Having barely exited Myria’s cell, Saraya glimpsed the first flashes of fireglow as it filled the stairwell across the prison; a warning that their unwanted guest was fast descending into the room. Had she the time, Saraya would have waited in ambush for the intruder at the bottom of the stairs, but before she could even entertain the thought, a blonde-haired woman rushed inside. Almost tripping over herself in her haste, the woman came to a skidding stop when spotting Saraya across the way. Of course, the acrobat was a hard thing to miss being that she too held a lantern, though contrary to what Saraya was expecting, the woman didn’t seem at all surprised to find the jester here. In fact, it appeared to be quite the opposite.
“So that bastard was telling the truth,” the woman—a mere girl like herself in truth—growled just loud enough to be heard. Though she may have been far away back then, Saraya recognized her opponent’s voice, and would never forget the silken blue dress and serpentine bracers that were currently aglow in the lantern light.
“The caster assassin,” Saraya said.
The enchantress furrowed her brow when hearing the title, clearly puzzled by the fact that Saraya knew who she was. “Do I know you?” She asked, genuinely curious. For that moment, Saraya thought it somewhat strange that the girl’s ire seemed to vanish, and though curious herself as to why that could be, she brushed the thought aside.
“No, you don’t,” Saraya answered, “but I know you well enough. You’re the witch assassin who tortured my friend, and I intend to repay the favor.”
The arrogant insult combined with threat took the caster sharply aback, but how she truly felt on hearing it, Saraya couldn’t rightly say. The twisting reactions of the girl’s face simply changed too swiftly to be deciphered, starting first at anger, becoming a fleeting wry smile, and ending when her manner devolved completely into a manic laugh.
Alter warned, and Saraya silently agreed. Although she was indeed pushing for a fight, perhaps it had been a mistake to seek one out so quickly. Already it was bad enough that she was facing off against a caster; the sort of opponent that Saraya had little experience with. But to clash with one that was totally unhinged? This was an entirely different danger.
“I have no idea who you are,” the assassin exclaimed, her tone as exasperated as it was bemused, “but you’re as full of yourself as that whoreson, Develli! And if I’m not allowed to kill that arrogant bastard, then I’ll just kill you instead!”
Rage now fueling the caster, when suddenly she lashed out with a coiled serpent it came as naught but a blur of magic and metal. Instinctively Saraya dropped her shoulder and twisted backwards out of the way, watching as the flash of silver fangs rushed passed her face, just missing their mark. The wind kicked up by its passing ripped at Saraya’s cheeks, a warning to the acrobat of the incredible power currently coursing through the enchanted links. She had been lucky; the caster’s attack had been identical to how she had come at Myria before. A straightforward lunge was often easy to predict, and often just as easy to dodge. Even at a speed enhanced by magic, Saraya could deal with this.
However, never was a caster’s magic something to be taken lightly, and how much the clearer that lesson became when the whip, having missed its target, sailed on behind her into the wall. The crash that exploded inside the jail was reminiscent to the boom of thunder, and large chunks of stone debris were launched across the prison floor. This blatant display of such a sheer, raw power shook Saraya’s confidence, and in that brief moment she felt lost as to how she should react. The assassin hadn’t possessed this strength during the clash in the alley before, Saraya would have seen it if she had. No, the caster’s anger had made her might increase, and Saraya hadn’t accounted for this.
Saraya didn’t believe this, not at all, but Alter was right in that she needed to keep her head. Silently, she reminded herself that this caster was no less a human than herself, and so would fall to those same weaknesses that all Human’kin possessed. With this in mind, Saraya leapt away from the outstretched whip and reached inside her lantern, where she pinched the flaming wick between her fingers and doused it beneath the oil.
Immediately darkness replaced the light and caused the back portion of the prison to become wholly enveloped in black. Standing in the deep of it, Saraya noted the caster’s alarmed reaction when the flame suddenly blinked out. She had suspected that her opponent’s eyes hadn’t adjusted to the darkness like hers already had, and it pleased Saraya to see that she was right. With the second lantern gone, she had effectively disappeared from view. And the lantern still shining in the caster’s face, this even further guaranteed it, for the light would blind the assassin to anything hiding within the shadows beyond its glow.
Saraya softly put down her lantern, and followed the glowing veins of magic with her eyes to locate the head of the outstretched whip. Partially crouched, she watched as the leviathan pulled itself free from the broken wall, whereupon it turned toward her with shimmering eyes and struck at the last known place she was. Ready for the attack this time, Saraya nimbly leapt aside and moved swiftly to reposition, her steps drowned out by the deafening ring of metal impacting stone.
Now that her target was lost, the frustrated assassin recalled her loosed serpent back to hand, unwittingly creating an opening that Saraya was watching for. She charged in, taking advantage of the serpent’s retreat before the caster could ready a proper defense, and drawing up a throwing knife, she flung it straight at the assassin’s heart. Saraya knew that the blade was undetectable for as long as it remained inside the dark, which meant that the caster would have to deflect the strike as she’d be given no time to dodge. And indeed, when the sudden flash of flying steel entered the lantern glow, the recoiled whip snapped up and smacked the blade out of the air. Immediately then, the serpent lunged out into the shadows from where the knife had come. But the caster hadn’t seen Saraya, she could only guess at where she was, which allowed the expectant acrobat to simply step aside.
Already holding a second knife, Saraya threw this at the assassin too as she crossed into the firelight. As she’d hoped, the second of the caster’s serpents caught the blade to shield its master, this distracting the weapon long enough for Saraya to close the gap between them. Her usual dagger now in hand, Saraya aimed its point at her opponent’s chest and dove in for a killing blow. However, an unexpected shield of glass absorbed Saraya’s steel, cracking and shattering against the force of her strike while entangling her blade. It took Saraya half a moment to realize what had happened; that the caster had used her lantern to protect herself in a last ditch effort to survive.
“Fawln take it!” Saraya cursed as she pushed away to free her blade. She had been denied her best chance to end the battle, and now she was in danger. Quickly she made for a fast retreat back into the dark, though the snap of fangs followed after her as the throwing knife fell from the leviathan’s mouth. Reacting on instinct, barely in time, Saraya swatted the jaws away. A dull, paralyzing feeling seeped into her fingers as the whip bounced off her blade, leaving Saraya reeling back in surprise that she’d been able to bat the thing away. She soon realized that her success was due to the strike itself having been impaired, as the whip was still coiled around the assassin’s arm and had thus lacked reach.
Unfortunately, the second whip was not so hindered and was still hovering somewhere between Saraya and her escape. Now that the caster knew where she was, Saraya could hear the serpent rounding on her, readying to strike. She fled the light as the snap of fangs came in low to take out her legs, but by leaping into a spinning, horizontal spring, Saraya cleared the serpent’s lunge. As soon as she landed, Saraya dodged backwards with a flip to secure her getaway, and sheltered once more within the embrace of shade, she concealed herself again.
But she was frustrated. The only plan she’d had had failed due to dumb luck. The caster would not be fooled again by her trick of throwing knives, so Saraya would have to think of something else if she meant to take the offensive again. Given the assassin’s advantage at range, performing another straight-on assault was simply out of the question, not unless she found some other way to distract the whips’ attention.
Saraya had no time to think on it though as the uncoiled whip shot off again, this time weaving all about the hall in an attempt to cover more space. It was annoyingly effective, and forced Saraya to drop onto her stomach to give the serpent room enough to whizz past overhead. She glanced back to it, watching as it blindly scoured the shadows for her location, prodding at every corner and wall the prison hall possessed. Truly there was nowhere for Saraya to go that she could not be reached. She would only be able to hide for so long. She had to stop the caster soon, if only for Myria’s sake. Looking back toward the assassin, Saraya noticed that the girl’s eyes were closed; that her lips were moving, muttering words that Saraya couldn’t hear nor understand.
The girl yelped in surprise as the blade gashed her arm, and Saraya could see that, though she’d indeed stopped the spell, she had also increased the assassin’s ire. Yet this ire did not appear to increase the caster’s strength in turn. Instead, it turned her reckless, for she inexplicably countered Saraya’s jab by launching her broken lantern into the prison. It was an exceedingly risky—if not just plain stupid—maneuver; one that could work out in the caster’s favor as much as it could Saraya’s. Nevertheless, it caught Saraya off guard, and she barely got off the ground in time to avoid being hit.
With a deafening crash the broken piece of glass and iron toppled end over end across the floor, revealing everything within its glow that wasn’t inside a cell. By some curse or miracle, when the lantern finally came to a stop the flame within it remained alive, and thrown as deeply as it had been, a significant portion of the prison became flooded with firelight. The centermost area of the hall was now fully illuminated, and by foul luck, this was precisely where Saraya had been hiding.
“Now you die!” The assassin cheered in triumph now that she had regained the advantage, and lifting her hands so to direct her whips, she commanded they end the jester’s life.
Again Saraya cursed her luck; a head-on assault was exactly what she had wanted to avoid. But it couldn’t be helped now, and so, quickly, she reached to the small of her back to draw out her mother’s dagger. As it was freed, the silvery-white blade, like the surface of water, reflected the sheen of the lantern glow, and instilled in Saraya no small amount of confidence just by having it in hand.
Drawing in a breath, Saraya then ran at the accursed mage, sprinting as fast as her feet allowed. The serpent at Saraya’s back was the first to reach her, closing in on the acrobat from slightly behind her right. In the outermost edges of her vision Saraya caught the flash of emerald eyes, and just before the whip could land its strike, she leapt up into an acrobatic twist that sent her vaulting over its head. The whip sped by her, carried along by the strength of its own offense. But no sooner had she avoided this first attack was she forced to contend with the second snake.
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Only partially balanced, Saraya willed her body to relax and slip into a more fluid combat rhythm, one that permitted her to shift and maneuver in those ways that her lithe frame allowed. Like this, she positioned her knife at an appropriate angle to intercept the striking beast, and caught the leviathan in the midst of its blow, parrying it off another way. Having deflected the hit, she channeled the serpent’s strong momentum into a counter balance for her own stance, and with its push, used the force as a pivot point to correct her movement from its forward fall. But this perfectly executed defense was not immune to incredible pain, for the ringing of her dagger matched the stinging in her arm in blistering intensity. The entirety of her hand up to her elbow fell numb in exchange for her success, and a fiery pain shot through it all up into her shoulder.
Incidentally, this pain, combined with the grip of battle, blinded Saraya to the effect her mother’s blade had had upon the serpent, for when the dagger had touched the enchanted whip, its magic abruptly blinked out. Its power gone, the leviathan dropped lifelessly from the air and crashed to the floor in a crumpled heap. But even if she had noticed it, Saraya could spare no thought for a weapon she had already deflected, as the serpent that she had dodged before was coming around again. Still moving along with same motion she’d garnered from her prior counter, Saraya completed her dancing spin in time to intercept the next attack. Instinct honed by years of practice guided her hand in an arching, upward motion, this turning the attack up overhead much like she had the first. Just as before, this coil too was robbed of life as her mother’s blade touched its surface, but once again, Saraya was far too focused on her advance to pay it any mind.
Her hand was now completely numb from blocking both attacks, and yet Saraya willed her phantom grip to tighten around the dagger’s hilt. In what few seconds she’d believed she’d gained, she came on to the defenseless assassin with dagger poised to strike. The caster, having no means to shield herself this time, watched helplessly as the acrobat’s blade pierced cleanly through her ribs. But Saraya stopped herself short of impaling the assassin through. She had remembered Myria at that last moment, and worried that the Slayer would think ill of her if she murdered someone here. Thus Saraya sunk her blade only an inch deep below the skin, effectively turning what would have been a killing blow into something the caster could survive. Even so, the momentum from her initial pounce was enough to topple the injured assassin, and allowed Saraya to pin the girl firmly beneath her arm and weight.
Robbed of the air needed to cry out, the caster writhed in a harrowing silence as the first spasms of pain wracked her body. “Damned harlequin!” She roared in panic once her breath returned. “What did you do to me?!”
“I beat you, obviously,” Saraya replied, unsure of what the assassin meant. “I told you I’d repay the favor. Though try to use your whips again and you’ll be a fair bit more than beaten.”
The caster snarled at this answer, her face contorted by agony and rage. She tried then to say something more, but another wave of pain stole her breath away. The girl recovered quickly though, and soon after, found her voice again. “This can’t happen,” she uttered in a quiet desperation, holding back angry tears. “It can’t. Not again. Not by some nobody like you!”
Again confused by the assassin’s words, Saraya made to inquire for an explanation. However, the faint sound of scraping metal rung in her ears before she could, and thinking it to be the serpents, Saraya glanced back toward the noise. But the sudden flash of a knife came into the edge of Saraya’s vision, and quickly she threw herself off the mage as a blade came plunging in at her leg. The knife, squeezed within the assassin’s hand, missed Saraya’s thigh by an infinitesimal breadth, and in the heat of escape, her mother’s knife was pulled free from the caster’s wound.
Cursing herself, Saraya tried to correct her mistake before it was too late, but no sooner had her dagger been torn away did the girl’s bracers spring back to life. With a renewed ferocity the whips lunged in at Saraya’s back, and only by half cartwheeling into a crouch did she dodge the first of the serpents’ strikes. Unable to stop lest she get bit, Saraya sprung next into an aerial over the second leviathan’s swipe, and back on her feet, she bent in a crouch, ready to leap in on the attack. But the assassin was sharply ripped away before Saraya could make a move, pulled off into the darkness beyond her reach. The retreating streak of glowing green eyes and the crashing cacophony of metal on stone echoed back at Saraya from the shadows, but too late did the acrobat realize that these were the sounds of the caster’s flight. Those accursed enchanted whips were dragging Saraya’s opponent off to somewhere she would be safe, and when it finally dawned on her what had happened, the acrobat gave chase.
The assassin had already reached the stairwell and the glow of her magic was already gone, but Saraya believed there still remained a slim chance that she could catch up. It was useless to think so, for as soon as Saraya’s foot hit the first stair, a knife flew in at her face. Instinctively Saraya moved to deflect the blade, though was forced to stop to do it, and this stalled her long enough to ensure the assassin’s escape. The stairs ahead were impossible to traverse without a light or the guiding glimmer of the caster’s magic, and without either, there was simply no hope for Saraya to keep up. It was pointless to even try.
“It doesn’t matter,” Saraya stated flatly, though she was no less disappointed. “She wasn’t important to begin with. We came here for Myria, not for her.” Of course, this answer wouldn’t satisfy Alter, nor did Saraya like it either, but there was little reason to dwell on something that neither of them could change.
Thus, while Alter seethed, Saraya went to distracting herself by inspecting the state of her mother’s dagger. Praying that the precious heirloom was undamaged, she gave the blade a thorough inspection and found it to have held up perfectly against the monstrous force of the assassin’s magic. Relieved by this, Saraya meticulously cleaned the dagger’s edge of blood before sliding it away, after which she retrieved the rest of her knives that were scattered across the prison. She discovered the knife that the caster had thrown while she was doing so and recognized it as her own; one that the assassin must have scrapped up off the floor while Saraya had had her pinned. This revelation was infuriating, but there was nothing to be done about it, and so once the last of her weapons were slipped away, Saraya scooped up the assassin’s broken lantern and returned to Myria.
The Slayer had already made her way to the door by the time Saraya returned, and was currently using the cell’s iron bars as a crutch to help her stand. But to Saraya’s surprise, the woman didn’t look exactly pleased, though the acrobat couldn’t fathom any reason why that would be.
“Is everything okay?” Saraya asked as she neared, concerned by Myria’s uncertain look.
“Perhaps…” Myria slowly said, this taking Saraya aback, though the Slayer didn’t seem all that convinced of her own thoughts herself. “Saraya, I want to know how you came to find me here.”
“What?” Saraya blurted out in dumbfounded reaction, for certainly her response didn’t stem from an inability to understand.
“I cannot accept that you found me on your own,” Myria began to explain, saying it almost as an accusation. “Not under normal circumstances at least. As much as I wish to trust your intent, you continuously perform feats that are far above the ability of a simple jester. I want the truth of how you came to be here, Saraya.”
“I…” Saraya stammered at first, trying to use what few seconds she had to believably twist the truth. “I followed the other assassin,” she said. “The one you were after before.”
Myria’s jaw visibly dropped as Saraya admitted this. “What?!” She exclaimed, her expression one of horror. “You mean to tell me that he escaped?!”
Saraya started to answer, but before she could, the Slayer’s knees began to buckle; the outburst having drained what little energy she was using to stand up. “Whoa, hey!” Saraya gasped as she caught the woman by the arm. “Easy, Myria. It’s okay.” But her attempts to console the Slayer were ignored as Myria bitterly shook her head.
“No, no it’s not,” the woman replied, inhaling a shaky breath. “Without him, all of this, everything we’ve worked for, will have been for nothing! The Valor cannot afford a blow like this. I cannot let him…” She trailed off, unable to finish, and taking a moment to catch her breath, Myria pulled herself back up into standing. “Saraya,” she began once she had steadied herself again on the cell bars, “combine the oil of the two lanterns. We’re going to need the one you have to last.”
“Okay…” Saraya answered, not entirely sure what Myria was thinking. Nevertheless, she did as told and added the old lantern’s oil to the other.
“Good,” Myria told her once the task was complete. “Now, help me to the other side of the dungeon.”
Again Saraya obediently complied to Myria’s request without question, frankly too worried to disobey. Both her heart and mind were racing now that she’d told Myria about Develli, and frantically she was trying to concoct some excuse as to why the assassin was now free. She didn’t want to lie, no, she hated doing that, but if Myria eventually pressed her for a reason, she would need some way to bend the truth. Thankfully, the Slayer appeared fully focused on whatever it was she was planning, and so was giving Saraya ample time to think.
Slowly Saraya aided Myria in reaching the other side of the prison, and helped her also to support herself against one of the walls. Once secured, Myria instructed Saraya to push on a particular section of the dungeon’s walls, telling her that a secret passage was hidden within and that they could use it to escape. Though Saraya had no reason to doubt Myria, the place where she had pointed to, a spot just behind the first of the prison’s cells, looked completely normal to the acrobat. Myria assured her that it was not when Saraya questioned it, yet when she attempted to shove the wall aside, nothing implied that it would give no matter how hard she pushed.
“You will have to hit it hard,” Myria advised when the acrobat’s efforts continued to fail. “It has been an age since this passage was last used.”
Huffing half in annoyance, at Myria’s insistence, Saraya tried again to get the wall to budge. But at every instance the supposed door seemed hells-bent on refusing her entry. Fortunately, Saraya was far more stubborn than the stone was firm, and with a trio of strong, frontward kicks, she finally heard the section shift. Twice more she slammed it with her heel, and only then did the age-old sealant crack and at last give way. It was just enough that Saraya could use her hands to finally pry the passage open, whereupon Myria called Saraya back to help her through.
Carrying the lantern in one hand and assisting Myria with the other, Saraya guided the exhausted Slayer into the hidden hall. Saraya then resealed the door with Myria’s instruction, sliding the slab until it sunk snuggly into place. As soon as it did, the two of them were completely surrounded on every side by stone, and if not for the lantern, the darkness that had once consumed the tunnel would have been suffocating. Frankly, the tightness of the passage was far too much for Saraya to take, as there was barely enough room for she and Myria to wander through, even when standing side by side.
“This is an old passage that we Valor sometimes use,” Myria suddenly started to explain, possibly because she had sensed Saraya’s rising discomfort. “There are many like it throughout Dragon’s Teeth. We can get to wherever we need to by them.”
“I see…” Saraya replied, her voice low to match her hatred for this dreadful place. She then hoisted Myria’s arm up higher across her shoulders, shifting it so that she could better distribute the woman’s weight along her back. “I wish I’d known about them before. But at least this’ll make it a lot easier to get you out.”
“We’re not leaving yet,” Myria sharply corrected, this causing the acrobat to flinch. “There’s something else far more important that I must do, that we must do, before tending to me.”
Saraya opened her mouth to argue but then almost as quickly shut it. It was pointless, she knew, to argue with Myria when the woman was this way. As injured as the Slayer was, she wasn’t on death’s door, and so her given duty, whatever it may be, would, unfortunately, come first. As much as Saraya may have wanted to get Myria the help she needed, she would never be able to drag the Slayer out of here against her will.
Silently, Saraya groaned as she resigned herself to an even longer, unwanted excursion within these horrendous underground tunnels. “What do you need me to do?” She reluctantly asked, making it obvious that she wished to leave.
“Though we may not know why,” Myria began, “we have seen that multiple assassins are indeed here in Neurial. The Mediator must be warned that the Honorbound cannot be trusted, and I need you to take me to him that I may do so. The Mediator’s life might very well be in danger, and as a member of the Valor, I must do everything I can to keep him safe.”
Saraya felt her blood run cold with every word Myria spoke, the feeling assailing her whole body and making her stomach sick. She knew better than the Slayer did of just how right this assumption was, and Saraya couldn’t muster the courage or words to even respond to her.
Thus, without a word, and slowly at first, Saraya forced herself to aid the Slayer down the path of the woman’s choosing. It took all the remaining strength Saraya had to hide the truth of her current feelings, to hide that her mind was now lost to panic, desperation and intense fear. Myria was leading the acrobat right to Cambria’s Mediator, to the very person that Saraya had been sent here to kill. All this time, Saraya had been ignoring the possibility of this very situation; dismissing the reality that she’d be forced to make a choice that she could not. Alter had been right all along, and Saraya’s heart ached just to think it. In the end, she would have no choice but to betray Myria—and to her face—in order to obey Veil.