Janaxia waited in case Kivata shoved her again, but nothing happened. She reached up to the bag, pulling it over her head. She blinked, looking around, feeling decidedly underwhelmed – it was one of the caverns beneath the manor, the flooring uneven, with a large crevasse in the centre. Various discarded ritual items lay on the floor, as well as garbage tossed down here, and a few partially-animated bodies, attempting to move according to their ancient orders. Mother’s voice, magically transmitted, spoke from somewhere above her – she could see an enchanted gemstone set into the wall, probably broadcasting her voice and image back to Mother.

‘Janaxia, scion of the Uth Tremari, last and least of my children, this shall be your trial. You are to cross this chamber, and, should you survive that, then you must win combat against a creation of Trakatha’s. Any failure here will be your last.’ There was a hissing sound, a purple helix of energy sparking into life, already burning and dwindling away. ‘When this burns away, then it shall crush your soul. I will only remove it should you reach the end of your trial. Do you understand?’

‘Yes, I understand.’ Janaxia looked around – there didn’t seem to be any obstacles beyond a few oddments of rubbish, and the crevasse itself. It took her a moment to realise that the chamber itself was probably pitch-black, meaning that a few steps forward would have tipped her into the crevasse, and likely death. She stepped forward and looked down – it was at least deep enough that the fall would be fatal. Echoing from elsewhere was a piteous, wordless sobbing, likely an ancient ghost trapped close by, or simply an illusionary sound.

‘This is to be a trial of your wits, and so your arcane powers shall be denied you.’ She felt a sudden stifling stillness descent, as she was swaddled in a zone of silence. ‘Time, and my patience, grows short, Janaxia. Advance, or your life shall be forfeit.’

Janaxia moved around the crevasse, trying to fake some indecision, before abandoning slow shuffling for confident strides. A severed hand crawled towards her, attempting to grab onto her ankle – had it been utterly dark, doubtless it would have come as an unpleasant shock, but it was easy enough to simply kicked the thing away into the pit before continuing, trying to ignore the wet, gulping sound of someone, or something, sobbing.

She moved cautiously in case of traps or other ambushes, but the place seemed absent of any threats, at least given that she could see. Having to shuffle around would have taken long, agonizing minutes of exploration, fearful that a misstep could pitch her into a fatal drop. As it was, it was the work of moments to walk across the chamber. Partway along, she felt a cooling rush of magic, an attempt to strip any magic away from her. She felt her hair loosen and shift, some of the magic fading from her and destroying the pins holding her hair in place, her clothing beneath the robe vanishing, but otherwise there was no effect.

When she was almost to the exit, she heard the sobbing again, coming from somewhere below. She looked down into the next pit. She could see the top of a young woman’s head, her hands clinging desperately to the craggy side. A magical platform was beneath her, fading, but still quite strong. It was presumably meant to be a test, and, if she had had to slowly inch her way across the room, then the platform would be all-but-gone by the time she had got this far.

Despite her dire peril, the woman’s hair was well-dressed, her dress even moderately fashionable, if rather stained. She looked up, probably unable to see anything. ‘Please! Help me!’ The platform faded a little more.

Janaxia moved closer, cautious of a trap, the woman pleading again, desperate to be saved. Well, if she were to drop, at least it would be a swift death, other than the terror of the fall. Her dress… it looked to be of Sethan cut, from the weaving of the layers. She coughed as politely as she could, the woman immediately starting, looking towards the source of the noise.

You appear rather well-attired. I would surmise that you were hired under false pretences of being a lady’s maid or similar?

They looked around, obviously unsure of where Janaxia was, and burbled something that was probably agreement, confusion showing on their face at the lack of audible sound.

Excellent, I have need of such. Now, if I aid you, will you agree to serve me? What you have done with your own hair is excellent, although a little worn by circumstance.

‘Please! I don’t know where I am, but I can’t get out, and it’s sinking!’ She nodded her head frantically in agreement, pushing herself closer to the crevasse wall as the platform shrunk beneath her.

Excellent. Give me a moment, and I will try to assist you.

She looked around, trying to figure out how to lift the woman out. It would have been a simple task for Semari, while Stathis would likely have hauled the woman out with raw strength, and then probably carried her the rest of the way, but she lacked such prowess herself. Without any better options, she untied her sash and dangled it down, directing the woman to grab it, trying to keep her robe from flapping open. That was the simple part – after that, she had to heave and labour, using her entire weight to drag upwards, before the woman was finally on safe ground, leaving Janaxia drained, arms sagging from exhaustion. Stathis always made this look so easy!

She took a moment to comport herself, having to yank the sash out of the woman’s hands so she could retie her robe. She stepped back as the woman fumbled around, not wanting to get caught in a rather noisome embrace, scrutinising the woman further. Her mouth held the faintest gleam of fangs, the woman betraying Sethan, or some other odd, heritage, her clothing shaped of interwoven silk panels, giving the appearence of scales, albeit currently torn and soiled. Janaxia waved a hand in front of her eyes, eliciting no reaction – either an excellent actor, or truly blinded by darkness. Having an aide, and one that owed her their life, would be useful. If nothing else, she could be offered to Trakatha as a bribe for something, although her body didn’t look particularly tough or powerful.

Janaixa glanced at the swirling helix measuring her time - even with the delay from aiding the woman, it was still more there than not. The darkness of the cavern had clearly been assumed to be an obstacle of some danger. Presumably the intent had been to frighten her by having strange sounds in the darkness, and also test her resolve. Well, gaining a servant was certainly a convenient bonus.

We shall negotiate terms later. For now, follow me.

Janaxia took a step forward, before remembering that the woman couldn’t see her, turning back and taking her hand.

I am not carrying you, so if we could make haste?

Caught partway between terror and relief, the woman squeaked some form of answer, accepting the hand and following along behind. From there, it was only a few steps further to the exit, a rather melodramatically overwrought stone portal carved with ancient runes and obviously more recent additions, warning of magical dangers to those that advanced.

Mother’s dry voice rasped out from the empty air. ‘You must have explored the room in your youth. But you show a dangerous weakness in your compassion for those that should be beneath you. Continue, and you shall be tested again.’

The stillness around her was released as the silence spell was broken, allowing her to fully cast spells again. A gemstone flared to life at the end of the hallway, in what was probably intended to be a blinding and dramatic moment. Janaxia ignored the burst of light and tugged the woman forward, as she raised her hand to cover her eyes. Ahead, she could see a large, open space, filled with even more detritus and discarded junk.

It was arranged like the combat arena Semari had fought Udaipur in, although rather smaller in scale. Her ancestors had probably bought people here to fight to the death, and then raised the corpses for another round of entertainment, before it had become a dumping ground. Above, there was an observation platform, from where she could see Mother watching – her heart skipped a beat, somewhere between flattered and concerned that Mother was taking the time to observe her trial in person. Stood next to her was Trakatha, face rigid in concentration as she maintained focus on something, probably a spell or command of one of her creations.

Janaxia advanced cautiously, awaiting the release of whatever creature Trakatha had constructed for her. The arena wasn’t the best of battlegrounds; the space far too open for her liking, with too much junk on the floor that would be easy to trip over. A grating on the far side of the arena clanked open, a creature lumbering forth.

Janaxia managed to supress a giggle, but it was a challenge. It was presumably meant to be terrifying, but taking a wolf, albeit a large one, removing the head, replacing it with the torso of a man and then replacing the head of the man with the head of the wolf had resulted in a rather ungainly and floppy mess, the torso clearly straining to support itself, the head having to swing around to maintain position, every step making it wobble uncontrollably. Still, it was surrounded by a swirling barrier of energy, several ethereal shapes flitting around it, ghosts bound to it as a defensive aura.

Janaxia pulled her hand from the woman’s grasp and struck first, throwing out several bolts of energy. The barrier absorbed the brunt of the damage, although at least the ghostly shapes flickered and wavered showing some effect. It sounded forth with a rather pathetic howl, human lungs not equipped to provide the air for such a thing, before bounding forward, human body flopping around even more, almost falling over.

She blasted it again. It was strong and heavy enough that her blasts didn’t halt its charge before it leapt towards her, barrelling against her with the full weight of its twisted body. She could feel the ghosts scrabbling against her spirit as they tried to claim her body for themselves, the slight headache from earlier intensifying under the psychic assault. She staggered backwards under the impact, stumbling over something and tripping over, falling to the ground. She flailed with a hand, something coming to hand which she thrust forward, just in time to partially block the strike of a fist, supernaturally strong. The impact jarred her arm, her shoulder smashing into the hard ground.

The wolf’s head growled at her, teeth still sharp, snapping forward but kept out of range by being attached to the human torso. The arms could reach though, one grabbing at her body, enchanted nails ripping at her body and rending through her clothing, piercing through the rudimentary magical protection she could muster. The slight wound she had inflicted when it had charged was already healing, although the marks from her bolts remained – it must regenerate from any non-magical attacks.

She pushed back with as much strength as she could muster, attempting to enchant whatever she was holding, as the other hand moved to strike her as well. It resisted her – she was just about able to register that it was metal, not wood, before sharp nails ripped down one shoulder, making her gasp in pain. Behind her, the woman shuddered and winced, as Janaxia saw a chair, or at least most of one.

If you could… kindly pass me that chair, then… Trying to hold the beast back was a challenge, her sole saving grace that the beast seemed to have difficulty coordinating its own body. …then I may be able to resolve this issue. With haste, if you please!

The woman at least had the sense to be obedient, shaken from her terror enough to swiftly grab the remnants of the chair and pull it over. As soon as it was close enough, Janaxia released the metal rod, earning herself enough painful gash down her front before she grabbed the chair. Crimson energy flickered out, finding a more receptive home in the wood which now glowed with an arcane crimson light, the wood now reinforced. She flicked her wrist, cracking it against the torso, magic propelling it with enough force to break the skin, splinters embedding themselves between stitch-marks.

Another swing, and part of the chair broke away, but she attacked with enough force to drive it back, just enough that she could regain her feet. Her wounds didn’t seem too serious, and she couldn’t feel any poison coursing through her veins, although being injured was still decidedly inconvenient and unpleasant. It charged again, arms flailing in loose roundhouses, without any of the precision of Semari, although more raw power. She ducked, taking the chair in a two-handed grip and smashing back, landing a heavy blow against it, although part of the chair shattered and broke, even her magic not able to fully protect it.

The wounds she was inflicting with the chair weren’t healing, whatever powers it had counteracted by her own magic. Feeling more confident, she clubbed it again, a blow from a fist barely missing her and forcing her to jump back. This opened up enough space for her to switch to bolts again, knocking it a few steps back now it wasn’t charging.

The whining keen of the ghosts raised in pitch, nails of pain digging into Janaxia’s mind, but it seemed to be draining the ghosts as well, their ethereal presence rapidly fading as the pain blossomed and burst within her head, blood trickling from her nose. Although her head was reeling, the beast seemed to be weakened as well, moving more slowly, making it easy to strike with several more solid attacks. Compare to a sword, the balance and weighting on a chair was terrible, the force of her attacks continually being pulled into odd angles, but it seemed to be having an effect.

It growled but seemed less confident now, keeping a safe distance, exposing itself to more ranged attacks. It was struggling to move, misshapen body freakish to look at, but hard to move. When it attacked again, she was ready for it, meeting the charge and countering with the heaviest blows she could muster, smashing into the body. The reek of blood and preserving chemicals was heavy in the air, but at least its struggles were slowing, before it finally succumbed and collapsed. She bludgeoned it a few more times, just to be sure, then stepped back, trying to stay out of the spreading puddle of gore and ichor, shaking her head to try and clear the swooning daze.

She looked up at Mother, her expression unreadable, although Trakatha looked slightly upset, probably at the loss of a specimen she’d spent countless hours on. Maybe it would teach her to be slightly more pragmatic in her approach? Although hopefully not for anything Janaxia had to fight!

‘Janaxia Uth Tremari, last and least of my children, you have passed your first trial. I hereby acknowledge your progress to the third circle of power.’

Janaxia sighed, letting the tattered remnants of the chair fall from her hand. First? So there was to be at least one more?

‘Your magical prowess seems rather lacking and limited, but you have managed to survive. You may now rest prior to your next trial. For this, you shall be permitted an ally. Choose wisely. I trust you will meditate upon your weakness – should you fail, you will not survive. And find somewhere to keep your… stray. Should she err, then the punishment shall fall upon you.’

‘Yes, Mother.’

There was no response, as Mother incanted and vanished, teleporting away. Several minutes later, a portcullis clanked open, allowing Janaxia to leave. The woman fell against her in a mild swoon until Janaxia pushed her off, resisting the urge to slap her. It wasn’t as though she had done any fighting herself! ‘Let us be gone from this place, and then we can discuss your continued employment.’

She gave another nervous shudder, looking around nervously, expecting another attack.

‘I am Lady Janaxia Uth Tremari. As you appear to be in need of employment, then you may attend upon me.’ She ran a hand through the woman’s hair. ‘This appears to be from the Karinian Court? I have, sadly, fallen somewhat behind the mode. But we should discuss this somewhere rather more amenable, I feel. And I surmise you were led here under some form of false pretences, or simply ensorcelled?’

The woman nodded, still holding herself close.

‘Very well. Now, let us be gone from this place. I… apologise for the rather lacking hospitality you have found in this place. Now, do you have a name?’

‘Sen Adj Sekh.’ She managed a decent approximation of a curtsey. ‘As it please you, my lady. A man wished to engage me to look after his moon-brained sister, he said, and then he cast some spell upon me.’

Janaxia sighed. ‘Yes, that does sound rather like Shamuth. Was this man overly rotund, clearly thinking himself more attractive than he actually is, with rather small, piggy eyes and a propensity to excessive sweating?’

Sen nodded.

‘He has a certain proficiency with spell of enchantment and binding. Rather unsavoury, given his predilections, but he is rather more restrained now than in his youth. Quite what they thought your addition to my trial would achieve I do not know, but let us leave this place.’

She was only too happy to follow Janaxia’s lead, following her up the steep stairs. At the top was a smooth stone wall. It took Janaxia several long and cringingly embarrassing moments of fumbling before she found the lever to twist that opened the concealed entrance, hidden as an unremarkable brick. They emerged into a conservatory, most of the glass panes broken, the ground covered in dead plants. The entrance was concealed beneath a large flagstone, already receding back into the ground. She would have to return later and try to find the mechanism to open it from this side.

Janaxia pondered – her own rooms were decidedly dank and did little to show her to advantage. The coach house at least was more open, and the soldiers there treated her with some measure of respect. And after several too-close brushes with death, even Semari’s company seemed a more tolerable prospect.