Chapter 16- Kurt's story, part 2

The practicality of using such a storage unit for my Kraken was a stroke of genius. Unfortunately, to keep the one from using my own pain against me, precautions were instilled into my new specimen. No longer could I allow access to any type of power flow external to my victim’s own power, something that took several decades to understand. His torment over the years eventually lost its flavor, but for a long time I had something to look forward to. It hurt me to lose the exaltation I felt when I experimented, and thus I began another spiral into the madness. In my frenzied struggle to hang on to my sanity I discovered the secret to capping him off and keeping him alive.

He metabolized the Kraken, eventually, and gave birth to new spawn leaving more room for my own seeds of pain. It was repulsive to witness but satisfying in a way that I can't express. My eternal bond seethed at this but knew some satisfaction as it watched with me. The once-man’s disgust, self-loathing and shame became the sweetest of treats for millennia to come. Though I've never had the passion for it, it may be the closest I'll ever come to understanding the mind of a rapist.

As time passed, only a few dim lights remained after the torches went out. Kurt had been initially anxious, attempting to free themselves. Dorian was finally awake but barely lucid, perhaps a concussion? Kurt knew if you slept after a head injury you might not wake up, so he had diligently pestered Dorian awake. At one point he sang a children's song at the top of his lungs, just to piss Dorian off enough to stay awake. It had worked, but now Dorian’s mood was foul.

“Are you feeling up to strong manning that door over there?” Kurt asked, hoping his brother had composed himself enough to give him a hand. He hadn't asked sooner, Dorian looked like shit.

Not that Kurt couldn't blame him, overall, this situation sucked. Was this a Kressian base of operations into the Wilds? Why? What would be the point?... They had a place for prisoners, so that said a lot about their intentions. You don't build stone cells unless you intend to use them.

Dorian grimaced. “I don't know why, but I've got nothing. I've been trying to pick up on any thoughts, even yours. I can't. It's like the well is completely dry.”

“Gods be damned, you've picked a hell of a time to run out of juice. Let me think...” Kurt stood.

“Dorian, do you have any wire in your pack, anything to pick a lock with?”

“Hmm? Oh, uh, no.” Dorian shook his head, his winter hair lining his pudgy face long enough that he had to tuck it behind his ears. His hair was an earthy brown with a hue to red, where Kurt's hair had been dirty blond up until a few years ago. His hair now seemed to grow lighter and lighter, good for the snow, or maybe he was greying young. If he was, he took it upon himself to publicly blame Dorian for it, that is if they ever got out of this shit hole.

“Wait!” Dorian hopped up then promptly sat back down, wincing as he held his head. “Your line staff, it’s got wire in it.” He gestured, but half-heartedly.

“Really? How do you expect us to get to it?” Kurt asked.

“Water, where's your pack?”

Looking about himself, he realized he had lost his canteen. He had his travel sack but had left the water behind on his winter coat. “It's likely with my winter coat, I had to ditch a bunch of things when I was running after you. You?”

Dorian shook his head, “I put my gear down at the mouth of the tunnel, my staff is there too, or I'd use mine.”

“Blackened balls!” Kurt was starting to get worked up, pacing about as he thought furiously.

“How long do you think we've been down here?” Dorian asked, finally seeming to come out of his stupor.

“Long enough to get me irritated. It's probably midnight or later I'm guessing. Maybe seven, eight hours?”

Dorian nodded, “makes sense. My bladder is gonna burst soon.”

Kurt snapped his fingers, “that's a great idea Dorian.”

“Bursting my bladder?” Dorian asked, confused.

“Is there an indentation anywhere? Like a deeper one?”

“Yeah, there's one over here, it's a bit shallow though, more of a shallow bowl than a cup.”

“That'll work, pee there.”

The absurd look on Dorian's face was priceless. “Kurt, you are aware were stuck in here, right?”

“Not for long if you'll just go pee.”

“I'm not peeing in this little room, are you out of your mind?” Dorian was outright aghast. Kurt never really understood how Dorian could be so snooty about some things.

“Dorian, we are locked up in a cage the Gods only know how far beneath the earth. We haven't slept yet, and it will be a long time before we do unless we get the hell out of here. Blackened balls man, are you daft?”

Dorian looked pensive for a moment, mouth twisting to a side for a moment. Stiff lipped, he turned to the spot he spoke about. He readied himself, but nothing happened. Kurt nearly chuckled through his veneer of gravitas.

“Drip,” Kurt said. Dorian turned a glare over his shoulder. “Drip,” he said again, smirking.

“Not funny, Kurt.”

“Okay, okay. Just lightening the mood.” Kurt looked away at the opposing side of the room noting another chamber, his eyes finally adjusting to the dimmer and dimmer light. What Ohmer had done was spectacular, it had done what took his eyes hours to do naturally. After thinking for a moment, he remembered the lyrics to a song, which he decided to share.

“Oh, you raging river. Dreams of streams you make. Oh, you raging river, your waterfalls make us quake.” He sung, as melodically as he could. He knew his singing voice was awful and flaunted it as often as he could.

“Enough, enough, I'll go already.” Dorian cried from behind him. Finally, the sound he was expecting echoed through the stone room. After a short time, Kurt retrieved his staff.

“Do you know where the wire would be?” Kurt asked.

“I know there's several long ones running down it, and a circle around the bottom. The one on the bottom is the easiest to get to.” Dorian replied, pointing out the grooves where each had been placed.

“It's actually a really interesting process, whe-”

“Don't care.” Kurt cut Dorian off, not the time.

Dorian looked hurt a moment, so Kurt filled the silence. “Can't part with the bottom one for fear I'll lose the point. I'll soak the top here, and if I can just get part of one exposed, I should have more than enough. You ever pick a lock before?”

Dorian shook his head. Kurt hadn't either, so he said. “Looks like big brother's gonna have to swoop in and save the day. Again.” Kurt made himself sound confident, for Dorian's sake.

Kurt went over and laid the staff in the urine, making crude noises as he did so. “Oh gods, it's pee! Whatever will we do?” Kurt put on a teary-eyed expression.

“You're a real asshole sometimes, you know that?”

Kurt got the oddest satisfaction out of goading his brother, brother's prerogative, he thought. Smirking, he said, “yep,” in the cheeriest tone he could muster.

A time passed, and when everything was ready, they argued over who would do the deed. Kurt argued that it was Dorian's urine, so he should have to do it. This only made sense in Kurt's mind. Dorian argued that it was Kurt's “pissy plan,” so it was on him. Kurt only agreed because he got a good laugh out of the word play. Grabbing the staff, he pointed it at one of the edges of the gate. He shaved, more like melted, layer after layer until he came to a hard spot. Letting it bend out, he pushed it to a hard ninety-degree angle, and then passed that to make wiggle room. It dried quickly, just a few minutes, and Kurt began working the wire back and forth to break it off.

Wire in hand, he took to task. Never having done this before, he tried to inspect the keyhole as best as he could. He shouldn't have wasted his time, because it was so dim now that he worried he might drop the wire and lose it to the blackness. He bent it and started fidgeting with the slim piece of metal. After several minutes he tried it from the other side of the door. Then he repeated this process, changing his “key” ever so often, trying to catch something.

Eventually, Dorian spoke up. “Here to save the day, huh? Why don't you try the other door?”

“Doesn't have a key slot.” Kurt said, having already thought of this.

“It does, it's just on the other side.” Dorian pointed.

Kurt thought he might be getting somewhere with this keyhole, and would have preferred backtracking rather than stumbling about in the dark, but then again anywhere was better than this cell. It stank of piss.

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Kurt gathered himself and expressed to Dorian to not have such rank smelling urine in the future. Dorian just shook his head, making an exacerbated face.

“Must you always be so ridiculous?” he said as Kurt crouched down and reached an arm out, feeling for a keyhole. After locating it, he passed the wire key over to his other hand, gripping it tight as can be. He began fidgeting with it then said, “yes.” As though it was an absolute fact.

In that moment there was only one fact he was concerned with, that this situation was bad but could only get worse if they didn't move. He wouldn't be such an ass in these dire circumstances if he wasn't sure that Dorian would be freaking out otherwise. He didn't appear to be any worse for wear, but Kurt was mostly concerned with keeping a level head and hoped being an ass to his little brother would keep Dorian oblivious to the gravity of the situation.

A touch of caught tension, unlike what he had felt before. The pressure on the wire had just a touch of play, and Kurt was sure he had it. “Say, what's that book you've read at least a hundred times now?”

Quizzical, he answered like a question. “Traveler's Curse?”

“Yeah, what's that line towards the end, when he takes over the kingdom to get his home back, right at the end.”

“Oh, yeah, it goes “You will remove my hand but nothing, and I mean nothing, can bar my course. I have toppled kingdoms to remove this gate. Now remove it before I bring a country to bear.””

Click.

“Well said little brother, but you should put more gusto into the delivery. I think it's implied that he's scowling.” Kurt got up, grabbed his stinking line staff, and left the cell, just after alleviating himself at the first door. Yes, it was spite, but he also had to go. Giving a nonchalant shrug to the thought, he tidied up and made his way out the open gate. Dorian was already out there, though the light was extraordinarily dark, Kurt could make out his pensive face. “Can you hear me?” Dorian sent to Kurt.

He nodded. “So strange, hang on.” Dorian walked back into the cell. He gave a “hmm” and walked back out. “Kurt, I'm going to send to you as I pass through this archway. So hopef-,” Dorian cut off as he took a step backward. Now that was strange. He stepped back out and turned, inspecting the door. He couldn't see any better than Kurt could, which was barely at all.

Dorian put his palm out, holding it open. A small light began to form there, casting a bright green hue throughout the chamber. Dorian continued inspecting the wall.

“So, that's new. When did ya pick up that trick?” Kurt asked, dumbstruck. Some of the things his little brother did still seemed so unreal. When things like this happened, he was reminded that though Dorian was his little brother, he was also something else entirely. Though, generally, that wasn’t how Kurt thought about people, they were themselves, they weren't what they could do or be. Treating people like tools to an end was wrong, he knew that despite how his society glorified the other houses for treating people as tools, he disagreed. As mom would put it, “people are intrinsically valuable,” whatever that meant.

“Oh this, yeah… uh, yesterday? Ohmer showed it to me. Hey, check this out, there's a thin line of green stone here, I bet it runs under and over the bars. This was intentional, whomever built these intends on capturing Priorius.” Dorian was suddenly somber. “Kurt what do we do?”

Kurt put a hand on Dorian's shoulder, “we're gonna figure it out as we go. Come on, it's time we were out of here.”

Dorian steadied himself and nodded, projecting a beam of light out in front of them. The hallway had a very clean look to it despite it being stone, the walls were perfectly flat. They even reflected a bit of light, helping them see further down. As they strode away they found more cages on each side until they came to an open chamber. There was a large, vaulted ceiling overhead, and five other doorways that looked just the same as the one they came out of. One large archway centered the room. “Shall we?” Kurt gestured to Dorian.

“We shall.” Dorian replied, feeling more confident now. As they walked through the doors the Dorian's light winked out.

“Shit,” Dorian whispered.

“No shit,” Kurt replied.

“It must be another room like the cell.”

“There's torches enough to see by, let’s just get out of here.” Kurt's tone was commanding.

They moved, finding a high hallway, also clean but with some artistic ornamentation. The animal skulls that were plastered to the walls were a nice touch, and what would make a better torch sconce than a human skull? Pay no mind to your racing heart, Kurt thought. Kurt looked over to Dorian, his face was also grim in the torchlight. They each found a bracketed torch, something most people didn't bother with. Good steel was hard to come by, most simply went without. As they moved, they began hearing noises. Chattering, almost like a set of bickering squirrels.

Kurt handed the torch to Dorian as he got into a crouch. Taking his staff in hand, he skulked up the hall. He was tired by this point, but the adrenaline pumping through him now was exhilarating. Heel toe, heel toe, no sound, his breathe even, paying attention to his step as he would pause momentarily to look about, keeping an eye on his objective.

The two dim shadows were, for lack of a better word, lumpy. Uneven, but they bobbed back and for with their clicks, long vowels interjecting ever so often, though they were much softer than the deep clicks they made. They stood, facing each other, one leaning against a wall.

The best tactic here would be swift attack, swift and brutal, like pouncing a boar. Give no warning, strike deadly. The sweet spot when going for a mortal blow was either a heart or throat strike. Depending on how close he could get to them without them noticing him, he could end this in a moment, he'd have to. Steeling himself, he began taking a breath when the two stopped chattering. He paused mid stride, hoping he was hidden by the dark. They resumed chatting after a moment, and Kurt took the opportunity to move in for the kill.

Pulling his arm back to strike, he lashed out with all his might. He struck the first from the side, running through the throat and catching on his enemy's jawbone before sliding through the flesh out the other side, leaving his prey devastated. Pulling back quickly he lashed out, but too slow. The shadowy figure spun out ducking his head as he went. When he centered himself against Kurt, he had something long glinting in his hand. That's a real weapon, that's a sword.

Having swords crafted was tantamount to holy war against the Monastery. When it came to owning weapons, it was highly frowned upon, Metan had been given liberty as they were the primary source for game. Their pelts and exotic foods helped the rest of the Valley, but they were more exposed to the harshness of the Valley in turn, on account of the harder living. Kressians lived to be old, but not as old as Gwendians. The monks were rumored to live to ancient ages. Metians, Hunts in particular, were lucky to grow old enough to grey. Of course, if you met a trapper that was old enough to go grey, they were likely a very dangerous person.

None of that mattered, because the sentence for anybody, including a Metan citizen, caught owning a sword was death. A sword was used for one reason, to kill someone. That's no hunter's weapon, that kind of thing was only ever owned by a murderer.

Suddenly outraged at the sight, and a little scared, Kurt burst forth, thrusting in a series that left his opponent on the defensive. Kurt poised a strike, then pivoting, swung with all his might. He did this to keep his opponent off balance, that kind of swing would usually stagger an opponent unless their balance was perfect. His opponent placed one hand at the back of his blade to brace the impact. It cut halfway through the piss end of his staff, chunks flying in to the man's face. Kurt grinned.

Recoiling, Kurt swept low for his opponent’s legs, whipping his stave back around and overhead, following with a series of overhead, then underhand jabs. The man barked at him. It was unnerving, but Kurt was committed. Feigning a high strike, he thrust center and met clean flesh. Cackling, the man stumbled against the wall, sliding down it. The sound of his sword clanging against the stone floor echoed, and a quiet followed, only his breathing breaking the silence.

“Kurt.” Dorian said, quiet but alarmed. He was standing over the first man, staring like an idiot.

Now finally visible from Dorian’s torch, what they beheld was a horror. Wrinkled and darkened skin, with an elongated nose, mouth tilting upward a touch with very little separation between the bridge of its nose and its upper lip. Its teeth were on full display as it lay lifeless in a pool of its own blood. Sharp and pointed, a carnivore. Its mangled body wasn't any better than its face, head over sized, rounded shoulders. There were warts and humps all throughout its skin, its pustule covered muscles misshapen and malformed.

“Dorian, we need to get out of here.” Kurt said as he gawked at the dead thing, doing his best to keep the fear from his voice.

Dorian gave a grunt of ascent, so Kurt retrieved his staff from the other one. The suction noise it made on the way out would likely scar him for life, he felt like he wanted to sick up. Reaching over, he grabbed the dropped weapon and offered it to Dorian. “I know you don't know how to use it either, but I'm better with a staff. This is too long for you anyways.” Kurt shook the staff.

Dorian stared at the sword for a moment, his eyes going wide. They seemed to shimmer green for just a moment, then he nodded. He took the blade after setting the torches down. He hefted it as Kurt grabbed his torch. Dorian checked the balance on it, inspecting it like he'd done so before. He looked down the blade long ways, “straight,” he muttered before clasping it from the hilt.

“Single edge pointed saber, if a bit heavy. Needs a good polishing and some edge work-”

“Dor!” Kurt whispered at him, harsh in his tone. “Later.”

Kurt inspected the dim area more closely, assuming there would be a door somewhere nearby. Finding it, there was a single room with a platform inside with beams of light shining down from above. The platform had ropes on all four sides and a pole running through the center. Coming from above, there was a muffled tone that rose and fell. Kurt couldn't make it out, it was just a white noise, like standing near a waterfall.

“I think we should look for another way.” Dorian said from behind him, looking menacing with a sword in his hand. They stepped out of the room and kept making their way down the curved hall. The odd thing was that it didn't change course, the only discerning property of the hall a minor incline to the step.

The next door they found had a window. One look through it and Kurt just shook his head, putting a finger to his lips to shush Dorian. It was good to be curious, but not all the time.

There was a vast amount of those things just through the door, walking around as they chattered to one another. This hallway was densely populated with those things. The two brothers continued their frantic search for an escape. Instead, they found a closet with more bones in it, another with a stash of meat Kurt didn't trust, and finally a weapons cache. This they took up, Dorian finding a comparable blade but a touch shorter, Kurt finding a proper dory. He had been informed about the dory by his father, who had actually trained with one. It was a spear with a double-sided metal blade at the end. Apparently wielded by the “warriors of old” as his father would put it.

There were other miscellaneous objects scattered about, but nothing of any immediate use. After a moment they continued their way down, trying to find a way out of this mad house. After finding another door, they moved to inspect it. This one also had a window. Through it, Kurt could make out an auditorium like layout. Rows of seats descended towards something Kurt couldn't see, and as Kurt stared, they all burst out of their seats. Instead of an expectant roar, silence.

“Let’s keep going.” Kurt said and took off at a trot. He didn't want to spend any more time there than they had to. The next door was the last door, as the hallway ended abruptly. Looking through the window there, he swore. Though not as many as before, this looked to be high seats. It was well lit, and there were only a few of those things sitting in throne-like stone chairs draped with animal skins, others standing about them but not moving.

He noted it a peculiarity but disregarded it. His objective was to get the hell out of this place. He put his finger on his lip to signal quiet to Dorian, then held a hand out telling him to wait. He turned and ran ideas around in his head. They could run away, back to where they came, but that would only land them where they started. They could inspect the other cells, possibly one could be out of order. It had been more than a half hour since they got out of their cell, likely no one would be back there yet. It was a possibility, either that or sneak through their auditorium while the creatures were distracted. Still, they didn't have idea about this place's layout, but those odds were the best they had so far. As he turned, he noted Dorian on his tip-toes leaning against the door, trying to get a peek at the window. The door budged and before Kurt had a chance to catch him, Dorian fell through it.