Once the screaming and hacking stop, I allow the winds to die down. How many creatures were in there? Doesn’t matter. I had one more thing to do to ensure that none of them got out of it alive. On the off chance that one of the creatures managed to tie their enchanted cloths around their noses and mouths, they were still within a cloud of compacted dried dust.
I had heard of it before, so I might as well try. I back away a good distance before pointing my wand forward.
“I allow the breath of the salamanders to flow through me.”
I feel the eyes of the salamander bound of the pyre turn towards me. The flame mana that flows in through me is stronger than nearly any mana I had ever felt. The only thing that could compare was the mana I felt when I invoked Zeus in the sewers. The bolt of flame produced by this mana is nearly white hot as it squeals forward into the dust-filled room.
BOOM.
All of the dust in the air in the compacted space ignites all at once. The entire island shakes, and I fear that it might collapse. Cracks form in the rocks of the mountains, and the bound salamander swims within its flaming prison happily. There is zero chance that anything in there survived. The salamander, now free from its bonds breaks free from its confines and spins around me like a firefly. The light of the pyre quickly dies without the spirit holding it up. I suppose whatever mage was binding her had been within the walls there. I was somewhat worried it might have been the chihuahua.
“Are you sure there’s no way to form a contract with this salamander?”
I ask the shard as the firefly darts around my head.
“It does seem to like you,” Reynard responds. “Perhaps it's been some time since a being asked permission to use its mana. The magic here seems to be about demanding the use of the spirits. Brutal.”
“How would I go about it?”
“Well, ask it.”
I turn to the darting fire spirit. The air around here is clear for now, as the whipping winds had pushed all the dust in a 100-yard radius into the caverns.
“Do you want to form a contract with me?” I ask the excitable salamander.
At the suggestion, the firefly-like spirit spirals upwards and vanishes.
“It looks likes it's not ready to be bound again.”
“Yeah, it was a pretty cruel suggestion,” I say. "It was just freed."
I follow the river with my eyes. It terminates at the end of the basin into a small lake. The fifth island — a little larger than the parking lot of the Allmart in town, seems completely inaccessible. I pull up my mask and begin to walk back. My work was done. I fish my phone out of my pocket; 9:36. Only 2 and a half hours left before the others come, and we can do a pincer attack on the apostle and his group. I’m sure if I were to face him now; even with what levels I’ve gained; and I’ll check once I finish liberating the rest of the prisoners in the outpost below, I’m sure that nothing but death awaits me if I try to face him alone; but with the help of Oak, Monica, and William, I know we could do it, without breaking a sweat. I might not like Shawn a whole lot, but I have to admit, he’s powerful.
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From my peripheries, as I turn away from the destruction I wrought, I see the pile of bodies moves. The small bit of movement sends me running toward the wheelbarrow. I pull out the bodies; dead, dead, dead. One of them in the middle was someone that I was familiar with; my brother’s wife. Allie. Her blonde hair had turned sheet white, and purple lines crossed her face. If I hadn’t seen the movement, I would have assumed she was dead. Now, however, looking closely, I could see the faintest hint of life behind her eyes. Why were so many people related to me here? My mother and father; an old neighbor that I had neutral relations with, and now my brother’s wife? It could be because of the proximity to the door; their house was just around the corner from this street, but why not grab the people on the street first? Suspicion itches at the back of my mind, but I push it out of my mind and drag her out of the wheelbarrow.
Her cracked lips mouth something incomprehensible as I cradle her emaciated form. A long, purple scar mars her stomach as if a long incision had been made there. I swallow the saliva building in my stomach. I pull off my mask and wrap it around her face.
“Dian Cecht I require thine waters pure, for asp’s bite to cure. Less I fall to Balor’s gaze, and see no more the coming days.”
The purple lines fade a little. Good. Good. I hold her up and rush through the woods. I had to get her out of here. I had to get out of here. Does my brother know she’s missing? He has to, right? Or was she just recently brought here? She’s still alive so that must be it. The night before? Right before I came across the street, maybe? Fortunate. I was quick enough. I fight the tears pulling at my eyes as I pass through the sea of death as quickly as I could, uttering the incantation of cure poison as often as I could. The purple lines fade into small lilac scars.
After a while, I begin casting Lesser Heal over and over again. How often, I couldn’t say. I set her down in the boat, pull out the arrow from the boat, and push off with as much might as I could muster. Every so often I would glance back to make sure her bare chest was still rising and falling. We pass by the island that had the kids on it. I stop to cast Cure Poison on her a couple more times, as well as Lesser Healing.
While we’re moored there, she mouths her first, audible word: “Water.”
I hold her head up with one of my hands, pull off her mask and press the wand to her mouth.
“Oh thou Undines; daughters of the sea. Pull together and form a ball in front of me.”
A ball of water forms at the tip of the wand, and washes down her throat. She sputters and coughs.
“M...more.”
I cast Coalesce again; the water bead once more pours down her throat. She swallows that larger bead as well, and I cast another Lesser Heal on her and set out again. As we pass by the next island her eyes flutter awake.
“Lawrence?”
“Yes,” I answer.
“Is Mark with you? Where is he? I have to apologize...”
“Allie, he’s not here. He’ll be here in about an hour and a half.”
She attempts to stand, but stumbles over her own legs and nearly falls out of the boat. I catch her by the shoulder and sit her back down.
“Where are we?” Her hand absent-mindedly went to her stomach, and she sank in her seat at the stern of the ship, she let out a heaving sob that shook the very boards of the boat and echoed in the night.
How do I respond? I’m worried about her cries alerting the outpost below, but should I really tell a crying woman to be silent? I glance between her, the river in front of me, and the hollow night below. No. We were almost back, and I’ll leave immediately after setting down and getting her to be around other, living people.
“You’ll be okay.” I try to comfort her with what words manage to stammer out of my clumsy mouth. “You’re going home tonight.”
My words do nothing to stop her heaving sobs. How could the words of one you thought of so long as a worm, bring any comfort? I shut my mouth, and row until the first island.