Thralls of a Dread Lord (1.41T)
Welcome to my weekly serial. This is a rough draft that I am working on, for your reading pleasure.
It is a fairly grim tale, so be warned.
Here is the first post from this series.
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The vaulted ceiling of Greyrock’s dungeons loomed above them as Retaak’s band crept toward their goal. The fitted stone reminded him of the upper reaches of the Fellspawn Warrens, where the Dread Lord’s favourites dwelled. The cells were as ugly as any prison, even if they were more spacious than most.
“Why would they need so many cells?” asked Ashoktyaar, in a hushed whisper.
“Before the first Dread Lord, this fortress was central to the plans of the old elven empire,” said Retaak. “They sought to conquer these lands and take them from the Dwarves and the Human Kingdoms. This fortress housed all of the slaves from their conquests, to be sold and shipped to the four corners of Elvendom.”
“Where did you learn that?” asked Uyaashie, look at Retaak with brows raised over her glasses.
“Yurijak’s History of the Western Realms,” said Retaak.
“Who taught you to read?” asked Uyaashie, pushing up her glasses.
Retaak paused, lost in memory for a moment. The sound of a female’s laughter, mingled with a male’s, both familiar, both loved. The truth of it was lost to him, taken by Waachear and the other paingivers. “It is long past… from my days as a Wildborn.”
Uyage glared at Uyaashie, who blushed and looked down.
“I’m sorry–,” she began.
“Do not be,” answered Retaak. “You did not break me. You did not take my memories. Others bear those responsibilities, my own stubbornness included.”
“We should keep going,” said Kuzat, knuckling Retaak’s leg as he walked past. “They will have patrols down here.”
“Unlucky for them if they run into us,” said Ashoktyaar, hefting one of his cleavers. “These walls will not carry the sounds of fighting very far.”
Retaak grinned. “I would prefer to avoid painting this place with blood just yet.”
“You’re no fun,” said Ashoktyaar. “Must be getting old. Back in the day you never would have turned down a battle.”
“A battle that I could win…” corrected Retaak, still grinning. “Lead on Uyage.”
Uyage nodded and advanced ahead of them. The cell that they were looking for was on the Eastern side Greyrock, on the level above them. How Ushochhushi could be certain that the prisoner was in a specific cell was an interesting puzzle. Retaak could think of many answers as to why a prisoner would need special housing and few of them boded well for the band.
They moved quickly through the blocks of cells, holding pens and around guarded areas. Most of the elves were manning the walls it seemed, but they still came across evidence of patrols.
Suddenly, as they neared their destination. Uyage stopped, and held up a closed fist, warning them to be ready. Retaak heard voices, the musical language of the elves coming from a tunnel beyond the intersection Uyage was hiding at. If the elves were coming toward them, it would be difficult for him and Ashoktyaar to hide.
Uyage notched an arrow in her bow. The others drew their weapons silently. Retaak tensed as the voices seemed to grow louder.
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