Tharos continued to stand and watch the young boy he had just saved, waiting for a reply. The boy standing before him was thin and short, almost emaciated looking, which was not uncommon for slaves. The only things that hadn’t lost their luster were his short blonde hair, which shined like fine gold silk, and his vibrant green eyes that sparkled like emerald gems. If he had a bit more meat on his bones, one would notice his soft facial features and gentle eyes.
The young boy began to speak up, straightening himself up as he did so, wiping off some of the tears that dripped down his face.
“Thank you for saving me. My name is Cenric Dellcreek.” he says in the wilder tongue. However, while Tharos could guess that this was some sort of thank you, he couldn’t understand what this kid was saying. The language the kid spoke was rather coarse and blunt. In fact, Tharos was surprised by the level of it; even the most savage and barbaric people from his time had a level of oratory and linguistic sophistication. Tharos then tried to re-enter the boy’s mind to reestablish the mental link, since the boy was much calmer now. It was much easier to do.
(“I apologize for intruding on your thoughts again, but I cannot comprehend what you are saying as I do not speak your language, and you do not speak mine. Please repeat it in your mind this time.”) The boy looked a little surprised and then nodded.
(“Thank you for saving me. My name is Cenric Dellcreek. But wait, how are you doing this, and how can you understand me like this, but not when I am speaking?”) In a tone that reflected a sense of wonder, a childlike wonderment that Tharos couldn’t help but envy.
(“Those are good questions Cenric. To answer your first question, I do not know how I do this; it is something that comes naturally to me as it was something I was born with. To answer your second question, we are not speaking to one another in the traditional sense. What we are doing right now is communicating our intentions, which are being translated into words that we can understand.”) Cenric nodded, even though he didn’t fully understand what Tharos was saying.
(“If you have more questions, Cenric, I suggest saving them for later. Time is of the essence,“) he said, a slowly rising sense of urgency evident in his tone of voice.
(“What’s the rush?“) Cenric asks, a puzzled look forming on his face as he looks at Tharos.
(“Well, you see,“) Tharos began, but before he could finish his sentence, he felt the ground starting to shake. A slowly rising rumbling noise echoed throughout the city, and even Cenric began to feel it. Cenric’s face lit up as if something had clicked.
(“Point taken.“)
(“Now, follow me and stay close,“) Tharos said as he turned his back toward Cenric, tossing him a dagger as he left the alleyway. Cenric followed behind him, clutching the dagger.
The duo ran through the winding streets of the city, taking breaks every now and then by dipping and ducking into houses or alleyways to avoid the patrolling metallic figures or the twisted and misshapen creatures that now roamed the streets. As they continued running, the faint sounds of battle echoed off the city streets and walls. It was just another sound adding to the ever-growing chorus as the shakes and rumblings grew more intense and louder with every footstep Cenric and Tharos took, the slightly moist and wet sand clinging to their feet.
Far off in the distance, in the direction of the treasure hunters’ camp outside the southern gate, Tharos and Cenric noticed what looked like a huge tower of fire shooting up into the air. It punched through the thick winter clouds in the sky above, with faint rays of sunlight now starting to light up the scene below. Though Tharos couldn’t fully see what was going on, he could sense only the faintest traces of it. He was lucky they were getting farther and farther away; otherwise, what he was sensing would overwhelm him completely. Even at this distance, he was being assaulted by a flurry of emotions and quickly increasing surges of magical energy. The mage he had sensed before was clearly losing the battle. It wouldn’t be long before the mage in question was dead, along with those in the camp with him. He could feel the life force of those people flicker and wane like candles in the wind, some of them reaching a final crescendo before burning out. Tharos had no intention of helping them. As far as he was concerned, they were getting their just deserts for meddling in affairs they had no business in, and this included Cenric, who was now traveling behind him. When he told Cenric that he was here to help, it was more of a lie by omission. As much as he didn’t like lying, he figured it was better to tell him that than the actual truth. Originally, he had no plans to intervene; he was just going to leave him to his fate. However, there was something about Cenric that compelled him to intervene. After getting a closer look at Cenric, he couldn’t understand what had spurred such feelings within him. Perhaps it was something he had forgotten, something important that Cenric had unintentionally stirred within him. Regardless of the reason, Tharos would help Cenric to the best of his abilities, if not for the reason that Tharos was rather starved for company.
As the duo continued running, the palace quickly came into view. He heard Cenric speak up.
(“Where are we going, Tharos? I can’t keep running like this forever,“) he could sense a little fatigue coming from Cenric. They had been running for more than several minutes. Tharos was actually surprised that Cenric could keep up.
(“We are heading to the palace.”)
(“Why are we going there?”)
Tharos flashed a series of images into Cenric’s mind, informing him about the creature sealed beneath the city and what Tharos was planning to do. Cenric’s face reflected a mix of sadness, shock, and understanding.
(“That is crazy. Are you sure it will even work?”)
(“I am not sure, but it was the only plan out of the many plans that I came up with. That had the greatest chance of success.”)
Because what Tharos planned to do pained him deeply beyond any measure, however desperate times call for desperate measures. He would have to destroy the city, hopefully taking the creature with it. It wasn’t his most sophisticated plan, but it was his only viable option. His original estimate of six months to a year was woefully optimistic; it was weeks if not days until the creature would be free of its binds. Even if he couldn’t kill it, at least he could slow it down.
(“Tharos, that creature – do you think that creature is what Eilis was after? Is that why he came to this city?“)
(“Eilis, who is that Cenric?”)
(“A mage, and the reason why I am here in the first place.”) Cenric says while he gestures to the collar around his neck
(“I see, so is he the reason why I’ve had many visitors lately?”) There was a tinge of irritation in Tharos voice.
(“Yes, he has been sending people to find this place for years from what I know. Maybe he heard about the city and this creature and wanted to acquire it for himself.”)
(It’s possible; however, I don’t know how he would have come across such information. The only people privy to such information were high-ranking members of the court or the royal family. So typical of a mage, fooling around with powers they don’t understand. I guess somethings never change.”) While there was still a hint of irritation in Tharos’ voice with that last statement, there was also a melancholic undertone.
(“How did you know about it? Are you from here?”) Cenric asked inquisitively
(“Yes, this is my home, or to be more accurate, it was my home, since it’s going to be gone soon.”)
(“Well, what happened here, where is everyone?”)
Tharos paused for a moment, his expressionless face slowly breaking into a look of frustration at the realization that he didn’t have an answer, no matter how hard he tried to recall or how far he delved into the endless sea of his memories. There was nothing, aside from this lingering feeling of regret. However, he didn’t know why he felt this way, nor did he understand the source of it.
(“I am sorry to say this, as I do not like saying this, but I don’t know.”) There was a hint of disappointment in his voice, even his face reflected these feelings.
(“I see.”) Cenric let out a brief sigh of disappointment at his question not being answered
(“As I mentioned earlier, it would be best to save the remaining questions for later, Cenric. We are about to approach the palace gate, so I suggest you gather your courage and keep your wits about you.”)
(“Understood.“)
The two of them reached the palace gates, and as they looked up at the stairs leading to the palace, they saw that the place was still standing, its grand splendor on full display. Tharos noticed Cenric’s eyes wide open and jaw agape, as if he couldn’t fully comprehend the marvel of architecture on display. Even though time was of the essence, Tharos would take but a moment to enjoy the sight, soaking in every last detail, every last nook, and cranny. He wanted to savior this moment, as it would be the last time he would lay his eyes on the place again and wanted to bid a proper farewell.
(“If I were you, Cenric, I would commit this sight to memory, as marvels like this are fleeting and will soon become dust beneath our heels.”) Cenric didn’t respond; all he got was a slow nod and a tilt of his head.
“Let’s go.”
As the two of them stopped climbing the steps, the rumbling and shaking grew more intense by the minute. Small cracks in the staircase and even the walls were starting to grow bigger. Tharos felt a familiar mix of fear, shame, and regret as he continued to ascend the stairs. His heart raced, and his mind flashed brief images of memories he had long since forgotten. However, he ignored these feelings and images as he had a mission to complete, and failure wasn’t an option. As the two of them finally reached the top of the stairs and were about to go through the main hall, they were stopped in their tracks by a series of twisted creatures and a few faceless figures of liquid metal pouring out of the main hall to greet them. Some of the twisted creatures he recognized as ones he had encountered before, but there were new ones as well. One of them looked like a small child with sharp needle-like teeth and claws, along with bony wings, while the other one looked like a headless woman of indeterminate age with a massive mouth and several rows of sharp teeth between its breasts. Tharos could see fear rising within Cenric, causing him to quiver and shake, his legs almost giving out. Tharos caught him and gave him a reassuring nod.
“Of course it wouldn’t be that easy.” Tharos said with a sigh
(“What are those things, Tharos.“) Cenric asked with a sense of panic still in his voice.
(“I don’t know. Stay close Cenric and don’t leave my sight.”)
Tharos drew his sword and raised his shield, while Cenric took cover behind the pillar, clutching the dagger that Tharos had given him. The creatures charged at Tharos, who swiftly dodged and with a few swings of his sword managed to decapitate several of the creatures. Their heads rolled on the floor, thick black blood gushing out with a sizzling sound that could be heard as the blood of the creatures started eating through the stone that made up the place’s structure. Along with the sword, Tharos carried.
“This is almost too easy.”
Tharos pondered until he realized the scheme that was in play. The creatures were sent to soften him up and distract him from the true threat. Which that these creatures were being controlled, guided by the intentions of a malevolent intelligence that wanted to stop Tharos at any cost. While these creatures couldn’t pose a real threat to him, they could slow him down, and that was exactly what they were doing. In that moment, the metallic figures began to encircle Tharos with almost blinding speed. Even with his reflexes, Tharos was having trouble keeping up. With his focus divided between engaging these figures and protecting his new companion, this fight would be a challenging one. One by one, the metallic figures would slash at him, attempting to target his arms and legs. Tharos would parry every blow with his slowly rusting blade and block with his shield, which had sustained several massive dents. One figure made a charge at Cenric, while the other two closed in on Tharos. However, this was the opportunity he had been waiting for. As the two closed in on Tharos, he ducked and rolled between them, slashing at their chests. The glowing red orbs in their chests flickered before turning grey. With a quick flick of his wrist, he threw his dagger into the back of the last figure who was about to close in on Cenric. Cenric managed to avoid the figure’s blade-like arms, running between the pillars he was hiding behind. The dagger made impact, piercing through the liquid metal that made up the creature’s composition and hitting the red orb in the center of the chest. The last metallic figure then crumbled to the ground as the red orb flickered before turning gray.
(“Are you ok Cenric.”)
(“Yah I am ok, just need to catch my breath.”) Cenric eyes where wide and his breathing was heavy
(“Alright, I will give but a moment to recover before we proceed further.”)
(“Sounds good.”) Cenric would then lean on the pillar to recover.
Tharos didn’t like having to use Cenric as bait, but he didn’t have a choice in the matter. With so few resources at his disposal, he would have to use every trick in the book to win. If that included using a child to draw in his enemies so he could gain an advantageous position, then so be it. Of course, he would never let Cenric know about this. A minute passes with Cenric now recovered from his latest near-death experience.
(“Alright ready to go Tharos.”)
(“Good, it’s only going to get harder from here. Stay focused.”)
(“Understood.”) Cenric gives a nod
The two of them would then enter through the main hall, passing through the throne room with Tharos pausing for a moment, allowing Secord to look upon the throne one last time before turning his head towards the entrance of the archives and handing Cenric a torch.
“Into the Breach.”
