Work Text:
The pounding on the front “door” of Yussa’s tower is making Caleb flinch with every hit.
They’re running out of time. They’re running out of options.
Caleb tucks the tuning fork and scroll under one arm, pulling out his trusty copper wire and bringing it to his lips. He closes his eyes but that only makes his sense of gravity melt into darkness, so he keeps his eyes open and trained on the floor instead of his friends.
“I’m coming out,” he Messages. He ignores his friends, focuses only on a solution, a way to buy some time. “Give me a minute. Please tell Eadwulf to stop breaking down the door.”
The pounding stops. Trent doesn’t respond, but the pounding stops.
“Caleb…” Beau has her staff in her hands. “I thought we talked about this. I thought we agreed this was a bad idea and not a solution.”
Caleb tucks the wire away. “But it will buy time, and – and you said that if they take me away then you will have to mount a jailbreak.” He twists his wrists to clench his fingers in the cuffs of his coat. “So I do not let them take me away. I do not let them take me out of Nicodranas. We just…” His mouth dries up. “We just talk. Like Trent wants.”
“You don’t have to do anything he wants.” Veth grabs his knee.
“I – I know, Veth, I know. But right now doing what he wants will not harm me and it will buy us time and maybe it can buy up some help.”
Caduceus hovers near his shoulder. “Are you going to be okay?”
Caleb looks away. He shoves the tuning fork and scroll into Jester’s hands. “You have one last Sending, right? Send to me in one hour if I am not back by then. If I do not respond, leave without me. Let Essek know of the circumstances as soon as you are able. If I do not return, he may be compromised.”
Jester’s lip wobbles. She takes the fork and scroll and gives Caleb a big hug. “I hate this,” she cries. “I. Hate. This!”
“I know. I – I’m sorry.”
A single loud thump makes Caleb jump.
“Trent is not a patient man. I need to go.” Caleb reaches a hand out to Caduceus. “I – I could use some help, Caduceus. If you have another calming spell available.”
“For you, always.” Caduceus rests a hand on Caleb’s shoulder and all the panic disappears.
In its place is a cold sense of calm. Caleb’s brain starts counting down the duration. This won’t last long, just long enough to power him through the worst of it. He leaves his friends behind and trots down the stairs of Yussa’s tower. Forty-five seconds left.
Wensforth tries to get in his way, but Caleb just shakes his head and gently pushes past the old goblin. The arcane door opens easily under his touch and Caleb steps out into the bright sun of Nicodranas. Thirty-five seconds left.
Eadwulf flanks one side of the door, Astrid on the other. An unfamiliar Volstrucker is circling the tower and in front of the doorway only ten feet away-
Trent looks very happy to see him. He folds his hands behind his back. “So you’ve decided to talk.”
Caleb meets his eyes calmly. He only has thirty more seconds of calm. “So let’s talk. As long as my friends are left alone and as long as we do not leave the city, let’s talk.” He keeps his hands loose at his side. Twenty-five seconds left before his emotions catch back up to his situation. “Do we have a deal?”
Trent’s smile grows. “I think we can work with that. Come along, Bren.”
He turns and starts walking away. Astrid and Eadwulf step up to either side of Caleb. Twenty seconds left. Caleb starts following two paces behind Trent down the beautiful streets towards the glittering ocean. He feels eyes on his back and turns: Veth is peering out the front door of the tower.
Caleb shakes his head no to her: she surely wants to follow but that’s too risky. What Caleb is doing is risky but he deserves the risk. He deserves the danger: it’s his danger and his alone. His friends do not need to suffer because his past has finally caught up with him.
They turn the corner and head towards the Opal Archways when Caleb feels the last few seconds of the spell slip away. He steels himself for a panic attack: if he was in such a state over a minute ago, he’ll surely be worse now. He expects panic, terror, the familiar numb fear that comes from being in Trent’s presence. Three, two, one-
What he doesn’t expect is for the cobblestone street to rise up to meet him. He barely gets an arm under him in time, scraping his forearm badly on the ground. Caleb doesn’t feel himself breathing, doesn’t feel his lungs, can only feel his heart in his throat threatening to spill out. He gets his hands under him and pushes himself to kneeling, feeling rather than seeing Trent looming over him.
“Well, well…I was wondering when that little effect would end,” Trent murmurs. “Why don’t we see what we’re really working with?”
What feels like a sickly cold hand slides onto Caleb’s head, curling around his hair before pressing into his skull like water squeezed through cheesecloth. Caleb tries to fight back but his head is already spinning and he’s always been particularly helpless against Trent’s mental domination. Trent’s Detect Thoughts slides into his brain with a slimy ease. Caleb closes his eyes and covers his mouth as to not be sick.
“Hm.” Trent taps his foot on the cobblestones. “Interesting, Bren. Your mind is quite a tangle since the last time I’ve seen it. But we can work with this. Up.” His words have the backing of magic.
Caleb gets to his feet before he’s aware of the Command. Astrid and Eadwulf each grab one of his arms. They drag him two more blocks to a large house and enter through the back door. Through a hallway, up a set of stairs, and into a private study. Caleb is deposited in a chair across from a heavy mahogany desk: Trent sits behind it. Caleb’s old friends flank either side of Caleb just behind his shoulders, out of view unless he turns his neck.
“Now, Bren, I have plenty of questions.” Trent leans forward with his hands steepled. “I just wanted to talk.”
“We can talk,” Caleb sullenly mutters. That’s what he came here to do, after all. Talk and try to appease Trent to buy them some time.
The Detect Thoughts is still worming around Caleb’s skull. He tries to flinch away from it as it tries to probe deeper but there’s nothing physical to get away from. Instead he closes his eyes and imagines Caduceus putting a hand on his shoulder, the scent of lichen and pleasant rot driving out any poison or pain or disease. When that doesn’t work, Caleb instead puts Beauregard in his mind’s eye and imagines her, face stony and mind fortified, whacking Caleb upside the head with her staff and knocking the invasion out.
The sliminess dissipates. Caleb sucks in two big breaths and tucks a loose chunk of his hair behind his ear. His lungs feel clearer now that Trent is out of his head again.
Behind the desk, Trent’s smug pleasure has faded into an unamused frown. He taps his finger on the desk. Trent doesn’t say anything. He just sits and stares at Caleb.
That’s not helping the constant anxiety making Caleb’s ribs ache with the effort of not devolving into a hyperventilating mess, but it is giving him a moment to try to collect his thoughts. He reaches up to untie his disheveled excuse for a ponytail, twisting the purple ribbon around his thumb before finger-combing the knots out of his hair and re-tying it back.
Trent is still just staring. Caleb knows this one: a test of patience. Don’t speak until spoken to. But time is ticking and Caleb doesn’t have time to play games. He desperately hopes that in an hour there’ll be no need for Jester to Send to him because he’ll be back with them and everything will be okay.
Caleb clears his thick throat. “My friends are not very patient and I promised them I would not take too long,” he prompts. “You said you had questions. Ask them.”
Trent’s frown deepens. He doesn’t like to be rushed. “What were you doing in the vault at Vergesson?” An obvious first question.
“Stealing anti-scrying amulets.” In all the rush of everything that’s happened today, Caleb’s amulet isn’t tucked inside his shirt like normal. He taps it. “I remembered where I originally got mine from, and we needed more.”
“You know you could have just asked if you needed something.”
Caleb shudders. Trent sometimes pretends to be nice, and that’s harder to deal with than the cruelty. Caleb shrugs and crosses his arms, staring at the wall over Trent’s shoulder.
“Well. What could you possibly need so many amulets for, I wonder…” Trent is still staring.
“It’s quite a long story. Suffice to say we have many enemies that we need to hide from.” Caleb bites his lip. “It truly is a complicated tale but I can assure you it didn’t have anything to do with you. We were unaware you would be at the facility.”
“Obviously.” Trent lightly sighs. “You left quite the path of terror in your wake. Where did you learn that little body-crushing mess? It was quite impressive. Overly gory, perhaps, but effective and…unique.”
Caleb looks away, scanning his eyes over the bookshelves behind Trent without taking in any of the titles. “Oh, around. I am an astute learner and I have reverse-engineered many little tricks from my travels.”
“So you are entirely self-taught in Dunamancy? That’s quite an accomplishment considering how closely the Dynasty guards its arcane secrets.”
Sweat rolls down the side of Caleb’s neck. “That’s right.” He smiles but it feels like a strain. “I’ve been told I’m a very quick learner.”
“Not that quick,” Trent murmurs. He glances up and to Caleb’s left where Eadwulf looms. Trent’s gaze returns to Caleb and voice darkens with arcane energy as he starts muttering a spell.
Caleb’s heart, having calmed down slightly, starts pounding again as he recognizes the unfortunately familiar incantation. One of Trent’s favorites: a way to ensure obedience while maintaining the plausible deniability of not having forced them to do anything. They always had a choice. It wasn’t a good choice, but it was still their choice.
Caleb slaps his hands over his ears: he’s never dared try it, but maybe it won’t work if he can’t hear Trent.
Eadwulf leans across the arm of the chair and roughly grabs Caleb’s wrists, harshly wrenching them behind his back. His grip digs in and Caleb feels his delicate bones whine under the pressure. Eadwulf leans forward with a foot up on the seat of the chair to twist Caleb in the chair and shove his chest down onto the other chair arm, knocking the breath out of him in a pained yelp.
That was all the time Trent needed to cast. What feels like a freezing rope of arcane power settles threateningly around Caleb’s neck and chest, wrapping hard enough to feel the pressure of his Geas.
“Answer my questions truthfully, Bren,” Trent orders. He tuts. “You’re always too predictable.”
Caleb blinks back tears and nods. Crying always made things worse with Trent but Caleb’s arm hurts and he’s had a long day. “Wulf,” he gasps. “I’ll behave. Promise.”
“Gentle, Wulf,” Astrid whispers. She reaches down to brush Caleb’s bangs off his forehead. “We’re not supposed to hurt him.”
“Fine,” Eadwulf growls, but he releases Caleb and returns to his straight-backed position next to the chair.
Caleb uncurls and rubs his sore wrists. His ribs are probably bruised: Wulf is always too rough in Trent’s presence. “What do you want to know?”
“The Dunamancy,” Trent echoes. “Were you ever taught any Dunamantic spells by a member of the Dynasty?” He never starts off with easy questions, but Caleb knows it’ll only get harder from here. He needs to buy himself time and not reveal anything too incriminating.
“Yes,” Caleb chokes out.
“Who taught you?” Trent’s smile is lazy like he already knows.
But Caleb won’t give him the fucking satisfaction of confirming it. He grits his teeth and shakes his head.
“Bren,” Trent warningly tuts. “Who taught you Dunamancy?”
“Nobody.” It’s a useless rebellion, a stupidly dangerous one, but Caleb has put enough people in danger. He won’t endanger more people he cares about.
The noose tightens. Caleb’s head explodes with pain, searing phantom stabs that lance through his neck and stomach and forearms and up his spine.
“Lying will get you nowhere.” Trent sounds disappointed.
Caleb tries to retort but chokes on the blood that’s gushing out of his nose with every sob. The room is shaking. He shivers as if feverish.
When Eadwulf roughly grabs his chin, his hand feels hot. Caleb cringes, expecting more pain, but instead Eadwulf just wipes Caleb’s bloody chin with a damp cloth then presses a fresh dry cloth to Caleb’s nose. “Hold that so you don’t make a mess,” Eadwulf quietly commands.
Caleb’s hands find the cloth and hold it to his nose. He feels the phantom noose of the Geas fade from his mind and only has a few breaths of relief before Trent starts re-casting it. Caleb closes his eyes and tries to fight it but fails. He always fails against Trent.
“Answer my questions truthfully. Let’s try that again, Bren. I don’t like seeing you hurt yourself like that.” Trent sits back in his chair. “Who taught you Dunamancy?”
Caleb needs to buy time. Caleb needs to leave this situation alive and he’s not sure if he can take another brutal hit like that. He can fix this later. “Essek.” Sorry, Essek.
“I see. You’ve grown close with the Shadowhand Thelyss?”
Caleb shrugs. That’s such a subjective question and their current relationship status is…complicated. That’s a truthful enough answer. “It’s complicated?”
Trent frowns but the Geas spell takes it as truth. “What has he shown you in his spellbook?”
“Spells.” Caleb flinches but nothing happens. He doesn’t dare look Trent in the eyes. “I thought you wanted to know more about why we needed those amulets. We are running from a powerful enemy.”
“Well now I am deeply curious about your new talents and how you learned them. What was the name of the spell you used in the Sanatorium to crush those guards?”
Caleb bites his lip. “The name translates to Vacuum Blast or Gravity Sinkhole.”
“How does it work? How is it cast?” When Caleb hesitates, Trent sighs. “Bren. How is it cast?”
“It uses a marble to redirect and condense the gravitational energy of a small space.” Caleb shakily raises one hand in a loose circle as if holding a ball. He clenches the first. “It could also be used on a singular target, I suppose.”
Trent nods to himself. “I’m proud of you for learning these things, Bren. I’m not angry you’re leeching secrets from the enemy. I’m happy you’re increasing your knowledge. You have always had such great potential. That’s why I’ve pushed you so hard. I know you can grow even more.”
It wasn’t a question, so Caleb stays silent. He takes a new wad of cloth from Eadwulf to replace the soaked one.
“I’d like to know what other new tricks you’ve learned from the mysterious Shadowhand.” Trent’s smile is calm, pleased. “What other spells has he taught you?”
Caleb wasn’t sure where the line would be in this interrogation, but he feels a sick weight in his stomach and realizes that he won’t betray Essek like this. This is the line. Describing one spell was more than enough. “He has taught me other arcane tricks,” Caleb slowly says, trying to figure out a way around the Geas. “Smaller things, more utility than offensive.”
“Tell me one. What was the first spell he taught you?”
Fortune’s Favor, Caleb’s mind supplies. His breath starts to quicken. Gravity Sinkhole was a visibly powerful spell, one that with some exposure surely Trent could also reverse-engineer. But Fortune’s Favor was a different level of reality-bending power. A true Dynasty secret, a little piece of the Luxon in the palm of one’s hand. It’s a private spell, something that felt strangely sacred between him and Essek.
Trent raises an eyebrow at Caleb’s panicked hesitation. “Bren. What was the first spell you learned from the Shadowhand?”
“I – I don’t remember,” Caleb whispers.
He doesn’t register the pain until he realizes he’s collapsed out of the chair, curled up on the ground screaming. He runs out of breath to scream and brokenly gasps instead, whimpering when arms grab him and drag him back up, dumping him in the chair. He struggles to stay sitting up, flinching when Astrid’s small hand slides under his chin and rests against the side of his neck.
“He’s stable but he might not survive another one, Master Ikithon,” Astrid coldly reports. Her hand retreats.
“I’m surprised he even took the second one,” Eadwulf grumbles.
“Adventuring makes one hardier,” Trent explains like he’s talking to children. “It seems to even improved his delicate constitution.” He stands and shakes his head at Caleb. “I’m disappointed in you, Bren. You leave me no other choice.”
That cold grasp of Detect Thoughts slides back into Caleb’s head. He twitches but can’t fight back, not when his head is already pounding and his vision is already blurred. The intrusive hooks of the spell latch into his brain and Caleb lets his head fall forward onto his knees.
Trent starts asking questions about Essek, about the magic that Caleb has learned. Caleb tries not to listen and instead lets his mind drift into happier memories: Essek with his feet in the hot tub, Essek sitting at dinner in the Xhorhaus, Essek triumphant and successful at helping Caleb create a new powerful spell. Caleb holds close the way the candlelight flickered across Essek’s high cheekbones and reflected off his earrings instead of the actual spells Essek was teaching him in that candlelight. The way that Caleb's gaze drifted to Essek's lips and the desire to-
Eventually Trent tires, frustration starting to color his voice. He switches gears and asks about the enemy the Mighty Nein are running from.
This is easier: the Nein had considered telling Trent all about it anyways in a bid for assistance. Caleb lets his thoughts freely meander to tell the story of Lucien and Aeor and the Threshold Crests. He jumps back to fill in a few details about Mollymauk when Trent prompts him.
At least Trent seems pleased with Caleb’s loose grip of that information. His questions slow.
Almost an hour, Caleb’s mind prompts.
“What’s going to happen after an hour?” Trent had picked up on that, still deep in Caleb’s mind.
Caleb clears his throat unsuccessfully. He coughs up a little blood that runs down the side of his mouth to his chin. My friends will check on me, he thinks. They have their orders if I don’t respond favorably.
“Hm.” Trent paces. “Well, I think we’re more or less finished here. I can always obtain more information by Sending to you, Bren, can’t I? You know the consequences of trying to ignore me again.”
More questions, more invasions of his mind. One time Trent had kept Bren up all night for three nights in a row by repeatedly Sending to him until Bren was a bundle of exhausted paranoid nerves. It was punishment for something he doesn’t remember doing but Trent had called it an exercise in stamina.
Caleb just nods. As long as this buys my friends’ and their families’ safety.
Trent smiles. “I have no need to bother your friends or their families as long as you continue to answer my questions.”
Deal. Caleb lets his head droop. Please get out of my head. Please.
“I will let your cleric friend know that we are bringing you back.” Trent nods at Eadwulf and Astrid. “Take him back to that tower. Or leave him with his friends if they meet you halfway.”
Caleb rubs his head and doesn’t resist when Eadwulf bends down to drape Caleb halfway across his broad shoulders. Caleb feels like a wet sack of broken carrots. Caduceus should see me before the others, he thinks. He can still feel Trent in his brain. He’s the only one who won’t react aggressively. Tell the others I want them to stay inside the tower.
“Caduceus?” Trent questions.
Caleb summons a mental image of Caduceus, his thoughts swirling to Caduceus’ soft healing touch on a multitude of occasions Caleb has needed it. The firbolg’s calm demeanor, his gentle touch.
“…That one.” Trent sounds like he’s grinding his teeth. “I will relay that. Until we meet again, Bren.”
Eadwulf carries Caleb out and down the stairs and into the blindingly bright Nicodranas sun. Caleb lets his eyes fall shut and relaxes bonelessly against Eadwulf’s shoulder. Trent is gone from his brain.
“Is he going to be okay?” Astrid keeps her voice quiet.
“He will be, once we bring him to the cleric.” Eadwulf gently shifts Caleb so he’s more comfortable. “He did this to himself, Astrid, remember that. He had the option to just answer Trent’s questions.”
Astrid doesn’t reply.
A minute and a half later, the familiar voice of Jester’s Sending bursts into Caleb’s brain like a bright light after a hangover.
“Caleb!” Jester sounds upset. “Is this a trap? Icky-thon said he was bringing you back to Yussa’s tower but that only Cad should go outside, but what if-”
“Not a trap,” Caleb croaks. “Please just send Caduceus out, I need him. But I’m okay. Everything’s…” He winces. “Everything will be fine, Jester. We’ll be there soon.”
As they approach Tidepeak Tower, Eadwulf and Astrid pause just down the block: within sight but far enough away to have some working distance in case of ambush.
But there’s no ambush. Just Caduceus standing serenely in front of the tower with his hands folded around his staff. There’s a small crease of worry between the firbolg’s brows but the rest of his face is calm as always.
When Astrid waves him over, Caduceus approaches.
“I’m okay,” Caleb says as a greeting, then he starts coughing.
“Easy there, Mr. Caleb,” Caduceus hums, looking up to Astrid for permission before stepping close and placing a large hand on Caleb’s cheek. There are no external physical wounds to heal but Caleb feels a cool balm of healing settle over his mind like dipping in a river on a hot day.
He takes a deep breath, then another. The healing comes with some calm but Caleb’s not sure if that’s intentional or just a placebo effect of Caduceus’ presence. “Thanks.” He taps Eadwulf’s shoulder. “I can stand, Wulf. Let me down.”
Eadwulf grumbles but sets him down. Caleb sways but Caduceus puts an arm around his shoulders and pulls him close.
“What happened?” Caduceus’ voice is low and growly. He’s angry, though not at Caleb. “He said he was just going to talk.”
Eadwulf glances at Astrid. Astrid looks at Caleb.
Caleb leans against Caduceus. “It’s okay, Caduceus. We did just talk. He asked me questions and I answered.”
“You were injured.”
“He did it to himself,” Astrid whispers, but she’s not looking at them. “Master Ikithon never asks easy questions.”
“But I’ll be fine,” Caleb quickly insists, because Caduceus looks ready to snap. “And we’ve got some leeway. From Trent, at least. We’ll be safe.” For now, from Trent, Caleb wants to add.
Astrid and Eadwulf melt back into the shadows. Caleb leans further into Caduceus. He’s exhausted.
Caduceus has never been strong but he takes the weight, rubbing comforting circles on Caleb’s back. One hand finds the back of Caleb’s head and his fingers work through his hair almost as if checking for injury. He pulls Caleb into his armored chest and gently squeezes. “You’re never doing something like that again, Mr. Caleb. That was not…you’re not doing that again. Not in any context.”
“But-” But it worked.
“No buts, now. The others certainly won’t let you again. I won’t let you again.” Caduceus leans down, trying to make eye contact.
Caleb bucks the attempt at eye contact. He presses his cheek against Caduceus’ cold armor. “I’m fine.”
“We’ll deal with this later,” Caduceus promises, but it sounds like a threat. “You’re not fine, but we’ll deal with it later.”
He lets Caduceus lead him back into Yussa’s tower. Half of the Nein are upset, the other half are furious. Both are too overwhelming for Caleb and after brief reassurances that he really is alright, that Trent really did just want to ask questions, Caleb leans against Caduceus and tries to sleep.
As soon as he starts nodding off, Trent’s voice in his ear startles him back to panicked wakefulness. “I assume I can rest assured that your friends will not be foolishly mounting a misguided retaliation against me?”
“Nothing of the sort,” Caleb whispers. “As long as you keep up your end of our deal.”
Thankfully, no other message comes that night from Trent. That doesn’t mean Caleb sleeps soundly, though, and once rest finally comes it’s filled with unwelcome dreams.