As the warrior charged, he felt the sounds grow faint as the flickers of a memory resurged. Nausea swept through him from eyes to stomach and he stumbled to the side, catching himself against the wall.

His vision slurred and he suddenly found himself in a grimy old alley with a full moon glaring down from above. He must have been no older than twelve, or perhaps ten, surrounded by children his age, all wearing raggedy clothes scavenged from garbage. Each of them held improvised weapons such as clubs fashioned from planks, forks, and anything they could get their hands on. On the opposite end was another group of vagrants. Their rivals.

It was a squabble over some sleight that he couldn’t remember. It could have been food, or maybe one of theirs looked at one of ours the wrong way. Pettiness often sprung from neglect.

The present day pulled him back, and he was back on the ship. Sweat dripped down his forehead. His breaths grew light and the sulfurous fumes in the air grew stronger, causing him to wretch. An imp squawked, alerting the rest, but not soon enough as the warrior closed the gap and swung her sword.

“HRAGH!” she said as her blade caught the neck of one unlucky imp mid-swing, severing it from the rest of its body.

The remaining imps scrambled, narrowly avoiding her return swing. They flapped their wings and ascended into the air, out of melee range and screeching what sounded like threats. They primed their arms back as embers began to burn above their palms.

Tav stumbled ahead, clutching his forehead as he was pulled into the past. Their side charged and the alley erupted with high-pitched cries. He was carried away like a branch in the current when he noticed the other side wasn’t moving forward at all. Instead, they brought up slingshots, and the air went abuzz with stones. He saw his--he hesitated to call them friends-- companions fall, bruised and bloodied. Terror and fear gripped him as he slid behind an old crate, hearing the planks rattle from the stone missiles and screaming.

He snapped back to the present as a fiery bolt streaked toward him. Despite the nausea, he threw his bulk toward the nearest cover, a fallen pillar. His face pressed against the cold surface which felt like a mix of web and flesh. Heat singed his skin as the fiery spell sailed over him, scorching the ground he stood moments before and sputtering into vapor.

The screams of children mingling with those of the imps. The cold dank air of the alleyway and the heat aboard the ship. The roar of the dragon was punctuated by a distant cry of alarm. Adult corpses switched back and forth with those of the children in the alleyway. The terror he experienced then mirrored the terror he experienced now. The assault on his senses, it was all too much and he retched again, his empty stomach releasing only bile and spittle.

“Hey!”

Tav looked up, seeing a girl who was the leader of their gang, grabbing him by the collar of his neck. “Get up! I won’t have cowards here!”

He blinked, finding himself back on the ship.

“What are you doing!?”

The warrior yelled as he watched her evade the imp’s firebolts, weaving through every attack. He could feel her emotions through the mental connection between them. Feelings of contempt, feelings of anger, and concealed partially by the first two, panic.

However, it was what he needed to anchor himself. Enough for him to focus through the disorienting surge of thoughts. He needed to help but how? The magic within him bristled but it was volatile, and he felt… no he knew calling upon it was as likely to backfire as it was to aid.

Scanning the floor, Tav noticed a crossbow among the bodies. That would have to do. He steeled his focus and dashed forward. As he got closer, he noticed with relief that it was also loaded. He pulled the crossbow off the dead man, whose gaze looked blankly at the ceiling with a hand clutching the guts protruding through his belly.

The urge, the distasteful feeling within him squealed in delight even as he stomped it back into the depths of his mind.

He lifted the crossbow, which was heavier than expected for a wooden plank and strips of metal. Whatever that odd shell-fish thing did, it healed him but did not undo the atrophy inflicted on his muscles from however long he was stuck here.

A screech filled the air as one of the imps split off from attacking the warrior and dove towards him.

Tav couldn’t recall using a crossbow from the shattered remnants of his mind but he did know it wasn’t a difficult weapon to use. Like a slingshot, all he had to do was line up the sights and account for distance.

It had one shot, and it took every pinch of his willpower not to panic fire.

The imp flapped closer. He could see the glint of blood on its claws. The fangs and razors lining its mouth. The enraged scowl on its face, and when he saw the red glare of its eyes, he squeezed the trigger.

The bolt flew, skewering through the imp’s belly. The creature squawked, its eyes bulging with surprise which gave way to rage. The blow did not stop its momentum as the imp raised a claw, intent on returning the mortal wound in kind.

Tav threw himself sideways, narrowly avoiding the imp’s swipe. He tripped, falling to the floor as the imp collided with the fallen pillar, convulsing and sputtering its death throes until it went still.

He breathed easy with relief, which was short-lived as another imp turned its attention toward him. This one raised an open palm, and a burning ember sparked to life above it, growing larger.

He threw away the crossbow which was now little more than extra weight, and darted for the cover of the pillar. He didn’t know if he could make it in time. The fire in the imp’s hand drew him in, and he found himself in the past again.

The fight in the alleyway was turning against their favor. They were being pushed back, and several of their own were limping away.

He noticed their leader calling for a retreat, although she glimpsed at him with contempt. Shame wracked him and fear. He was going to get thrown out. If only he wasn’t so weak. If only he wasn’t so scared. Torches flickered in the distance across the city and he remembered when the circus visited. He remembered watching a practitioner from the fences, who used magic to fly and guide bolts of fire through hoops.

Magic. That was the answer to everything. Everyone who was something in the city had magic. If only he had but a scrape of it.

And in that desperate moment, he felt it stir within him. A mere sliver, but it beckoned toward him, calling to be used. Shocked, he reached for it…

He blinked and came back to the present, and a flickering flame above his right hand.

Surprise was his first thought. Then, as he stared at the fire, something else crept along his mind—darkness and dampness, a hazy figure, instructing him in… something. Countless years of practice flooded his mind, but without a single memory accompanying it.

As the experience flushed through him, his newly honed thoughts caught the imp readying its arm to throw its spell.

Tav’s body moved almost on its own, off sheer habit and instinct. He curved his fingers into a claw, causing the firebolt to intensify. Both eyes remained open, as he shifted his hand to frame the imp’s bulk between his middle and index fingers.

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All that was left was a word to release the spell. And once more, past and present intersected as he commanded that sliver of magic into reality.

“Ignis!”

The firebolt shrieked through the air, engulfing the imp’s body. The creature squeaked as it sizzled, its own spell floundering into nothingness. It fell, wailing and screeching, before landing on a heap on the soft floor, little more than a charred corpse.

Tav lay there, stunned at his own ability. He felt his awareness sharpen, catching sight of another imp diving towards him from above.

However, it stalled and lurched mid-flight as an arrowhead jutted out its belly. Surprise wracked its face as it tumbled down with its wings twitching and landed with a thump. Tav followed the arrow’s origin, watching the warrior crouching with a bloodied bow.

Before he could utter another word, she had nocked another arrow, adjusted her aim in his direction, and let it fly. He opened his mouth in shock, as the arrow sailed right past his ear and struck the imp that was about to strike his back.

“Are you blind!?” She cocked her head. “Move!”

Timely, because several firebolts careened toward them. Tav side-stepped them like he had done many times in the past. He spotted the remaining imps gather atop the second floor of the chamber. A ledge where the only stairs were destroyed. They formed a line, and began to rain fire upon them.

He could ponder where this newfound ability came from later. He sidestepped another firebolt and dove for the cover of the pillar. He ran, weaving side to side, crashing his side against the makeshift pillar. The warrior slid to his side, as fire erupted from the other end of their makeshift barricade.

A barrage of flame pelted the area around them. Sections of the ground were scorched and chewed away along with pieces of webbed material. A few of the firebolts went wide, with one striking a tube of purple liquid in the far corner which burst into a fiery inferno, sending a shockwave he could feel even given the distance.

The warrior nocked another arrow. Tav noticed she had but two, which weren’t enough to eliminate the remaining imps.

He placed a hand on the warrior’s shoulder, trying to reel her as she started to move away. She was far more muscled than him, and there wasn’t a chance he was going to stop her if she hadn’t done so herself.

“What!?” Her eyes drilled into him like daggers.

“Hold on,” he said, and peered above the barricade for a split moment between the attacks. “Just give me a moment.”

He now knew why the memory appeared, and why it resonated so strongly with him. In every scrap he had been in as a child, every loss was because they overestimated themselves, or underestimated who they were fighting. It was his shattered mind’s way of warning him against what was to come.

At least now, they knew what they were up against. He peered over the barricade between the attacks where the imps stood. The stairway leading toward it was destroyed, which meant there was no way to get into a melee. However, he noticed a large capsule of purple liquid, stashed right behind the imps.

“There is an explosive behind them,” he said. “If I can hit it then it’ll take them all out. I need you to distract them though.”

“If,” she said.

He could both see and feel her suspicion and skepticism.

“Do you trust me?” he said, reinforcing the words with thoughts of confidence.

She said nothing, but he felt the distrust give way to a recognition that there wasn’t much of a choice.

“Tsvka…” she said with a heavy breath. “Very well, we will do it your way.”

Tav nodded then focused, pulling just a strand of magic and collecting it into his hand. He willed it like he did from memory, growing it from spark to flicker and finally to a blaze.

With the spell primed, he looked at her in the eyes.

“Go!” he said.

She darted to the right, firing an arrow at the imp. That drew their attention as they turned their attacks towards her. Tav seized the opportunity, rising and aiming squarely at the glass.

“IGNIS!” he said.

The firebolt struck the capsule dead center, crashing through the surface and igniting the liquid within. A roaring combustion and shattered glass engulfed the imps, the explosion drowning out their squeaks.

One managed to escape, flapping an injured wing, but its life was cut short as the warrior rushed forward, intercepting its fall and cleaving it with her greatsword.

The sinister urge within relished in the destruction, rising as an upturned smirk on the edge of his lip. He frowned, pushing it away.

The sounds of battle and his emotions ebbed, although not entirely. He could hear fighting going on above, and the roar of the dragon which continued to circle the ship.

The warrior sheathed her great sword, and he could see his exhaustion mirrored on her face. Despite her earlier mood, he could feel a faint sense of acceptance and agreeableness from her, a momentary flicker of trust and respect.

“You have proven yourself surprisingly adequate in battle,” she said. “Despite the hesitation at the beginning.”

“But it all worked out though in the end.” he said.

“And it very well may not have,” she said. “Know this. If you become a liability, I will leave you to your fate.”

Tav grimaced, tempted to say that her reckless charge nearly cost them their lives, and it was him who managed to save them from winding up as fried pieces for an imp’s supper. He also wanted to point out that he too would leave her to her own fate if it came down to it, but he held his tongue. Given their circumstances, it was best to cooperate rather than stir conflict.

Better to turn their energies toward fighting their true foes.

And despite his newfound abilities, which was another mystery in itself, he grudgingly knew he depended on her more than she on him. An arrangement he was keen not to maintain for long. At least until they could escape, and he got whatever was done to him undone.

“That’s understandable,” he said. “But if we’re going to be in this together, we might as well know each other’s names then. I’m Tav.”

“Lae’zel,” she said, which only further confirmed her foreign origin.

A shudder rumbled through the ship, louder than the earlier ones. Bits of debris in the chamber slid down, and Tav felt a downward slant that wasn’t there before. Outside, it dawned that the ground was slowly starting to approach them.

“Quickly!” said the warrior. “We must be on our way.”

She started up the webbing left behind on one of the stripped walls, climbing it like a ladder. At the top, he could see the third floor of the chamber, which seemed to be the only path toward the helm.

Tav followed her up, although he was close to out of breath halfway up. However, the motivation to not be stuck in the ninth hell was enough to push him to the end. He recalled enough to know that a mortal stuck here faced a fate far worse than mere death. After all, this was where the souls who were damned were sentenced to.

It was absurd when he thought about it. How did he wind up in the ninth hell on a flying mind-flayer ship. What exactly was he roped into? The memory loss wasn’t helping and more puzzling was this newfound skill in fighting. And worse was this despicable urge in the depths of his mind. Was it related to what was done to him? If so, why?

He couldn’t think on it, as all mental effort was focused on making his way onto the final floor. He crawled up, out of breath, but he could feel frustration reek from Lae’zel’s mind.

“Look,” he panted. “I know I’m a bit slow but not everyone is built like-“

“It has nothing to do with you,” she retorted. “Tskva. I am so weak.”

“You?” he said, surprised.

“Such an easy climb shouldn’t exhaust me like this. I expended far less effort as a hatchling than now. In my former glory, I’d have no trouble dispatching those imps by myself.”

That certainly gave him pause to wonder what she was like in her “former glory” and how the mind flayers captured her in the first place.

“As I infer that neither you would have if you were in your prime, mage.”

Was that a compliment? He knew it was wrong, but he wasn’t going to correct her on that last part. Revealing that he actually had no aptitude in combat didn’t seem like it would him any favors.

“Now, enough pleasantries,” she said. “Let’s keep moving.”

Tav stood up and followed her as she walked toward the sphincter that opened in their wake to reveal another chamber within.

This one looked similar to the one he woke up in, without the damage and with a lot more pods. Dozens of them lined the walls here. He noticed a central platform with what looked like a control panel of some sort surrounded by an operating table. Two of which had bodies. There was also another room beyond, filled with even more pods.

“Tskva,” said Lae’zel. “How many have the ghaik captured?”

He had no idea but he contemplated the same question. It seemed like whoever orchestrated this had captured him as part of a greater group.

They followed the pathway to the middle of the room. He looked at the two people on the operating table, who lay there still, despite having no discernable wound indicating they were dead. He thought of the exposed brain he recovered earlier. Maybe these two were going through the same process. The mere idea of it made him shudder.

“Touch nothing without knowing its purpose,” said Lae’zel. “Come, this way.”

He followed her toward a pathway that led to another sphincter. However, he then noticed thumping from one of the pods.

“Hold on,” he said, diverting toward the pod in question. Someone inside was alert and clearly needed help.

He felt frustration and contempt emanate from Lae’zel, followed by a mental eye-roll but he ignored it. Rushing across the floor, he could make out distinct words in common.

“Shit! Damn it!”

He got closer to the glassy surface of the pod, and as he peered in a fist suddenly appeared. Beyond, he noticed a half-elf dressed in metallic armor shaped in circular and moon-shaped designs like a Selunite cleric. She had black hair tied back in a long braid but cut in an odd monkish way in the front. Her darkened eyes contrasted against her pale skin, and he could immediately detect she was in a state of panic.

“You!” She continued to pound against the glassy pod. “Get me out of this damn thing!”