II. Curtains Closing

Laelianus swore as his last scrap of tin broke off in the lock, in addition to being out of a usable cup, he had yet to even lift one of the tumblers. The tiny nub of a candle Renata had thrown to him sputtered and wavered as it reached the end of its wick. The impotent ember did little to break the gloom of their prison, but he lamented its loss all the same. He slammed his fist against the bar and leaned his head on the cold iron. The candle fizzled out at his feet, blanketing the dungeon in darkness once more.

After several moments, the sound of a match erupting into brilliant, brief life sounded throughout the still air, and Renata lit another candle in her cell across from his own. Her chains rang out as she dragged them across the cold stone floor and set the candle in the corridor. Laelianus looked up with a sigh, her face was haggard and wan from months in subterranean captivity, yet still her eyes held a glimmer of hope. He turned away with disgust, casting the remains of his mug down the corridor; hope had been exhausted long ago.

In the distance, the heavy doors creaked open and a sliver of light shined down into their crypt, signaling the arrival of dinner. Laelianus perked up as the sound of their jailers shuffling feet drew nearer. While the conditions in their prison were atrocious, the food was surprisingly good, a far cry from the gruel and bread served in his own dungeons.

Their jailer, a reanimated corpse of some poor sod, leaned heavily on his trolley as he slowly made his way towards them. Its arm hung limply at its side and its leg dragged uselessly behind it; despite being one of the fresher corpses, it was severely decayed. It was truly a wonder that the pathetic thing still stood.

The spark of an idea illuminated Laelianus’ weary eyes, as the decrepit jailer pulled up to his cell. He reached out through the bars and grabbed its arm in an attempt to wrestle the keys from its belt. The creature uttered a moan and dropped its tray as Laelianus stumbled back, holding only the fetid arm he had torn from its socket. The creature writhed around on the floor in the mess of spilled stew and its own stinking fluids leaking from its shoulder.

“Damn it.” He swore as he tossed the arm aside.

“Why did you do that?” Renata asked as she crouched beside her own bars.

“Apologies Priestess, I thought I could grab its keys. Do you think that fiend will send another to check in?”

“He’s in pain…”

Laelianus rolled his eyes as he paced the cell. “My Lady, he is dead, and has been for quite some time. It’s very existence is likely pain, assuming it is conscious at all.”

“They are conscious, at least, a little bit. That’s the impression I got from them anyway.”

Laelianus attempted to grab the man’s leg, but he thrashed about just out of reach.

“He was always so kind…” Renata lamented.

“Blast!” Laelianus swore as the man kicked free of his grasp. “They are mere puppets, Priestess; they can be neither kind nor unkind.”

He stood with a string of muttered curses and wiped his hands off on his breeches. Renata took on an ethereal glow as the creature steadily kicked its way towards her. Laelianus watched in silent contempt, absolutely nothing would be gained by healing a corpse.

“Priestess, perhaps you should save your strength for when such a skill would actually be necessary.”

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, ignoring him as she placed her hand on the rotting jailer. A soft warm light enveloped the creature, and grew steadily in intensity, before consuming the body in white flames. Renata jerked back with a startled yelp as what was once a body was now a pile of ash and tattered cloth.

Laelianus pressed against the bars, scanning the debris for the keys. Undoubtedly, the Priestess had no idea that her healing powers would have such an effect, and her compassion left her useless.

“My Lady, now is not the time to mourn anonymous corpses, we must escape from this place!”

She slowly nodded, not taking her eyes off the pile of ash nor making any moves at all. Laelianus cursed again and reached through the bars for the tray. After several moments of stretching and grasping, he managed to get it into his cell.

“Can you see the keys?” he asked, to no reply.

He took the knife and fork from the tray and began frantically sharpening them on the stone floor. Next, he bent the tines on the fork, breaking several off, before rushing over to the door of his cell. Before him, the priestess was still in a state of shock. Laelianus snorted in contempt of her weakness and proceeded to force the simple lever lock with his improvised keys.

Fortunately, the lock was heavily corroded and broke open quite easily. His heart was pounding in his throat as he swung open the gate, and took the first step towards freedom. He almost took off down the corridor, but was reminded of the sniveling Renata’s presence and begrudgingly went back to sift through their jailer’s ashes for the keys.

“My lady, we’ve not the time for dalliances or weakness. I know not how long we have before one of those fiends arrives to set us back in our cages.”

She continued to stare sullenly at the pile of ashes, unmoving and seemingly unconcerned with the severity of the situation. With a disgusted snort, Laelianus flung open her cell and fumbled to find the key for her leg shackles.

“Can you walk?” He demanded, attempting to force one key after another into the shackle.

She nodded meekly, taking a deep breath to compose herself. A soft glow enveloped her and she released her held breath after several moments, standing with a newfound zeal. Laelianus cast aside her shackles and led her out of the cell into the corridor.

They hobbled blindly through the dim hall, with no idea of the direction they were headed in nor the time of day. They eventually reached a guard station, covered in cobwebs and stained with dried blood and the putrefied remains of former guards. Laelianus grabbed a rusted arming sword from the rack and hefted it in his hands. It was comfortingly familiar, though he felt that his long phase of inactivity had left him wanting in the skill department. If they encountered anything other than corpses, they were done for.

The nearby door was locked, and it took several moments of trial and error with the ring of keys to get it opened. A brief trip down an access tunnel led them to the wintery splendor of the courtyard at twilight.

“Which way?” Renata asked as she shielded her weak eyes from the brilliant colors of the sky at dusk.

Laelianus frantically scanned the courtyard for an exit, but was at a complete loss as to where to go. He brusquely grabbed Renata by the hand and led her towards a small thicket of trees, to at least be somewhat concealed while they planned their next move. They made it all of two feet before Morana appeared in an explosion of smoke and sparks before them.

“Shit.”

Morana laughed and brushed her hair from her face. “’Shit’ is right. As in why are you little shits out of your cages?”

Laelianus shoved Renata away and charged at Morana. “Run!”

Morana frowned and effortlessly swatted away his attack. “I think not.”

She snapped her fingers in Renata’s direction, and a large, writhing eel with oversized jaw leapt from her fingertips. Renata let out a terrified shriek and attempted to flee, but the slimy, writhing mass was on her in moments, biting off her legs at the thigh in a single chomp.

Laelianus staggered to his feet and charged again, swinging wildly at the sorceress, who easily evaded each strike. In an act of desperation, he reached out to grab her by the arm, and she easily deflected his grab. With a cry of agony, he stumbled back, clutching his now dead and withered hand as his sword clanged uselessly against the pavement.

Morana disgustedly brushed off her shoulder as Renata continued to scream in agony, her blood pooling around her as the creature slurped it up like a dog at a water hole besides her.

Laelianus raised his fist and lobbed a clumsy haymaker, falling into Morana’s waiting grasp. He impotently clutched at her throat as she held him tightly by his, her icy blue eyes held as much empathy and humanity as a blizzard on the tundra. Be it by magic or merely an illusion, her slender white fingers had become massive black talons, akin to a bird of prey’s talons, scaly black with nails like obsidian knives. His grip weakened and he felt himself go limp as the last of his strength ebbed away. The beauty of the monster before him was oddly comforting, as there were far worse ways to die.

His life began to flash before him and the blood pulsing in his ears drowned out the screams of the Priestess, he began to struggle anew, grasping weakly at her bare flesh that held no warmth. As his head lolled in her viselike grip, he caught a glimpse of her pillowy breasts and the enticing valley between. With nothing left to lose, he reached up and cupped one of them in his hand, and briefly felt their softness before the audible crack of his vertebrae brought with it an eternal, blissful silence.