2 : 270 : 07 : 43 : 09

You don’t want to go to Egregor. Not only is it one of the least hospitable deserts on the planet, hot and unhealthy all year round, but there’s also a facility there with a bit of a reputation.

Anybody who goes to Egregor never comes back out.

Winds have swept a patch of smooth bedrock clean of sand, and deep into the dark rock has been drilled a cylindrical pit. A pit deep enough that you can’t see to the bottom from above, even with a flashlight. Pinned in the middle of the symmetrical cavity is a long metal tower, hanging on to the pit edges by a handful of narrow bridges.

It’s not a mining facility, or a theme park.

That would be the prison of Egregor.

Now, I only told you a handful of chapters ago how emiri don’t hand out prison sentences. When you live long enough, the whole planet starts to look like one big jail you can’t ever leave, so how would putting a person in a room for a few years be a “punishment” in any sense? Isn’t that just daily life? So what would they do with prisons?

Well, you see, the Dominion’s justice system only applies to the subjects of the Dominion. It so happens they share the realm with a bunch of other lifeforms, some of which are either increasingly difficult to kill, or else so rare that butchering them would be something of a loss for the world.

The Gods went to the trouble of making these things, so who are we to decide when it's their time? Something like that. Then again, since these fellows really don't get along with others and tend to leave a massive body count behind, wherever they go, “turn the other cheek” isn’t an option.

So you lock them up for a very long time.

Egregor is a prison, and a museum, a live specimen collection, and something of a zoo, all in one.

Inside the tower, the prisoners hang locked in soundproof, disaster-proof containers stacked neatly side by side, level per level, á la Minority Report. The inmates don’t get meal breaks, or yard time. No band days. There are no libraries, or rehabilitating workshops. They’re kept magically suspended, conscious but unable to move a muscle, enjoying their time just chilling and thinking about where they went wrong with their lives—those of them capable of thinking, that is.

As you might reason, the baddest of the bad are put near the bottom of the pit, furthest away from the civilization, the less insufferable towards the top side. I hear no one’s been able to escape in the 16,000+ years the facility's been in operation.

Dang, I’d sure hate to be down there myself. I think I’d rather take a bullet in the head.

About a third of the way going down, on floor 68, is a fairly new customer.

Some of the inmates are beefy enough to hog a whole floor for themselves, but this one fits neatly in one man-sized, coffin-shaped container, and doesn’t stand out from the shelf.

The container is custom-made of varied layers of materials; dimeritium, aluminum, glass, steel, lead, gold. It blocks sound, blocks electric charges and magnetism, insulates heat, disrupts the flow of mana, and weighs about two tons. There are no windows in the casket, to check who’s inside. On top of the lid is only stamped a faint number, 11019.

You can tell this here’s a meanie special in many ways.

Not only is it a fresh face, but this prisoner is also the first one to have an outside visitor in over 400 years.

A large mechanical arm whirs into action, and goes to pick up container 11019 from the opposite wall. You can’t access the containers directly. To prevent that, there’s a gap of roughly thirty meters between them and the central facility, where the employees are. There’s only one movable cyber arm to bring them out too, so even if a wannabe Joker wanted to set everybody free, he could only do it one by one. You also need to input a special code to extract a container from the rack, and only the head warden knows the codes. The codes aren’t written anywhere, he’s memorized them, all 40,000 of them.

Not any random family members can come check up on their little beast. A visitor must have the appropriate security clearance level, formally request a date in advance, specifying the prisoner by number, and produce a permit signed by a Governor of one of the nine districts.

Can’t be too cautious.

Some of these guys could wipe out humanity in a week—including the one whose retirement home is presently lifted to the loading platform.

Since talking to a hunk of metal is a little hard, the casket needs to be partially opened.

One by one, the tight-knit components making up each layer pull aside to show the prisoner’s head and shoulders.

Like that, after three and a half years of jail time, Zandolph sees light again.

She squints her golden eyes at the artificial lighting and grits her teeth, very annoyed. Fifty-two sturdy rings of enchanted ebonite chain her toned body into the casket, but she still looks pretty lively. A human wizard would be in a coma with only one of those hoops on. At least I know I’d be.

Soon adjusting to the lights, Zandolph fixes her gaze on the mystery visitor and frowns.

In front of her on the circular platform stands a bland elf official, a guy who looks even less remarkable than Master Endol, dressed in a beige robe. A few steps behind stands a squad of six sentries in full armor, gripping plasma spears, ready for anything.

“Leave us,” the official grunts in a thin voice.

The guards hesitate but eventually withdraw.

It’s against the rules, but they don’t know how to say no to a government official with a seal of approval from Osgonnoth.

I wait until they’ve all shuffled out of the guest area and the door's firmly closed again, before I snap my fingers to undo the camouflage. I may not be able to transform into another person, but it’s still pretty convincing for a mirage.

“Hi-hi~!” I wave my fingers at Zandolph and smile like a Japanese tourist.

“You…!” She snarls and strains against the binds. The metal groans. It’s going to hold, right?

“Peace!” I raise my hands and gesture at her to keep it cool. “I don’t have a lot of time, so would you kindly just listen and not make noise? I’m here to help you out.”

A dumbstruck look takes over her face. “What…?”

“Yeah. The thing is, I’m putting together a team. There’s you and then there’s me. We ran out of hobbits and handsome dwarves. How about it, are you in?”

“Get out!”

Seriously? Who can say no to that!?

“Come on, don’t be like that!” I make an effort to negotiate. “I’m not exaggerating at all when I say the fate of the world depends on us. I need your help. You’re the only one I can count on. When the job’s done, you’ll be free to go and do whatever you want, no strings attached. Go jam with bears, I don't care. I’ll owe you, all life on the planet will owe you, and, and—they might make an action figure. I don’t know.”

“Give me one reason to trust a word you say,” she retorts.

“Oh, when have I ever lied to you? That’s right, never! I did my part back in the woods too. I helped you kill the necromancer, just like I promised I would!”

“...”

“...And then I told you not to resist arrest, and it’d be okay, and they wouldn’t hurt you, and I’d talk to them for you, but they did, and I didn’t, and you got a 40,000-year sentence with no chance to appeal. Okay. I admit, that part could’ve gone better. But it’s to make up for past mistakes that I’m here now. And also, because I need a very big favor. So, could you please just say yes? I want out of here! This place creeps me out!”

Zandolph looks at me without blinking as she leans her neck as far forward as she can in the binds, and articulates in total clarity:

“No.”

“Damn.” I sigh deep. “I missed this. I really missed this. The harder you resist, the more it turns me on. But are you sure? It’s about your home this time. Your own people are on the line of fire.”

I watch her very closely and there’s an ever-so-slight flinch on her face.

“Yes. I need you to take me there,” I tell her. “To Dali-thú-Dalinnéa.”

Zandolph looks away, a little more remorseful than outright opposed.

“I cannot go back,” she says.

“And why not?”

“I left against the will of my father. I abandoned my post as the chieftain of my tribe and the future leader of my people. I did it for personal, selfish reasons. I betrayed my kin without a word, abandoned them for many years, knowing how badly they needed me. And here I am, with nothing to show for it. Only failure upon failure!”

“Ouch.” I cringe at the tale. “You think your folks would be, like, super angry if you went back now?”

If there’s going to be blood, I don’t want to get caught in the crossfire. Maybe this plan isn’t going to work…

“No.” Zandolph closes her eyes and grits her teeth with a look of grief. “But it would be very embarrassing.”

“...”

I stare at her for a bit to see if she’s serious. She’s serious.

“Oh, come the fuck on! Cut the crap! I’m not letting Yaoldabath destroy the world just because of your hurt pride! That’s it. We’re getting you out of here.”

Zandolph abruptly looks up, eyes wide.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“What? Why do you know that name?”

“Why?” I pause. “Because I’ve spent the better part of my life playing tic-tac-toe with the guy over a bunch of magic balls? Why do you know that name?”

“It was to find Yaoldabath that I left the island!” she roars. “To have revenge! And now you tell me he’s there!? Release me! Now!”

Suddenly she’s very much rearing to go.

“Okay, okay!” I tell her. “But you have to keep it down! The next part is going to be tricky, and I need you to trust me and do exactly as I tell you. Think you can manage that, or will I find another avenger? I’ve got forty thousand here to choose from.”

“Tch.” Zandolph doesn’t look pleased, but she’s smart enough to see her choices, and reluctantly gives the green light. “You have my word.”

“That'll have to do.”

I go to the console standing on the edge of the platform and try not to think about how painfully easy it is for her to take that word back. An electronic key is required to fully unlock the container, which I don’t have. And don’t need. I point my finger at the access port.

Interface; determine current type; analyze system structure; identify mainframe; access connected drive; search file tree; set key: flag used. Front shield, open; rings, open. There.

Thankfully, nobody has invented firewalls yet.

With a lot of clicking, the remaining components withdraw, and the metal coffin fully exposes its guts. I watch the rings of gold-etched ebonite pull away, and briefly wonder if letting this walking nuke out is such a great idea, after all. Maybe not one of my best.

Then it’s too late for regrets.

The binds undone, our redhead hops down to the landing, rubbing her wrists, as if not a day has passed since we last met. Well, physically, no time did pass for her, with the stasis and all.

“Okay,” I tell her. “We’re going with the good old ‘I’m transferring this prisoner’-trope. I put fake cuffs on you, you don’t make a peep, and we walk straight out through the front door, nice and easy.”

“Do as you will.”

From here on, we’re on our own. The Commander arranged me the entry permit, but that’s as far as outside help goes. Said entry permit has already erased itself. If we get caught, her eminence will deny ever knowing me. My military records have already been wiped. Officially, I no longer exist. In other words, nothing will save my life if we're caught.

Let’s not get caught.

I create a set of illusory shackles around Zan's wrists, renew my disguise, and we’re good to go.

“You ready for this?” I double-check with her. “If you need a moment, it’s fine. I know it's been a long time and—”

“—You look disgusting,” she replies and walks by.

“Are you talking about the disguise? It's the disguise, right?”

“Come on.”

“That’s not an answer.”

We go to the exit and I hit the switch. The thick, round, bank-style metal door slides out of the way and we step into the tube corridor beyond, where the guards patiently wait. From here to the elevator behind the corner and upstairs. Once on the surface, we zoom out, nice, quick, and easy, and leave no evidence behind.

I pause before the sentries and do my best impersonation of Master Endol, using a tone as dry and patronizing as possible,

“I have orders to transfer this prisoner. You will escort me.”

The guards stand dumb for a second.

A second later, they level their spears and start shooting. If I weren’t a coward half-ready to cast Ice Shield at all times, I would’ve been hopelessly too late. We take cover under the frosty egg while nonstop fire is poured on us.

“—SHIT!”

“Works every time…?” Zandolph gives me that look I've come to expect from Sephram.

“They don’t transfer a lot of prisoners, do they?”

As soon as the sensors detect the heat signals, red lights go off, and the whole place is locked up tighter than granny’s purse. Alarms blare. Even if we get through the guards, the elevator is locked now. Every level is locked. Every door is locked. Did I mention nobody has ever broken out of this place before? Maybe that wasn't only a sales pitch.

My shield can’t take much more of this. What the actual fuck are we going to do now?

I turn to my partner in crime.

“Um. This is a little awkward to say so soon, but do you have any ideas how to get out of here? I’m fully open to violent solutions too.”

Thankfully, Zandolph recognizes this isn’t the time to get quippy.

She frowns thoughtfully for a moment and then makes a strange request.

“Get me something to throw.”

“To throw? Like what?”

“Something hard and heavy. Like my spear.”

We’re fighting for dear lives and she starts compiling a raider? What next, a beer and sandwich?

Whatever, no time to mull it over!

“Sure, we’ve got spears.”

I hook up with the lighting system and turn off the lamps in the corridor. The sudden darkness doesn’t bother my eyes, but distracts the guards for a few precious, fleeting tenths of a second.

I turn off half of the shield and whip over a Chain of Light. Being made of light, it has no mass and moves by my will instead of the laws of physics, which rather helps as I’ve never practiced this before.

The head of the chain wraps around the nearest sentry’s plasma spear. As soon as the chain tightens, I dispel the rest of the shield and punch out with my free hand. A tight Shockwave tackles the mob and sends them staggering. I yank back the lasso. The chain and the spear come flying back to us, and Zandolph snatches the weapon off the air.

“Get down,” she warns me, not waiting to see if I actually do.

Sensing the surge of mana in her, I throw myself on the floor and cover my head.

Zandolph turns around, brings the javelin up to her brow with excellent form—and throws it.

“——”

I assume she threw it.

I don't catch any of it. It's less “a foxy girl throws a big spear” and more like “an 88-mm anti-air cannon goes off right next to my ear.” There’s a very loud bang. A wave of pressure, like the ceiling coming down on my back, flattens me against the floor and wrings every bit of air out of me. I black out. The floor sways, everything’s shaking. I’m convinced I died.

Then a hard voice enters my ears.

“Get up.”

A hand grabs the back of my collar and lifts me up from the floor.

I’m conscious, but I can’t move. There’s no strength in my limbs. Everything between my neck and toes has gone to jelly. Seeing I can’t stand, Zandolph throws me on her shoulder like a rag and runs back to the platform we came from through the doorway that has has grown a lot wider since the last I saw it.

A large, smoking hole has appeared in the prison wall. Around twenty containers were blown away in its making. I’m sure they all deserved it. The lady approaches the edge, picks up the pace, and jumps. We fly over the 30-meter gap from the platform to the ravaged hole.

“Now what?” Zandolph asks and drops me in the wreckage.

I cough, my lungs tickling and hurting. Now what? That’s what I’d like to know.

Behind lies the drop between the central facility and the cell wall. Ahead lies the even wider drop between the prison and the outer wall of the pit. We’re surrounded by emptiness. The walls on all sides are smooth, precisely so nobody would think to climb and escape along them. Without the elevator, the only way to get out is to fly.

I look back to where we came from.

The sentries have recovered and come out to the loading platform, and the blasting speedily resumes.

“Look out!”

I gather my slowly returning strength and throw myself on Zandolph, before she gets a sizable hole in her back. She’s stupidly hard and heavy, but I manage to shake her balance just by enough that we both go plummeting into the gorge outside.

“What are you doing!?” she grunts as we fall.

“Saving your life?”

“By casting me into this fathomless abyss!?”

“Yes. Exactly as planned!”

“The most contrived murder I have ever seen.”

I was a little worried back there, but we made it more or less safely outside, and that’s all that matters. I didn’t pack any parachutes this time either, but fortunately, we won’t be needing any. As I said, the only way out is to fly.

“Alright, Zan, do your thing,” I smile and tell my partner. “Now would be a great time to turn into a dragon!”

Lots of free space to spread your wings. Wide open skies.

However, Zandolph makes only a very complicated face and our freefall continues uninhibited.

“...Uh, don’t mean to rush you, but this hole does have a bottom, you know? No time to get shy!”

“I can’t change form,” she finally confesses in a mumble.

“What was that?” I turn my right ear towards her. “I almost thought you said, ‘I can’t change form’. But that’s obviously not true, is it?”

“I can’t,” she confirms.

“What do you mean, you can’t!? That’s what you do? Dragons turning into humans—that’s every TV anime these days! It’s part of your racial identity by now! And the only reason you’re even in this story! And now you’re telling me you can’t!? Are you kidding me!?”

“It was the only way I could get through the barriers on the border,” she explains. “I had to reinforce the spell so far I can no longer reverse it.”

“But, back when we first met...”

“I wasn't flying. I jumped. No wings, no lift.”

“Oh really? Is that so? Boy, am I glad to hear that now! You know, I would’ve been even more glad to know an itty-bitty detail like that before building my whole plan on the premise that you could fly us out of here!”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have built your damned plan on someone who doesn’t know the plan!”

“Oh my god! This is so not my fault!”

“Never mind. I am confident I can still survive a fall from this height.”

“Wish I could say the same! Unfortunately, I already know I’m fucking dead for sure! Because I’m only human! And we humans weren’t made to fall from heights like this! And what the f—”

——!

A sudden heavy gust of wind buffets us, forcing us to cover our faces. In the next moment, we touch down on the bottom.

It came up a lot faster than I expected. Even stranger, the bottom isn’t at all rocky or hard, but kind of leathery and bouncy. Instead of squashing me to pulp in an instant, it receives me with the smoothness of a big trampoline, sucking in the momentum, and stilling the flight, before sending us back up. We bounce up and fall back down and bounce up and fall, until we stop to lie dazed on the strange, round surface wrapped in ropes. It resembles a big, oval balloon.

“Oh no…”

From below, a familiar voice calls out to us.

“—Ey yo, Zero! Ya still in one piece!?”

“Oh no, no, no…”

Over the balloon’s curve pops up the hairy face of a chimpanzee, grinning wide at us, a black tarpaulin hat on its head.

First Mate Sam.

“Endol told me ya'd be here!” Captain Gideon’s holler carries up from the deck of the Solveig. “Said ya might need a hand! Looks like he had the right of it too! He always does, he's da man, hahaha! A helluva plan you got there, missy!”

Was there really nobody else to rescue us?

Running away on a hot air balloon is not what I’d call very stylish. Or fast.

So old-fashioned too.