KGWrites

James

Aethril Palace Vaults, Fallham, Barony of Fallham

Finding their way back into the tunnels below the palace was simple, James had memorised the route the night before. Though he’d been expecting difficulties with bringing the princess through the sewers, Iona had pleasantly surprised him, moving through the muck without a second thought.

Apparently, his surprise was not lost on Iona either. As they started up the stone tunnels towards the palace itself, she turned to look at him over her shoulder.

“What?” She asked him, genuinely confused.

“Nothing. Just slightly amazed that the Princess of Aldiron is climbing through sewers to help me with a heist. If you’d told me two years ago that this is where I’d end up, I’d have assumed you were drunk.” He smirked and she laughed softly.

“Glad to have been able to surprise you.” She replied.

“You’ve done nothing but surprise me since I met you, Iona.” James replied quietly, more to himself than her, but she still clearly heard him, coming to a stop and turning in the corridor to look at him.

“Before we go further, I want to clear the air between you and me. If you’re open to it.” She offered, her gaze never quite meeting his. James narrowed his eyes, working hard to keep surprise from his face.

“Clear the air? Why?” He asked eventually. He didn’t ask what she wanted to clear, there were enough points of contention between them for her to pick from. Iona sighed, pursing her lips in thought.

“We’re doing something that could easily get us killed. I’m not in a good place with Meghan. And while Alyx is… Alyx, I would prefer not to have my friends hate me as we face danger.”

James blew out a long breath.

“Hate’s a… strong word Iona.” He said hesitantly.

“Is it wrong?” She asked him pointedly. James lowered his gaze from her, chewing his response over and over in his mind.

“It’s wrong.” He told her eventually. “I don’t hate you. In fact, I think you might be one of the bravest women I’ve ever met.” He looked up at her again, finding her staring at him, wide eyed. She scanned his face, searching for the disdain she had been clearly expecting to find.

“But, I also think you let what you think your duty as princess should be get in the way of what you really should be doing instead. That you rush in thinking you’re doing the right thing when you’re actually putting everything else in danger.” He went on. Iona lowered her head, biting at her lip and folding her arms across herself.

“Don’t misunderstand, it’s admirable. And I’d be one hell of a hypocrite to hate you for doing exactly what I did back in Aldiron when I split from the others to save one kid in a battle. But everything relies on you Iona. You can’t just rush into danger.”

“Nothing relies on me!” Iona growled, kicking at the dirt on the ground. “I’m nothing but a fucking prize for Draconeus now, something you all have to keep away.”

James scowled and tilted his head. “Did finding out you’ve got Blood Demon in your veins erase everything else you are?” He asked her, his voice a low growl. She looked at him, confused, her mouth half opened to argue.

“You’re the last damned Ravellan still. A symbol that Aldiron still stands, while you live, so does hope. Besides that, you carry the Brightblade, our only hope at killing Draconeus. And you inspire people to stand up and fight.” James placed his three fingered hand on her shoulder.

“By all rights, Alyx and I should have run away a long time ago. Cut our losses and left. But we didn’t, we wouldn’t.” He tried to explain. Iona bit her lip and looked at him again.

“If you’d had Lillian… If I hadn’t lost her…” She spoke softly, like a whisper. James shook his head firmly.

“Stop that! Alyx told me you blamed yourself for Lillian being left behind. So, I’m going to tell you something, and I need you to hear me on it.” He crouched slightly, putting himself eye to eye with her.

“Lillian was not your fault.”

Iona stared at him, eyes wide and shining with tears as she searched for any hint of a lie in his words. He held her gaze steadily.

“Lillian was taken from you by the crowd, and when you tried to reach her, you were attacked by the enemy and cut off. You lost her, and tried to get to her, and failed. But you tried. Her being left behind was not your fault. It was just a bitter taste I had to swallow, and I blamed you for it and I shouldn’t have.” He laid his palm on his chest. “That’s on me. And I am sorry if it’s caused you pain.”

Iona scowled, looking at James in surprise. “You’re apologising to me?” She asked him incredulously. James nodded.

“You wanted to clear the air, I’m clearing it. I’m sorry that I blamed you for something that wasn’t your fault.” He told her earnestly. Iona spluttered in confusion.

James held up a hand to stop her from replying. “And even if she had made it out of Aldiron, having Lillian would have changed nothing about whether Alyx and I stayed with you. We’re still here now because we believe in you. In Iona Ravellan inspiring people to stand up and fight Draconeus. Because you’re not giving up. Like a hero from a story we’d heard as kids. And I’ve always liked heroes. You’re so much more than the blood in your veins Iona. And I want to stand at your side and help you. However I can.”

James smiled at Iona, tilting his head to the side.

“I don’t hate you, Princess. And there’s no air to clear. I’m honoured to call you my friend.”

Iona made a soft whimpering sound and dashed forwards in the tunnel, practically tackling James into a tight hug. At first, James had almost readied himself for attack, but as soon as he realised what Iona was doing, he gladly returned the hug.

For a moment at least.

“Iona… breathing,” He croaked out.

“Oh.” Iona said softly, releasing James from the bone crushing embrace.

“Your training’s paying off.” James observed drily as he caught his breath again. Iona smiled and tilted her head in acknowledgement and thanks. Then James nodded up the tunnel.

“Come on Princess, let’s get in there and get this sword before Alyx does it all for us. Can you imagine how smug she’d be?”

Iona laughed. “Gods, she’d be awful.”

“Exactly.” James replied, squeezing past Iona in the tunnel to lead them onwards.

He led them up into the carved stone of the tunnels, passing through the door he’d picked the day before. A few minutes later, they’d reached the thin shaft of light he’d seen through the culvert, and the soft mortared stone around it. James stretched up to look through the gap.

Beyond was the same treasury he’d seen before, still lit by torches in the walls. But more importantly, it still seemed as unguarded as before. He turned back to Iona.

“Alright Princess, you ready to work some magic?” He asked quietly. Iona squared her jaw and nodded, already fixing her gaze on the stonework.

“Can you give me some light?” She asked. James hesitated, glancing uncertainly towards the culvert. But both times he’d been here there’d been no hint of life within the space, and if Iona needed it to work her magic, then he’d oblige.

Crouching, he slung off the mostly empty pack on his shoulder and unclasped the hooded lantern attached to the side. A second later, he pulled a flint and steel from a pouch on his belt and struck it. The oil in the lantern flared to life and the little space around them lit up with flickering yellow.

Iona stepped closer to the wall, running her fingers through the mortar gaps in the brickwork. After a moment, she nodded to herself, pressed her fingers against the wall and closed her eyes.

For a while, nothing happened, and James began to worry whether the plan would even work.

But then a soft scratching sound reached his ears, and he noticed dust beginning to fall around the bricks as the mortar flaked and cracked. He turned his head back to Iona in amazement. Her jaw was set, clenched so hard James worried she might break it. Her eyes were closed, though James could see them moving rapidly beneath the lids. A bead of sweat ran down her face as her skin reddened.

Without a focus, it will be very draining. You’ll need to guide it carefully.

That was what Meghan had told Iona when she’d agreed for her to come into the vaults. James hadn’t understood exactly what she’d meant then. Even with her explanations about magic back in Blueholdt, he had still never quite wrapped his head around how magic worked. Now though, he could see the strain spreading across Iona’s face as she struggled with her work.

He was actually beginning to worry that she might pass out when she suddenly opened her eyes and took a deep breath. She turned her head to face him, her eyes red and bloodshot.

“Stand back!” She ordered, her voice hoarse and scratchy, as if her throat was dry. Not wanting to question, James nodded and stepped back down the tunnel.

Iona stood for a moment, rocking back and forth on her feet, breathing deeply. Then she steadied herself and reached upwards, taking the central brick above the culvert into her hand.

In one smooth motion, she pulled her arm downwards, the brick coming free with it. Spinning with the movement, Iona dropped into a crouch, raising her arms to protect her head.

Without its keystone, the archway around the culvert buckled inwards, and in a rumbling crunch of scraping stone, gave way. Bricks and loose stone tumbled down into the tunnel, opening a wide hole between the tunnel and the treasury beyond. The cracking and crunching of stone falling echoed loudly off the cavern walls. Dust flew up around them, choking the air and sending James into a coughing fit.

As it settled though, and the coughing subsided, James couldn’t help but be impressed at the work Iona had done. In just a few minutes, she’d managed to achieve what would have taken him and Alyx days with chisels. Perhaps it would have been better not to let the stones fall inwards so loudly, to remove them one by one. But considering the clear difficulty it had caused Iona, he wasn’t about to argue about the result.

“Subtle.” He observed, nodding to the dust filled hole into the treasury beyond. Iona’s lips drew into a thin line, her cheeks reddening. Her shoulders rose and fell heavily as she took deep breaths. Her pale skin was almost grey beneath a thin layer of dust that now stuck to it.

James started forwards, patting Iona on the shoulder as he climbed past her and up into the treasury beyond.

“Nice work. Remind me to bring you along to the next heist.” He joked. Iona snorted.

“Like you could afford me.” She replied, following him up the piled stones.

“Now you’re getting it.” James muttered quietly as he straightened up in the wide space. Looking about himself, James found that the chamber he had seen beyond the culvert was actually a side chamber on a landing of a wide descending staircase. A door of iron bars sealed the room off from the staircase beyond. Another space, equally loaded with treasures, lay on the opposite side of the landing across from him.

Slowly, he moved to the iron bars blocking them from the stairs and glanced out. The stairs rose upwards a short distance towards a thick wooden door, banded with dark iron. Presumably the door to the treasury from the main palace.

Looking down the stairs, James saw they descended deeper into the ground, passing another landing of iron barred rooms before levelling out and disappearing in a wide corridor at the foot of the stairs.

No guards.

A grin slowly split James’ face. He loved it when the rich idiots were dumb enough to forget to protect their riches. He unslung his empty pack and tossed it to Iona.

“Here, raid the treasures while I pick this lock. Let’s get some money out of this prick, for the inconveniences he’s caused us all.”

The Princess matched his grin and as he began to work his lockpicks in the iron door, set about her task with eager abandon.

A few minutes later, they were stepping out onto the staircase, the bulging pack full of treasures slung over James’ shoulders. He’d have preferred to leave it within the now collapsed tunnel entrance, but they might need some of the tools inside. And he’d grown up learning that once you stole something, you kept it with you until you were safely back at home. As much as James’ sticky fingers itched to get to work on the locks to the other treasure rooms, their real goal was at the bottom of the stairs, and they didn’t know how much time they had.

As he descended the stairs, the air around James became colder, even with the torches burning in their sconces. The sound around them slipped away until even the sounds of their own breathing seemed distant and echoey. James found himself drawing his mother’s sword into his hand without even thinking about it. Looking back, he found that Iona had done the same thing. They exchanged a worried glance with one another, enough to know they were both feeling the same unease.

Something was very wrong down here.

When they reached the bottom of the stairs, James and Iona found themselves at the end of a long corridor flanked on either side by dark cells. Chandeliers of flickering candles hung from the ceiling, but the dark barred cells remained almost pitch-black inside. At the far end of the corridor, James could see a wide chamber, strangely lit by pale, silvery light.

Nodding towards the chamber, James silently led Iona forwards, his sword held ready. The air was too still here, too lifeless.

A stillness suddenly broken as a pale, thin arm suddenly darted out from the cell on James’ right, grasping at the air as it reached for him.

“Fuck!” He yelped, stumbling backwards in surprise and bumping into Iona. The two struggled to stay upright as the hand continued to reach for James from the darkness of the cell.

After the initial panic faded, James stood back up and lifted the lantern in his other hand, raising the hood to let the light out from it again. Revealing what lay within the cage.

A woman, with pale skin and long flowing straw-coloured hair, was reaching out from within the cage towards him. She was barely clothed, dressed only in a thin black fabric dress that barely concealed any modesty she had left. The cell behind her was clean and had a bed against the back wall with a thin blanket on it, though that was the only furnishing within. Her blue eyes shone with a pleading look, like a begging puppy might have.

“Please,” She whispered. “Is it my turn? Does he want me?”

“What the fuck?” James muttered, staring at her with wide eyes. Next to him, Iona stepped forwards, examining the woman closer.

“I’ve seen you before, haven’t I? In the throne room? You brought us wine the day we arrived, when we met the Baron.” She asked her. At the mention of the Baron’s title, the woman in the cell stood up, an excited smile crossing her face.

“Yes! Yes! The Baron! I was such a good girl that day. I did as he wanted. Does he remember? Did he send you to fetch me?” She asked, speaking rapidly, like a child told they were getting a treat. James glanced to Iona, who had a look on her face somewhere between revulsion and sorrow.

“Iona?” He asked her, looking for clarification. Iona didn’t reply, instead she turned and firmly pulled the lantern from his hand. Then she stalked down the corridor, shining the lantern into every cell she passed, counting under her breath.

“Iona?” James called again as she nearly reached the end of the corridor. This time though, she did stop and turn. He couldn’t make out her face at this distance, but he could see the deep, angry red that her skin had turned.

“Sixteen cells!” She snapped, her voice an angry bark.

“Who are they?” James asked, looking back into the pleading eyes of the woman, now returned to the darkness of her cell.

“Zaygor’s personal servants.” Iona spat, looking angrily up the corridor past James. “His damned pleasure slaves.”

James felt sick. Alyx had told him about the servants, of his sick pride at having beautiful people serving his every whim. But James doubted that she’d know about this. If she had, she’d have killed Zaygor on the spot, damn the consequences.

He looked back at the woman in the cell, her arm still outstretched towards him.

“Please,” She begged again. “I’ve been so useless down here.”

James swallowed his bile and tried desperately not to think of the fact that his sister and his partner were both currently in the den of the monster that had created this hellhole. He hurried away from the begging woman, towards Iona.

Reaching the Princess, he could see that her fist was tight around her sword, her face red with rage and her jaw clenched. Tears ran down her cheeks as she stared into an empty cell next to her. Carefully, James reached out and placed his hand around her sword hand.

Iona seemed to suddenly look up to him in surprise, as if only now realising he was there.

“I know. Me too.” He told her, not having to hear her say a word to know what she was thinking. “But we’ve got a job to do down here. Get the sword first, then we get them out. Yeah?”

Iona stared at him for a long time, trembling with barely restrained emotion. But then she stiffly nodded. James gave her hand another squeeze and then led her down the corridor again, towards the wide, silvery lit chamber at the hall’s end.

They passed more cells, and from a few of them, more begging voices came, asking if they came here for them, if Zaygor wanted them. James knew those voices would haunt him for a long time after this. After a moment, the rasp of Iona sheathing her sword sounded behind him and soon after, he felt her cold hand tightly wrap around his three-fingered one. She was cold and sweaty, and she held onto him like a vice. But James didn’t let go. Because he was holding onto Iona just as tightly.

As they were about to reach the end of the corridor, the last cell on the right suddenly caught James’ attention and he drew to a stop, bringing his sword up in a cautious guard.

The cell was glowing with a steady orange light, like a fireplace was burning within it. Behind him, Iona released his hand, gripping her sword.

And then a sound came from within the cell.

It was like the cry of a bird, though sad and mournful. The shrill call crackled and warbled strangely and yet, something about it was familiar to James. In fact, it sounded almost like it belonged to a-.

“Falcon!” Iona exclaimed, hurrying forwards and pushing past James before he could stop her.

She reached the cell and looked inside. Immediately she gasped in amazement, her hands rising to cover her mouth. In the flickering light, James saw fresh tears running down her face as he hurried to join her.

He came to a full stop as he saw what was within the room.

The space was a menagerie of sorts, with caged animals of all sorts around the walls. James made out snakes and spiders, rats and cats. But one wall was dominated by a much larger cage, from which the fiery light was shining. And to which Iona’s attention was now firmly drawn.

Within the cage was a bird, similar in size to a large hawk. The feathers across its body were a deep, ashen black, though when it shifted, bright reds and oranges shone through from beneath, like stone cracking over lava. The feathers of its wings were an orange so bright they seemed to glow like fire, tipped with black ends that smoke trails rose from. Its head and beak were akin to the falcons that James had seen Iona training with in the palace in Aldiron. Talons like wicked knives curled around a thick wooden perch. They were black and shining like obsidian, and James could have sworn he saw a curl of smoke wisping upwards from the wood. Most striking though were the glowing orange feathers that rose in a plumage from its head and hung down in a long tail at its back. A shifting glow ran up and down them, flickering like fire. The source of the light James had seen earlier.

James took a deep breath as he stared at the magnificent creature. In the last few months, he’d come across plenty of things he had once believed the stuff of legends, and now here in front of him was another.

A phoenix.

He still couldn’t get used to the feeling of seeing myths in the flesh.

“He’s beautiful.” Iona breathed, an amazed smile curling her lips, the horrors around them forgotten, at least for a moment. James found it hard to disagree.

Iona moved again, reaching for the handle to the cell door and turning it. She almost seemed to cry with relief when it creaked open for her. James narrowed his eyes as he watched her.

“Iona…” He began, his voice a low warning. She stepped up in front of the cage.

“He’s trapped down here too.” She said softly, pointing her finger towards the phoenix’s legs. James followed her and sighed as he saw what she pointed to.

A band of steel was tied tightly around the phoenix’s left leg, connected to a thin chain that held the bird to the cage it was within. James could make out dried blood from the creature’s leg that had coated the tight metal where it had cut into him.

“You know the plan Iona, the sword first.” James said, but even he found something lacking in his words. Iona turned to look at him, her eyes shining with tears.

“I know but… I have to do this James.” She replied simply. James said nothing, there was nothing to say. Iona was right, this was something that needed to be done. Not just for the bird, but for the Princess too.

So, he simply nodded.

Smiling in thanks, Iona stepped forwards to the cage, moving her hands slowly, keeping them in view of the phoenix. It watched her with a bright scarlet eye, tilting its head.

“Hey there.” Iona began softly. “I’m a friend, okay? I’m just going to help you out. Yeah?”

The bird watched her for a second and then let out another sad cry. Its voice was shrill and harsh, crackling like the embers of a dying fire. Then it lowered its head and pecked at the steel band on its leg.

Iona hesitated for just a second before slowly lifting the latch on the cage. She opened the door and reached her arm in, extending her wrist towards the phoenix. The bird lowered its head to sniff her hand cautiously. Iona held still, making sure not to move and frighten it.

And then the phoenix stepped off its perch and onto Iona’s armoured wrist. She strained slightly as she took the weight, her face shifting with little flickers of discomfort.

“You okay?” James asked from the door, watching her with concern.

“Yeah. He’s just… hot.” Iona replied, carefully drawing her arm, with the phoenix on top, out of the cage. She pulled it just far enough that the chain pulled tight, but remained close enough that it didn’t cause the ring to dig into the phoenix’s leg.

“Oh, the fucking phoenix is hot Iona, is it? Anything else I missed? Is water wet?” James quipped sarcastically. Iona snorted.

“Don’t make me laugh right now, I need not to scare him.” She replied, fighting to keep a smile off her face. She held out her other hand. “Knife.”

James quickly moved to draw a dagger from his belt and passed it to Iona. Still talking gently to the phoenix, Iona then moved to pinch the chain between the fingers of the hand holding the bird before cleanly slicing through the thin chain with the dagger.

The result was instant.

As soon as the chain on its leg went slack, the phoenix on Iona’s arm spread its wings, flexing them in a glow of fiery orange. Then it looked at Iona and gave another crackling cry before flapping its wings, sending a shower of sparks into the air. It took off from Iona’s arm and flew from the cell, passing over James’ head, trailing sparks and smoke behind it.

Giving one last call, it glided quickly down the length of the corridor, before disappearing up the staircase and out of sight.

James and Iona stared after it in awe. Then James turned back to Iona.

“Feel better?” He asked her and she hummed in agreement.

“I know it was a waste of time, but I needed to save something right now.” She replied, brushing some ash and embers off her arm. James laid a hand on her shoulder and squeezed reassuringly.

“I know.” He told her, before starting down the corridor again, moving to enter the wide chamber beyond.

However, what he hit instead was an invisible wall that shimmered as he impacted it and exploded outwards in a blast of air that sent James flying backwards against the bars of the cell opposite the animal cell.

The air was driven from his chest by the impact and he slammed down hard to the stones of the floor, groaning in pain.

“James!” Iona exclaimed, rushing over and checking him for injuries. “Are you alright?”

“Never better.” He groaned. His head was swimming, his vision blurred, but nothing felt injured. Just badly dazed. He lifted his head to look at the unseen barrier as his vision cleared.

“Guess Meghan and Alyx haven’t gotten his shield down yet then.” He joked. When Iona said nothing, James turned his head back to look at her.

Iona was frozen, holding the lantern up and staring in horror into the cage behind him. A creeping dread came over James and he felt the hairs on his neck begin to rise as he pushed himself up to his feet and looked into the cell. Very quickly, he too froze in horror.

It looked like a torture chamber.

Vials and canisters lined shelves and tables within the space, all surrounding a table in the centre of the room. The table had iron restraints built into it, designed to hold someone on it in place. A series of thin tubes hung down above it, ending in hollow needle points. Following the tubes, James saw they were connected to a tank that shifted and pumped with two stretching diaphragms either side of it. A thin layer of dark crimson blood sat within the tank. On its other side, another tube extended, ending in another needle point. This one though, didn’t hang down over a torture chamber, but instead over a padded, cushioned throne.

The type of chair a ruling baron might sit in.

It took James a moment to work out exactly what he was looking at.

“He ties them down there.” He began, pointing to the table, his voice seeming distant and quiet beneath the haze of horror on his mind. “And he draws their blood into his veins.”

“What the fuck?” Iona muttered, all semblance of her earlier joy from the phoenix entirely erased. She looked back down the corridor at the cells of servants. “Why does he need their blood?”

A realisation, icy as a winter sea, washed over James. A memory of something Meghan had once told him.

Saying nothing, he stood and took the lantern from Iona and rushed back down the corridor, almost running. He reached the woman they had first encountered and lifted the lantern. She reached out towards him once more, speaking another plea to be summoned by the baron. James didn’t listen, that’s not why he was here.

He examined her arm first. Sure enough, there were multiple deep red pin pricks in her skin, surrounded by dark bruises. But that wasn’t what he was looking for.

He checked her legs, her hands and feet. Nothing. The more he didn’t find it, the more panic rose in his chest.

He was about to ask her to turn around when he spotted it. Swirling around in a spiral centred on her belly button. A deep forest green tattoo that shone just right in the light. A mage’s tattoo.

Dread, cold as ice, hardened into a razor shard in James’ chest. Meghan’s words echoed in his mind.

They found something else too. That human mages could empower their magic far beyond their natural means, through the use of blood. Demons’ blood.

Demons might have been out of reach for Zaygor. But demons’ blood didn’t just flow in demon veins. And Zaygor had found the next best way to get it. To give himself power far beyond his normal means.

Stealing the blood of other sorcerers.

James’ gaze turned upwards, up the staircase, out of the treasury. Into the palace, where Alyx and Meghan were moving towards Zaygor’s throne room.

“What kind of monster have we found ourselves against?”