John

John and the three remaining members of Group B quietly ate their dinner at a small wooden table in the camp clearing. On Arroane’s orders, they’d hurried back to ensure the creature in the cage was safe. But upon their arrival, they’d learned there wasn’t anything to actually protect it from. The members of Group A, the servants, and even the creature were all fine. Everything was business as usual. Well, except for the fact the few remaining men in John’s squad hated him.

He pushed his ration of stew around the bowl with his spoon. It was poorly seasoned and smelled like wood. Normally he’d still eat, but his appetite refused to make an appearance. He could still see that weird message the dungeon had written out in front of them, like a ghost. Of course, there was also the haunting fact that on their trip out of the dungeon, all the men that had been caught in traps and left behind were missing. They weren’t in the traps, and they hadn’t made their way back to camp. They were just gone. It made John sick. Those were his men. Had those lizard beasts taken them away? Were they being eaten alive as he played with his dinner? Would Lord Arroane be alright alone in the dungeon?

“Hey Isrich!” someone called out. John looked up at the large table where most of the men from Group A were eating their own dinner. The others were either on guard duty or goofing off around the camp. Since John’s return, the camp had resembled more of a party than a base camp for dungeon exploration. These men were used to fighting. They were the ones usually following Lord Arroane into dungeons. These men wouldn’t have been overwhelmed by traps or scalers. Lord Arroane would’ve been better off keeping them by his side. John and his squad had only gotten in the way.

“A moment, sir,” Isrich called back. Isrich was Arroane’s head servant. He was an older man, with gray hair that almost concealed his bald spot. His back hunched as he walked, but despite that, he moved quick for his age. He was a hard worker, and diligent in his task. It was obvious why Arroane valued his service.

Isrich finally reached the table where Group A was eating. “Master Ked, how can I help you?” he asked.

John leaned forward. He hadn’t realized it was Ked. The leader of Group A. The tan skinned man with a small patch of hair atop his head that resembled a half mohawk. Despite the odd hairstyle, he was a lot tougher than he looked. John had seen Ked train before. He was a hell of a swordsman.

Ked smirked. “I was just looking at my meal, this pitiful stew, and a piece of hard bread, wondering how the hell this was gonna fill me up. But then I looked over and noticed the servants getting ready to eat. Why are they eating when me and my men are going hungry?” he demanded.

His men were quick to add their own complaints. They were used to going into the dungeon with Arroane. They weren’t used to the rationing that came with staying behind.

Isrich raised his hands apologetically. “My apologies, Master Ked. Lord Arroane gave us strict instructions regarding camp rations. I assure you, we’re all just following orders.”

Ked snarled. In the cult, it was dangerous to lose the respect of your men. Something John was already keenly aware of. Ked stood, took a step over the bench he was sitting on, and grabbed Isrich by the throat. The camp grew quiet, and everyone turned to look at the commotion. “Well, he left me in charge of the camp, didn’t he? I say let my men eat their fill. Reduce the rations of the servants if there isn’t enough to go around,” Ked said.

At the servants’ table, a few of the men looked over. One particularly large servant stood, but Isrich quickly waved a hand. The man sat back down but grumbled. Ked and his men were completely oblivious to it. John wondered what the heck that was about. Were a group of servants going to fight back against a group of high-ranking cultists?

Isrich sighed. “As you command, sir. We’ll prepare more food at once.”

Ked smiled and turned to wink at his men. He let go of Isrich. The head servant hurried towards the kitchen tent.

“Oh, and Isrich, I shouldn’t have to tell you twice. You can go without food tonight, add your portion to mine and next time don’t make me repeat myself.”

Isrich froze. His head fell. “Of course, sir. I’ll do better in the future.”

John sighed. He pushed his bowl of stew away and pocketed his bread roll. He’d only ever talked to Isrich once. It was as soon as he’d returned from the dungeon. It had been a strange conversation, to say the least.

Isrich had hurried right up to the remnants of Group B as soon as they exited the dungeon. “Where is Lord Arroane?”

“He sent us back and told us to protect the cage…though it looks like everything is fine,” John remembered saying.

Isrich took a step toward him and leaned in. “Is that all he said? He used those specific words?”

“Yes…that was it.” John explained what had happened. How they’d lost some of the men and then how the dungeon had written out a message for Arroane.

Isrich hadn’t even blinked at that. He’d just repeated the question. “And he used those exact words? Nothing else?” He’d asked again.

John had nodded.

With that, Isrich walked away. It was a strange conversation, especially only moments after leaving the dungeon. He hoped the one he was about to have wouldn’t be nearly as bad.

An hour had passed since dinner and now John walked around the camp looking for the head servant. It was nighttime, and a mass of twinkling stars littered the night sky. Unfortunately, Isrich was nowhere to be found. John eventually asked one of the guards on duty and was told Isrich was last seen heading toward the dungeon. Fearing the old man would do something stupid, John ordered his men to keep an eye on the cage and hurried after Isrich. He hated letting the cage out of his sight, but he knew his men would watch it. They might not respect him anymore, but the cult took insubordination seriously. If his men were planning to make sure he had some kind of accident, it would be in a dungeon or when there were fewer witnesses around. He didn’t have anything to worry about in a situation like this.

Fortunately, it seemed Isrich hadn’t done anything rash. John found the old man standing just outside the mouth of the cave. Isrich stared blankly inside it, as if he was waiting for something. He’d hung his lantern on a tree branch nearby.

“Isrich, is something wrong?” John called out as he approached.

Isrich turned to look over his shoulder. “Ah, I just thought I would spend some time alone with my thoughts. What are you doing out here?”

“I heard you’d come this way. I thought I’d come check on you. Are you…worried about Lord Arroane?”

“I suppose you could say that,” Isrich said.

John nodded. “You worked with him for a long time, right? Some said you were there with him when he fought alongside the hero of Aysela?” John wasn’t just making small talk, he genuinely wanted to know if the rumor was true.

“Hah! Not quite so long.” Isrich chuckled. “Imagination is a wonderful thing. I guess rumors are easy to start when we spend so much time camped out in the woods. I much preferred when Ked went into the dungeon and your group played guard duty. At least things were quiet then, if not a bit boring.”

John rubbed the back of his head. “I’m sorry about Ked. I should’ve said something earlier.”

Isrich shot John a surprised look. “Hm? That’s not your job, boy. I can look after myself.”

“I didn’t mean to imply otherwise. I just…I know Lord Arroane values your service and wouldn’t like to see you treated this way. So uh, here.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the roll of bread he’d saved earlier.

The head servant squinted at him. “You know what Ked would do if he found out you’d brought this for me?”

“Well, it doesn’t stop it from being the right thing to do.” It didn’t hurt that it made John feel a lot better about not speaking up earlier. He pushed the bread out further, waiting for Isrich to take it.

“Heh. I have to ask, boy, you do know who it is you serve, right? What those robes you’re wearing represent?” He beckoned at the dark red robes covering John’s body.

John looked down and studied the runes. “Is it wrong to be kind to a comrade?” he asked.

“In some places, yes. In this one? Certainly.” Isrich eyed the bread. “I was a stubborn man when I was younger. A young Isrich would certainly turn down the bread. Now? Well, I’m still stubborn. But I’m also old and now I know you get to be old by taking the bread.” Isrich reached out and took John’s offering. He broke a generous piece off and put the other in his pocket. He ripped small pieces of the piece he’d torn and put them in his mouth a little at a time.

The man knew how to savor food, that was for sure. “So, tell me, John. Why’d a man like you join the cult?” Isrich asked in between bites.

John shrugged. “Lost my family when I was young. When the dungeons were everywhere. One popped up right next to my village. We lived in a small town in the mountains. Back then…well, adventures had to consider the numbers. Save a small mountain town or protect one of the major cities. By the time anyone came to help us, my family was all gone. People did come, though. A group of bandits, actually. They saved the survivors and carved a path out for us. Moved around a lot after that. Just looking for a place to belong.”

Isrich nodded. “Tough childhood. Place to belong, huh? You religious then? You here for that slice of a higher power that everyone thinks Cendra offers?”

“Not really. I just don’t think the world’s working for the common man. I guess I hoped to find a new path forward.” John stepped to the opposite side of the dungeon’s entrance and leaned against it. He’d just wanted to check on Isrich, not get into some kind of deep conversation.

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Isrich crossed his arms and looked at the path back towards camp. “Well, now that you’re here, still think the cult’s the right path forward?”

“Hell, I don’t know. It’s hard to know if I made the right choice or not. I’d like to think so. If Cendra can really bring a better world around, then sure. But lately…”

Isrich walked over to John and put a hand on his shoulder. “You start doubting the cult you’re a part of and that cult becomes dangerous. Let me ask you something. What would you do if your life was on the line? Would you die for a cause you aren’t even sure you believe in?”

John looked at the ground. “Can I speak candidly?” he asked.

Isrich took a step back and nodded. “I think a roll of bread has earned you that much.”

“I may be questioning where I stand with the cult, but I believe in Lord Arroane. The things I saw in there gave me pause at first. Leaving my own men behind bothered me a lot. It still bothers me. But Arroane saved me. Those scalers were ripping at me. My shield was close to breaking, a few more seconds and…” John shook his head. “He just waved his hand and saved me. Pulled me up from underneath. I kept asking myself this question on the way back. Why did he leave all those men behind but save me? I’m not even sure if he believed that message he got. I think he just wanted to move further into the dungeon alone.”

Isrich’s expression changed. It was quick, but John noticed it. Alarm? Panic? Concern? John wasn’t sure. But something was there. Did Isrich know something he wasn’t sharing? He was Lord Arroane’s head servant. Surely that meant he was privy to information others wouldn’t be.

Isrich noticed John studying him and turned away. “Well, you should get back to camp. I’ll head back shortly. I wouldn’t repeat any of this to anyone else. There aren’t many friendly ears around here if you know what I mean.”

John wanted to press Isrich for some information. Anything about what was going on with Lord Arroane. But something caught his attention.

Movement.

A crack formed along the exit of the cave. As soon as the crack reached open air, it curled in on itself and swirled. The spiral continued until there wasn’t any more room for the crack to curl inward. “Isrich…” John said, staring at it.

Isrich noticed the panic in his voice. He turned and followed John’s gaze. When he saw the crack, he froze.

“Isrich...”

“Don’t say a word,” Isrich warned.

“It could be a signal or something. Do you think that—”

“John, silence. Give me a moment.” Isrich knelt and studied the cracks in the ground. He ran his fingers along the spiral and then looked further ahead at the trail it had left. He scanned it carefully.

“Isrich, what’s going on?”

Isrich stood and grabbed John by the shoulders. “I want you to run. Run into the woods and don’t look back. Discard your robe. Find a quiet, small town and lie low. Take a new name, get married, start a family. Be happy.”

John shook his head. “What? What’s going on?”

Isrich stared him in the eyes. “Thanks for the bread. Now go. I won’t say this again. If you don’t leave right now, you’re going to die.”

There was something about the way he said it. The tone of it all. John didn’t know Isrich all that well, but when he heard the man’s words, he believed him.

And he ran.

At some point, he discarded the robe. It was whipping in the wind as he sprinted into the forest. He ripped at it before realizing how pointless that was. He stopped and pulled it over his head. It’d been cold, so luckily, he’d worn a simple shirt and trousers on under it. He left the robe on the forest floor and kept running.

A piercing whistle rippled through the night. Then the sound of screams.

John’s feet forced him to a sudden stop.

Those were his men. His comrades. How could he just leave them? He turned and looked at the robe he’d sworn his life to. He’d discarded it so easily. So readily. He didn’t want to die. Not for the cult. But hadn’t Lord Arroane given him a mission? Hadn’t he been asked to protect the cage? If he left now, what would happen?

“Oh, no…” John ran back toward camp, defying the limitations of his lungs.

He didn’t expect any of what he found.

The corpses of cultists littered the camp. He recognized a few of his own men. From the way their bodies were sprawled out, it was obvious they’d died running away. There were sword wounds on their backs. It was a nightmare.

In the camp’s center, the leader of Group A had been forced to his knees. His arm was a bloody stump and there were lacerations all over his body. The fine-crafted sword usually sheathed at his waist was in pieces all around him. Two men stood behind him on either side. But the most surprising thing of all was who was standing in front of Ked.

“Isrich, you bastard, what is this?” Ked asked.

Isrich’s back wasn’t slumped like before. He stood straight and held a sword in his hand. A blade covered in blood. With his free hand, he reached into his pocket and removed something. “You were hungry earlier, Master Ked. Did you eat your fill? No. You’re a soldier. You need food more than servants do. Take mine.”

John realized it was the piece of bread Isrich had put in his pocket earlier.

Isrich looked at the two men behind Ked and nodded. One of them was the large man that had started to come to Isrich’s aid earlier. He reached forward and forced Ked’s mouth open with powerful hands. Isrich jammed the bread deep into Ked’s mouth. Ked struggled to spit it out, but the large man wrapped his hands over Ked’s face to keep him from doing so.

Ked’s eyes shot open as Isrich swung the sword in his hands. The big man pulled his hands away at the last second.

Ked’s head rolled to the ground. John’s breath caught. “What the hell is going on?” he muttered.

The servants. All of Arroane’s servants were armed. They were the perpetrators of this massacre. This must be some kind of rebellion. The servants were turning against Arroane and the cult. He noticed a group of them heading towards the cage.

“Oh no.”

He remembered Arroane’s instructions. Secure the creature by any means. He had to protect that cage at all costs.

“I believe in Lord Arroane,” John muttered.

He ran.

The other members of the cult had all either been killed or captured. No one was focused on him. The fact he’d left his robe behind helped him blend in.

Until it didn’t.

He skirted in front of the group approaching the cage and skidded to a stop before it. He held his arms out wide. “Stop! Don’t come any closer!” he ordered.

“What the hell?” one of the rebels cried out. “Captain Isrich!” he called.

John turned to look at the old man. He was studying the other prisoners.

“What is it? You can’t handle a few—” Isrich turned and noticed John standing there. “Damn it, boy!” Isrich turned to the large servant from before. He’d picked up a large mace from somewhere. “All useless. Finish them off,” Isrich instructed.

“Yes, captain,” the large man said with a smile on his face. The cultists pleaded for mercy. They were silenced almost immediately.

Suddenly, John was the last surviving member of the cultists under Arroane.

The only one standing up against the mutiny.

“Isrich! What’s going on?” John cried out. One of the servants made a move toward him. John lunged toward him like a madman. The servant backed away.

Isrich held a hand up and the servants waited for further instructions. “I told you to run, boy! Why’d you come back?”

“Lord Arroane told me to protect this cage at all costs. That means even if it cost me my life! You want to execute this monster, right? That’s your plan?”

Isrich raised a brow. “What if it is? What if I told you I’m going to rip that creature from the cage and put it to the sword? Huh, boy? What will you do about it?” Isrich demanded.

John stared him down. “I’ll stop you.”

“Heh. What a boy! The leader of Group A is dead. Headless, I might add. He was your superior in combat, but somehow you think you can stop me?”

John glanced at Ked’s body laying on the ground. “That was my order. I owe Lord Arroane my life. So, if my life is the price of buying time, so be it. That symbol in the ground meant he’s coming back, didn’t it? He signaled to let you know, and you realized you had to act fast? I just have to buy him enough time. Lord Arroane is stronger than all of you. That’s why you’re moving behind his back!”

“Captain Isrich, what are we doing?” The large man asked. He’d finished with his task. His mace was covered in cultist’s blood.

Isrich ignored him. He stared at John, a serious look on his face. “You took the robe off. Did you decide your life was worth more than the cult?”

“What’s it matter? What’s any of that matter?” John demanded.

“Answer the question, boy. If I’m going to take your life, I want to know on whose behalf you’re dying. Cendra, or Arroane?” Isrich asked.

“Lord Arroane,” John said. The conviction in his voice almost surprised him. It hadn’t been until that moment that he realized he really would die here. But he wasn’t afraid, like he was in the dungeon. This time, it felt like his death would have a purpose. That surprised him, too. He wished he had more time to reflect on that.

“Why? Why would you die for him?” Isrich asked.

“I don’t know if I believe what the cult is selling anymore. But I believe in the path Lord Arroane is walking, even if I don’t understand it. I’ll stand by him and his allies. I’ll use my power to destroy his enemies. I would die for him because I believe in him and because Lord Arroane saved me twice now. Once in that dungeon, and once in my village, all those years ago.”

Isrich’s mouth parted. “The bandit…” His head nodded softly. “He’s changed his look a lot since then. How’d you realize?”

“I didn’t. Not until he saved me in that dungeon. When he pulled me from that scaler pile, I recognized him then and there. I owe him everything I have,” John said.

Isrich stared at him for a while. The other servants exchanged looks but said nothing. Finally, Isrich spoke up again. He grabbed at the gray hair on his head. “Damn it to hell! Thirty years! Thirty years and I’ve never failed to complete an order to my Lord’s satisfaction. Thirty years and now here we are!”

“Captain?” the large man asked.

“Not now, Brutus!” Isrich shouted.

The large man huffed and turned away. It almost seemed like he was pouting.

“Listen John,” Isrich said. “That symbol you saw it was a message. An instruction.”

The men around him brightened up at the mention of the symbol.

Isrich continued. “Arroane found something in the dungeon. He finally found what he was looking for. It means our charade of working with the cult is almost finished. It means soon we’ll be taking the war to them.”

Brutus stopped pouting. A big grin swept across his face.

John shook his head. “Is that true? Lord Arroane was just pretending to work with the cult…you’re serious?” he asked.

Isrich smiled. “Oh, I’m serious alright. So, what do you say, John? Are you in?” He reached out and offered his hand.

John didn’t even need to think about it. The sound of their hands clasping echoed throughout the camp.

Isrich smiled. “Welcome to the resistance, John.”

Brutus cracked his neck. “We’re going to kill so many cultists.”