Callie had soon joined Zander in the navigation room along with the others as they pulled out of the harbour.
Conditions were not so smooth so as to felicitate standing on deck.
She was quite sure that Elyria would be following along in the sea, and the vampire keeping a comfortable pace on land – though she had no visual confirmation of either.
Zander was to go exactly one league from the harbour, far enough so as to be removed from any possible view or tracking from the village – which itself was a fair way in from the coastal cliffs to which the harbour was linked.
That did not take much time, only an hour – though it would have been a shorter journey if not for the conditions gracing them.
There was still some time till Wairodon so the drift – incited primarily by their chef – decided to make an evening meal of it.
Finley and Gwenyth decided to contribute to Venedir’s efforts.
And so they all headed downstairs to the kitchen.
“It is quite strange.” remarked Zander as he sat down.
“That we do not know all that much about each other and are about to engage in a prison break on just the… third day of our acquaintance.”
“Oh, we’re just acquaintances now?” Sylviane teased.
Zander grinned.
“You know my meaning.”
“Our upbringings are like to be so similar that there cannot possibly be much discourse on the matter.” ventured Sylviane in reply.
“It’s all in the details.” Gwenyth countered.
Finley shrugged a little.
“Surely apart from a basic understanding of our backgrounds – some of which we have done already – there is not much to be gained from understanding contexts in detail than building moments together now.”
And so their debate continued for some length of time.
It seemed to Callie that actions and conversations with no true substance were a foundation for their drift.
Not the worst source for establishing a bond, she supposed.
After what she deemed to be a dinner involving much more effort that should be credited to a meal (though it did distinguish itself) – it had to be considering half their drift was involved in it – the drift sat idly in the kitchen.
Her companion would show his face soon enough, she surmised.
Wairodon or not, the skies were dark enough now – not that they had much brightness about them ere.
Languorous chatter was the need for the hour, Callie grew to realise as time went on – not only for the purpose dawned upon on priorly, but also to calm the spirit.
While they had accepted the assignment trivially as hardened mercenaries might, Callie did not for a moment doubt the agitation within her driftfellows, as it was so significantly known by her own being.
The silver lining – she deigned to call it such – of her condition was that the time passed quickly, albeit she savoured her driftfellows’ bickering none so well as she would have liked.
Her silence, however, did go unnoticed.
But that was more a matter of relief than offense.
Her relief was simultaneously added to and wholly disturbed when Alaric entered their kitchen, utterly drenched.
His hair stuck to his skin quite comically as it did in rains should he choose to relieve himself of his hat.
Strands plastered over his forehead, more were swept in front of his face – a severe source of annoyance if the subtlety of his expressions could be correctly interpreted, which Callie had no doubt of doing.
But Callie found the humour a bit wanting that evening and her countenance remained quite unchanged as he made himself look more presentable.
In the lighting of the kitchen and his full-frontal view, his black eyes – sclera and iris – were exposed as fully as they could ever be.
While her tendencies were inclined to the inertia of stillness, curiosity got the better of her and she turned slightly, eyes swivelling to see her drift’s reaction.
It ranged from perfect easiness to perturbation, with the woman empathising only with the ones who carried the latter – namely, Venedir and Finley.
Maybe the others were more accustomed to it by now.
Callie herself was, still she was averse to look at him directly any more than she had to.
She certainly felt the pressures of having so reputed and powerful a companion.
It was part of the reason her acceptance of his assignment had been so quick.
While she did not perceive herself as weak, – and she was not, to be sure – she abhorred more the perception by external parties that she was weak than the sin of being weak itself.
They all started winding up whatever mess was still to be cleared.
They were all dressed in accordance to his directions, which would also be what common sense merited.
Tight fitted clothing, covering them almost fully with a cap (or hood) and mask to go with it.
Callie had the chance to rejoice once more in her hair – short and not a nuisance that long hair always became, even for god-like creatures like her companion.
As they proceeded from the kitchen – which was once again returned to its dark, lifeless state – it caught her eye as Zander came with them onto the deck instead of turning to the control room.
He was going to see them off, it seemed.
A worthy sentiment, though not wholly necessary in her eyes.
One by one Elyria took them, taking a few minutes for each.
Callie was the penultimate and she turned to Zander.
“Hold down the fort for us, will you?” she gave him a small smile, catching Gwenyth’s eyes as she stepped away from her and the others.
She pressed her cap down in caution as winds started picking up tremendously around her and she soon lifted off of the ground.
It was not her first time flying with Elyria but it had been so long since the last time, and conditions were so different now that the exhilaration was undiminished despite the nervosity that coloured it.
The jagged base of the cliffs and the dark frothy waves that crashed into it without fear made Callie tremble a little.
She felt uneasy and to soothe herself she tried to look back at the ship but she found herself quite frozen in her position, lest the movement be the cause of an unceremonious fall – one she would survive to feel the full effect of.
And so her eyes closed, but not knowing was more reprehensible and she was stuck in a hypnotic state till her purgatory ended and she would have hugged the ground in relief had it not been muddy.
She instead settled with leaning against the tree closest to her, all but collapsing against it.
By the time her breathing returned to normal, Gwenyth had also arrived – and to her credit, was not the least bit distressed.
“You throw up yet, Lee?” Gwenyth said teasingly as they started to walk.
“Don’t push it.” Callie murmured as she had to force herself upright, looking back at where Elyria had dropped Gwenyth off.
She didn’t seem to be there anymore.
Perhaps she had gone back to the ship.
Alaric stood there alone, eerily unmoving as he looked out into the distance, at who knew what.
Callie wondered why this demon held this much importance – which could not be very high, but significant enough – to him as she turned back ahead.
Their path was through dense blackwoods.
If there were no sources of light priorly, they were wholly eliminated now.
Only Sylviane’s torch – standard Faring issue – kept them from stumbling into nothingness.
The solitary beam fought quite admirably with the darkness, which seemed to have abyss like qualities.
She was not one to be afraid of the dark, but she did feel uneasy and now could empathise with those who did fear it.
Luckily they were only confined to its suffocation for an hour or so.
Callie found herself drenched to the bone despite the immense cover their forested path afforded, and as they emerged from the forest the lights from Rainy village became visible, prompting Sylviane to switch off and pocket her torch.
“Now for the tough part.” Callie said, ignoring the incredulity on some of her friends’ faces.
“We have to find the exact entrance, hopefully undetected and definitely unrecognised.” Alaric had only given them an approximate location at least.
She was sure he knew more than he was letting on but was not telling them due to his absurd sense of humour and entertainment.
The payment was enough to not make Callie care for it.
They could surely manage themselves.
“I don’t think it should be that difficult.
A lot of the forest folk like rising and falling with Wairo.” said Finley.
“The one or two people they do have guarding the entrance should be dispatched quite easily.”
“Boldly spoken for someone with no fighting experience.” said Venedir.
“Oh, I beg to differ.” Finley said with a smile.
“You are confusing two separate things there.
I would be content to spectate.” And so it was decided that Venedir and his pupil would be the sacrificial lambs to the guardians of the prison, by the mentor’s own volunteerism.
The drift decided to spread out as they approached the village.
It would help them be more sneaky and confuse witnesses’ accounts and direction of suspicion if the five of them were not seen together as much as was avoidable – in addition to the benefit of being able to cover more ground.
Callie took the Northwest corner and slipped away to around the outskirts of the village.
The rain was so heavy by that point that she could barely see a few metres in front of her.
Her eyelashes dripped with water, some of it entered her eyes making her vision even worse.
In response she slouched and kept her head a little down.
In any case, what they were looking for had to be underground, located such that it would not be accessible to someone by accident.
As much as she hoped the entrance would not be in someone’s house or shop – for the natural aversion to having disreputable entities so close to home or business, that is -, there was not much to be done if that were the case.
But since the vampire believed they could find it, Callie’s hopes were kept alive still.
And so the drift dispersed for a half hour, reconvening outside the village at the end of it.
By their count there were a total of eight entrances – seemingly ordinary sewage and drainage holes, unappealing for exploration by anyone, surely.
Initial inspection revealed only two of those to be drainage to manage rainwater.
Those were the more attractive prospects so it was decided.
Venedir would go with Sylviane while Gwenyth with Callie and Finley.
And so they dispersed again.
Finley led the way since he’d made the discovery.
As they walked curiosity overtook Callie and she spoke to Finley, quite loudly so as to make herself be heard.
“So did you really do some fighting when you were in school?”
“Oh, a little bit.”
“Which weapons?”
“Mostly hand-to-hand combat.”
“Good old fashioned fist-fighter.”
“Indeed.
And you?”
“I did sword and shield, a bit of archery to have some ranged capability.”
“Good choice.
I picked up some of it too, helps in hunting as well.”
“Indeed!
But I hope it doesn’t come to that.
Gwenyth has dearer hopes than mine on the matter, I’m sure.
She is partial to melee, I’m afraid.”
“I can throw my axe.” She said flatly, and neither responded – for to doubt was to question her strength and see some proof in the form of a punch on their bodies.
As they entered the drainage system, Callie was pleasantly surprised by the utter lack of odor apart from the fact that it smelt like the rain above.
No surprise there.
Another welcome feature was the lighting through orange luminescent crystals, as if they had captured Wairo’s essence itself and were now diffusing it.
Callie was sure the drain would be hit with an influx of water which would only increase.
And so they stayed on the upper levels of what was a multi-layered drain, reaching at least forty feet down – that was their level’s height above the water currently.
Callie could reason that there would be at least a few feet of water accumulated already.
Surely the prison would be on the upper most level, if that.
Her driftfellows shared her sentiments and so they branched out in the labyrinth, connected by bridges on all levels, it seemed.
It would have been quite the pleasing walk down there if not for the circumstance.
Callie did make the most of her time down there – most likely her last visit.
In doing so, she lost track of time, coming back to her reality only when she heard footsteps and someone shouting her name.
When the shout came again, she realised it was Gwenyth.
She ran in the direction of her voice, meeting up with her in a minute or so.
“Sylviane’s here.
Venedir’s found the prison entrance.”
* * *
49th day of the 10230th year since the passing of Kriene
It was to Callie’s immense surprise that Sylviane had managed to get herself quite injured – which she said was during their fight with the guards.
While Callie didn’t press for details, it did have her concerned for her own self – she was a Rookie like Sylviane -, and for the drift in general.
And this was supposed to be an easy assignment.
While she did not press Sylviane for details – she certainly did not look in the state to be pestered at -, she hoped it was better than the logical implication and this was just… sheer bad luck.
It was a good sign that she’d been in a condition to fetch them, at least.
It took them quite a while to reach Venedir.
This drainage was even more complicated than theirs.
It included several narrow pathways even apart from kinds of ones she had seen in the other system.
It was quite impressive how Sylviane guided them through the maze of the upper level, being in doubt and backtracking only a few times in between.
They heard the sounds before they saw the entrance and Callie knew they were close.
They were muffled but passionate utterances, some exhaustion colouring their tone.
And in a few seconds, they were graced with the presence of the source.
Three guards, one forest spirit, one water spirit and a hound.
“You have a talent for knots.” Finley commented as he peered closer at the guards who’d turned prisoners themselves.
“Quite lovely.” He said, then fell silent, just looking at Venedir’s artwork.
No one quite said anything, though it came to Callie’s mind that Zander would have reciprocated such banter, irrespective of the demands of the situation.
Finley’s other driftfellows, however, were not quite up to this task.
Callie looked at Venedir, who looked quite unharmed and unperturbed considering Sylviane’s state.
Callie found herself thinking of Zander, who would tease Venedir for this contrast.
Damn, their navigator was getting in her head.
Was this the effect of having the same people around consistently?
She hoped not.
It was crowded enough with one consciousness – and the train of thought it brought – in there so Callie was very sure that six would be a tormenting experience.
She also noticed that as they had entered the corridor, Sylviane had subtly but quickly shifted from the front to the back of the group.
She wondered why as they approached Venedir, who was sitting cross-legged beside his prisoners, who were in a state comparable to or worse than Sylviane.
Ahead of him was a large gate of steel coated with coloured glass.
Quite strange.
“…Well?
Shall we?” asked Gwenyth as she moved to step over the small space between the prisoners and Venedir.
“Yes we shall.” he said flatly.
“Becuase the door certainly can’t be opened by me alone.
“You weren’t supposed to try.” said Sylviane in a volume lower than typical. Enjoying the story? Read on at g.com.
“I didn’t wish to risk more injury than necessary.” he replied.
Sylviane looked like she had much to say on the matter but didn’t, instead moved towards the door with Gwenyth.
Venedir sighed and let out a small grunt of effort as he got up and went to the door as well.
“Three should do the trick.” He murmured, looking back at those freshly captive.
And then upon his count, they heaved.
The door did not budge.
“It’ll give.” muttered Gwenyth.
And so the count restarted.
The door shifted imperceptibly, or so Sylviane said.
Gwenyth was inclined to agree.
Venedir could merely hope.
“Should I- we help?” Callie said, realising mid-question that it would be courteous to offer her driftfellow’s assistance along with hers, even though five might be a crowd.
The door was wide but perhaps not wide enough for her suggestion.
“You may, though I am not sure if there is something suitable to grip.” Sylviane answered.
As Callie approached with Finley in tow, the door did seem intentionally structured that way.
Amongst other things, it did make it hard for those of their genetic make up to get a good enough grip.
The handles were small – too small for sufficient purchase.
It seemed to be a contributor to why it did not shift.
Nevertheless, the two of them did grip whatever they could and they heaved and pulled, putting as much of their weight into it.
It shifted marginally each time and with it less than even a third of the way open, Gwenyth let go and punched the glass in anger, cracking it.
And her knuckles started to bleed.
Oh well.
She seemed to get annoyed at that and she punched the glass again.
“We should go.” Venedir said, ignoring Gwenyth’s outburst.
“The door’s open enough for us to squeeze through.”
And so they did.
Callie was the penultimate entrant, looking back to see whether Gwenyth had recovered enough to follow.
She had, though she looked quite sour.
Callie’s attention went to their path as it sloped downward, eventually flattening out into a beautiful space scattered with crystals that glowed in mild reds and greens.
Even Gwenyth’s countenance changed as they looked upon what was before them.
It took them a couple minutes to really comprehend the structure of the prison.
Before them were eight distinct paths, each leading as far as the eye could see.
Surely it was the lack of adequate lighting and the monotone construction of the prison that made it appear so.
And so they were to split up once again with the keys to the cells in their respective tunnels – the cells that were accessible with keys, that is.
The demon was one of those, his power being that of fire.
They started with the tunnels to their left, armed only with their own faculties, weapons and the name and description of the demon.
Linny Kiane was a young demon, come recently into Alaric’s acquaintance, extraordinarily quickly bridging the gap to friendship.
He was short for a demon, attributable mostly to his young age.
Alaric had said he would be a little taller than Venedir.
In terms of appearance, Alaric said his skin would be like a cloudy morning, his eyes like the vampire’s but happier and that he had no hair – but a colourful hat.
Upon asking which colour was the hat, Gwenyth was looked at by Alaric in annoyance and amusement – to be sure, it was an irrelevant detail that had been asked of him.
“Why, all of them.” her companion had responded merrily, in a tone that lay squarely in between on the spectrum from sarcasm and sincerity.
There were different kinds of prison structures for different kinds of prisoners, it seemed, as she passed by various ingenuities.
While she was averse to interacting with their inhabitants and cautious of the dangers her situation entailed, she was pleasantly surprised to find most of the facility empty, and the handful of prisoners she did see were asleep, listless or unmindful of her presence.
It was tranquil – almost.
And then the situation receded as far from tranquility as it could have gone.
Suddenly a lot of commotion filled the prison and the prisoner beside her at the moment – an old elf – looked up in this dismay.
“You’ve woken it.” she said gloomily before returning to her comatose state.
Callie was quite certain that she definitely had not done anything.
Her driftfellows, however, were capable of such aggravations.
And as if to affirm her thoughts, she heard Venedir’s scream followed immediately by a new voice altogether.
Before Callie could turn back, she saw… roots.
Surely they were roots.
Slithering noisily with alarming pace towards her.
She turned instinctively and started running.
By the time her thoughts caught up with instinct, the roots were closing in – as far as she could hear.
Her hands, shaking with adrenaline, felt around her waist clumsily for where she had tucked her knife in.
It was found after five very panicked seconds and just in time as she leapt forward instinctually to avoid a root that she felt had tried to bind her and she buried the knife in a thick root which was crawling on the wall to her right.
Callie recalled then that she had seen around a couple dozen thin roots and a half dozen thick ones.
Only the latter would pose a real problem, she imagined.
But dealing with five at once was hard and as the clearing where the drift had diverged came into view, she found Venedir, the demon (most likely) and Gwenyth.
“- go get him.” Gwenyth was shouting and ran off, only a brief moment of eye contact taking place between the two immediately after which Callie tripped upon the ground and two roots wrapped around her legs.
Venedir – to her left – brought his sword down.
Slashing the roots and turning to the right, his face was hit with the other three roots simultaneously when he emerged from the partition from her tunnel and the one to her left.
He staggered back and collapsed against the back wall and before Callie could call out his name, she felt immense heat above her for a moment and then there was nothing.
Callie stayed down for a couple heartbeats and then staggered up, both her legs bruised.
Venedir’s head did not look so great either, the swelling and blood quite concerning.
“I’m going to get the fifth one.” the demon said.
Callie was hardly in a state to reply and just nodded gratefully.
While she had not brought her own sword like Venedir had, she was glad that he did as she wielded it now.
She assumed that the five tunnels they ventured in would all be devoid or would soon be made devoid of any hostile presence.
And so her focus was on the last three tunnels, with Venedir’s body pushed behind her, acting as a sort of bait for the roots.
It worked very well initially, with Callie dispatching half a dozen roots with ease.
And then they learned and it got harder.
Their focus shifted solely to her and it got increasingly hard for her to keep them at bay.
It was not too long before Finley and Linny appeared, and the latter had only just dispensed with her adversaries when Gwenyth and a much more injured Sylviane appeared.
Linny stayed on guard as the three able driftfellows got the other two through the main door.
Linny caught up with them just as they were crossing the bound guards.
“Shall we untie them?” asked Finley.
“No.
They don’t need it.
They are coming soon and we need to leave.”
No one bothered protesting or exercising their curiosity about who the latter they were.