Chapter Thirty-three – The impenetrable fortress of Anguish
The slaves and their escorts descended into the first terrace of the city. Only the massive tower in the center of the city breached the level of the surrounding plain. Screams and sobs filled the air. Only at this point did the slaves begin to understand their true purpose. Their guard was tripled.
The arrival of the slaves was a great spectacle for the city’s inhabitants. Young Sadists came to feed on the morost: the utter despair the slaves felt as they inexorably realized the truth they feared; that they had been lied to their whole lives and that they had let themselves believe it.
Memories rushed through the slaves like a wind, a lifetime of easy living, of good food, the constant encouragement to copulate, the carefree days, the sports and silly games. The morost was more than the release of the pain of a life of lies; it was the acceptance that they had made the grave mistake of believing the lie, that they hadn’t fought it, they didn’t resist until it was too late.
One by one the crushing realization drove the slaves to their knees to weep, or to desperate attempts to fight their captors. The children cheered when they did. This type of pain was the easiest for them to consume. The young Sadists filled themselves on the sweet suffering. Hungry mothers would then severely batter their satiated children as a treat for themselves.
Fake and Andin watched from the edge of the sunken city in horror. The two hopeful assassins couldn’t have imagined such an awful sight. Worse yet was the realization that this was simply the beginning for the pitiable slaves. There was untold agony in their future.
Both invading warriors knew it would be impossible to help the captives now. They moved away from the lip of the pit to escape the hungry eyes of the enemy. The city was surrounded by earthworks from the original excavation. The scale of it all was incredible.
“We need to get into that city,” stated Andin.
“I’ll find us a place we can work with,” said Fake as he readied himself to enter the city in earnest.
“Fake these degenerates feed off of pain, they might be able to sense it out right so be careful.”
Fake smirked, “Aww mom, you’re such a worrier.”
“Piss off you scoundrel,” laughed Andin. Andin dug, Fake scouted. The prince marked the hidden entrance with a recognizable configuration of rocks so Fake could find the hideaway. Fake was no stranger to subtlety, he moved like a feline in the night. His gifts perfectly suited for the task.
The terraced city gave the illusionist an easy time of using rooftops in lieu of busy roadways. Fake found an old slum with little foot traffic. Fake slithered his way into an abandoned house he thought ideal and waited. Hours later no one had entered his or any of the adjacent structures. The illusionist left the house.
To guide Andin to the slum house Fake needed to get a picture of their wedge of the city for his friend to use as a map. Even the small portion he needed was too complex to study while cloaked. Fake took the risk and exposed himself while painting in his head. Satisfied he had enough detail to guide Andin he returned to his friend.
Fake was greeted with Andin’s two sickles. “Sorry, had a close call when this one fell through the entrance,” apologized Andin pointing to a slain Sadist in the hideout.
“Anyone come searching?” asked Fake nervously.
“Yes, twice, they know he’s missing,” answered Andin.
Fake examined the lanky Sadist. His bleeding gums had crusted into a foul coating over his teeth and lips. “They’re painful just to look at,” groaned Fake.
“I didn’t bury him… I didn’t think he deserved it,” said a hollow Andin. Both were eager to engage in a task besides staring at the hideous man.
“I found us a place, a third of the way down into the city,” said Fake recreating an image of the slum.
Andin oriented himself with the map, “Okay it’s that way,” he pointed. The fire prince began digging towards their new hideout. The work was slow and exhausting. Fake kept Andin’s digging straight and true and acted as lookout. When finally finished, Andin wiped the sweat from his brow and called Fake over, “See if we’re where we should be if you don’t mind.”
Fake tipped a conjured hat respectfully, “Be happy to.” Fake concealed himself once more and slipped through the opening in the rock wall. He popped his head back in a moment later, “This is it, nice work.”
Andin crawled through and gave the abandoned home a look over. “No one comes by here?” asked the prince.
“No, I waited for hours, no one came here or to any of the nearby houses either,” answered Fake. Fake extended his shroud and covered Andin, “Come take a look.” The two invaders walked outside to the lip of the slum. The excavated metropolis was studded with lights. Before Andin could say it was strangely beautiful a shriek of tortured slave changed his mind.
“Surely Garruk must be there,” said Andin pointing to the tower in the center of the city.
“All the defenses point towards it though,” questioned Fake.
Andin smiled, “These guys are clever; that must be the portal entrance. An entire fortress-city built around the portal site. Crossing from the portal this place is impenetrable.”
“Why are you smiling?”
“It wouldn’t be worth a damn if it was easy,” said Andin slyly. They returned to their hideout. “Now the real work starts,” said Andin rubbing his hands together.
“We need to break into Garruk’s tower, get him out of the city, and dispose of him,” recapped Fake.
Andin wrote a shopping list for Fake, “I’ll need these to secure the hideout,” he explained. Fake looked at the list of common items and headed out.
Andin connected the tunnel network to the surrounding houses; any of the abandoned buildings could be used to escape to the tunnels. Fake began his excursions into the city’s marketplaces, stealing what they needed. The days ran by swiftly as the boys drowned themselves in the mission.
After a week of carefully setting up trip wires and pressure plates Andin was confident their hideout was secure enough to leave unattended. Fake had found Andin a set of plain black robes worn by the city’s maintenance workers. It afforded him freedom at night and unquestioned access to the sewers.
Night after night they worked tirelessly. They briefed each other in the early morning upon their return to the hideout. “The sewers past the residential tier are doubly barred with a very strong form of iron. I can cut through them but the sewers are regularly patrolled in the lower levels.”
“The topside defenses are worse,” said Fake. “The market tiers are militarized and the lower tiers have restricted access starting with the eighth level here,” added the illusionist.
“Can you get us past the gates?” asked Andin.
“Not likely; the gates are always closed and the Divisas patrol over the walls. I’m not sure how they could sense me but they always start to twitch and act strangely when I’m close. Besides, I’m having a hard time imagining a scenario where we can take Garruk quietly,” said Fake hinting that there was no way their caper was going to go down discretely.
Andin sighed, the last few weeks had been fruitful, but Fake was right; they would have to reveal themselves to get to Garruk. Andin unrolled the maps they had stolen or drawn themselves. “I haven’t found anything about his tower,” said the fire prince tapping the center of the map. “The city’s maintenance department keeps copies of the layout of the infrastructure in their field offices; there isn’t a single drop of ink about the tower.”
Fake shrugged and added, “I can see that it’s heavily guarded, but I have never seen anyone go in or out at all.” Despite the tremendous unknowns Fake and Andin slept soundly. They had unflinching belief in themselves and their ability to conquer this task. Garruk would die at their hands.
Andin was awoken by one of his alarms. He moved to the corner of the window to get a better view. “What is it?” asked Fake.
“Pressure plate went of
f in the furthest house,” said Andin. They could see a silhouette moving through the windows.
“A patrol?” asked Fake.
“Could be, looks more like a scavenger,” answered the fire prince.
Fake looked at Andin to see if they were agreed on what needed to be done. Andin nodded and whispered, “If he leaves our block let him live.” Fake shrouded himself and stepped out into the abandoned alleyway. The scavenger took his time going through the house. Andin worried a thorough search could reveal one of the escape tunnels.
The urchin scanned both ends of the alleyway carefully before moving towards the next house. Andin saw Fake’s ripple moving in behind him. Fake’s kill was quick and clean, and with Andin’s help they hid the body in the tunnel network. “Deserving or not let’s bury this one right away, the smell was awful last time,” said Fake humorously.
There were a few slips of paper in the scavenger’s pockets. “K’nar Deinponnan, strange name,” read Fake. “He lives a tier lower and in the northern quarter, long way to go to die,” continued the illusionist.
Andin read his documents as well, “Check the address tomorrow tonight if you have time; see if we should be worried about any curious family members.”