“The Citadel is heavily fortified, guards are posted at every entrance and exit. Patrols are set to run continuously in shifts with little to no delay.” We’ve gathered around a table at the Drunken Witch tavern in a small town called Thurdsted. Nyx brought us here. A safe haven for witches and other magical beings hidden from the rest of the world. She’s explained the layout of the Mortus Rose’s castle. Information she likely gained from Rhys.
“So there’s no way in?” I ask.
“They would like you to think so.” She says. A sly smirk forming on her lips. “But there are many ways around mortal defenses.” We sit and listen to Nyx’s intricate escape plan for nearly an hour.
“This seems… overly complicated.” Samir says. Leaning forward onto the table. “We shouldn’t take any unnecessary risks.”
“Saftey isn’t going to free my daughter.” Samir raises his hands defensively. Nyx’s eyes burn hot with a mother’s rage. She continues laying out the plan.
"The prison cells are guarded by more than just men. Wards have been put into place that, much like the stones of the Mortem Guard, block a witch's magical abilities. Both within the cell and within the surrounding area. Soren, we'll need your uncle's ring. The gemstone inlaid on it is tuned to the wards. By whatever means you deem necessary we need that ring."
“Get some rest gentlemen, night will come sooner than you’d like.”
—
We depart under the cover of a waning Vita moon setting below the horizon. Nyx opens a shimmering portal, through which I can see the inside of one of the Citadel's torture rooms. Ivar and I are to find my uncle and convince him, or force him to help us free Aurora and the others. While Nyx and Samir find Rhys and Durin.
"Remember, if anything goes wrong. Get yourselves out." Nyx says and steps through the portal with Samir close behind her. As they disappear from view the portal shifts to reveal the same room I stayed in the night I arrived at the Citadel. I glance at Ivar nervously and step through. The portal vanishes almost before Ivar's feet touch the dark wooden boards of the room. It's quiet here, with most men and women asleep or tending to their posts. Slowly we make our way through the winding hallways towards my uncles quarters, dodging several patrols. When we arrive I tell Ivar to stay outside and keep watch.
As I push the door open the hinges squeal loudly. The sound makes my heart jump into my throat and my stomach churn. I swing the door open the rest of the way and step inside, guiding it gently back to its resting place. The sweet smell of a scented candle fills the room its light flickering onto the walls. I see a shadow move swiftly and silently along the wall and feel the tip of a blade on the back of my neck.
"Come to finish me off as I sleep, coward?" Slowly I turn to face my uncle, pulling down the cloth half-mask that obscures most of my face.
"Soren?" He sounds surprised, and not at all relieved. "What are you doing here?" I don't have time for idle chatter, we have to get Aurora and the others out as fast as possible. He lowers his blade and I make my plea.
"Aurora, the witch that was with us in Oakhaven. We need your help to free her" I say.
"You seem dangerously taken with her."
"I'm not-" I catch my voice rising and quickly change my tone. "We need you to lower the ward around her cell."
"You would willingly go against The Arator's Crusade and ask your kin to do the same? All to save a witch?" I stare at my uncle in confusion.
"Do you know what the Mortus Rose is doing to them?" He nods, his expression flat and unsympathetic. How can he be okay with this? How can a man I thought led a life guided by the value of it be so cruel?
"Aurora isn't some mon-" The back of his hand lands hard on my cheek, leaving a large red mark and a stinging pain.
"Do not speak its name. Lest you humanize it." I glare down my uncle. We were both raised to hate witches but... the fire of his hatred has only been intensified by the warped ideology of The Arator.
"Have you spent time in their villages? Watched their children play?" I ask. His brow furrows and his eyes darken. "I have, and they're not mindless creatures that only live to feast on human flesh. They have emotions, dreams... families. Just like us."
"Quiet you naive fool! Do you even know what they've done to humanity? To us? Those monsters do not deserve to live."
"I saw the witch that killed our family! Standing over their mutilated corpses as fire burned down our home! But the actions of one do not speak for the actions of all. I have seen kindness from them, gratitude, lov-" Another open hand lands like the flat of a blade against my face.
"They have taken everything from us! ALL of them have played some part in destroying our lives. None of them are relinquished of guilt. A witch killed your entire family, your entire village! And you want to repay them by shoving your cock in one!" I loose it. Rage blinds me. I tackle him to the floor. Fists fly through the air, both of us catching blows. I roar and swing, and swing and swing. I don't even feel my jaw fracture, all I can feel is rage.
"Soren stop!" I don't know who's calling to me. And I don't care. I don't stop.
"SOREN!" A low voice booms, vibrating every board in the floor. I freeze with a fist in the air, breathing heavily. Blood drips slowly off my shaking knuckles. My uncles face is shifted and smeared in crimson, but his expression has not changed. Hatred burns deep within him, not for me. But for what I am becoming. He coughs and spits blood onto the floor. Ivar's hands grip my shoulders and I'm pulled to my feet. Eyes still locked with the bigot.
"To hell with your crusade." I wipe the blood off my hands and spit on the ground next to my uncle's bloodied face. "You're going to help us free them, or I'll finish what I started." I pull a long piece of rope from my pack and bind his hands together behind him. I tear a strip of cloth from his bedding and wrap it tight between his lips. Forcing him to his feet I pull a dagger from my belt, and press it between his ribs.
"One wrong move and you'll be gasping for air as you bleed out on the floor." I whisper harshly into his ear. Ivar is pressed against the door listening for any motion.
"The guards have been alerted by your... disagreement. We are trapped."
"Is there another way out?" I ask. Ivar glances around the room before shaking his head. I press the blade into my uncle's back as Ivar loosens the cloth gag.
"Tell your men to stand down." He stays silent, his stare burning into Ivar. Loud footsteps come from the other side of the door. Ivar draws his axe and readies himself. I turn my uncle to face me and put my blade against his throat.
"Tell your men, to stand down." The eyes that look back at me are not the eyes I remember as a boy. The once soft and kind soul within them, has been consumed by hatred and zealotry. Is this what power does to people? Twists them into monsters. His lips twist into a damming smile.
"Kill them! Kill them all!" He shouts. I press my blade into his throat straining my entire body to run it across his flesh. But I can't. The uncle that taught me to value life above all else is still buried somewhere behind those wicked eyes. Maybe one day I can save him. But not today. I growl and slam the pommel of my dagger against his temple, knocking him unconscious to the floor. Ivar presses himself against the door as soldiers begin ramming it. Each thump like a war drum, getting louder with each beat.
"The ring Soren, hurry!" Ivar shouts.
I pull the ring from his finger and search frantically through his clothing for anything that might help us escape the guards. There's nothing in his pockets but lint. My mind races, trying to find some clever way to escape. But as the door is broken down and Ivar is sent reeling to the ground, reality hits. We'll have to fight out way out. Four heavily armed guards enter the room, and I waste no time cutting them down. I remember my uncle, the way he used to be. The day he helped me name our sheep, and watch it fade away into shadow. I stand, drawing my blade as I focus on their armor. The sound of freezing metal pops and rings throughout the room as crystalline shadow forms on their now brittle armor.
Ivar swings at them wildly, shattering the breastplate of one and and the legplates of another. I rush forwards and kick off of a wall. I spin horizontally through the air over Ivar and slam the pommel of my sword into the helmet of a guard. The frozen steel shatters against the blow, spraying shards of metal and sending the guard reeling backwards out of the room. His comrade swings at me, but I see a flash of my uncle's kind eyes as our family sat together around the fire, and catch the haft of his maul. Thick shadow wraps its way down the wood as a layer of ice binds his gauntlets to it. The soldier tries to rip himself away from the darkness attempting to devour him. But the shadow only creeps closer. Hatred for these corrupted and pitiful men ignites a consuming rage.
"Monsters don't deserve to live." I send the shadow into his helmet and it envolops his head in a vaccume. I watch with dark satisfaction as his body twists and writhes violently for air. Until he no longer moves and slumps to the ground. I feel Ivar's hand on my shoulder, his face is grim and fearful. I look back to the dead soldier, the violent lust for death has left. Replaced with a quiet guilt. I berated my uncle for not valuing life, yet I was so quick to take it. So quick to be consumed by hate and rage, just like him. I shake away Ivar's hand and we make our way to the prison wing.
