The Forsaken Hero
Chapter 260: Empty Cages

Chapter 260: Empty Cages

The harsh challenge in the guards’ voices was like a splash of cold water, splitting apart the eerie silence of the tunnel. I paused just without the threshold of the small circle of light cast by the light crystals, leaving myself cloaked in shadows with only the star atop my staff glimmering faintly.

"Who are you?" the guard on the left tried again.

"Fable," I whispered, averting my eyes.

The guards were only second level, left completely unable to react as my wolf launched forward. Blood splashed into the air, followed by a scream, as the one on the left went down. His cries turned to wet gurgles as he clutched at his neck, desperately trying to close the gaping hole and stem the flow of blood.

"W-what the hell?" the other guard cried, fear flashing in his eyes.

He fumbled for his sword, but in his panic, only succeeded in drawing it halfway before Fable swiped at him with his paw, sending him flying into the wall. He hit one of the wooden supports with a crunch, shattering it. The light in his eyes faded as jagged fragments of wood punctured his torso, emerging from his chest beneath his black cloak, glistening with blood.

There was a brief silence as their final gasps faded away, before there was another loud crack. The support beam lurched violently, dropping just enough to allow the guard to slide off the wooden fragments. His corpse hit the ground with a thump, his cowl falling back in the commotion. My breath caught as I laid eyes on his face: young, barely older than I, his eyes hollow in the terror of his final moment. His body was soaked in blood, with more dribbling onto his chest from the jagged splinters poised above him.

I bit my lip, forcing myself to move past the carnage. As I passed him, Fable tilted his head, gazing at me curiously.

"I’m sorry," I whispered, unable to meet his eyes. "I know they’re slavers, it’s just..." I took a deep breath. "Thanks for being with me. I couldn’t do this alone."

He watched me for another second before finally moving to stand beside me, examining the door. Several fifth-level enchantments shielded the door, so I didn’t even bother trying to open it, instead turning to Fable.

He gathered himself on his hind legs, muscles coiling tightly like a spring. A faint, glimmering aura leaked from his soul, curling around his body like mist. With a low growl, he launched himself forward, head lowered, colliding with the door. The entire tunnel shook violently, showering us with rocks and debris. The door split with a tremendous crack, shattering into a thousand jagged shards. Light flooded the corridor from beyond the room, swirling through the motes of dust in frenzied, unpredictable patterns.

Blinded by the sudden light and caught in a growing storm of debris, I stumbled forward. Sharp particles of dust flooded my lungs, causing me to hack violently. Before I could regain my senses, a large stone struck the ground beside me, startling me into looking up. My eyes widened in horror as a crevasse snaked overhead, shooting down the tunnel behind me. The ground began to rumble–signs of an approaching wagon–and the ceiling bulged, the crack widening like a yawning mouth.

Suddenly, Fable was beside me, his jaws closing gently around my arm. With a shake of his head, he threw me onto his back and lunged forward, bursting into the room beyond. A frightening crash chased us through the door, rocks and rubble biting at the tip of Fable’s tail. There were voices in the room about us, but they sounded muted to my ears, lost in the cacophony of the rockfall.

Fable jerked beneath me, accelerating so quickly that I nearly lost my grip. Squeezing my eyes against the stinging dust, I clung to his back, fingers tangled in his fur, hanging on for dear life. He jerked this way and that, growling and snapping, until finally coming to rest. He shook himself gently, prompting me to open my eyes.

Through the clouds of dust, I could make out a room that was once neat and orderly, a barracks of sorts. Twisted shapes that might have been tables, chairs, and shelves lay in shattered heaps, their contents scattered wildly across the room. Several corpses lay strewn between them, riddled with gaping holes and claw marks. Splashes of blood painted the walls and floor, filling the air with a coppery stench.

Fragments of wood and stone spilled into the room through the shattered doorway. A large, iron-bound wheel protruded from the heap of rubble, along with a long piece of what looked like the tongue of a wagon. There was no sign of horses, but my eyes strayed to a stiff, motionless hand jutting from the rubble, limply locked in a claw grasping for freedom.

I remained frozen, standing in place, staring at the hand, until another tremor shook the room. It had rhythm, like marching armies, rapidly swelling until the room quaked. Shouts drifted through the rubble, which began to shift, dislodged from above. Light oozed between cracks in the stone and wood, and the voice grew louder.

"H-he’s dead," I whispered, pale and haunted. "We killed him."

Fable nudged me with his head, pawing at my leg with a low whine. I glanced at him, my hands still shaking, as he nipped the hem of my dress, tugging me toward the closed door opposite the tunnel.

Swallowing my guilt, I followed after him, finding the door unlocked. Beyond it, there was another tunnel, this one blessedly free of the stifling stench of blood and dust. It was dark again, but my eyes quickly adjusted to the gloom, running along walls of carved stone-far more solid and permanent than the previous passage.

Fable bounded into the hallway, stopping a few feet in to look over his shoulder at me. I took a deep breath, clearing the dust from my lungs, and took a step forward. There was no denying it now. We were walking into the lair of the Circle. Alone.

I held my staff tightly, remaining close behind Fable, as we crept down the corridor. After a while, the tunnel curved to the left and a door appeared on the wall, a large "1" carved in the center, above the handle.

Wrapping my fingers around the doorknob, I held my breath and twisted it. The door opened easily, the hinges moving with barely a whisper. A nauseating wave of filth escaped into the hallway, churning my stomach. My heart leaped with hope at the familiar stench, and I threw the door open, stepping inside.

Unlike the polished stone hallway, this room was practically a dugout, all dirt with wooden supports. Heavy iron cages loomed out of the darkness, filled with huddled lumps of cloth and fur. Wide, fearful eyes stared up at us in trepidation, brimming with confusion as they fell upon my demon features and Fable beside me.

I looked eagerly at the tear-stained, filthy faces, my heart pounding anxiously in my chest. A bearkin, a half-elf, even some sort of feathered beastkin–seemingly every species but the one I sought. My heart sank, my tail drooping, but I swallowed my disappointment, leveling my staff at the first cage.

"Lockpick," I said, casting a second-circle spell.

The spell flared brightly, and the iron lock clicked, the sharp noise echoing off the walls, startling the slaves. The door swung open with an awful shriek, the slaves’ expressions dropping in disbelief. I quickly repeated the process on the other locks, only lowering my staff once all the slaves were freed.

"Who are you?" a large, grizzled wolfkin asked tentatively. His voice was hoarse and strained with dehydration, and his eyes flashed with suspicion.

"You’re free," I said, gesturing toward the open doorway with my staff. "But please, tell me, have any of you seen two foxkin children?"

My voice broke with desperation, and the expressions of the suspicious slaves softened. The wolf pushed the cage door with his hand, as though doubting it was really open, before stepping outside. The others followed him, eyeing me suspiciously and giving me a wide berth as they shuffled past, the scent of their bloody, unwashed bodies sharp in my nose.

I watched them, twisting my staff anxiously in my hands, as they left without responding. The old wolf paused at the door, the last to leave, and shook his head.

"I’m sorry," he muttered, "but they might be further up, with the others. And...thank you. Even if you’re a demonkin, thank you."

I nodded, my tail twisting uncertainty. Even if I was demonkin? I’d walked the streets openly in Heartland before, and never got more than the odd look. I had just saved them from a fate worse than death, yet they were wary? Hadn’t he considered I might terrified too? That I didn’t have to save them?

Suddenly, the realization hit me, and I berated my own foolishness. Vithrass was a demonkin. I would have reacted the same way had Lord Byron, or even an inquisitor, walked through the door, promising freedom. The fact that I had invaded the Circle’s lair on my own was enough to make me tremble already, even with all the time that had passed since I obtained my own freedom.

The wolfkin vanished into the dark, leaving Fable and me alone in the room. I stared hollowly at the empty cages, and took a deep breath. Sari was in a cage too, scared and alone, caged like an animal.

"I’m coming," I whispered, turning away from the shadowy bars. "Wait for me. Please."