Through the roach he could feel that a number of people were moving about, and sense that there was a lot of blood, and screaming. He attempted to move closer, but the movement of people was too dangerous, and when the roach's leg was crushed by a Collared rushing by, he broke the connection. He needed to go there himself.
He checked his kit and began moving through the tunnels to Collared territory. He sent several rats ahead and tried to determine what was going on, but all he could really tell was that something had happened and several of the Collared had been hurt. There was too much activity to read the situation beyond that.
He ran through the tunnels, finding himself moving a bit more naturally through them then he had in the past. He’d always had a talent for it, pathfinding and traveling through the Pit’s narrow and dangerous outskirts, but suddenly his movements were on an entirely different level. It was like something had clicked for him, like he could sense the edges of the tunnels and how they twisted and turned before he even reached them, even if he’d not moved through them before. His body also seemed to be switching between crawling, running, sidling, and jumping with near perfect fluidity. It reminded him of when he was riding in Jacopo’s mind. He wondered if he’d not fully completed his transformation back to human, or if by changing the once he’d been permanently changed somehow. He didn’t feel any discomfort about the idea, he already lived in a hole in the ground and ate what some people would consider trash. As Jacopo had said, he was already an honorary rat, even before he’d gained the ability to transform.
He reached the entrance to Collared territory more quickly than he ever had before, and saw that the entire entrance was blocked off by six of Merle’s lieutenants wielding heavy clubs. A few of them jumped as he rounded the corner, but once they recognized him, they lowered their weapons.
“Dantes,” said Orebus, waving him through. “You alright? Did you run into any of them?”
“Any of who?” he responded, walking between the burly guards to stand just within the Collared’s chambers.
“The Orcs, they just attacked a few of our men that were transporting Mez’s most recent delivery. Killed three, maybe four depending on how Televor’s doing. I didn’t get a good look at him.”
Dantes felt his entire body tense. “Where is he?”
“Merle’s chamber, but-”
Dantes pushed past him, and started weaving through the fully mobilized Collared. He saw a number of them wielding new knives or clubs, three with spears, several cleaning cloths for bandages in the fountain. It seemed like Merle had been taking advantage of the goods he’d received from the consortium and using them to better equip his people. A very smart call given everything that had been happening.
Dantes didn’t have time to fully process that though, as he moved through the press of people up to Merle’s cell outside of which stood two guards. One of them went to stop Dantes from entering, but the other stopped him and waved for Dantes to go on in, recognizing him.
Dantes gave him a grateful nod and stepped inside. Merle was leaned against a wall on one side of the room, Pillion was pacing on the other side, and Wane was kneeling by the bench that Tel had been laid on. Tel was pale. His shirt had been removed and a large bandage was wrapped across his stomach where a patch of red was slowly spreading. The smell of blood and feces filled the air. He’d smelled that after a stabbing before. The blade had punctured his guts.
Before Dantes could walk toward him, Pillion stepped into his way.
“This is your fucking fault. If it wasn’t for your stupid fucking booze deal, and what you did to the orcs, this wouldn’t have fucking happened!” Pillion’s pupils were enormous and black, and his hands were twitching as he spoke. He was high, Dantes knew the look well, he’d seen it in the mirror more than once.
Dantes just nodded at him. “Yeah. It’s my fault. Now get out of my way.”
Pillion’s eye twitched, but he didn’t blink. He was unsure of how to handle Dantes’ admission of guilt, and so resumed his pacing.
Dantes moved over to kneel across from where Wane was. Tel’s eyes were closed, so he looked to Wane.
Wane’s eyes were wet with tears as their eyes met. “He said there were about ten of them. They didn’t say anything, just started killing. Blud was there, leading the attack. Tel was the first to be stabbed, so they thought he was dead. They left him for the rats and he stumbled here. Said he took some back passages he knew would lead back here because of something you told him before.”
Dantes nodded, barely hearing what Wane was saying as he watched Tel’s chest rise and fall unsteadily. He called on his senses and tried to reach out to Tel in the same way he could reach out to Jacopo, or any other living creature, but in return received only silence. He drew his attention away from every rat and roach he’d been monitoring, even Jacopo, and focused all of his intent on Tel. Tel’s breathing seemed to speed up, but nothing changed, and still Dantes sensed only silence from him.
Dantes slammed his fist on the ground. “Dammit.” He’d tried to see if his abilities could affect people before, but it had never worked. He wasn’t sure of what he expected. His powers had been intuitive to him up to this point, and he’d hoped that maybe if he reached out with them some solution or ability would pop into his mind, but It was a waste of energy and attention.
“Dantes…” Tel’s eyes opened and he looked around, his eyes finding Dantes.
“I’m here Tel.”
“The orcs, they-”
“Wane told me. Guess they decided it wasn’t worth killing you, huh?”
Tel smiled weakly, and winced. “Guess not.” He took a breath. “You smell like shit.”
Dantes laughed. “I slipped in some on the way here,” he lied.
“Couldn’t bother to scrape your boot on the way to see a dying man? Shameful.”
“You’ll be fine.”
Tel nodded. “Sure. We’ll just get a priest lowered down here and they’ll have me up in no time.”
“Wane was just saying he’s always been very tempted to worship the goddess of the healing touch.”
Wane looked away for a moment to wipe his eyes. “No, I said I wouldn’t mind an excuse to receive her disciples touch myself.”
They all had a short laugh at that. Then Tel closed his eyes for a few moments, before opening them again.
“Dantes. I’ve been skimming some booze off the top to sell myself. I’m sorry.”
Dantes nodded slowly, “I’ll hold off on beating you until you’re feeling better. At this point I doubt you’d even feel it.”
Tel closed his eyes again, his breaths seeming to become more strained for a few moments. Dantes could see small beads of sweat beginning to form across his skin.
“Merlin, are you there?” asked Tel.
Merle took a few steps closer, his hulking figure looking oddly gentle as he bent over and placed a hand on Tel’s shoulder. “I’m here, lad.”
“Give everything from my cell to these three, except the etchings, I want Syn to have them. At the Which Wench.”
Merle nodded. “I’ll make sure of it.”
Tel’s face twitched for a moment, and somehow he summoned the strength to bring a hand up to his collar and yank at it with surprising force, his whole body shaking. “Gods, I just wish I could cast one more spell. Just one more time I want to feel it again. Just produce a mote of light, or hear the whisper of a succubus telling me of debauchery around the corner, to light a fucking candle!” He let his hand fall back to his side, the sudden vigor he’d had vanishing. “I could get used to everything else down here. The lack of light, the lack of women, all of it. There were ways to make do, to pretend like you had what you needed, but magic… You can’t pretend you still have that.”
Pillion had stopped his pacing and come to Tel’s side, his words breaking him from his tweaking. He, Wane, and Merle all shared the same pained expression as Tel spoke. They knew exactly what he was talking about. Now that Dantes was looking at them, he noticed that just like Tel their collars were scratched and torn at, and both Merle and Pillion even had scratch marks that had turned to scars just beneath the collars, peeking out. Even though they’d known that they wouldn’t be able to remove them, they’d still tried, desperate to have their magic back.
Tel’s eyes closed longer than the previous time, and his breathing grew more ragged before they opened again. “Tell Syn she was the best lay I’ve ever had.”
Dantes chuckled. “I will.”
He opened his eyes one final time, letting out a wheezing breath. “My parents… I’m sorry.” His eyes closed, and didn’t open again. He kept breathing for another hour while everyone in the room sat in silence, Merle leaving only once to make sure there had been no more attacks on his people. They all watched him take his last breath, and then nothing.
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Through the roach he could feel that a number of people were moving about, and sense that there was a lot of blood, and screaming. He attempted to move closer, but the movement of people was too dangerous, and when the roach's leg was crushed by a Collared rushing by, he broke the connection. He needed to go there himself.
He checked his kit and began moving through the tunnels to Collared territory. He sent several rats ahead and tried to determine what was going on, but all he could really tell was that something had happened and several of the Collared had been hurt. There was too much activity to read the situation beyond that.
He ran through the tunnels, finding himself moving a bit more naturally through them then he had in the past. He’d always had a talent for it, pathfinding and traveling through the Pit’s narrow and dangerous outskirts, but suddenly his movements were on an entirely different level. It was like something had clicked for him, like he could sense the edges of the tunnels and how they twisted and turned before he even reached them, even if he’d not moved through them before. His body also seemed to be switching between crawling, running, sidling, and jumping with near perfect fluidity. It reminded him of when he was riding in Jacopo’s mind. He wondered if he’d not fully completed his transformation back to human, or if by changing the once he’d been permanently changed somehow. He didn’t feel any discomfort about the idea, he already lived in a hole in the ground and ate what some people would consider trash. As Jacopo had said, he was already an honorary rat, even before he’d gained the ability to transform.
He reached the entrance to Collared territory more quickly than he ever had before, and saw that the entire entrance was blocked off by six of Merle’s lieutenants wielding heavy clubs. A few of them jumped as he rounded the corner, but once they recognized him, they lowered their weapons.
“Dantes,” said Orebus, waving him through. “You alright? Did you run into any of them?”
“Any of who?” he responded, walking between the burly guards to stand just within the Collared’s chambers.
“The Orcs, they just attacked a few of our men that were transporting Mez’s most recent delivery. Killed three, maybe four depending on how Televor’s doing. I didn’t get a good look at him.”
Dantes felt his entire body tense. “Where is he?”
“Merle’s chamber, but-”
Dantes pushed past him, and started weaving through the fully mobilized Collared. He saw a number of them wielding new knives or clubs, three with spears, several cleaning cloths for bandages in the fountain. It seemed like Merle had been taking advantage of the goods he’d received from the consortium and using them to better equip his people. A very smart call given everything that had been happening.
Dantes didn’t have time to fully process that though, as he moved through the press of people up to Merle’s cell outside of which stood two guards. One of them went to stop Dantes from entering, but the other stopped him and waved for Dantes to go on in, recognizing him.
Dantes gave him a grateful nod and stepped inside. Merle was leaned against a wall on one side of the room, Pillion was pacing on the other side, and Wane was kneeling by the bench that Tel had been laid on. Tel was pale. His shirt had been removed and a large bandage was wrapped across his stomach where a patch of red was slowly spreading. The smell of blood and feces filled the air. He’d smelled that after a stabbing before. The blade had punctured his guts.
Before Dantes could walk toward him, Pillion stepped into his way.
“This is your fucking fault. If it wasn’t for your stupid fucking booze deal, and what you did to the orcs, this wouldn’t have fucking happened!” Pillion’s pupils were enormous and black, and his hands were twitching as he spoke. He was high, Dantes knew the look well, he’d seen it in the mirror more than once.
Dantes just nodded at him. “Yeah. It’s my fault. Now get out of my way.”
Pillion’s eye twitched, but he didn’t blink. He was unsure of how to handle Dantes’ admission of guilt, and so resumed his pacing.
Dantes moved over to kneel across from where Wane was. Tel’s eyes were closed, so he looked to Wane.
Wane’s eyes were wet with tears as their eyes met. “He said there were about ten of them. They didn’t say anything, just started killing. Blud was there, leading the attack. Tel was the first to be stabbed, so they thought he was dead. They left him for the rats and he stumbled here. Said he took some back passages he knew would lead back here because of something you told him before.”
Dantes nodded, barely hearing what Wane was saying as he watched Tel’s chest rise and fall unsteadily. He called on his senses and tried to reach out to Tel in the same way he could reach out to Jacopo, or any other living creature, but in return received only silence. He drew his attention away from every rat and roach he’d been monitoring, even Jacopo, and focused all of his intent on Tel. Tel’s breathing seemed to speed up, but nothing changed, and still Dantes sensed only silence from him.
Dantes slammed his fist on the ground. “Dammit.” He’d tried to see if his abilities could affect people before, but it had never worked. He wasn’t sure of what he expected. His powers had been intuitive to him up to this point, and he’d hoped that maybe if he reached out with them some solution or ability would pop into his mind, but It was a waste of energy and attention.
“Dantes…” Tel’s eyes opened and he looked around, his eyes finding Dantes.
“I’m here Tel.”
“The orcs, they-”
“Wane told me. Guess they decided it wasn’t worth killing you, huh?”
Tel smiled weakly, and winced. “Guess not.” He took a breath. “You smell like shit.”
Dantes laughed. “I slipped in some on the way here,” he lied.
“Couldn’t bother to scrape your boot on the way to see a dying man? Shameful.”
“You’ll be fine.”
Tel nodded. “Sure. We’ll just get a priest lowered down here and they’ll have me up in no time.”
“Wane was just saying he’s always been very tempted to worship the goddess of the healing touch.”
Wane looked away for a moment to wipe his eyes. “No, I said I wouldn’t mind an excuse to receive her disciples touch myself.”
They all had a short laugh at that. Then Tel closed his eyes for a few moments, before opening them again.
“Dantes. I’ve been skimming some booze off the top to sell myself. I’m sorry.”
Dantes nodded slowly, “I’ll hold off on beating you until you’re feeling better. At this point I doubt you’d even feel it.”
Tel closed his eyes again, his breaths seeming to become more strained for a few moments. Dantes could see small beads of sweat beginning to form across his skin.
“Merlin, are you there?” asked Tel.
Merle took a few steps closer, his hulking figure looking oddly gentle as he bent over and placed a hand on Tel’s shoulder. “I’m here, lad.”
“Give everything from my cell to these three, except the etchings, I want Syn to have them. At the Which Wench.”
Merle nodded. “I’ll make sure of it.”
Tel’s face twitched for a moment, and somehow he summoned the strength to bring a hand up to his collar and yank at it with surprising force, his whole body shaking. “Gods, I just wish I could cast one more spell. Just one more time I want to feel it again. Just produce a mote of light, or hear the whisper of a succubus telling me of debauchery around the corner, to light a fucking candle!” He let his hand fall back to his side, the sudden vigor he’d had vanishing. “I could get used to everything else down here. The lack of light, the lack of women, all of it. There were ways to make do, to pretend like you had what you needed, but magic… You can’t pretend you still have that.”
Pillion had stopped his pacing and come to Tel’s side, his words breaking him from his tweaking. He, Wane, and Merle all shared the same pained expression as Tel spoke. They knew exactly what he was talking about. Now that Dantes was looking at them, he noticed that just like Tel their collars were scratched and torn at, and both Merle and Pillion even had scratch marks that had turned to scars just beneath the collars, peeking out. Even though they’d known that they wouldn’t be able to remove them, they’d still tried, desperate to have their magic back.
Tel’s eyes closed longer than the previous time, and his breathing grew more ragged before they opened again. “Tell Syn she was the best lay I’ve ever had.”
Dantes chuckled. “I will.”
He opened his eyes one final time, letting out a wheezing breath. “My parents… I’m sorry.” His eyes closed, and didn’t open again. He kept breathing for another hour while everyone in the room sat in silence, Merle leaving only once to make sure there had been no more attacks on his people. They all watched him take his last breath, and then nothing.
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