Armareth's Tower

The smell of rot followed them for a while as Tara and Clair led them across the city. Tara’s eyes were hard, her mouth set in a constant smile even though her eyes had none of it. As they passed, the city split for them, making way through the thick crowd in a commerce district. People didn’t flee in fear, but there was a show of respect. Apparently, they held some kind of authority in the city.

Tara stared at David as the carriage rolled through the city. Narrow streets widened into broad, clean roads. Soon the noise was left behind as they rode into the luxurious part of the city. David peeked out to see tall walls and mansions with spires and towers with guards walking, patrolling. Lights illuminating tall walls. The air smelled good, the rot and grime left in the lower part of the city.

“You are siblings, aren’t you?” Tara asked. She took off her glove, scratched at her fingers and pouted when David didn’t respond. Clair growled and made to smack him but Tara held her back. The carriage light was a small dangling gem that oozed dull, orange light. Magical, David surmised. Everything here looked expensive, even Tara’s armor and Claire’s sword.

These people are nothing like Keian and his multitude of low-bred ilk.

“Do you remember where you are from?” Tara asked. Her smile was charming, sensual in a strange, disarming way. She chuckled, perhaps catching the strain on his face. Clair glared at him. All that control she showed before was gone. Now she seemed perpetually angry, and ready to split David’s face. His mouth still stung. He had bitten through his tongue and lips.

Tara offered water to wash the blood out of his mouth, but David had ignored her outstretched hand. Now he wished he took it.

Beside him Zoey eyed Tara, watching the woman and trying to glean whatever she could from them. They knew nothing about their abilities and yet Zoey could tell Tara was treating them with utmost respect as if buttering them up for something.

“You don’t have to make this difficult,” Tara said. “Ask Claire over here. When she came to Gaora, she was a tempest and then she saw what Galan is trying to do, what we are all trying to do.”

“Trap people on this floor?” David asked, wincing as every word came out with pain and effort. Tara’s eyes brightened.

“You speak after all,” She said, grinning. Then she shook her head. “We are making a home here. Deciding not to play the games those bastards have pulled us into. Here we are powerful. We rule. They fear us. Outside, on the other side of this tower, we are scared puppies who fall to the whim of whatever god decides to unleash a wave on our countries.”

“All I see is you and your fears,” Zoey said and before Tara could pull her back, Claire slammed Zoey’s face with a hard blow. She was going for another but Tara hissed, her face twisting with irritation. There was a spike of warmth in the carriage—brief, but intense. Claire froze, turned to look at Tara’s face which had smoothed into a smile and sat back down. Tara sighed, composing herself. David’s skin prickled with gooseflesh, his body trembled and when Tara spoke again, he listened.

“Fear, yes child. I was afraid. I didn’t want to die. I didn’t want to lose my children to the horde of monsters flooding out of the tower.” David realized she was a southerner. She’d tried to remove the accent, and she had been mostly successful, but now that he was paying attention, he could hear it.

“Here, we have a home. We rule.”

“Not what I have heard,” Hana said, grinning. Her face was bloody too. She was the only one Tara didn’t stop Claire from smashing to a pulp. Perhaps because Hanna said the most caustic things. “You bend over for these sniveling rich folks, don’t you? They own your blade, your name, that armor and perhaps even yourselves. You were scared out there in the real world and here, where you have been given power, you choose to let some smelly NPC tie you down with false power and stupid sense of importa—”

David looked away as gauntlet met face. He was sure Hanna’s face would split open by the time they got to where they were going. But suddenly the carriage stopped and so did Claire. She looked out the window and sighed. Tara chuckled.

“I like you, boy, so I will give you a parting gift. Galan is an old, gnarly thing. He is tough, but he likes the strong. Show him that you are not a weak toad brained oaf and he will give you so much more than any god can give you. He will cherish you for as long as you can provide him with power and worth. Otherwise you are nothing. And do you know what they do with outworlders with no worth in Gaora?”

Hanna snickered, teeth bared in a bloody grin. Tara spared her a brief glance and shook her head. Then turned to David. He felt Ignis rumble within him, wanting to fight out of the chains that held him down. The chains stayed, pulsing with power that David wasn’t sure came from him entirely.

“You will be sent to Belthikor, the pit of monsters. There you will be reduced to spawn for monsters to devour and nobles to bet on. You will fight your way to your inevitable death. Because every battle will grind your will to dust until all you have is madness. Then the monsters there will make a feast out of you. All of you. What will happen to your siblings then?”

David’s eyes lingered on Tara as they were pulled out into a courtyard. Light shone on the steps. To their left and right, guards patrolled. They wore no uniform, only bits and scraps of armor. Some wore leather and others beaten steel. They were pushed up the stairs and then through a great door, then two doors later they were tossed into an empty room.

Their restraints were removed, but Hanna’s whip was taken. The walls of the room were smooth stone. There was no window, no furniture, just stone and silence. A door on the other side of the room opened and a feminine voice called for them to enter. Heat flushed out, steam formed a dense mist.

David flinched as gentle hands reached for him. He felt wobbly. There was something in the air. He could hear water, and perceived something sweet. His head felt heavy. Hands guided him. Hanna punched but her fists met empty space even as hands pulled her.

“David?” Hanna called, hating the fear and desperation in her voice. David flailed, trying to reach for Zoey as his senses dulled and Ignis started to laugh. Madness, he thought. I am going mad. Then he felt the burn, all over his body. The sensation was jarring and then soothing.

“Stay,” the voice said. It was familiar, but unnatural. He stayed, felt hands wash him, allowed water to rise to his neck as he settled into whatever medium they’d put him in. His body relaxed and even as his wounds burned, he felt tension ease off him. Then more hands on his body and face. He tried to move his hands but everything felt heavy, every movement was like dragging a mountain. He let go then, let the relief come and when it did, pleasure followed and he sank farther into the calling sleep.

And he was violently jerked back into consciousness. He was dressed in clean clothes, his armor was gone, and his shoes. He stood on his heel in front of an old man. On either side of the old man, eyes peered down on him. The man himself was half turned, talking to something behind him. A woman.

Tara.

She was in a plain dress, hair let down and arms clasped behind her. The others were dressed in simple clothes too. Yet, under the mask of simplicity and ordinariness, David could sense the storm of essence they were masking. They were strong. Perhaps two rings strong, or more. The old man most of all. He turned at that moment, eyes finding David.

“You have caused quite the stir in Gaora,” He said. “Even more than Vincent over there caused when he came in the city some years ago. Right, Vin?”

A smallish man chuckled, his hands folded over his chest. “Aye, boss. They plucked up a ruckus, I agree.” David frowned, as the man grinned at him, then turned to the other man beside him. Six of them. They stood like generals and Galan sat, sprawled leisurely as would a king. He grinned, skin sagging with age and yet there was life in his eyes.

“Yet, they are not as strong as you were, Vin.”

“Power is in the mind, boss,” Vin said with a grin and the others laughed, even Tara. Her eyes didn’t stray from David the whole time. Galan’s face pinched in a frown, all signs of humor disappearing.

“I don’t like what you have done, kids,” The old man said, his voice was more a whisper, and when he leaned forward, his age showed. He was thin, his shirt a little too large as it hung from his shoulder. David flinched back though, away from his smile and those eyes that must have seen and caused the deaths of many.

“I don’t like the chaos you have brought. You want to leave this floor? You think there are better things in the other floors? The horrors there will destroy you, make you like a child wetting himself at the wake of a nightmare.”

“So, you are scared?” David asked. Immediately the words came out his mouth, he wished he hadn’t. A large dark skinned man took a step forward, his hair tied up, long and curly. His face was wicked, with scars and the one bad eye that looked like a pool of liquid milk. Galan put a thin hand up and the large man stopped.

“It is alright, Varg,” Galan said. He grinned and leaned back on his tall-back chair. “Fear is important, boy. Fear keeps you away from certain death, puts you in the right path. Up there, the monsters are real. The ranks of Balek is cruel. You think the Long Slumber is bad? I have seen monsters peel the skin off bones of outworlders. On the fourth floor, you meet the Brothers of Ash—some of them are here, but they don’t act like rabid dogs here. Up there, the wastelands are harsh and unforgiving.”

His chest heaved and settled, his eyes were bright with manic dread. Essence oozed out of him subtly; like lava dripping down the sides of an active volcano, hissing with malice. Then it all vanished, and he was back to being the frail old man.

He smiled, waving off Tara’s hands on his shoulder. He leaned back on his chair, sighing. All that agitation had taken the wind out of him.

“Your stubbornness will bring our downfall, children,” Galan whispered.

“We just want to move up,” David said. Galan nodded. “We don’t want trouble. We just want to ascend.”

“I am sorry I can’t let you do that,” Galan said, breathing hard. He took the cup of wine Tara offered this time and leaned forward. “Gaora is not going to survive a fight with the cult. You think this is some kind of progression task, but my boy, it is a war. A passive, but a very real war between gods. Using us as pawns. The best you can do is do what you can to survive and staying here is the best way to survive.”

“I disagree,” Hanna said.

“I know,” Galan muttered, tired. “I know it will take time to show you the way. Time that I don’t have. So I will give you to capable hands. You will find that Gaora is an easy place to thrive.”

“Gala—” Tara started but stopped when the old man turned to glare at her. She bowed, taking a step back from him. Hanna snorted and a whip of pressure slammed her face on the ground. Hanna laughed, even as Tara’s essence force lashed at her until a stronger power sliced through it.

Tara turned to Vin, but the short Irish man only grinned and shrugged. Hanna sat up, grinning, face bloody again. Galan frowned and waved for us to be taken away. Vin pulled Hanna up and another slim man with long, blonde hair pulled David up. Zoey got up, her eyes lingering on Tara for a moment before she turned and followed the others.

The walk to the dungeon was a long one. The walls were dark and cold, and the echo of their footsteps bounced around the stark passages. The cells were filthy and smelled of death. The moaning of so many others reached them as they got closer.

“Stay here, think and decide.” The slim man whispered to David. “If you decide fast enough, the old man might change his mind. If you don’t, you will be sold to one of the Elders or the Nobles who use their outworlders like gladiators for entertainment.”

“They look strong, friend. They might survive.” The smaller man said with a sly smile. Hanna turned and quickly head butted him, but her head hit a mass of essence he conjured up without even a move of his hand. Hanna stumbled back, walking into Zoey. Vin chuckled.

“I like her spirit!” He clapped his hand animatedly.

“You just want to bed her, don’t you?” The other man asked. Vin made a mocking frown of disgust, then he chuckled wildly.

“You know me so well, Jeremy,” Vin said as he hopped back up, humming a song. Jeremy turned back to David and nodded for him to join Zoey and Hanna inside. Hanna was out cold. Jeremy locked the cell doors, waited a breath and then turned to leave.

“How do we leave?” Zoey asked immediately when he was gone. David stared at the moving form on the cell opposite theirs. Eyes peered back at him, and then a guttural cry shook the dungeon. The force of it pushed David back, shaking him to his bones. Even as he watched the dirty face of the man in the other cell push against the bars.

“Kill me! Kill me!” The man cried. David pulled away, letting the shadows at the back cover him.