Chapter Text
Pain recedes. In its place, anger.
“And how do you plan to do this?” you ask.
The gnome witch wraps a gloved hand around your wrist. Her fingertips have worn through the leather, and brush against your freezing skin. At the temple, when she charmed your minions and approached you as a dear friend, she introduced herself as Ruby, a vagrant. “We’re in the tower. We find people. We get out. Then, working on it …”
The main prisons are open before you and unguarded as long as the cultists believe your mind has been erased. You have never been good at concealing your emotions. Fear, rage, relief. But, you have to, if you want to live. Once you free the other captives, it will not be so easy to talk your way back out the way you came.
You could insist on leaving, while you still can. But, the others did not come here to save you at all, did they? Any misstep could land you back in a cell, at the mercy of the Absolute. Your mind is still seared and wounded from your last encounter with Her forgiveness.
Your safety is an afterthought. It might be best to stay quiet.
“Why don’t I just go talk to the Warden? Aaand… Ardak and Lae’zel can stay out of sight, in case… well, in case,” Ruby suggests. You hope that there is more to the plan than that.
The githyanki pair do not seem bothered by her vague orders. From what the goblins at the temple reported, these two are the ones responsible for flaying Ragzlin and making a sport of dragging the survivors out of their hiding spots, executing them one by one. The alien raiders only stopped hunting when they became distracted by a stash of treasure, if goblin tall tales could be believed. Seeing them leering at the cultists, baying for blood like hounds on the chain, you wonder how much of the goblins’ barking had been true.
You missed that entire battle, even though it all happened under your nose. The true horror of what happened only became clear when you woke up comfortably tied to a chair and liberated of your weapons and keys. Whatever powerful charm Ruby used on you blocked out the voice of the Absolute and rendered you compliant and happy to talk. After you enthusiastically answered her questions, you asked her to play you a song on your lyre, and she tuned it up and sang for you.
The music resurfaced memories you must have buried—your mother’s voice, the laughter of long-dead friends, even the faint, arcane humming of Narbondel. It was a spell meant to confuse and distract you, but it healed your mind, rather than fracturing it. Even when you were back under the Absolute’s thrall, you could still hear that maddening tune calling out to you. Why?
The taller githyanki winks in a way that is deliciously unsavory, considering the brutality on his mind. You are reassured, slightly, to have such creatures on your side. “You’ve got this, Munchkin. If things do go badly, what’s the signal?”
“Yelling and running,” Ruby says. You suppose you should be prepared for that signal as well.
As they turn from you, chatting loudly in an alien language, Ruby kneels and puts a hand on the stone floor. The other hand, she tightens around your wrist.
“D’you feel that?” she asks. “There’s something down there. Step lightly.”
“Can you tell what it is?”
Her fingers are shaking. Whatever the little gnome feels down there, it frightens her. If your own memories can be trusted, she should be frightened.
“No. But it’s hungry. Have you ever seen a zurkhwood with the mycelium roots rotted out from under it, ready to come crashing down? If they don’t fix the foundation, this place is going to collapse in on itself. We should get clear before it does.”
You pull her gently to her feet. As strange as it is, this gnomish prattle makes you feel more at ease, like a cool wind from the deep. “We have more immediate concerns than the masonry. ”
“I wouldn’t be so certain,” she says, still sniffing around. She twists your arm to pull you closer as you make your way down the stone staircase. A bit of faerzress coats her breath, drawing you in. “Are you afraid?”
“ Am I--?”
She claps something firmly into your hand. A flat stone, worn smooth, perfectly sized to your palm. It is warm, where it has been squeezed tightly in her own fingers.
“Listen to me, miss! This stone will make you invisible, as long as you stay perfectly silent. If you flinch or cry out, they’ll be able to see you. Can you do that?”
This magic is familiar to you. While your people possess more powerful enchantments, gnomish illusory trinkets are still valued for their quaint elegance. It only has to work for a few minutes. You take a controlled breath, focusing on the simple dweomer, and feel the enchantment settle over your shoulders like a warm mantle. For the first time in so long, your mind feels sharp and clear. Your muscles feel refreshed.
Casually, you stride down the stairs, nearly holding your breath. As Ruby releases your hand, you place a finger on her shoulder. Overhead, you can see the githyanki pair teleport to a vantage point on the masonry, clinging weightlessly to the stone and leering down at their unsuspecting prey. On the ground, several cultists pass by and look directly through you.
You exhale silently as Ruby taps her knuckles on the rusted iron bars of a cell. The moment she does, a guard takes notice.
“Excuse me? Do I know you?” he asks, accusing.
“Of course you do.” A nearly imperceptible change in the air makes your ears pop. Through your shared connection with Ruby, you can tell that she is roughly dredging his mind. She takes something. She changes his memories. “I work for Balthazar. You remember that, don’t you?”
“Apologies, ma’am. I must have forgotten, somehow,” he sighs. His brows knit together and then soften.
“I’ll be sure to tell him how accommodating you were,” Ruby says, feigning innocence.
“Good of you. In Her name.”
“Likewise.” Ruby rolls her eyes and pats your hand. There is some relief from the pressure in the air as the charmed man ambles away, and you realize that this is deceptively powerful magic. Any priestess could charm her foes or magically diffuse their suspicion, but this is more than a simple charm. You would know.
The tiefling woman in the cell scoffs as Ruby returns her attention to the prisoners. “Let me guess—” she drawls, “‘the Absolute is the only way’? Don’t bother.”
“No, no! Your brother sent us!” Ruby whispers.
“Rolan did? So he’s alright? We thought maybe they got to you. That you were one of them .” The hellspawn tilts her head, indicating the cultists.
Ruby leans closer. “So do they.”
“Did I see Ardak with you? Lakrissa will be happy. Look, if you came to help, your kin a couple cells down are up to something, and we’re in. Go talk to them, and don’t get caught!”
You nearly answer with questions of your own—surely they can offer more than this —but remember the enchantment and keep quiet. Confidently, Ruby approaches the next cell, with you as her silent passenger.
She sticks her nose between the bars. “Pardon, I’m looking for someone named Wulbren.”
“You’ve found him. Is there a problem, True Soul?”
“Aye, no! It’s just that your friend Barcus asked us to fetch you, so we—I—would like to help you escape.”
The bald gnome wrinkles his brow and tilts his head. His demeanor changes completely, and if you did not know better, you would call it flirtatious. “Barcus is out here? Didn't think he had the stones. If he sent you, you're no slave to the Absolute. I had no idea we had a woman on the inside.”
“I’d prefer to be outside!”
“Keen idea. I reckon you and I were meant to meet. Did I get your name?”
“Callarda Twosday. I heard you have some plan.” Callarda? Was Ruby not her real name? To your disgust, she tucks an errant lock of hair behind her ear, and you bite your tongue, hard . She is actually taken in by this weak flattery.
“Listen, Callarda, we do have a plan, for us and the tieflings both, but we're scuppered without the right equipment. We need tools. That headcase of a Warden robbed ours, but anything that breaks rock will do, even if it's not Ironhand quality. You wouldn’t happen to have a hammer or some such on you?”
She plucks a thin dagger from her belt. “I’ve got this wee knife-thing.”
“Right. Maybe something else. Whatever you find, throw it through the bars. But for the love of Gaerdal make sure a guard doesn't see you, or we're both done for.”
Wulbren waves Ruby off with a flourish, and you could just vomit. He should save his breath by bending down and kissing her shoes.
The Warden’s office is behind you, across a wooden gangway. As it creaks underfoot, you remember Ruby’s concerns about the tower’s rotten roots. You have a feeling you know what lurks beneath, so instead you look up, where the githyanki raiders are silently following your progress.
A presence enters your mind, and you try to resist, but the male voice is familiar. This is just the gith.
Ruby. You talked to someone for a while. Do you need anything?
Lingering with her hand on the doorway, Ruby responds, using the connection you all share. We’re trying to find the Ironhands’ tools. The Warden has them.
There’s loot up here. I’ll look and drop it down to you. Make a distraction.
She clears her throat and approaches the Warden, pulling you along with her. A tall tiefling, Balthazar’s underling, the Warden seems almost delighted by Ruby’s intrusion. More prey to play with, she must think. It will be enjoyable to correct her assumption.
She looks down at Ruby, patronizing. “You spark of the familiar. Do I know you, True Soul?”
For a moment, you think she means you, though you do not think you have met. She does not, of course. When she lifts her eyes from Ruby’s to yours, she is only glancing at the door whence you entered.
“Hm. Perhaps not. Your face is rather bland. If you have a message for me, let’s get it over with.” She returns to her desk, and you notice Ruby’s fingers brushing against her wooden flute.
“To me, Lord Ketheric has spoke,
Of your troubles with a certain folk,
Creatures what resist Her thrall!
He summoned me from myth and fable
Because, my lady,” she says, “I'm able,
By means of a secret charm, to draw
All creatures living beneath the sun,
That creep, or swim, or fly, or run,
After me so as you never saw!
And I chiefly use my charm
On creatures that do people harm,
The mole, and toad, and newt, and viper;
And people call me the Pied Piper.”
You know this magic. It is the same that was used on you. The poor useless Warden slumps against her desk, completely asleep, and there is a hefty thunk on the floor behind you as a hammer falls from above.
I broke a scrying eye up here, Ardak reports. Kill her and move quickly. More coming.
Ruby hands you her miniature dagger and retrieves the hammer.