’t ignore.

  “All right, let’s get out of here.”

  Fenix observed the start of some self-pity and squashed it; he had tried and failed to beat the Warlock’s greatest servant. But he was not dead, and not dead meant he could continue.

  Convenient waited for Fenix to stand, then gave him a firm nod which he understood to mean he should be ready to move. Convenient drew in a deep breath, and the shield disappeared between a set of blows, leaving Torn striking out at nothing but air. The goat man swung and staggered, off balance by the lack of resistance, and then Convenient struck back.

  The sword had reverted to its simple steel form when the shield was removed, and now it lit up again, fiery and bright. The darkness was driven back in submission to the sword’s radiance.

  And Convenient swung, down at the ground and across in front of Torn. The white fire blazed, argent power flowed, and the ground exploded outward and upward, a veritable torrent of soil engulfed in silvery magic that flooded over Torn.

  Fenix was caught up in the awesome display when Convenient yelled at him, “Run!”

  And then he was following the old knight. Together they ran off in a dead sprint, away from the falling rubble where Torn had collapsed into the earth. It took just over a minute before the bellow of the goat man echoed out behind them.

  “That should be far enough. Besides, Torn will catch up quickly.” Convenient came to a stop, Fenix slowing beside him. “Take my hand.”

  “Sorry?” That surprised Fenix.

  “Just do it, man.” Convenient had sheathed his sword, and he held up the hand he wasn’t holding out to Fenix, flashing an inscribed blue stone. A sapphire, and a big one at that, it was the size of a goose egg, filling about half of the man’s palm. Fenix caught a glimpse of the runes on its surface and immediately grabbed the proffered hand.

  Magic blazed out and wrapped up the two men, then folded together around them in swirls the color of the stone and whisked them away.

  **

  The prison’s world swirled back into focus, revealing brush and scrub dotting a narrow defile outside a small cave. Inside, behind a pile of rocks and scree covering most of the entrance up to a fair height, Fenix found they had arrived on a ledge. It was obviously a secluded place, and a shallow cave as well, with the inside narrowing down dramatically just behind the ledge.

  He blinked twice, the night’s darkness preventing him from getting a good look around, at least so quickly, with the poor lighting from outside. However, the dim light created by the planar barrier inside the prison’s dimensional space created enough light during the nighttime hours to be seen from the inside through the small gap between the rock fall and the cave rim.

  Enough for Fenix’s superior eyesight to see that Convenient had landed next to him.

  The men were lying down on the rock ledge, and it was a good thing because the small size of the cave meant that if they had appeared standing, the cave would have removed two feet of him. Either both of his actual feet or from the chest up where he would have appeared in solid rock. So the recall spell had been a good one, and it was a recall spell, of that he was sure.

  A groan from Convenient brought his thoughts back to the cave, away from where they wandered through his snatches of memories and thoughts on magic. How best to use his knowledge against Torn in a rematch was secondary at this point.

  “Are you conscious?” Fenix asked the old knight.

  He got a grunt in reply, then a bout of coughing from Convenien
t sucking in some rock dust which billowed up from the expulsion of his breath. Once the gurgles and hacking subsided, Convenient managed a more coherent reply.

  “I am, yes. Although that was quite a ride, don’t you think?”

  Fenix raised an eyebrow, which the mousy-brown haired humanoid would probably not be able to see. “In its own way, yes. Have you not done that before?”

  “Me? Ah no. I kept these stones for emergency use only. Rescuing you counted as sufficient need. First time I’ve been whisked about the Prison like a ghost returned to the grave.” He coughed some more.

  Fenix understood the analogy. A ghost would likely be absolved of a permanent hold on the world where it was buried. When that happened, it was pulled back to the remains, where it could be contacted or destroyed. He had the understanding of the activity, but no memory of if he had ever done so himself, although he felt he probably had.

  “Well, we should get out of here, lad. No sense hanging about when we likely have Torn and every servant of the Warlock looking for us even now.” Convenient got carefully to his feet, crouching under the ceiling.

  Fenix got to his haunches as well. “Where are we anyway?”

  The old knight scuttled up to the rock fall in a crouch. “We are on the plateau above the Warrens, in a cave set to receive the recall spell. I don’t know how, but something done within the cave means the stones bring us here. We are on the south side of the plateau, midway between the bridge and the far eastern edge.”

  Convenient turned to throw a gap-toothed smile at Fenix.

  “Enough space to remain hidden in, aye? At least until the search is spent.”

  While the old man began to push rocks out from the inside, Fenix looked around the cave. The two men couldn’t both fit at the entrance, so he left the knight to enlarging the opening. He didn’t want to create a fire in case the sudden flare gave away their position. Officially on the run—not such a good situation—but he was alive, and that mattered.

  While rocks went thudding about where Convenient worked, Fenix searched the interior carefully. It took him a while, but after removing some dirt from the base of the ledge, he found it. The sigils were carved into the rock. As an anchor stone, the rock ledge went deep enough to be a good source of strength for the spell. The sigils were the attractor, while the stone, when used, would be drawn here with whatever people were in tow.

  He recognized the design and how it accounted for the arrivals and the space allowance of the cave itself. More than two people would be a problem, so the sigils allowed for three, although they would not be comfortable when they awoke. What troubled him was the neat form of the design. In small details, the way a spell was constructed could tell you something about the caster. This one seemed familiar as if it had been taught in the school of magic of his people.

  Perhaps there had been others of his kind in the Prison at some point. His race was certainly dangerous enough.

  “How did you come by this recall spell, Convenient?” he asked in between falling rocks.

  The old knight gave a look over his shoulder, then turned back to his work. “A friend gave it to me. A good friend who helped me survive in this Prison.”

  “Is this friend of yours still around?”

  “Nay, he has been gone for many years now. I don’t know what happened to him.” The words rang true and carried a bit of sadness with them, strangely. But Fenix wasn’t sure about the old knight’s tone, it was off. Perhaps a mystery to be solved another time.

  Convenient had opened enough of the cave entrance and gestured for Fenix to follow him out.

  **

  The two men covered up the cave entrance again, then headed out. Convenient led the way, off to the west, toward the bridge where they could see if the arrivals area was clear. Although Fenix tried to get some more information from the old man, he was remarkably recalcitrant about sharing more on the recall stones. He was happy to give Fenix two of the four he had left, each one disintegrated when used; the component consumed as fuel for the spell.

  But beyond that, he was able to talk around the source of the spell quite well, vague recollections and meanderings on the nature of life proved to be of no use, and Fenix’s patience waned. So he left the old knight be and focused on the journey. After a little while, he felt it safe to ask, “Why are you traveling with me, Convenient? I thought you would be on your way.”

  The brown eyes of the knight gave Fenix a searching look. “Aye, lad, and I will be. Once I’ve given you some direction and traveled with you a ways. Besides, the bridge is this way. It’s the only way off this plateau aside from flying. And I cannot fly.”

  That was true and practical. “OK, but what sort of direction do you expect to be giving me?”

  The tone he had used to ask the question elicited a chuckle, but Convenient didn’t seem to be offended. “My friend, your actions were rash and impatient.”

  Convenient looked at him and saw that Fenix knew it as well. He had the good sense not to push the gray-skinned man on the subject. “So I have some information that you may want to exploit. But first, tell me, why did you go after Torn so soon after arriving? Did he have something you wanted perhaps?”

  The old knight was bright, Fenix had forgotten that the prisoners who survived might well have been around for a very long time. The age they were upon their arrival to the Prison seemed to freeze in the magical effect that kept everyone alive, aside from Vitae. Convenient was an older man even before he got here, so despite his strange behavior, Fenix shouldn’t forget that Convenient could well be quite canny and hiding it.

  There wasn’t any harm in revealing what he had failed to do, and perhaps this strangely dressed enigmatic man could help.

  “I was attempting to acquire the goat man’s teleport key.”

  “Ah, yes. That makes sense. And a good attempt, too. Although you don’t know that the Warlock’s magic sustains Torn through any conflict. Quite the trick, really. His master gets a patsy to do the fighting, and even if Torn were to lose, the Warlock, though perhaps drained, would still be far away. They have two teleport keys, maybe more.”

  Fenix nodded, mulling it over while they walked among the tall trees.

  “You are not yet ready to face such foes. You have been here only a short span of time and have yet to regain enough of yourself.” Convenient stopped to look at him.

  “In time, you will be a great force, powerful enough to stand against these greatest of powers within the Prison. But not yet. You must have the patience to hold yourself back, prepare yourself properly or you will fail.” The old knight’s eyes were intent, focused on making him understand.

  The man then gave a hand signal that startled Fenix so much he grabbed the knight’s arm.

  “Where did you learn that?” His voice was firm, insistent. The sign had been one meaning “follow,” and it was of his own people, one of their signs used in the army and among the particular groups.

  Convenient seemed a little embarrassed.

  “I apologize, it was just that the nostalgia got the better of me. But I cannot tell you how I know this. I am sworn to secrecy.”

  Fenix stared long and hard into Convenient’s eyes, searching for any sign of duplicity or misdirection. But there was none. He let go of the man’s arm and stepped back, still giving him a hard look. It was likely. The spell structure back in the cave, the hand signal which would only be shared to a trusted person, or servant. The signs pointed to another of his kind having worked with Convenient before.

  “You helped me because of your past encounter, did you not?” he asked the old man.

  Convenient seemed to struggle a moment as if deciding how much he could say. “Yes, my friend, one of you. But please, that is all that I can say.”

  After a momentary pause, Fenix responded, “I understand. And I thank you for that much. My kind are fraught with terrible secrets and means of loyalty. I respect that you cannot say more and will not ask again.”

  Conven
ient relaxed again at the words. Fenix was pleased, any further information would need to come willingly. This was not a man who took his oaths, or his loyalty, lightly. He may yet give away more than he intended if he was at ease around Fenix.

  “Come, we have far to go.” Convenient spoke this time rather than signing and headed off.

  **

  It took them the rest of that day.

  It was hard travel and a good reminder of why Fenix wanted to ease his journey through the Prison. That next nightfall, they looked down at the arrivals area and saw the activity of many people with torches.

  Torn was among them, issuing instructions loud enough to hear even at this distance, but not loud enough to glean the exact words. The goat man left the place using the teleport stone, as a host of other convicts searched the area and made for the bridge up to the land mass they were now on.

  “He cannot search for you forever. The Warlock will want the mines operating again.” Convenient sat comfortably on his haunches. “So he has only so much time to find you. I would suggest that we avoid the northern lands for a while. At least until the convicts there forget what we look like.”

  Fenix nodded in agreement. “What do they use the mines for? The ore and metals, gems and the like?

  Convenient shrugged. “The usual. They make metal, which they trade with other inhabitants for Vitae or other goods. They also stockpile and build with the metal. The Warlock uses the gems for spell work, likely ways to escape the Prison. Ah, I see that catches your interest. Believe me, friend, since the Warlock has been trying for over a decade, I doubt there has been much success. Seek your own path.”

  Fenix had indeed seriously considered the thought of siding with the Warlock, on his terms of course. But Convenient was correct, if the Warlock was still imprisoned, either there was little hope there, or the Warlock was very close and unlikely to share. Either way, his best chance was yet to learn more and explore.