48.

Erak Bloodsworn lvl. 19

Strength: 50

Vigor: 30

Durability: 30

Perception: 22

Processing: 21

The rush of power was the same intoxicating mix that he was growing addicted to. Strength and power flooded him until he felt like a demigod. Pomp growled and stretched, growing larger as pieces of Erak’s Essence were converted to the spirit’s. The blue sheen of Pomp’s scales darkened, his gray frill along his back lightened until it was as white as virgin snow. His sinewy body was nearly six feet long and Pomp growled with pleasure as he spiraled through the air.

“You good?” Illyria asked as Erak pushed off of the side of the wall. His knees had wobbled for a moment, but now they felt like iron pillars. The increase in durability and vigor had erased the fatigue that had been plaguing him for the last few hours.

Erak nodded to the princess and looked around at the wide intersection they had found themselves crowded into. Their guide, Janus, was looking about with concern plainly visible on his face. Erak tilted his chin toward the man and Illyria sighed.

“He says this shouldn’t be here. Think he might just be lost, but who really knows. Not like the day has been normal, has it?” She flashed a wry grin and leaned against the wall. The knot of defenders who surrounded her most of the time were scattered about and Erak took some time to look them over.

They were all older and scarred, a mix of the races and of different cultures. Earrings, tattoos, leather armor and swords. Dashing bastards one and all. They looked like the company a rogue princess would keep. Erak saw the signs though.

The iron spines, the hard gazes that never stopped moving. How even as they were sprawled about and looking lazy, they still had the princess in the center of a wall of steel and leather. The aesthetic was decorative, the men and women beneath it having the smell of Royal Guardsman.

Pomp appeared out of Erak’s shoulder and looked at Illyria, looked at Erak, then turned back to the princess. The little dragon liked to walk though Erak’s body when he was incorporeal and Erak was getting used to the little bastard popping in and out.

“Erak was wondering if you knew your guards were Royal Guardsmen or if you thought they were true companions?” Pomp asked. Illyria looked at them and rolled her eyes and smiled sadly.

“Not for the first year or three. Figured it out afterward. They are skilled but they aren’t trained for true subtlety. Father has a different group for that. It was hard to realize that I hadn’t truly left the shadow of the Throne. That those who I had thought came to join me because of what I did, were there because of who I am. It was hard, but they are still my comrades. We have fought together, bled together, and buried our dead together. I was so far down the ladder of succession I really did think I could escape.” Illyria gave a shrug and then wrapped her hand around the pommel of her sword and went to Janus.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

“Well, which way are we going?” Illyria asked.

“My lady, I swear to you, that these tunnels have changed. This area shouldn’t be here, it should be six blocks to our South. If anything I want to say we’re closer to where we’re supposed to be, but it still seems off.” The older man paused and then stroked his chin.

“Which tunnel would you have gone through?”

“This one, ma’am,” he pointed to a wide tunnel that was more well built than the others. The stonework was impeccable, the stone unblemished and dozens of the pale blue lights built into the stones. Erak started walking down the tunnel, instantly noticing the difference.

It didn’t smell.

The glowing sewer water had mostly disappeared, becoming just a thin trickle across stone that hardly had the depth to splash as he stepped through it. There was a pile of people behind him, crowded tight and moving forward at a brisk pace behind him, Illyria and her guard in the lead.

Erak pounded down the tunnel, jogging slowly as he swept his gaze back and forth. The scent of the tunnel had an antiseptic smell to it and it caused the hairs on his neck to raise up. It smelled like a lab. There were no good labs that were underground.

The tunnel turned gently and sloped downwards until he met a wide steel door. It was polished and gleamed in the faint light, the words etched over the top of it chilling Erak’s blood.

Bio-Lab 4

Authorized Personnel Only

A panel was open next to the door, amber light glowing out of it as Erak walked up. He tilted his head and then grabbed the door and tried to pull the lever to open it and even straining as hard as he could, the lever refused to budge. Erak grunted and strained harder until he could feel the metal beginning to strain beneath his hands.

Illyria walked over and glanced down at the amber light coming free of the stone. She shoved her hand in it and the light turned clear and the lever gave way. Erak stumbled a bit as the lever suddenly moved and the door swung open noiselessly. A toneless voice spoke suddenly, emanating from the walls itself.

“Genetic Signature Match. Access Granted.”

“Oh this can’t be good,” Illyria said as she looked into the doorway and what lurked beyond.

“You don’t know what’s in here?” Pomp asked for Erak.

“No, I wasn’t exactly the studious type or the trustworthy type. The secrets that I had were mostly about who was having an affair with who. Where buried treasures were, who had a family crypt that was unguarded. Border skirmishes. Where the liquor key is, things like that,” Illyria said.

“Erak thinks that it wouldn’t be a great idea for all of us to enter at the same time, and I agree with him.”

“Oh absolutely. Just a few brave volunteers then,” Illyria smiled while looking and Pomp. The dragon perked up and turned to look back at the squad of mercenaries and Royal Guardsmen.

“I think we found our…” Pomp cut off as Erak walked through the doorway, weapons at the ready as he entered the secret lab. It wasn’t the first secret lab he had entered, but it was the first where he wasn’t a patient. Or a saboteur.

This one was fairly similar to all the ones he had been in so far in his life. Sterile. White tile. A few plants planted in various spots. Heavy metal doors locked behind the atrium. Blood smears across the walls. Very cozy.

“Ohhhh, it’s going to be like that. Michelle, Hron, Clyde, hold the doors. Don’t let anyone in. Everyone else with us. We clear whatever came through here and then we keep moving,” Illyria said as she walked behind the receptionist desk and pushed through strewn about papers.

“Nothing here to say what type of lab this was. Nothing good, that’s for sure.”

“Your family have a history of secret laboratories that have made monsters that go horribly wrong?” Pomp asked from Erak’s shoulder.

“Once or thrice. I believe Erak’s lineage is a testament to our experimentation.” Erak grunted and nodded. He walked up to the heavy blast door that was supposed to separate the lab and the atrium. The doors were bent and buckled, the locks shattered form their housing. Blood was smeared across it with a trail that was leading deeper into the lab. Erak sighed and pushed the ruined door open and started to follow the trail.