《Ashen Skies》XV - The Bird, The Fox and the Mountain - I
Advertisement
Crane rested his head on the iron bars of his cell, squirming.
He had woken up in the cell after the man in greys. The sounds of water dripping into a small puddle echoed in the dark halls of the dungeon. The air was damp and smelt like something close was rotten. Very close.
At least, the captors had shown the courtesy of not removing the caste Spera had left. They had simply cuffed him again over the caste. The vines, however, didn’t seem to be as fresh and full of life now.
He tried to hold them, but his hands were tied, literally. So, he touched them with his lips instead, feeling the coarse and cracked vines on his soft skin. Crane could only feel a husk of what it was merely a couple of hours ago. Or a day. He had no idea how long he had slept.
He kept feeling the vines and only with a little pressure, his lips sank into the vines in a crack. Like they were dead for a decade. Life sucked out of them just as it was being sucked out of Crane.
The new shackles sucked his mana like a leech. It must have done the same to the vine too, Crane thought. The vines were the materialized version of the little girl’s mana, the attribute of her soul. She probably had an affinity to nature like Crane had to fire, before whatever possessed her corrupted her soul.
That attribute was mana shaped into the mage's will. Without mana, there would be no physical form left. Only a husk, just like how it was with the wine now.
Iron bars trapped him inside the cell like a bird and the dark steel of the shackles tapped on his power, rendering him weak and pathetic. His broken arm had swollen, making it even more uncomfortable to move around. He needed proper medical attention, and he needed it soon.
With nothing to do for hours, he inspected the shackles as his eyes slowly got more and more used to the darkness. These proved to be stronger, still managing to keep him bound.
The only difference from the previous one was the runes inscribed on the steel, releasing the mana that dark steel stole from Crane into the air and not letting the shackles overload and break. He couldn’t quite make out the runes in the dark, but he again felt them with his face and lips. It felt like wedge writing. Carved on steel with a chisel and a hammer.
Nice craftsmanship. Crane thought. Probably worth a fortune. That man must really want me to keep here. Great. Just what I needed.
After trying to pull his wrists free again and utterly failing, he screamed in pain as the broken bones moved in torn flesh, the vines and his clothes slowly getting soaked in blood. His curses and screams echoed throughout the dungeon, only to turn back at him.
His heart beat faster and faster, his breaths deep and unsteady. It was not just his arm. He felt like the steel was around his neck instead of his wrists. Almost like a noose, slowly tightening around his soul. Crane lived as a mage his whole life. Even in his daily life where he practised little to none, he still felt his own mana and the world around him.
Now, he felt like he had lost a sense. Like his sight, hearing, his sense of touch. Oblivious to himself and the world around him. Something was taken and it disturbed Crane’s very soul.
He was hungry, depleted all his mana, and his wounds still ached. He couldn’t feel Azavel and it made him even more anxious. Just like all that wasn’t enough the world was ending while he was stuck in this cell. He imagined this journey to be a lot simpler.
Advertisement
Taking a large breath as his nostrils grew larger, his jaws tightly shut, he kicked the bars and cussed again. To this act, he didn’t expect a reply, but he had one nevertheless.
“You seem beaten up enough. I wouldn’t annoy the guard with that if I were you.” A pile of rags talked back to him from the next cell.
As Crane squinted his eyes to focus, he saw a black man in whitish robes sitting on the ground with crossed legs, reading a book. Wrapped around in an array of old blankets and curled up at the corner of his cell on a pillow, the man was easy to miss under all the cloth. Especially in the dark.
“You look… comfortable.” Crane raised a brow. Sweat trickled down his temples. “A lot more than you should be in a cell.”
“Lord provides even behind the bars.” The man smiled. Or Crane thought he did. He could make out the facial muscles moving but the man could very well be sulking instead. His voice was what made him sure he was smiling. He sounded happy. “I am Endov. You are?” He tilted his head in anticipation.
“Crane.” He turned back and sat resting his back on the bars. “Wouldn’t you rather he provided freedom over blankets?”
“You know the saying. He works in mysterious ways, and I have stopped trying to figure it out.”
“Is that how you ended up in jail?”
“More or less. I helped someone I probably shouldn’t have. Lord preaches mercy to the weak, but his Order wasn’t happy that the weak one was a heretic. What about you?”
“Me? Oh, it wasn’t anything big. I was at the wrong place wrong time. Annoyed someone important I guess.”
“Seeing the cuffs, you must be really annoying.” Endov laughed and moved a bit closer, still wrapped in his blankets.
Now that he was close, he could see the man better. His white clothes were full of dirt and blood just like Crane’s. The book in his hand looked as good as new. It was a small book, much smaller than the man’s palm, brown leather cover, corners reinforced with silver and a strange symbol in the middle.
What attracted Crane’s attention was the man’s smile and his eyes that shone with a light Crane had never seen. Anem was his only human companion on the island and was sullen at the best of his days. The man, however, looked full of hope even in a cell.
***
As they talked, Crane heard the sounds of creaking wood and approaching steps. They got louder and louder, echoing from one damp wall to another.
“Ouch!” A man squealed in pain following something solid hitting the flesh.
“You hit me with that thing one more time and I swear I’m…” Crane heard another thud before the man managed to end his threat.
“Yeah love, I believe ya!” The guard chuckled as he hit the man again, and Crane heard the sound of the new inmate collapsing on the ground.
After a brief silence, Crane saw the approaching guard. He dragged the man to his cell the one right across Crane. He had the man in one hand and a torch in the other.
When Crane realized that the guard was hitting the man with a torch, he could sympathize with the man. That looked awfully similar to Anem’s method of training. Anem almost burnt him thousands of times and hit him with things much hotter than a torch. He would always argue that the fire within Crane would grow larger as his body got accustomed to fire.
Advertisement
He had always protested how cruel Anem’s method was but seeing the result he had no choice but to shut up. Crane was a Flamebearer now and could conjure fire at will. Still, the realization of being treated worse than a criminal in a dungeon made him question his feelings towards Anem.
The light dazzled his eyes, but he got used to it pretty quickly. It didn’t illuminate much, but it was enough. Crane now could see the things he half-saw, and half-imagined before.
There were six cells, three on each side of the narrow corridor with lead to the staircase. There were no rooms, no stone walls, just bars separating the corridor from the cells and cells from each other. Other cells were empty, except for the one on his left. The was a pile of rotten flesh of bones which belonged to the last person who occupied the cell.
So that is the smell. Crane thought. A great way to make the dungeon even more unbearable. Unfortunately.
The guard was a bald man, as tall as the room and as wide as the entrance to the cell. Perhaps even wider.
Then, Crane realized that he overestimated the dungeon’s administrator. Or the guy. They weren’t making the conditions unbearable on purpose. The guard was just incapable of removing the corpse.
“You’ll do me a nice beating.” The guard continued with his thick accent, making it hard for Crane to understand him. “All you need is fallin’ asleep love.” The man laughed again as he threw the inmate into the cell across Crane and locked it.
Before leaving, the guard waved at the man next cell, the living one. “Oi me’Lord! Thanks fo’ the blessin’. Me blisters feel like gone.”
I guess that’s where the blanket and the pillow came from, Crane thought. A healer perhaps? Maybe the lord indeed provided.
To this, Endov only nodded with a smile. He had a stubble, at most a week grown. Was he going to stay that long too? Or as long as the shy guy on his left cell refused to talk?
After the guard locked the cell and left the dungeon to the stairs, Crane smiled at the priest, wryly. “I always thought the magic to be a blessing too. You sure you are not there for lying?”
As far as Crane knew, people with nature attributes could be gifted healers. There were exceptions of course. The fire spirit in his medal could also heal but that didn’t change his point; healing was no blessing. It was just a spell.
“If that’s the way to help someone I don’t see the harm in little lies. He feels better, I feel better.” Endov held the blanket, looking warm.
“Fuck the fat fuck.” The new inmate spat, his words brewed with the hatred hailing from the deepest parts of his heart. His spit, however, had a metallic sound when it hit the ground. Like a needle dropping to the stone ground.
The new inmate held his stomach and slowly tried to get up then rested on the wall. He was a young man around Crane’s age with blonde hair and a clean shaved face. He couldn’t see well now but had seen enough before the guard left with the torch. “I’ll shove that torch so far up his ass that when he smiles again, he will brighten our day.”
At least he is creative, Crane thought.
“Retribution hardly resolves anything, brother,” Endov commented without looking, his eyes fixed on his book.
“Yeah, but it will make me feel a lot better. Who says I’m looking for resolution?”
“Perhaps you should.” Endov smiled, as he pulled a loaf of bread from under his blanket and split it into three pieces. He threw one at the new guy and the other at Crane. “Perhaps then you wouldn’t look as hungry”
Crane hesitated to eat it for a second. When the torch lightened the cells, he saw the blankets that Endov just pulled the bread from. The sour smell watered Crane’s eyes but being on the verge of starvation he pushed his sanitary questions aside.
He thanked Endov as he bit onto the bread, it was rough and mouldy. Unlike the ones he made on the Island. Still, he was thankful.
“Whatever.” The new guy took a bite from the bread after sniffing it. “I won’t stay here much anyways.” He lay down, still munching on the bread.
“How do you plan on doing that?” Crane asked.
“Well. I happen to have my way with the locks. They can’t resist me. With a few whispers and the right touch and they are quite easy to unlock. Like women. Those and with this pin of course.” He picked a thin rod of metal from the ground.
“Is that how you got here?” Crane asked. “Because of some locks getting unlocked?”
“Well… this particular lock happened to be opening to a nice lady’s bed chambers. A lord’s daughter’s to be exact. He wasn’t awfully happy to see that I was spending some quality time with her.”
“Thievery I could understand but adultery… You might belong here, brother. At least until you repent.”
“Don’t be like that! I was there only to pick up some stuff. I thought it wouldn’t be very nice of me to take something from a lady and not to give anything back.” The man giggled. “She was quite content until the guards arrived.”
“They aren’t going to be very happy if this one get unlocked as well.” Crane smiled even in pain. He didn’t quite like the man’s deeds and how he embraced them but if it took a thief to unlock his shackles, he could endure him. “What are you going to do when they come after you? How are you even going to pass through that man?”
To that, the man thought for a second. “I’ll hope for the best.”
“I am what you hope.” Crane leaned forward, showing his shackles. “Do you know what these are for?”
“Not exactly. Something annoying for mages I suppose. Looks expensive though. Not fit for a shabby dungeon.”
“Neither do us fit here my friend.” Crane smiled. “The steel binds the mana, rendering a mage useless. What about you take these off me and I take you out? Safe and in one piece?”
“Looks like we have a deal. I’d shake your hand but…” The man pointed at the bars. “I’m called Fennec.”
“Crane. And that’s not a problem. My arm is kind of broken anyways. I’d rather not shake it.”
“What delightful news.” Endov joined. “Then I offer to join your deal. I can heal. Bones especially. A quick spell and we all can shake hands.”
“You were so judgmental a second ago though. What changed your mind?”
“I am merely accepting what the Lord provides. After all, he is the one who sent you to me.”
“Not the Lord but a Lord.” Fennec corrected him. “But anyways. I suppose letting one more prisoner out would make him even bitter.”
Advertisement
Burning Stars, Falling Skies
Threedak is a simple Dhajtel. Every night she scavenges and hunts for her tribe in the great desert, relying upon her skill and ancestral memories to avoid the night's many dangers. Her life remains largely the same until one night, one of the gleaming angels that hangs in the night sky falls into her desert. Deciding to investigate, she happens upon a scene far beyond her limited understanding. The Dhajtel aren't alone. The galaxy is far vaster and more hostile than Threedak's people can even begin to comprehend. Entrusted with the knowledge and memories of a dead race, it will be up to her to forge Dhajtel society into something that can survive the storm that is to come. - - -(This novel is heavy on Kingdom/Empire Building and is an attempt at fairly hard (grounded in real science) Science Fiction) Cover credit to DrakonStorm - - - A couple authors with reptile MC's have started a discord, feel free to hang out with us.
8 129Until Death? (Refleshed Version)
Ever been a god? Well, I was! Until I died.... and got judged by the other gods! Apparently, they didn't like the whole "My Faith is the only true one!" idea. Oh, and for the record: The Apocalypse wasn't intentional, ok? In my defense, I want it to be known that my enemies threw the first stone and the whole 'Offer the other cheek' just isn't my thing. Seems like, for punishment, I get sent onto a vacation! Or so I hope? ——————————————————————————————— Reading Order of the Multiverse-Books ——————————————————————————————— Author's Comment: It's here, a rewrite? Yes! I would like to think that this version will have better grammar, better jokes, hopefully, everything better. Since it was my first work and started solely to improve my English, the grammar always caused me headaches when I looked at it. Well, and there are the plotholes which appeared with the whole multiverse thing that came with my other works... Let's just say that the first one was never written with the idea of turning it into a series. So let's get a shovel and fill-up the plot so that hapless readers won't fall into those pitch-black pits. They might break a knee! Or worse, vanish forever. And now the disclaimer everyone knows: I was asked about reading my work on other sites. The answer is simple: Currently, I am not active in any other networks than royalroadl.com. Only here, I correct mistakes and errors. If you read it anywhere else and have to pay for it or have to deal with an annoying amount of advertisement, You Are Being Betrayed. You would do good if you make other people in that network aware of it. This is a free project of mine for the purpose of having fun. And if people try to make money with it you shouldn't bother visiting their website. The only one whom I actually allowed to have my work on his website is Armaell who invested the time to compile them into pdf. (http://armaell-library.net/author/andur)
8 140Game of Mass Destruction
Yuzuko's perfect world is disturbed when she is forced to take part in the 30th season of Game of Mass Destruction, a reality tv show where twenty contestants have to fight robots and each other for a chance to become a billionaire. Each robot they destroy gives points, but extra points are rewarded for acts of sex and murder. Whilst Yuzuko is united with online friends, she discovers dark secrets about her family as she confronts the gameshow's owner the notorious Sia Bucks. Will she survive and become victorious or will it be a comedy of errors with violence and chaos? "Hunger Games on steroids!" - Wattpad
8 107Ricochet Island
Hugo wakes up on an unfamiliar island, with no memories of how he got there. He’s given only one piece of information: “This is an elimination game”. Then, he’s shot. He wakes up on the same island again, as if nothing happened. In fact, no matter how many times he’s shot down, he always finds himself back at the starting point. He’s forced to retry the game over and over, without end. To get out of this hell, he must shoot down all other players and be the last man standing. Easier said than done. For how long will he have to endure this imprisonment? Will he be able to retain his sanity throughout the ordeal?
8 135Cycles of Ruin
Civilizations rise and fall. Kith build them up and monsters, led by powerful dungeon keepers, bring them to ruin. For three thousand years the cycle has been maintained by the Guild of Chaos and its endless hordes of minions who—in absence of their long lost creators—have taken it upon themselves to keep the realms of the universe in balance. The Guild has grown efficient at this task, but some among its ranks have begun to ponder the utility of a universe that has been robbed of the very possibility of change. Basil von Doom is one such dungeon keeper working for the Guild, leading an army of loyal minions from one conquest to the next; burning civilizations and sifting through the ruins in search of forbidden knowledge that the races of kith were never meant to possess. But having spent more than half a century in pursuit of glory and fame—trying to live up to the legacy of his father—Basil has grown indifferent towards his work. Desperate for a worthy challenge, but bound by his duties as a dungeon keeper, he has turned his mind towards uncovering the ultimate fate of the previous master of his house and the secrets that were buried with him. Now the young Master of House Doom must balance his growing interest in pursuing the trail of his father with the responsibilities that come with running a dungeon in service to the Guild of Chaos. To remain in good standing with the Guild, Basil has even accepted the task of mentoring an apprentice dungeon keeper, a young succubus named Elnora. It is at the tail end of her apprenticeship that the story begins; with a civilization poised to fall—its greatest heroes gathering for one last assault on the heart of darkness—and Basil striking up a conversation with his apprentice that will set into motion the unraveling of the universe. ***This is a rewrite and continuation of my story that was first posted on RoyalRoad a few years ago.
8 126The Betrayed Pilot (Titanfall x RWBY)
Five years of servitude to the IMC, five long years until I decided to leave them for a better life. But instead of what you would of expect of other pilots, where they would of joined the Frontier Militia, I had the chance to join the Apex Predator, so i took the chance and joined them. And my first assignment is under Kuben Blisk, to protect the IMC's new fold weapon. Let's hope everything goes to plan.I don't own anything, but my own characters, Titanfall is owned by EA, and Rooster Teeth owns RWBY, and the cover is by Sanderson on Pixiv, I hope you enjoy this story, and if you have any problems, then just tell me and I'll address them immediately.(#1 pilot 12/16/2020))(#3 titanfall2 (12/16/2020))(#1 rubyrose (1/4/2021))(#2 velvet (4/6/2021))
8 192