The Escape
“It is here, at the beginning, that I must apologize to the fledgling Wizard that has opened this text. The incantations you seek to cause great destruction, to conquer your enemies, or to incite jealousy in your peers will not be found here. Magic is a thing of subtlety, of precision, and of the dust that coats tomes such as this one.”
- Magistratus Grisham, from The Power of Magery.
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Click.
Click.
Click.
Thud.
This sequence: three locks and a deadbolt held that ancient oaken door in place, or so the prisoner guessed. It would undoubtedly hold steadfast against any man or beast. These familiar sounds had become something he had begun to look forward to–a break in the unending monotony that was his prison–even if it meant the arrival of that obnoxious guard. Today was no different, the blinding light of the torchlight splitting through the entryway, the musk of man, and the scent of horseflesh.
The guard lets out a heavy sigh as he places his torch in the sconce, meat hanging loosely from his gauntleted hand. His face is visible today, the helmet is uncomfortable and limits his vision–why make the long descent into these dark dungeons all the more difficult? Already he must deal with the dregs of society and now this sickening creature was in his purview as well, surely he had earned himself this small reprieve. Not having to breathe that stale, hot air, within the helmet made the stench of prisons just a little more tolerable. He always left the door open as a means of escape. The guard didn’t know what this thing was–he didn’t ask questions, a sought-after trait in law enforcement–but he knew that he didn’t want to wrestle that heavy door open again should the prisoner escape its confinement.
He says his usual crude greeting, he doubted whatever it was could understand him anyway, as he tossed the piece of meat through the bars. Strangely, the creature never ate, he glanced towards the festering pile of previous meals gone uneaten in the corner, but he was ordered to bring it meals and so he did. However, he was not ordered to remain here in the deepest part of the dungeon any longer than he needed to be and so he turned to make his exit. Just in time to watch the door slam closed with a sound that reverberated in his belly.
He bounded across the room in two strides, preparing to rip the door open with all his might, terror making his decisions for him.
Click.
Click.
Click.
Thud.
The guard’s heart turned to ice upon hearing the mechanisms on the other side of the door lock into place. An iron deadbolt a quarter-of-an-inch thick in diameter sliding into place. Three locks, all with separate keys that only he and the Captain of the Guard had copies of. He doubted his superior had snuck down here behind him. Even worse, he knew he wouldn’t be checking on him any time soon.
“Hey! Open this door immediately! You have until the count of three to save yourself from a hanging!”
There was no response on the other side of the door.
“One!” The guard yelled, trying, and failing, to keep the terror from his voice.
“Two!”
“Three!”
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Click.
The sound of a lock opening echoed through the still air. Relief spread throughout the guard’s body. Icy veins, constricted with adrenaline, opened back up just in time for him to realize that the sound did not come from the door in front of him, but rather from behind. The singular cell’s door opened slowly, rusted hinges protesting as the pale and naked form crawled out in an uncertain, tentative manner. It entered the narrow hall that led to the room’s only exit, passively looking at the armored man in its way.
The guard drew his sword from its sheath, pointing it shakily at the figure of his once-captive. “Get back in your cage, freak, before I run this blade straight through you!” he managed to yell, his fear bringing his normally baritone voice up to something more resembling a tenor pitch.
The creature was more clear to him now than ever. Pale and nearly hairless save for its sex, the thing stood head and shoulders taller than the brawny guard, its bald head brushing the ceiling of the dungeon. Its face resembled a man’s, but longer and punctuated with two yellow eyes that were larger than they had any right to be. A thin nose sat above its mouth, lined with lips that seemed perpetually locked in a cruel mimicry of a grin. It looked as if it were starved, with ribs clearly shown and a sunken stomach to match, though its twisted muscles were well-defined under its pallid skin. It took one predatory step toward the guard.
The sound of the steel sword clanging off of the stone floor was still ringing in the guard’s ears as he pulled desperately on the door handle. It was no use and deep down he knew he would never see the other side of that door again. He could feel the presence behind him inching nearer but could not force himself to face it, every muscle in his body had gone lax, his armored knees crashing to the floor below as he felt a spreading warmth running down his legs. He couldn’t even open his mouth to beg for his life as the hot breath of the creature buffeted against the back of his neck.
Saliva leaked from the creature’s partially open mouth. The pain in its stomach had reached its zenith and the cure was finally within its grasp. Opening its maw to its inhuman limits, it fit the guard’s exposed head neatly into its mouth before clamping down with impossible force. The creature sat on its haunches and chewed vigorously, waves of warmth washed over it as it crunched through the viscera, finally soothing the perpetual agony in its abdomen. Swallowing, it turned its attention back to the headless remains of its once-captor. Its hunger was satiated, but something else drove it to undo the clasps and leather straps that held the armor still attached to the cooling corpse. Tossing the gauntlets, greaves, chestplate, and various other metal pieces into a pile, the creature stripped the remaining undergarments before continuing its feast. It tore away muscle and lapped blood from the stone tiles until every last piece of flesh was gnawed from its bone and nothing but the skeletal remains were left of the guard.
The creature sat back from its gorging, breathing heavily from the effort and euphoria that was unknown to it until now. As the feelings of elation began to subside, brief flashes of images appeared in the creature’s mind. A room full of guards, polished swords, and armor lining the walls. A woman’s face, eyes gentle and caring. A dungeon, with a creature that lingered in the darkness of its cell.
“What? What is this?” a voice, deep and strangely distorted–as if two men were trying to speak at the same time–echoed throughout the small dungeon. The creature realized it was its own, it hadn’t bothered trying to speak since its first memory of awakening its cell.
“Worry not, Child. ‘Tis but the memories of a mortal man, nothing to concern yourself with,” another voice, softer and far more beautiful than the beast’s own, filled its mind. The confusing images and emotions were replaced with a warm, fuzzy sensation that made the room blur, making it difficult to think.
“But you are a child no longer, are you? You have consumed and filled that void, the relentless gnawing hunger within you. An incomplete being finally made whole. A seed nourished by the foundations of life: blood, sinew, muscle, and bone. You are more; perfection made manifest and you need a name deserving as such.”
The Voice paused, seeming to think for a moment.
Amiran.
The word was not spoken by The Voice, but came from somewhere else, somewhere deeper. It imprinted itself like a stamp on the beast’s mind. The fog enshrouding Amiran’s mind cleared as quickly as it came, The Voice seeming to have left with it. He stood, feeling his new, even greater strength in his legs as he walked to the oak door to claim his freedom only to find it still securely locked. He waited for a moment for whatever force locked it and freed him in the first place to release the locks once again, but whatever it was–Amiran guessed it was The Voice’s doing–did not come to his aid again. Left with no other choice, he gripped the door handle with both hands and, kicking the still-wet bones off to the side, braced his feet against the uneven stone floor before pulling with all his might. Compared to his previous attempt with his iron cell door it was obvious to him that he had grown in strength; already he could hear the latches on the opposite side of the door begin to fail, the metal fasteners popping and cracking under the stress. A few more seconds of effort and the door had completely given way, the sudden release of energy sending Amiran stumbling backward.
On the other side of the doorway was a long, narrow staircase. At its top, after what looked to be hundreds of ancient stone steps, was a blindingly bright light. Amiran felt a fresh, cool breeze work its way down the stairs and brush across his face as if to greet him. He was free.