The Warden

Chapter 27

A lone soldier marched down the long, dark corridor of the dungeons. A thick belt strapped across her brigandine accentuated her hips and supported a longsword. Linen sleeves the color of vellum extended down to her wrist where they met well fitted leather gloves. Her face attracted no attention, not hideous but certainly not the fairest complexion. She marched on, heels clicking on the rough slate floors, her hair braided into a short tail just tickling her nape. Her sword hand, swinging in time with her gait, caught the pommel of her weapon twisting her wrist, making it collide with the cool metal. At the impact, the soldier bit back a hiss, her teeth gritted and her face tight.

When I see Master Elwith, thought Charlan, I'll have to return the favor for my little souvenir from our encounter.

She passed through an arched passageway wide enough to accommodate six men standing abreast. Glowing with a dim candlelight tone, the ceiling had not had mage maintenance done on it in some time, reducing the environment to its current murkiness. A state that put a smile on Charlan's face and a bounce in her step.

Far above the many levels of the underground capital, Manu stepped fully into the night sky, the moon's connection to Charlan tugging at her, telling her exactly where the goddess strode.

Nodding to those few guards she passed periodically, Charlan marched past the evenly spaced alcoves on her left. Each depression had stalactite and stalagmite bars flowing down and up from the stone of the ceiling and floor. Most of the earthy cells had no occupants, but occasionally there would be a person curled up on the cot or slouched down on the opposite wall. Breezing past one, the familiar scent of the smugglers floated out, inspiring a smile of satisfaction as the scenes of carnage came to mind.

When all this is over, thought Charlan, I'm going to have to have more fun like that.

She scented the air again, noting her target lay still farther down the passageway. Charlan rested her hand on her pommel. Several more cells receded behind her, their occupants not giving her so much as a glance before she arrived at her intended destination, the pungent aroma of exotic spices mingled with the musk of an unwashed body wafting out from behind the stone bars. Charlan peeked into the cell. A prone figure occupied the cot, lying on his side. Mumbling in his sleep, the figure rolled to his back revealing Master Elwith, his head lolling to the side, one arm hanging off the edge of the cot. Charlan grasped the bars, her hungry eyes staring down at the mage.

He muttered something, but garbled and nonsensical, the sound tapering off into a sputtering of lips. A giggle twittered out. He rolled onto his other side.

They must have given him enough suppressant to knock out a horse, thought Charlan, plucking a small vial from within her belt.

Checking both ways, Charlan flowed into the cell's shadowy corner. Master Elwith did not stir. His lips burbled and a hiccup interrupted the sound for an instant before another fit of giggles overtook him.

I can only imagine what dreams he's having, though Charlan.

It was nice to see that her suppressant still had its uses. Memories centuries old resurfaced. When she had been a mage, she had created the suppressant as a means to subdue insubordinate underlings. It had not been a Work. Rather it was a concoction of narcotics that would make an individual incapable of thinking clearly let alone perform Works.

He'll be like this for hours, she thought, grinning as every devious thing she could do to him came to the forefront of her mind.

One side of her smile fell. A resigned sigh huffed through her nostrils. Features melting and molding themselves into that of Lady Telias, Charlan grasped the man's wrist before slapping him soundly across the face. The action left a smarting pink mark on his cheek. Bleary and wandering, Master Elwith's eyes came open, no pain therein.