(669 A.C.)
Ott and Wanily followed Eko back down the main tunnel toward the cavern where all the fighting had taken place. All of that was over from what Ott could hear--now, the only sounds that drifted toward them were of hushed voices. Ott still wasn’t sure, however, who those voices belonged to. Were they going to find allies in the other prisoners or enemies in however many bandits survived?
Ott kept his mace and wand at the ready. He still didn’t know exactly how to use the mace other than to whack people with it, but he could at least run through the combat spells he knew. Just in case.
“So,” Wanily said, drawing out the word and interrupting his frantic thoughts, “you don’t actually have brown hair, do you?”
Ott let go of his panic for the moment and smiled, but he did not take his eyes off the back of the griffin’s head as it sauntered along ahead of them. He still didn’t trust it in the slightest. But as for Wanily’s question, he shook his head. “I’m a little bit more powerful than brown hair.”
“You’ve cast a couple spells from what I’ve seen,” Wanily said. “They didn’t look like little ones.”
“You’d be right.”
“Are you going to tell me what color your hair actually is, then?” Wanily asked, clearly exasperated by Ott’s dodging.
Ott chuckled. “What would be the fun in that?” He elbowed Wanily lightly, but she just gave him a flat look. He sighed. “If we survive this,” he said, “I’ll tell you. And then you can go around and spread the fame of the great and powerful bard, Ott.”
“When.”
Ott arched an eyebrow. “What?”
“You said ‘if’ we survive this,” Wanily said. “But we are going to get out of this. Even if we come out burned, sometimes the only way out of the fire is through it.”
Ott smiled again, more genuine this time. “That’s right,” he said softly. “When we survive this, then.”
They fell silent, and Eko reached the split in the tunnel a moment later. It stopped and jerked its head in the direction of the voices. Ott gave it a wide berth as he craned his neck to peer around the corner. He could just make out the handful of people left standing in the cavern as dressed in dusty clothes or rags--so decidedly not bandits. He breathed out a sigh of relief and broke into a jog to rejoin the other prisoners, Wanily, by the sound of it, on his heels.
Reynold--thank Amera he was still alive--was the first to turn and appraise Ott as he approached. “And just where did you go?” he drawled as Ott stopped beside him. “We could have used some more of your magic on our side.”
There were fewer prisoners left than there had been when Ott went to make sure Wanily didn’t die via griffin. Ott winced.
“He was helping me,” Wanily said before Ott could respond. “We still need a way out of the mine, right?”
That drew the attention of the other prisoners, all of which turned toward Wanily. Ott let out an uncertain chuckle. “We have a way out of here?” he breathed to her.
She grinned. “Of course! Eko can fly up and push the lever for the elevator.”
“Who?” Reynold asked.
Ott just shook his head. “You really think that bird-brain is going to understand what you want?”
Wanily furrowed her brow, grin slipping away. “What do you mean? Eko understands everything we say. Or, at least most things. I think.”
“Very reassuring,” Ott drawled.
Wanily crossed her arms. “Do you have any other ideas?”
That was a good question, and one Ott had been asking himself for a while now. How to get the other prisoners out without putting them in a predicament where they were nothing but sitting ducks on that elevator? He had to assume at this point that the body of the bandit he’d left up there had been discovered, and the rest of the camp was now the wiser to their escape attempt. And even if it hadn’t been discovered, there was still the matter of either getting past the gate guarded by a werewolf or getting onto the wall walk and throwing themselves onto the other side of the walls without breaking their legs.
No, that was step two. Step one was just getting out of this blasted mine. Ott didn’t really see an option that didn’t involve something that could fly going up there and activating the switch. Could he trust Wanily’s griffin to do that, though? Or would it just take the chance to escape without them?
He glanced back, down the tunnel where the griffin still sat and waited for them. Sure, it was there now, but what about when the fighting started back up? But then, if they could get the griffin to go up there and push the lever for the elevator, and if it didn’t just fly away after, and if it could hold its own in a fight at all, it could make a marvelous distraction while the rest of them ascended in the elevator. It was a lot of ifs, but Ott didn’t have the capacity to cast any flight spells himself. He had to put some measure of trust in the griffin.
And if the griffin didn’t end up sticking around or pulling the elevator lever in the first place, well, Ott would just come up with another plan. He was a planner. It was what he did.
Just as he was about to open his mouth and assent to Wanily’s plan, another thought occurred to him. He didn’t particularly like it, and it was probably more of a risk than it was worth. But, well, a griffin wasn’t the only monster down in this mine with them that could fly.
Ott would have to trust that the griffin would bring them out of the mine. The distraction would work much better with a dragon thrown into the mix, he figured.
“I have an idea,” Ott said. The other prisoners gathered around him, silent as they listened. “It’s mostly your idea,” Ott continued, glancing at Wanily before addressing the group at large again. “Wanily here as the fortune to have befriended a griffin. Griffins, as you may know, can fly. According to Wanily, this griffin is smart enough to be able to fly up above ground and hit the lever for the elevator to bring the rest of us up.”
There were few enough of them left that they’d need only one trip. Ott hadn’t hoped for the outcome, but it did make things easier. Was Ott horrible for thinking that? Probably. But in the end, it was the truth.
“We’ll be sitting ducks,” Reynold said slowly, eyes narrowed. “If the bandits know that we’re coming, it’ll be like spearing slimes in a jar.”
“Right,” Ott said, nodding. “So we’re going to release the dragon, and we’re going to aim it at the bandits. While we’re going up in the elevator, the bandits will be distracted by the monster. We’ll get up, it’ll be free, it’ll be a win-win.”
“How can you guarantee the dragon won’t attack us?” one of the other prisoners in the back of their little group asked.
Ott gave one of his signature smiles. “Can’t guarantee it,” he said honestly. “But it’s that or, like dear Reynold said, sitting around while the bandits make us into pincushions. So?”
“Why should we listen to someone who abandoned us when the fighting started?” another of the prisoners called, arms crossed.
Wanily was the one to respond to that before Ott even could. “Ott didn’t have to come help us,” she retorted. “He wasn’t down here when all this started. If he wanted to escape without us, he could have.”
“Yeah, ‘cause he’s been Esseli’s little pet since the moment he got here,” someone else said, to the assent of the others. “Why should we listen to him?”
“Do any of you have any better plans?” Reynold said. The group went silent, sharing looks between each other but saying nothing. Reynold grunted. “That’s what I thought.”
He nodded to Ott, and Ott returned it, hoping the action contained half the confidence. Reynold trusted Ott to bring them out of this place alive. Ott had to prove himself to be worthy of that trust.
“Alright then,” Ott said, hefting his mace and wand a little higher. “You all get to the elevator. I’ll get the dragon freed.”
Ott turned to leave, but before he could take a step, Wanily was beside him and trying to catch his eye. He arched a brow at her and continued forward, forcing her to walk with him if she wanted to talk. “That meant you, too,” he told her.
He knew she probably only wanted to help, but if things didn’t go well with the monsters, Wanily and her griffin were his best bet of defending the other prisoners. And he didn’t want to put her in more danger than necessary. Should those thoughts have been in a different order? Probably. No use in fretting about that now, though.
“You might need help,” Wanily said, insistent. Her gaze flicked ahead of them, to where Eko still sat and waited for them. “You could at least take Eko with you.”
Ott very much did not want to do that, but, well, Eko was a monster. Maybe it would help Ott’s case if he had another monster with him? Was that how that worked? Was that... offensive to assume? Why would he care if he somehow offended a griffin? Did it even have the mental capacity to be offended?
So many questions, and ones that Ott ultimately decided didn’t matter. He could bring the griffin with him if it would make Wanily feel better. It was better than facing a dragon by himself, right?
“Okay,” he said, a bit more reluctance sneaking into his voice than he would have liked.
Wanily just nodded though, and jogged ahead to where the griffin waited. Ott sighed, watching as she knelt next to it and brought up a hand to shield her mouth as she whispered something to it. When she drew back, it flicked its ear at her and did not otherwise react. Wanily smiled, though, so Ott would take it as a good sign.
It stood, then, glaring at Ott as he approached. Ott hadn’t even stopped beside it before it was trotting away, head held high and wings bunched above in its back in a way Ott was convinced was haughty. Ott shared a look with Wanily, who only smiled at him.
“I’ll get the others to the elevator and try to scope out the situation,” she said.
Ott nodded. He turned and jogged after the griffin, mind whirling, trying to determine how this was all going to work out. There were all the current worries about just getting out of this blasted mind, but what about everything else? Everyone else? Would there still be any prisoners left above ground or would Esseli have killed them all by now? It was a terrifying thought, that Ott would have failed so spectacularly. It would do him no good to dwell on that now, though, so he attempted to push it from his mind and simply hurried after Wanily’s griffin.
It had stopped in front of the tunnel leading back toward the magical creatures, glowering at Ott while he caught up, and it whipped its head around and marched forward once Ott had reached it. Ott grimaced and fell into step beside it, his grip tightening on his wand and mace. The griffin had been well-behaved while Wanily was around, but would that change when it was just the two of them?
Ott kept one eye on the monster, but it just sauntered along beside him without sparing him so much as a glance. When they entered the cavern, it waltzed right up to the dragon’s cell and chirped at it.
The dragon, still mostly curled up on itself, stretched out its neck until its snout hung just next to the bars of its cell, level with Eko’s head. It let out a long sigh of a breath, the rush of air pulling at the fur of Eko’s head. Eko simply shook himself, eyes narrowed at the dragon, and chirped again.
“The man returns,” the dragon said, training its unnaturally yellow gaze on Ott. “But is he here with altruism in his heart, or vitriol like that which bears the griffin afloat?”
Ott stopped in front of its cell, chuckling. “I’m hoping we can help each other,” he said. Hopefully, that answer would appease the dragon, not upset it. He really needed it to cooperate with him. He scanned the bars of the cell, but there didn’t seem to be a door or lock--probably for the best, as the dragon almost certainly had the magical ability to free itself if that had been the case.“You want out of here, yes?”
The dragon shifted, the scales of its body shimmering in the torchlight. It moved its great head so that it stared directly down at Ott. “Yes,” it breathed, drawing the word out in a hiss.
Ott swallowed, refusing to be unnerved. “Great,” he said. “Because I want out of here, too, but the problem is all the bandits standing between my group and the gate that will let us out of here. So, I figure that I can let you out, you can get some revenge on some bandits, and the rest of us can get past them. We help each other. What do you say?”
The dragon stared down at him for a long moment, and Ott gave a dazzling smile. Eventually, the dragon pulled away. “No.”
“No?” Ott spluttered, just as Eko let out a squawk. For once, Ott felt they were on the same page.
“Revenge is the treasure that men and others of the old gods seek,” the dragon said. “I carry no desire for such a mystical remedy to my woes. If that is all you want from me, seek it elsewhere.”
Ott gaped at the dragon as it brought its head to rest on the coils of its body, completely ignoring him and Eko now. Ott had been afraid that he wouldn’t be able to contain the dragon’s bloodthirst--not that it wouldn’t have any in the first place.
Eko let out another harsh squawk, but the dragon didn’t acknowledge it. Ott cleared his throat and folded his hands behind his back. He would just have to try a different angle, then. “Great dragon, I would like you to know that I am a bard, and so I have heard and recounted many tales of the benevolence of your kind. If it is not revenge that would compel you, perhaps you might be persuaded to simply help those in need? Without your aid, I doubt there is any hope for me and the people--innocent people, mind you--that are with me. The bandits would slaughter us like lame deer tied to a boulder.”
The dragon let out a great breath. “You attempt to flatter,” it murmured. “But beneath the pretty words is a worthwhile argument. I would not leave the innocent to suffer under my very own torturers.” The dragon lifted its head again, and nodded to the bars of its cell. “Free me and I shall lend aid.”
Ott let out a tiny breath of relief. Step one--just convincing the dragon to help--was complete. Now to actually free it.
Ott, still a bit hesitantly, stepped closer to the metal bars caging in the dragon to examine them. They certainly looked sturdy enough to contain a dragon, and Ott wasn’t sure what he could do that a dragon couldn’t. He tucked his wand into the waist of his trousers for the moment so he could reach out and give the closest bar an experimental tug. It didn’t budge in the slightest, not that Ott thought he would be lucky enough that it would.
Ott glanced at Eko. “No chance you can do something about these, is there?”
For a monster, Eko gave him a rather flat stare before whirling around and approaching a barrel kept off to the side of the room. He chirped at Ott, jerking its head toward it.
Ott arched an eyebrow but would humor the griffin for the moment. He stepped over to the barrel and glanced inside. It had no lid, so Ott was able to peer at its contents freely. Inside was a liquid, clear but with a blue tint, and after giving it a cautious sniff, Ott could say it had no odor. He frowned at the substance before turning the look on Eko. “Water?” he guessed.
Eko seemed distinctly unimpressed but gave Ott a nod.
Ott huffed. “What am I supposed to do with a barrel of water?”
Eko let out a sharp whistling sound that Ott interpreted as one of impatience. It nodded to the dragon.
“The griffin knows its stories,” the dragon said. “For my kind use water as our magical conduits. Spill the water into my cage and see how I set myself free.”
It suddenly made a lot more sense to Ott why the tales of dragons always took place along rivers or the shores of lakes. He hadn’t realized water could be used as a conduit. Did that only apply to dragons or could he use it to cast his own slew of spells? He had trained for a while under a mage, though--if water could be used as the conduit for powerful spells, Ott thought he would know about it. That meant it must just be a trait of dragons.
Shrugging, Ott moved behind the barrel to attempt to slide it closer to the dragon’s cell. Bracing his shoulder against the side of the barrel, he took a deep breath and pushed. Ott didn’t know why he was shocked when it didn’t work--it was a huge barrel filled near to the brim with water and he had never been much of an athlete. He grunted, standing straight again, and his gaze slid to the griffin watching him with an agitated air.
“If you think you can do better, be my guest,” Ott said, stepping back and giving a mocking bow as he gestured toward the barrel.
The griffin narrowed its eyes and trotted over to the barrel. It bumped its wing into Ott as it positioned itself behind the barrel, something that Ott was convinced it did on purpose just to irritate him. The griffin flicked its tail and pinned its ears back as it stood on its hind legs to rest its front paws on the side of the barrel. It let out a chirp as it, presumably, pushed against it, and just as Ott was about to make some appropriately taunting remark, the barrel tipped over with a groan. Water rushed across the floor of the cavern, spilling toward the dragon’s cell. The dragon rested its head on the floor, yellow eyes fixed on the water creeping toward it, and the moment the water touched the dragon’s snout, the dragon let out an eerie, booming laugh. With a flick of its head, the water touching it snapped up, thinning itself into two discs. Ott gawked as the dragon let out a great breath, jerking its head one way then the other, controlling the water and slicing it through the metal bars as easily as a tailor’s scissors glided through silk.
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The bars, cut at the top and bottom at steep angles, clattered to the cavern floor. The dragon pulled its head forward, stretching its body out until it was able to unfold its short, front legs from its body and rest them on the ground. It slinked forward, eagle-like talons tapping against the wet floor, until none of its body remained coiled up.
The front of the dragon’s body stopped in front of the tunnel leading to the rest of the mines, its head lowering until it was eye level with the pixies in their birdcage. Sensing what was about to happen, Ott opened his mouth and started to raise his hand in a gesture for the dragon to stop. He didn’t make it that far before the dragon jerked its head again, and a spinning disc of water cut the bars of the cage at the top, right where they joined together.
The pixies let out high-pitched chittering as they clamored to escape their confines. Ott nervously readied his mace. Pixies were small, prone to being mischievous rather than malevolent, but much like the dragon, their mouths were filled with sharp teeth and the tiny hands at the ends of their wings equipped with wicked claws.
One of the pixies managed to shove past the others and worm its way out of the hole at the top of the cage. It perched on one of the bars, huge eyes trained on Ott as it grinned, displaying those razor teeth. “Free!” it chirped.
The other pixies sorted themselves out, one after the other squeezing out of the cage and flapping their wings to hover in the air. “Free! Free!” they all began to chirp in their squeaking voices, making Ott wince.
“Was that necessary?” Ott muttered, inching away from the small group of pixies and more toward the dragon and Eko. The little freaks were watching him, every single one of them boasting the famous grins of pixies that seemed to split their faces in half. .
“The pixies can fly, just as I,” the dragon replied. “They will aid us with the bloodthirst you sought from me.”
That didn’t help to assuage any of Ott’s fears. Still, the pixies weren’t attacking him--yet--so for now, Ott would trust the dragon’s words. “Then let’s go,” he said, nodding toward the tunnel.
The dragon more skipped than walked--its feet only occasionally touched the ground, the rest of its body wavering above the floor like a water snake cutting through a current. It bounded down toward the main tunnel, the tiny flock of pixies zipping forward to latch onto its back. They chittered all the while, those grins fixed on their faces.
Ott shuddered, shared a nervous look with Eko--who still wore an unimpressed expression--before both of them hurried after the dragon. Ott resisted the urge to look back at the other magical creatures they were leaving behind. He needed to worry about the enslaved people about to be slaughtered, not the caged monsters.
The dragon burst into the main tunnel, careening easily around the corner. Ott caught the shouting of the other prisoners before he did the same, but once he skidded into the main tunnel, he threw up his hands. “It’s okay!” he called. “He’s going to help us!”
The other prisoners, with Reynold and Wanily at the front of the group, had readied their stolen weapons. At Ott’s words, however, they uncertainly lowered them and huddled closer together as the dragon slowed its approach. When it finally stopped just in front of Wanily, it let out a great breath, pulling Wanily’s hair back from around her head. Wanily grinned up at it, fully letting the dagger gripped in her hands fall to one side.
Her gaze slid to Ott, then a bit lower, to Eko. Her expression softened into something almost... sad. Ott frowned, slowing to look down at Eko, but it was no longer next to him. Instead, it had stopped just outside of the side tunnel, its head twisted to look behind. At the other magical creatures they’d left behind.
Eko was a monster that had been caged just like them. Still, it was not lost on Ott that out of the two of them, only one of them had looked back.
“Hey,” Ott said softly. Eko didn’t look at him right away, though Ott knew it’d heard him by the way its ear flicked. It shook itself slightly, tail lashing behind it, before it finally turned and stalked past Ott, head held high.
Ott was just surprised that a griffin held enough compassion to even consider helping the other monsters, but if there was one thing Ott was coming to learn about Wanily’s griffin, it was that it wasn’t the evil beast that prowled in most stories of its kin.
It--he--had enough of a conscience to at least feel bad. Ott probably should have realized it sooner; Wanily was smart enough to teach herself magic and kind enough to want to use that magic to help others. She wouldn’t have accepted a bloodthirsty monster at her side. No, Eko might keep a certain air about him, but he cared, just like Wanily. And he was not going to risk her life or the lives of the other prisoners.
Ott jogged after his little group of monsters until he stood beside the dragon’s massive head in front of Wanily and Reynold. “What’s going on?”
Reynold answered him. “They’re waiting for us at the top of the elevator,” he said. “At least six of their marksmen. They fired at us the moment we even just peeked out to look.”
Wanily motioned Ott closer, and, with a frown, he leaned closer to her. “You’ve been using crystals,” she whispered. “Why?”
Ott was surprised she didn’t know, but more wary of why she was even asking. “They make spells much stronger.”
“You only have two left though, right?”
Ott furrowed his brow. He shared a look with Reynold, the only other person close enough to hear this little exchange, but he looked just as confused as Ott felt. “How do you know that?”
“There’s one in the shaft of the elevator,” she said, completely ignoring his question. “Should we try to get it?”
Thoroughly baffled now, Ott drew back. “How do you know that?”
She gave him an indecipherable look before her face cracked with a coy smile. “When we get out of here, I’ll tell you. For now, let’s just say I know exactly where it is. So, should we get it?”
Turnabout's fair play, Ott begrudgingly acquiesced. “It must power the elevator,” he said slowly. “We can’t get it yet if we want to get out.”
Wanily’s gaze fell to Ott’s feet. Specifically, where Eko sat, ears already pressed flat against his head. “Eko could grab it?” she suggested.
Ott considered this. The crystal was likely to be in some sort of mechanism or, at the very least, a clamp of some type to keep it in place. A griffin’s paws would not be well-suited to prying that out. However, they did have more companions than just him and the dragon.
“The pixies,” Ott said, gesturing to where they still clung to the dragon’s scaly body. “One of them should be able to grab it. You’ll just have to try to get them to follow your directions.”
Wanily gave him a rather dubious look, but eventually shrugged. “I’ll do my best,” she said. “‘Cause I think it would help a lot to have another crystal, right?”
It would, Ott figured. Especially when he had his inevitable confrontation with Esseli. There was no way in Gehenna that Ott was walking away from this place while she still drew breath. Of course, his main objective was to get the prisoners out. But after that? The death of the famed General Pikerman, and the birth of the greatest bard, Ott.
He turned to the dragon, smiling. “Ready?”
“Give the word and I will do all I can to distract your assailants,” the dragon replied, body waving behind it like it was treading water.
Ott nodded to it, and the dragon shot forward, up, and out of the shaft. Shouting sounded from above them, along with the distinct twang of bowstrings and crossbows. The dragon bellowed out a laugh, the noise reverberating down the shaft and making Ott wince at the volume.
“Everyone on the elevator!” Ott ordered. The remaining prisoners rushed to follow the command, all of them--even Wanily and Ott--nervously watching the open air above them for any signs of more bandits. The dragon had said it would help them--Ott didn’t think it had lied, but now was the moment of truth.
He waited with bated breath for an arrow or crossbow bolt to strike him right between the eyes, but it never came. Ott let out a sigh of relief though they certainly weren’t out of the woods yet. Just as he was about to look down and give the signal to him, Eko soared into view above him followed by a rush of wind so strong that it made Ott stumble back. The edges of his wings tilted down, feathers rustling as he glided upon the wind until he was forced to flap to make it to the top. Ott tightened his grip on his weapons, convinced for a moment that Eko was going to leave them behind despite all the evidence to the contrary. All those fears dissipated as there was a loud whirring sound, and then the elevator began to rise.
Of course, those anxieties were just replaced by the ones whispering that everything could still very easily fall apart if the dragon fell or the bandits got the opportunity to attack them. A shrill shriek echoed down the shaft, one that Ott recognized belonged to Eko.
Wanily winced beside him. “Isn’t there a way to make this go faster?” she demanded, peering at some point to her right. At the crystal? How was she able to see it?
“Your griffin is fine, I’m sure,” Ott said, hushed, though he secretly doubted it. It wasn’t like Eko had the natural armor of a dragon. Even with old magic at his disposal--relatively weak old magic, as he was still but a fledgling--he was up against a much larger fighting force.
Still, Ott would rather keep Wanily calm and quiet for now. Even if they did get up there and find that the cry from her griffin had not been one of battle but of death, that could wait until they were up and out. It would be easier to drag Wanily from the corpse of her pet than to drag Wanily’s corpse through the bandit camp because she drew the attention of the bandits to them.
It felt horrible to think that way, but Ott would do what he needed to. He had to keep the prisoners left here alive, and that included Wanily.
“He’s not mine,” Wanily murmured. “I mean, he’s my friend, not a thing I own.”
Ott found himself smiling despite his worries. “Right.”
It would be another minute or so before they reached the top of the elevator shaft, and Ott could tell the other prisoners were just as anxious as--if not more than--Ott. He wished he could give them a rallying speech, something truly worthy of the title of bard that he boasted, but he’d rather keep a low profile for now. The sounds of fighting and shouting still roared on above them, but it would undoubtedly only take one bandit to hear them or realize the lever had been pushed to draw their weapons to Ott and his fellows.
It was not usually part of a bard’s vocabulary, but for now, Ott remained silent.
They continued to rise steadily up through the elevator shaft. Ott clutched the force crystal in his pocket. He’d need it when they got to the top. How many bandits would be waiting for them? How many would turn from the dragon to them when they showed their faces? What about getting through the rest of the camp when the werewolf still guarded the gate? Could the dragon handle taking it down, or would that fall to Ott and his comrades? Where was Esseli during all of this?
So many questions whirling through Ott’s mind, not that any of the answers would help him now. At this point, he just needed to roll with the punches and get out what people he could. He could worry about Esseli after that.
When they were but a few scant feet from the head of the tallest member of their party poking above the edge of the ground, Ott waved his arms to get everyone’s attention. He brought his hands down slowly, palms down, and crouched low to the ground. The others, understanding the gesture or just following their fellows that did, lowered themselves into a position that mirrored Ott’s.
“Be ready,” Ott said to Wanily, and she nodded, clutching her dagger close to her.
When they finally reached the top of the elevator, Ott barely gave himself time to assess the situation. The dragon had lined its body up in front of the elevator, blocking the bandits from getting closer. It looked like a couple had tried anyway, and now they were in pieces. Eko, blessedly, was still alive and hunkered down behind the dragon’s head. The pixies still clung to the dragon’s body, tiny hands wrapped over the edge of its scales and eyes peeking out at the bandits.
Where the scales had been plucked away, a single arrow protruded from the dragon’s body. Blood spilled down its side and dripped onto the floor below, but even as Ott watched other bandits try to shoot at the exposed patches, their aim was either too bad or the dragon would lithely twist out of the way.
Ott had the inkling that he should cover Wanily’s eyes or something to shield her from the bloody display. He glanced at her, but her expression was set, gaze hard and dagger held unwaveringly. She would be alright, he thought. He’d make sure of it.
For now, that meant getting everybody out alive. The other prisoners rushed off of the platform of the elevator, weapons held at the ready. When the bandits caught sight of them, many of them uncertainly lowered their weapons. A few even took a one or two steps back toward the doorway leading out to the courtyard. That is, until a familiar voice rang through the air.
“What is going on here?” Esseli demanded, standing in the doorway with her sword drawn. The light of the blade was just barely visible above the harsh glare of the sun outlining her frame.
The light made it difficult to make out her face, but Ott felt a chill run down his spine when her head tilted and he just knew she was looking at him. She took a single step forward, and the expression on her face almost made him blanch. He thought she’d be angry to see him. Furious that he had defied all her plans. Instead, she was grinning with a potent air of excitement.
“You,” she practically purred. “I should have known you would find a way out. And now you’ve gotten some friends.
“I wonder though,” she continued, her expression darkening, becoming more threatening, even with her smile fixed on her face. “Have you ever heard the saying about fair weather friends?”
Ott furrowed his brow. He glanced around at the other prisoners, but they stood resolute. It wasn’t until Eko let out an alarmed chirp that Ott’s gaze snapped to the dragon. The dragon had bowed its head. It was... trembling.
Esseli knew how to make monsters heel to her. It seemed even a beast as powerful and intelligent as a dragon was not exempt from that.
Well. Shit.
“Vio,” Esseli said, her smile turning smug when she caught sight of the alarm on Ott’s face that he knew he couldn’t completely hide. “Be a good dragon and get rid of those prisoners, will you? But leave that one--” she pointed at Ott-- “alive. I have plans for him.”
A few things happened at once. Eko dove toward Wanily’s feet, wings outstretched. The pixies shot into the air with harsh cries. A few of the other prisoners screamed. The bandits wielding bows drew them, a breadth’s space away from letting their arrows fly. And the dragon lurched around, still shaking, and trained its gaze on the group of prisoners behind him.
Ott didn’t waste a second. He gripped his last force crystal in his hand and put the last of his plan into action. No outward indication appeared, but a light tingle through the back of his head told him that it had worked. And if that hadn’t, the next moment would have.
The bandits let their arrows fly. The dragon lunged toward them. All of the attacks stopped a foot away from the closest prisoners as if they hit a wall. The dragon scrabbled in the air, its talon scratching at a surface it could not see. The arrows glanced off seemingly nothing, flying in different directions until they hit a wall and clattered to the floor.
Beside him, Wanily let out a laugh halfway between relieved and disbelieving. “What happened?”
Ott grinned, locking eyes once more with Esseli. Her smile had disappeared from her face. “I used a crystal. Everyone,” Ott said, raising his voice, “stick close to me.”
The forcefield Ott erected would only last a couple of minutes, even with its power amplified by the crystal. They’d have to be quick, but Ott also couldn’t tell the other prisoners that without tipping off Esseli and her men. But he would make do. He’d have to.
Ott waited until the prisoners huddled close to him, including Eko. The pixies weren’t so lucky to make it inside the protective spell, but they were quick to shoot past Esseli’s head and out into the open. Some help they’d been, but Ott couldn’t find it in him to be upset. At least they would get away.
Once everyone was close to him, Ott took a step forward, prompting the group to do the same.
The dragon dropped away from the barrier. “I am sorry,” it murmured. “I thought I would be able to, but I could not stand up to my master.”
Ott said nothing, and after a moment, the dragon slunk back to Esseli. She patted it on the head without tearing her eyes away from Ott. “Take to the skies, Vio,” she ordered. “I’ll think of a sufficient punishment for you later.”
The dragon lowered its head. Esseli stepped back outside, allowing the dragon to move past her in its wavering fashion. She did not reappear in the doorway, but Ott doubted it was because she’d given up. For now, though, she was letting them pass.
Ott moved forward at a slow but steady pace, shuffling forward with the group of escapees. The bandits closest to the doorway grunted as the unyielding forcefield ran into them and pushed them back. They watched the group with dark expressions, their weapons still held at the ready. Waiting for the forcefield to drop, though they wouldn’t know exactly when it did.
One of the good things about this spell was that it only blocked whatever Ott perceived as a threat--it did nothing to the walls of the building around them. Such that when the group reached the door leading outside, Ott stood in the doorway and let everyone pass him first without the entire structure falling apart.
When he finally followed the rest of them out, he figured they only had about a minute left in the spell. Not long enough to get to the gate, but Ott was a bard. He would just have to put on a performance to convince the others that the forcefield was still up and hope they didn’t call his bluff.
Otherwise...
He blinked in the light of the sun but wasted no time continuing forward. Ahead of them, Esseli strode to the gate at the other end of the courtyard where Shush and what looked like the rest of her bandit forces waited. Ott swept his gaze around the rest of the courtyard, swallowing hard. It looked nothing like the chaos of the caverns below, not that Ott expected that from Esseli. No, there were two piles stacked high with the bodies of the other prisoners, one on the left and one on the right. From what Ott could see, each of them had their throat slit, which explained the large pool of blood surrounding each pile.
Systematic killing. Quick and efficient. It made Ott sick to think about all the lives he hadn’t been able to save, but for now, he needed to focus on the ones he could still get out.
The bandits watched them approach, stone-faced and silent. When Esseli reached the front of her group of men, she stopped and spun on her heel. She let out a sharp whistle, and it wasn’t long before Ott heard movement somewhere behind him. He glanced back to see Hush on all fours, running toward Esseli. He skidded to a halt on the side of her opposite from Shush and turned around slowly, head bowed as he avoided looking at Esseli.
Ott glanced above them where the dragon soared high in the sky. He wanted to be angry with it, but it was just a monster that had been caged and abused. Esseli had sunk her claws into it just like she did with her werewolves. Just like she’d tried to do with Ott. He couldn’t blame the creature for being a victim.
It would just make killing Esseli all the sweeter.
Ott didn’t spot the pixies anywhere, not that he expected to. It was just Ott’s group, still moving forward, and Esseli’s forces, waiting for them.
The forcefield dropped when they were still about twenty yards from the gate. Ott could feel it in the way his head stopped tingling, but he clamped down hard on any panic that threatened to rise in him. He couldn’t afford to show any sign that the spell had faded. As long as he exuded confidence, the prisoners and Esseli and her men would have no reason to believe anything else.
From the corner of his eye, he noticed Wanily shoot him a look of alarm the moment the barrier dropped. She said nothing though, instead ducking her head and continuing forward. She must have known the barrier was gone, but how? Did it have to do with how she had seen the other force crystal in the elevator?
It didn’t matter. They were but a scant few feet from Esseli, her werewolves, and the bandits lined up behind her both on the ground and the wall walk. Ott stopped, prompting the others with him to do the same.
“Move aside, Esseli,” Ott said. “Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”
Esseli stared at him for a moment, seemingly appraising him. Eventually, she smirked. Panic swept through Ott.
“I was a general once, little bard,” she said. “I knew battle mages and their capabilities. I even know the extent of what crystals can do. How they can be used and how they amplify spells. I’ve used them in the past myself. And I have an idea of when that power runs out.”
“What is she talking about?” Reynold hissed, somewhere on Ott’s right, but he didn’t tear his gaze away from Esseli.
Esseli smiled, as beautiful as she was deadly. “You could have gotten away on your own,” she continued. “Taken my crystals and thrown yourself over the wall of my camp. But instead, you risked everything to come back and save what few of my captives you could. Why?”
Ott licked his lips. Everyone was staring at him. He could say something about being like the bards of old, treasuring life and love and freedom. He could claim that he sought to vanquish evil in his own strange fashion. Instead, the truth tore itself from his throat. “Because I come from Fris,” he shouted. “The land you ruined, whose people you slaughtered. And now, I want retribution. I’ll save who I can, but more than anything, I want to see the light in your eyes die.”
Esseli stopped smiling. She nodded though, like Ott had given her the correct answer to a test question. She glanced to either side, where her werewolves stood. Ott waited for her to give the order to attack. “Hush, Shush,” she said, “open the gates.”
A faint murmuring washed over the bandits, but only one of them was brave enough to speak up. Ott recognized Freun as he stepped forward, scowling. “What? What are you doing?”
Esseli turned to him without the slightest twitch of a change in her expression. “Ott here has gone through so much to get these prisoners out,” she said. “So we’re going to open the gate for them. After all, how do you think the little bard will feel knowing those with him only get to escape because of my mercy?”
“What about their barrier?” another bandit piped up from on the wall walk, bow halfway drawn.
“Gone,” Esseli said, to the nervous shifting of the other prisoners. “So I’m considering letting the workers go. We have no use for them anymore anyway, and it’s not like they can stop us. But you, Ott,” she said, turning back to him, “will stay here. You will either kiss my feet and beg for forgiveness or you take that mace and pathetic excuse for a wand and use them to duel me. That is the price I put on the freedom of your fellows and the chance to sate your bloodlust.”
“And if I were to refuse?” Ott asked, feeling he already knew the answer.
“Then you all die together,” Esseli answered. “So what will it be?”
As if that was any choice at all. The other prisoners began to plead that Ott take the deal--all except for Wanily, who stared at him in silence--but they didn’t need to waste their breath. Taking a deep breath, he said, “I accept.”