“And the inquisitors?”

“They look like they just finished their investigation,” Zullie said, peering over the crystal ball. “They didn’t find anything.”

“Not even the teleportation circles?”

“I think those were destroyed when you collapsed the connecting tunnel.”

Frowning, Arkk drummed his fingers on the table. When he collapsed the tunnel, the entirety of the false fortress had lost the magic keeping it going, reverting the claimed territory to loose dirt and rock. A few of the less-stable parts collapsed on their own without the brick walls there to support the weight of the tunnel. The far end held his teleportation circles. Several of them. One went to Silver City and another went to Hope’s Rest. The others were decoys.

In the original plan, before realizing how dangerous Purifier Agnete’s flames actually were, he had been planning on confronting the inquisitors somewhere near the false [HEART] chamber before fleeing to the circles. Each of the six circles led to six more circles which then led to six more. Just to confuse where he had been retreating to. He hadn’t intended to use them, just make it seem like he was using them when he instead teleported back to the main fortress.

It wasn’t a big loss if the inquisitors didn’t find it but it was one more thing that he had planned for that hadn’t worked out. It was irritating but at least he could try that trick in the future if it ever became necessary.

The thought of doing all this again… “Remind me if we ever come under attack again: We need to do a lot more research on what our opponents are capable of. While today certainly could have gone worse, it didn’t go well.”

“Is that… likely?” Zullie said, shifting in her seat. “I’d rather not go through with something like today again. I like observing unique and novel magics. Especially holy magic, which I have almost no experience with. That said, I’m not too interested in being on the receiving end of unique and novel magics. After that inquisitor reflected your bolt of lightning, I locked up, too worried about doing something that would rebound on me.”

Arkk nodded his head, agreeing with that. He hadn’t cast anything after that either. Though, thinking about it now without the adrenaline and chaos of combat, a solution did pop into his mind. “I think things that wouldn’t affect him directly would have worked. A fog in the air that he couldn’t see through maybe. The marble falling and freezing him to the floor worked well enough.”

“I’m most curious about how he was anticipating everything. When you and Dakka started teleporting around him, he moved well in advance of any incoming attacks. Was it magic or battle instinct?”

“I suppose we could ask our new hire,” Arkk said, quickly peeking in on the purifier as she investigated the lair room. He had left her in there well over an hour ago, saying that it would create a home that matched her desires. So far, she hadn’t done anything yet. Either she had no real desires or she was having trouble getting it working. “But let’s hold off on that for now. We’re not going to fight that man in the immediate future. I don’t want anyone around the purifier unless I’m there as well. At least for now.”

Zullie quirked an eyebrow above her violet eyes. “Should I be worried?”

“No idea. All I really know about her is that she has very dangerous, very painful magic and she was just barely our opponent. Until we have a better handle on her personality, I’d rather not take any chances.”

“I don’t recall getting a warning like this about the gorgon.”

Arkk opened his mouth but hesitated, thinking. They were dangerous beings who had been threatening him only minutes before he hired them. Yet… something about them felt right under his command. He didn’t know how that could be the case. Perhaps it had something to do with what Vezta said. The gorgon were descendants of old allies. They belonged here.

Shrugging, Arkk stood. “I’m going to head out on another set of rounds. Keep watching the inquisitors. Let me know the moment they do anything alarming.”

“They look like they’re packing up. Didn’t spend much time looking for their lost purifier, did they?”

“Not complaining,” Arkk said before teleporting away.

Fortress Al-Mir had not possessed anywhere for the injured to recover before an hour ago. Before now, the only injuries were generally minor things. Usually coming from the orcs in the fighting pits. They were a hardy bunch who were happy to show off their wounds for a while. When they eventually retired for the evening, they tended to themselves in their lairs.

With an expenditure of gold, Arkk had created a large lair room. Whatever magic of the [HEART] let them have their personalized rooms didn’t like anyone having two personalized rooms. Still, what he had been able to do was make several beds all in a row. At least the wounded weren’t lying on the cold, hard floors. He would have to come up with another solution in the future.

Lots of things needed to be done in the future.

For now, this was as best as he could do.

Most of the occupied beds were those with moderate injuries. Those with minor injuries had retired to their own lairs. The worst—at least, the worst of those who weren’t petrified—was the orc who had been on the initial receiving end of Purifier Agnete’s flames. Katt’am’s legs looked raw and were covered in blisters. His normally green skin was anything but. If there was one small mercy, it was that he had fallen unconscious.

Arkk didn’t know what to do for the orc. One leg had burns up to his ankle but the other was charred all the way up to his thigh. The latter leg also… didn’t exactly have much of a foot anymore. Arkk had to force himself to look at it, feeling like he shouldn’t shirk away. It was his responsibility. Even still, it made his stomach churn.

Arkk had to breathe through his mouth around the poor orc. He couldn’t imagine being in Katt’am’s position.

These injuries weren’t something that anyone would recover from. The orc’s hardy body wouldn’t help here. Even Abbess Keena wouldn’t have been able to help. As it was, they might have to chop off his other foot and the remainder of his leg before they started rotting.

Maybe one of the church’s healers would have an idea. The nearby burgs had larger church buildings with higher-ranking members of the church. If they had any ideas for how to handle such burn injuries, it was his duty to seek them out. Though he might not be able to go himself. It would probably be best if he avoided the nearby burgs and villages until the inquisitors had left the area. Or at least until his eyes stopped glowing. He was trying to calm down, but…

Arkk turned away from Katt’am and moved about the room. He made sure to speak with everyone who had taken an injury if for no other reason than to reassure them that he was doing everything he could. In reality, Vezta was the one who had done most of the heavy lifting. The slime she left didn’t magically make everything better but it did seal wounds and, speaking from experience, seemed to accelerate the healing process. Arkk had used Flesh Weaving to shore up the worst of the wounds.

Stopping at the statue of Dakka, Arkk frowned. He wasn’t sure that Vezta would be enough for the gash in her shoulder. She had looked rather pale before her petrification too. Could he use Flesh Weaving on her fast enough? It wasn’t exactly a spell designed for emergency use. Nor for deep wounds. It was slow and clunky, requiring a great deal of concentration just to put things back together.

Maybe the church could help with that as well?

It was something to investigate now rather than later.

Teleporting away, Arkk found the one man who he felt would be able to get into and out of the burgs without drawing too much attention.

John looked up from a long piece of timber and the adze he was using to smooth one side of it. It was a long beam with a shallow bend cut in the middle. Maybe a truss for a roof? Arkk wasn’t sure what he was working on at the moment and Hale wasn’t around so it wasn’t a lesson for his apprentice. Given the situation, Arkk didn’t think about it too hard.

“Did your work go well?” John asked before Arkk could speak.

“Somewhat. The inquisitors seem to be leaving,” Arkk said, focusing on the positives of the situation.

“So we can go home?”

Arkk hesitated, considering. “We should probably keep an eye on them for a little longer. As long as they don’t look like they’re coming back, I don’t think it would be a problem. Though I would ask that you not tell anyone I’m out here. I tried to give the inquisitors the impression that I’m abandoning this area. Maybe running off to one of the principalities. That mostly means no telling Abbess Keena.”

“Ah. I’ll admit, I’ll miss some of these tools but it will be nice to get back home.”

If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

Shrugging, Arkk said, “I don’t mind if you take them. The fortress can make more. It isn’t like we have another carpenter around anyway. But before you start packing them up, I came here wondering if you might do me a favor.”

“Oh?”

“We had some injuries with the orcs. One has severe burns and another few have deep gouges and cuts. I was wondering if you would be willing to head into one of the burgs and see if you can’t ask some of the church healers for advice. Don’t say what we were doing. Maybe just say that someone was drunk and fell into a firepit… but any help we can get would be appreciated. We don’t have any proper healers down here.”

The old carpenter drew himself up, squaring his shoulders. “I don’t know that I rightly trust those orcs. You do remember that they attacked us, don’t you?” he started, holding up a hand when Arkk tried to object. “But you’ve done right by me over the years and kept Hale out of those inquisitors’ hands. I’d be happy to help.”

“Thanks,” Arkk said, giving him a firm clap on the shoulder. “I’m going to teleport you to the end of the Smilesville tunnel. You know how to get out?”

“Sure do.”

“Just make something up about being from a nearby village. I mostly need help with burn wounds but one of my orcs has a deep gash from her shoulder to her breast,” Arkk said, dragging a hand down his chest in roughly the right spot before handing over a small sack of gold pulled from the treasury. “Help for that would be appreciated.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you,” Arkk said again before teleporting John away without further delay. The longer they waited, the worse things would get. At least for Katt’am. Dakka and the others should be fine until they removed the petrification. Perhaps Katt’am would appreciate being petrified as well.

With that set in motion, Arkk did a quick scan around the rest of his fortress. Larry, under his orders, was preparing a large feast for everyone able to attend. Something of an apology and thanks for the effort put into stopping the inquisitors. Ilya, Rekk’ar, and Olatt’an were having a discussion just outside the new medical wing. It looked like a fairly serious meeting. Arkk wasn’t sure what they were talking about but he figured one of them would fill him in. He didn’t really want to get into a talk with the two orcs—or, at least, Rekk’ar—at the moment. He doubted the orc would have much positive to say. Vezta was working her way around the infirmary, fixing up an orc who was clearly not enjoying her slathering black tar on his waist.

Hale…

Arkk blinked twice before teleporting to the library. He immediately snatched a black book out of her hands and scowled down at its cover.

“Hey!”

“What do you think you’re doing, young lady?”

“Practicing reading like Zullie said.”

“Where did you get this?” he asked, slapping a hand against the cover of the book he had taken from the former orc chieftain. “I thought this was in my room.”

Hale shrugged and pointed just past the still statue of Savren to one of the shelves. “It was right over there. I remembered looking through it and wanted to see if I could read it now.”

Arkk frowned at Savren. “I forgot about you,” he mumbled under his breath before looking at the shelf. The indicated shelf held many books. Mostly Zullie’s. If that witch had left this one lying about where Hale could find it…

“Read other books, Hale.”

“Arkk,” she whined. “That one had cool spells in it. Not the lame rituals Zullie has been teaching me.”

“She’s teaching you the foundations. You need to start there or you’ll end up like me, blowing up half the things you try to do.”

Hale huffed, crossing her arms across her chest. She started grumbling under her breath, complaining about how unfair it was that he got to use the good spells. Aside from Flesh Weaving, Arkk didn’t think there was much good in the book. For a moment, he considered teaching Hale to use the spell. Having another person capable of providing aid wouldn’t be a bad idea. Perhaps she wouldn’t be so upset if he did so.

He had deliberately kept the book away from Zullie even though the spell would have been useful for her as well.

“What’s up with that thing anyway?” Hale asked.

Looking up at Savren, Arkk frowned. With the orcs petrified, that could wait a little longer. He probably shouldn’t leave one of his minions in that state unnecessarily.

Pulling one of Zullie’s beginner books off the shelves, Arkk handed it over to Hale. “Practice reading with this.”

“But—”

Hale didn’t get to finish before he teleported her back to her room. In her place, Zharja appeared, staring right at the statue of Savren. The gorgon stared for a brief moment before letting out a ferocious hissing. The black-scaled snake whipped her head toward him.

She froze when she met glowing red eyes.

“I apologize for disturbing you,” Arkk said as calmly as he could, trying to ignore the knot in his stomach at locking his gaze on her slit pupils. As much as he felt like the gorgon belonged here… they were still gorgon. “Would you mind turning him back to normal? I’ll send you back to your rock afterward.”

Zharja stuck her tongue out, tasting the air. “Very well,” she hissed, turning her hooded head over to Savren. Unless he wanted Savren to suffer from an accident sooner or later, keeping all the gorgon far away from him jumped up on Arkk’s list of priorities

Arkk felt a faint pulse of magic from her before the smooth marble cracked and broke. Flesh, hair, and cloth appeared underneath, looking entirely unharmed.

“—get you, you slimy—” Savren, blinking three times rapidly, looked to Arkk and then turned a nasty snarl on Zharja. “You!”

Arkk teleported Zharja away before any altercation could break out. That made Savren blink again before the man shook his head, throwing bits of rapidly dispersing marble dust out of his hair.

“You mind telling me what you did that got you petrified?”

“What I did?” Savren said, glaring but not looking half as angry as he had a moment ago. “I was minding my own business. You said I could browse the books so I was browsing. Zharja slithered in on her slimy scales, stared at me, then sentenced me to stone without a single sentence. She was always the most disobedient and disrespectful, often she deigned to disregard my directivess.”

“You don’t have to hiss your words.”

“Habit,” Savren snapped. “And now she deigns to disobey your directives.” He paused, frowning. “Unless you so cruelly condemned me to concretion. I’ve nary a notion to enact negative action,” he said. A heartbeat passed before he added, “Since entering your enterprising employ.”

Arkk let out a withering sigh. “I’ll talk to her. I don’t want my employees fighting.”

“Employees? Ha.”

“I pay you, don’t I?”

“What good is gold when it can’t be spent? Your orcs might be content with chancing on combat and your snakes find satisfaction in simple needs but Savren strives for status and skill!”

“I don’t…” Arkk trailed off a moment then he put on a sarcastic smile. “You won’t persist on my payroll permanently,” he said. “Partake of your pay without provocation and we’ll part ways with you prosperous enough to… relocate to a new region and start anew?” He hesitated a moment before saying, “See, I can do it too.”

“Pathetic peasant, though you posit a potent point.”

Arkk’s smile slipped. “Is there a reason you talk like this?”

Irritation flashed across Savren’s face. “A caster, crude and cretinous, cursed my cranium to confound my communication. I can fight through it,” he said with a grimace. A blood vein on his temple started to bulge as he drew in a fresh breath of air. “Fight it to cast spells. But speaking simple sentences starting with same-sounds shrinks the strain. If you wish for me to speak ‘normally’ then I… dare say that…” He ground his teeth together like he was chewing something particularly unpleasant.

“Alright, alright. Just stop. You can talk however you want.”

Savren smiled like he had just snatched success from some one-sided struggle. “My mind-magic mastery comes not from merriment in manipulation but from a desire to mend my mental malfunction.”

Arkk shook his head back and forth with his eyes closed. He opened his eyes, trying not to glower at the mesmer. “Just take your pay. I know I’m paying you a whole lot more than you would get doing just about anything else. After I’m done with you, you can go start a new life somewhere else with it all. Maybe pay some academy to look into your… condition.”

Arkk wasn’t quite sure if he was telling the truth about that. Letting Savren go, with all he had done, didn’t exactly sound like the wisest idea in the world. As upsetting as that curse might have been, he probably had done something to deserve it. The ritual at the village of Hope had been an experiment. In Savren’s words, diffusion and dissemination of deleterious delusions to dampen the effect. Arkk hadn’t understood what he meant at the time and had been too irritated to ask or even think much about it, but now…

“The ritual at Hope… that was supposed to spread your curse out among the entire village?”

“It functioned, for a fortnight. Freedom from flowing phrases felt fantastic. Until it failed. Fractures formed and families fell. I feared the worst and fled.”

“Leaving the villagers to their fate.”

“To be fair, had I found myself felled along with my fellows, another finding the focal point would have been far-fetched.”

Arkk shook his head. No, letting Savren go free was not a good idea at all. The man cared nothing for the lives he had affected. “Try not to cause trouble,” Arkk said, stepping away. “I’ve got more pressing matters to do.”

Rather than allow Savren time to respond, Arkk immediately teleported in front of a rather warm door. He knocked twice and waited.

The door creaked open of its own accord, letting out a rush of heated air. It wasn’t hot enough to burn Arkk’s face off, being about on par with a dry summer’s day, but it was mildly uncomfortable. Stepping into the room, he looked around and found himself surprised that his face wasn’t melting off.

Purifier Agnete sat in a chair made from black stone. It had no cushions and no padding. Just hard black stone. The stone wasn’t whole. Large cracks ran through it, seemingly glued together by some kind of molten rock glowing from within. The bed just to the side of the chair was much the same, black stone with glowing cracks and no padding. No blankets either, not that Arkk thought anyone would need blankets in this room—he was already sweating. The most interesting, and concerning, aspect of the room wasn’t the clearly molten furniture, it was where the furniture was located. The floor, made from the same black stone, didn’t reach all the way to the walls. Aside from a bridge-like path leading to the door, it was floating on a lake of bubbling, molten metal.

The room wasn’t half as hot as the forge and was nowhere near the temperature needed to melt metal, so it had to be some kind of magical construct generated by Fortress Al-Mir. Still, it was a bit unnerving. Arkk wondered how hot it would be if he touched it but wasn’t quite brave enough to try. They had enough problems with burn wounds as it was without adding more on top of it.

“Agnete,” Arkk said, looking at the woman. She wore a black long coat quite reminiscent of the outfits the inquisitors wore, though she wore no boots or footwear of any kind. He wasn’t sure how long it would last, though. The hem looked like someone had dragged it through a campfire. “I see you’re settled in. Need anything?”

“The magic here is…”

“Forbidden, yes, you mentioned.”

“Soothing,” she said, casting her gaze around the molten room. “And forbidden.”

“Yes, well… I was curious… If your fires injured someone, is there anything you can do to help?”

“Help?”

“Any healing or… unburning?”

“I burn, not heal.”

“Yeah, I figured,” Arkk mumbled. “What did the inquisitors do with someone if they wound up partially burned?”

“Interrogation. After, I would be called in to finish the incineration.”

“Okay. That’s… not an option. Things are going to be a bit different here, it seems.”

“I understand.”

Arkk wasn’t sure that she did but wasn’t going to try to explain things now. “I have my chef preparing meals. Would you like one once they are ready?”

“Yes.”

“Alright. I’ll be back later then. Feel free to… relax?”

She nodded, sweeping her fingers through her wild black hair. Arkk almost teleported away but hesitated, watching her for just a moment longer. The cuff of her sleeve was smoldering.

Those clothes weren’t going to last long at all.

Arkk teleported away.