Chapter 9
Influence
"It's beautiful. Well, a sort of dull beauty." Heathgrim held the hexagonal stone in his hand. Assuming the Ruiners had never seen an illustration of the relic, it would be rather convincing. And perhaps they would simply be delusional enough to fall for it anyways. Examining the handy work, the Captain grinned, the sound of success drifting in the winds. This had to work.
"Had it whipped up in only a few hours. Not exactly a sophisticated design afterall." Kojok snorted, wrinkling his nose as he gripped the belt around his waist and adjusted himself.
"We need to get down to the prisoners as soon as possible." Heathgrim commanded, still looking the stone up and down. Something about it was mesmerizing. If the relic didn't exist before, it technically did now. In a way, had he just created the justification for their cause? Only, as far as he knew, it had no special properties as they claimed it would. And slaughtering innocents was by no means justified in any case anyways.
"Of course. I'm sure Emmit will be pleased to have some new material to work with." Kojok held a sultry smile, and slid the phony relic into his arms. It still weighed a decent amount, given it was simply a slab of earth cut into a hexagon.
"Question, though. You reckon we can even fight these freaks? Assuming they really are a militia of Deadspeakers. This generation of the Oak hasn't seen such a thing before, no less, fought them." Asked Kojok as he stood by the War Room door. It wasn't something he had really thought about in depth. They didn't know exactly how many men the Ruiners possessed. But the image of Splinters raining down upon the frontlines of the Oak was certainly a terrifying thought. Leather or steel, their armor would do no good against it.
"I didn't see any Disruption when they were all hoarded in the Jorax. I doubt even a fourth of them are really Deadspeakers." Heathgrim muttered, recalling the sky above the library being devoid of the sinister clouds that would appear atop a collection of Deadspeakers. There was only a faint layer of fog on the library floor to signify at least a few of them had been, though. That, or just one very powerful one. "In any case, the Oak is prepared for anything. And you're going to make sure that stays true, correct?" The captain raised a brow to his subordinate, who nodded vigorously in return.
"Sir, yes, sir." He said with a mocking smile, before seeing himself out. At first, Heathgrim was inclined to follow him into the dungeons, but hesitated. Did he want to subject himself to that again? Once he had left the time before, he felt a prick in his neck until the arms of his wife were wrapped around it. Only then did it subside, the feeling of guilt and shame. But he didn't exactly trust Kojok to sell the relic as he imagined, and with a grimace, followed after the Rifnallian.
"Is that…?" Amber started, but Otis was quick to cut her off.
"Yes, it's Captain Heathgrim. Just keep quiet." The two had managed to walk through the palace unquestioned for the most part. When accompanied by Otis, no one was going to stop them to ask what she was doing there. There was a level of trust between the Oakmen, and Otis was about to break it.
The hall leading to the dungeons, perpendicular to the War Room, was where they would have to acquire a level of stealth. The old "this is my prisoner" trick wasn't going to cut it, this time.
"Should we even bother then? What if we get cornered?" Amber whispered. Usually she would be less hesitant to do such a devious act, only, she somewhat needed to be on the king's good side at the moment. And being caught trying to sneak into the dungeons was most likely going to put him in a sour mood, and her, in a bad light. Otis sucked on his teeth, and looked behind them. The coast was clear on both fronts leading to the dungeon, as the guards only stood by the cells themselves.
Orieth had deemed it an unnecessary use of men to have them stationed at every other entrance thereto.
"This is especially when we should bother. If Heathgrim is going down there, it must be for good reason." The Oakman lurched forward at a crouch, urging Amber to follow. Swiftly the two clung to the wall, slipping into doorways periodically to not push their luck. A few more stops later, and they stood at the spiraling staircase leading to the dungeons.
"We'll see the light of a lantern long before they run into us. If they run into us." Otis assured them. With that, the two descended the stairs as quietly as one could. Amber had done a good bit of sneaking around as a kid, slipping gingerbread down her sleeves at the bakery on more than one occasion.
They both felt as the temperature steadily dropped with each few steps they went down. But whereas the air grew cold, it simultaneously grew thick. The feeling alone made Amber want to turn back around and run up those twisting stairs. But as she slid one hand around Otis' waist so as to not get too far behind, she assured herself that she needed to do this. She wasn't even really sure what she was doing, but Otis had sworn it was for the greater good.
Eventually, they reached the end of the stairs, which flattened into an annoyingly long hallway. The flickering of torchlight, and lantern alike, lit the grizzly dungeon ahead. So carefully the two slithered their way over, backs pressed against the walls. Eventually there was an offshoot that led around to Emmits quarters, which further wrapped around to the cells. Unforeseen by them, they were forced to slide into said hall as a light suddenly shifted down the corridor.
The two pressed close together as they kept near the corner of the hall. The light was shaking, growing closer every few seconds. Sliding a few more feet inward, eventually a guard passed them without so much as a glance down the hall. An idiotic guard, not worthy of the sigil, thought Otis. Though he figured he should be glad.
"What is happening?" Amber hissed, slapping away Otis hand which had covered her mouth instinctually.
"I'm not sure. They must have reason to believe that someone might try to break the Ruiners out." Otis turned and looked further down the hall that led to the quarters. Grabbing her by the hand he proceeded to drag them both further in. Just a short walk away and they arrived in a small chamber with a cot. There was also a small wardrobe, the door hung open to reveal the same few black cloaks and hoods. The room was completely dark save for a candle that was nearly spent, its wax spilling out over the table.
Stolen novel; please report.
Amber shivered at the prospect of living in dungeons. She had never wanted to go down there, no less, spend the rest of her life in it.
"Didn't you hear? Their leader, he can just teleport at a whim. Heathgrim swears he saw it happen." Otis led them further down, into the next hallway that would lead to the cells. It was there that more lights appeared, only, luckily for them, there was a thick wooden door at the end of this corridor.
It was slightly ajar, probably thanks to Emmit.
"He used magic?" Amber whispered, crouched closely next to Otis as they reached the door.
"Lunar Energy." Otis whispered back, before putting a finger to his lip to signify they need to be quiet. Amber had no objections, and got as close as she dared to the crack of the door.
"Is this even going to work?" A voice boomed, before it came into view to reveal Captain Kojok. He was massive, almost too large to fit in the dungeons. His head nearly scraped against the smooth stone ceiling, his shoulders tapping the cell doors. And yet, he didn't look entirely uncomfortable.
"How am I supposed to know? But we don't have much time before they try again." Came Heathgrims voice, one that most anybody would recognize as he was often the face of public announcements.
"Why don't we just give them this instead? Send them on their way for good?" Kojok suggested stupidly. The two could hear the sigh of his commanding officer.
"For numerous, numerous reasons, Kojok. They might tell it's a fake, and attack. That's assuming they don't sneak their way in and hold another place hostage to begin with! But we can't exactly trust them to give us that chance, now can we?" The captain pressed, suddenly drifting into view before the cell just in line with the crack of the door. They couldn't quite see the prisoner inside, but they could hear the light jingling of chains.
Emmit stood fidgeting to the side, though his expression remained collected. It was hard to tell if the torturer was enjoying himself, or dreading his time there. Either way, he was silent, his head sweatless despite the rest of the living creatures there.
There was a moment of silence between them all, before Heathgrim sighed.
"Emmit, open it up." Heathgrim nodded to the cell door, which looked like it could be blown down with an ugly enough glare.
"Ah, yes, this one has come the closest to cracking. I feel her will is starting to slip." Emmit withheld any pleasure, if there was to be. He spoke as if he enjoyed his job, but at the same time never gave any expression to make one think so. It was almost like he was holding himself back.
Heathgrim shivered at the concept of it being a woman. Torture was already deplorable, no less, to a young woman. And if the Ruiners were indeed a cult, there was a good chance the woman had been groomed into joining. Her mind warped and bent. Seeing her in the state of decay made Heathgrims breath hitch. Even Kojok shifted uncomfortably.
Before Orieth, they had not used the dungeons often, and never for torture. Furthermore, the origins of Emmit and where the king found him were all but unknown. And when asked, Emmit simply glared off as if confused by the question.
Heathgrim strode up to the Ruiner, his heavy boots thunking on the stone floor. Putting on his most intimidating face, he stood only a few feet away from her. The phony relic behind his back. Slowly, the young lady tilted her head up to look at him. Her expression was flat, seemingly unbothered despite the blood trickling down from her scalp.
"Do you feel his influence yet? Has the Lunar Eclipse come?" The Ruiner spoke weakly. "Please tell me it's come." She pleaded, only now showing an ounce of concern.
"Not due for a few more months. But whatever you expect to have happen, can't happen without this right?" Heathgrim revealed the slab of stone. Otis and Amber squint as they try to make out the object. It seemed like nothing more than a chunk of rock to them. But the Ruiners face quickly lit, her eyes opening wide and her lips beginning to quiver.
"You liars…you always had it!" She shouted, tearing her arm forward and shaking the chains holding her up. Heathgrim took a patient step back, shaking his head.
"You misunderstand. I'm here to make a deal with you. We wish to deliver this to your camp, as a gesture of peace. Believe it or not, we can not afford to fight an army of Deadspeakers in a dense forest." The captain hoped he hadn't laid it on too thick. After all, it was a shot in the dark expecting the Ruiner to so easily give up their camp. But if he gave them no other choice, and they truly wanted it as badly as it seemed, they might just go for it.
"Maybe not. But I can't risk my people on your word alone. Besides, you seemed plenty capable in that library." The Ruiner huffed, blood sprinkling from her lips. She was far too beautiful to be this delusional. He had half a mind to think she was being hypnotized atop it all.
"We had the home advantage, and in a closed environment. Not to mention, you didn't expect us to come from over the balcony." Heathgrim pressed, running a hand over the relic."This is your only chance. I promise we are more prepared this time, your army won't survive their next attempt. Not on our grounds. Which is why I'm giving you a chance, your only chance, to end this for good. You claim your purpose is for the betterment of us all? Then let us see you prove it." Heathgrim spoke slowly, and loudly, enough that the two hiding in the hallway could hear it clearly.
"What are they talking about? Betterment how?" Amber whispered to Otis, who quickly shook his head.
"They can get inside, again." The Ruiner grumbled.
"No. They can't." Assured Heathgrim. He then pointed to the false relic. "But this, this will be your advantage over us. Your proof."
"You prove it then." A moment of silence filled the chambers.
"Prove what?" Heathgrim was stern, though his inflection changed ever so slightly.
"Prove that's real." She gestured to the relic with her head, her hair falling over her shoulders.
"What exactly is it supposed to do?" The captain raised a brow, while the captive remained unconvinced.
"Blood for bread. Lay down a life, and whatever you can conceive in the physical world, will come to be. It is how the Jorinian were made. The Green Beasts, born from blood, bread from bread." The Ruiner cocked its head to Emmit, her eyes seemed as though they'd fall from her face. "All those people, going missing…never found. Not bone or blood." She spoke softly, and yet damn near incomprehensibly.
"That's why then, huh? They were being sacrificed to this?" Heathgrim pointed to the slab of stone in disbelief.
"Taken from their homes in the middle of the night, caravans left untouched but with all their passengers missing. Come on, captain." The Ruiner grinned.
"I don't have anyone to sacrifice, but it just might be you if you don't tell me where your camp is." Heathgrim growled, pushing the fake relic against her chest. She let out a weak wheeze and a chuckle.
"The camp lies solely between Tavernkeep and Wof'lawn, straight in the center of the forest." She said, almost proudly. "I was only trying to spare you and your men. If you think you can ambush them, you'll find out rather quickly you're wrong. But I want to be the one to march the relic in there." Heathgrim stood quietly for a moment, and slowly smiled.
"Sure. We can make that happen."