The guards had been instructed to arrest him on sight by one of the Academy leaders. Needless to say, his investigation would need to wait, especially since he was the one under investigation right now.
He spied his companion Othin in a cage off to the side. They'd both complied as much as possible, seeing as he was technically, right now, an emissary. That didn’t mean he, or especially the vulture, had to like being caged.
The guard here was a Dryad, one with Pine needles for hair. Rumor had it that they didn't need to sleep, and the unblinking vigil seemed to back that up. That was until someone passed through the door, and the guard turned to see who it was. Fray, the Blood Knight he’d helped against the swarms outside the city.
“Can I enter?” She asked, though she strode past where someone would normally wait. The Guard nodded. She looked at the inquisitor with an apologetic gaze. “Wish we could get you out of this sooner.”
He shrugged, “Not much you can do about it.”
“Yeah, but I wish there was.” She looked around, then up at the ceiling. With the importance of sunlight to Dryads, there was a window in the roof, with its own bars as well. “Better prison here than in Iron Mountain. But still, you shouldn’t be in here.”
An echoing voice came from the dryad, “He is here by the queen’s will.”
Fray glared daggers, but turned back to Hraban, “If I hear of anything, I’ll come to you and let you know.”
“You. . . don’t have to.” He was puzzled somewhat by how quickly she had taken to him. It wasn’t unwelcome, but it was unexpected.
“I know. Consider this repayment for helping me with the Dires.” She turned and walked out of the gaol.
Marc slept, dreamless once again, until he heard a knock at the wall. His eyes opened and he saw one of Jacky’s younger sisters, one who he hadn’t been told the name of, look through the wall.
“Mr. Marc?” she said, clearly somewhat nervous of him.
“Yes?” he replied, shifting from laying down to sitting on his cot. He was nowhere near as tired as before, but also didn’t know how long he’d been asleep.
“There’s a rat here for you.”
“Rat?” he didn’t get time to think before a small hole opened in the wall, revealing a rat.
A familiar rat. Who, incidentally, was now also a rat familiar, belonging to Berk. The rat from the cave, that had guided him through the darkness.
“Oh, hey!” he waved to the rat, who acknowledged him. It had a message in its hands, rolled up on a small papyrus scroll.
Marc, I need some help. I’ve been feeling movement below in some of the tunnels, whenever i go near the big temple. Go there, tell them you’ve been sent by me, and go down to figure out what’s happening. Take Ratscal with you.
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
- B
“You are named. . . Ratscal?” The rat nodded. Familiars were more than smart enough, after being bonded magically, to understand language. “Did he just mispronounce the word rascal?” It shook its head no. The name was fully intentional. Marc sighed, “Alright, lets get going.” The rat jumped onto his leg, and climbed up to perch on his shoulder. Thankfully Marc didn’t have the energy to get out of his armor before falling asleep, so he just needed to sling his backpack over his shoulders and grab his axe.
Looking around outside, it was likely only a few hours, maybe 4 at the most, that he’d been asleep for. They went out a little after dawn and were on the lookout until nearly dusk each day so far, so there was maybe a few more hours before night fell.
Walking towards the “big temple”, dedicated to some deity he hadn’t bothered to remember anything about, he saw that there were a lot of people acting the same as people in his world. Walking, talking, eating snacks, taking pets for strolls. If one ignored their clothes and the fantastical features, everyone here would fit right in alongside the residents of earth.
Eventually he got to the Temple, where the curates of the temple were being trained in the outdoors. There was a decently sized graveyard that extended from the outer edge of the walls to the cliff, with part of said cliff even being carved out to allow for more burials. The decorations seemed to imply some nature or earth god. Marc simply walked through the front doors.
A few preachers in green-brown robes looked to him in confusion. The inside was nothing like any of the places of worship he’d seen in the real world. There were concentric rings of benches all facing a large stone in the center. The ceiling was low, almost low enough to make Marc hunch, and he was sure that some of the larger races like Icess could barely fit in the building at all. There was a smaller, elderly human meditating in front of the stone, but opened his eyes upon hearing Marc’s heavy footsteps.
“Can I . . .help you?”
“Yeah, I’m here from Berk.”
“Oh, that way, the closet. Can’t miss it,” he replied, pointing to one of the sides of the building, and handed Marc a key from his pocket, then promptly went back to meditation.
Ratscal took the key and scampered over to the door where he put the key into the lock. Marc shook his head, hoping that he was somehow still in a dream, but opened the door to find a ladder into the open earth. This tunnel was further down than Rodaan’s, but the temple was also not one that had a basement full of artifacts.
“Well, back into the pits, huh?” Ratscal squeaked in agreement. “Hey, can you use that light thing Berk had? I still can’t see in the dark normally.” Thus began the rat squeaking in an oddly rhythmic noise. Marc knew that in some games, especially tabletop games, familiars could deliver spells, but he was not nearly as familiar with them. He was hoping that the rat was trying to do that and not just making noise for the sake of it.
Then, light poured out from Marc’s eyes. “Woah!” There was a pressure on his eyes, but not uncomfortably so. But, he could see.
After minutes of climbing down, they reached the bottom. Looking around, there was certainly some kind of magical effect in play down here, but Marc couldn’t tell quite what it was. There was nothing visible around that he could see, but he grabbed his axe with both hands nonetheless.
He felt the area surrounding him. If he were more able to manipulate mana, it would be much easier, but. . .
“Hey Ratscal, can you tell which direction that’s coming from?” The rat lifted its nose to the air, and its whiskers twitched, sensing anything it could.
This proved unnecessary, as from the leftwards tunnel there was a noise. Footsteps on stone, a sound both of them knew well from the hours spend only a short time ago. Marc waited as the slow walk grew closer.
It was a single skeleton. Upon seeing Marc, it ran away.
“Huh?”
Then, he felt the tremors of a crowd moving.
From where he was, he saw, but didn’t hear, the skeleton round the corner, only to be followed by other undead. Skeletons and zombies made up he majority of the horde, and Marc didn’t wait to see if there were any others.
He climbed up the ladder as quickly as he could, hoping it would somehow be quicker going up than down. If he was fast enough, then he could get some help. If he was fast enough, he wouldn’t face a repeat of the battle on the way to Mystle. The three of them would be dead without Marc's sodas.
As he ascended the rungs, he couldn't help but shudder to think how the unclassed would fare against undead.