Chapter 14: Star of the Pageant

T

o Aven’s horror, instead of going back to his cell, Esharah was waiting to take him to confessional.

Logash offered no aid, instead silently shaking with repressed chuckles as he was led away.

“I can’t...relieve myself beforehand?” Aven suggested lamely.

Esharah gave him an odd look, clearly feeling his discomfort in that strange sense of hers (as if it were not obvious from his face, demeanor, and tightly clenched sphincter), “Father Yvris does not like to be kept waiting.” Aven groaned but had to wait until they were out of sight from both guards and the watching Warden’s Eyes before Esharah could whisper, “What’s wrong?”

Aven told her.

One didn’t need vis senses to see what Esharah thought of his intelligence in that moment.

She yanked him to the side, into one of the alcoves that provided such convenient privacy from the Warden’s Eyes, “Get it out, quickly.”

Aven held up his chained wrists. Chained in front, making it impossible for him to reach behind.

Esharah glared at him, “No.”

“I didn’t suggest anything,” Aven protested.

“I know what you were thinking. No.” She pinched her nose. “Just...let it drop.”

Aven released the bottle. He wriggled to move it around. Finally, he managed to get it from cheek down to thigh. Unfortunately, the thick breeches worn in the cold of Hellfrost trapped more than heat. His contortions so far had only served to give him a prominent lump on his thigh, but he could at least reach the bottle to encourage it the rest of its journey down.

“Quickly,” Esharah hissed. Her eyes widened, “Wait, sh-”

“What are you doing back here?” another warden spotted them, a red-skinned ashkari whom Aven had seen around the Head Warden quite a bit. Wicked delight lit up burning red eyes, “Esharah! You aren’t taking liberties with the prisoners, surely?”

Esharah bristled, “I’m taking Aven to confessional.”

“And you need to stop in a quiet, out of the way place like this to do that?” the ashkari chuckled, patting Esharah’s shoulder. A faint sizzle rose at the touch, and Esharah flinched. The ashkari tried to look around Esharah, and both Esharah and Aven shifted such that his abnormally bulging thigh was less noticeable. “No need to be embarrassed. We all have our vices.” Cruel amusement laced her tone, “Even you.” Her gaze turned to Aven. “The voidtouched? My, that’s adventurous of you. Not bad looking, though. We could share-”

“I’m taking him,” Esharah batted away the ashkari’s arm and grabbed Aven, roughly shoving him forward while positioning herself to cover his left side, where the bottle was now caught behind his knee, “to confessional. We can’t keep Father Yvris waiting.”

The ashkari moved to Aven’s other side, placing a clawed hand on his shoulder. The squeeze could have been threatening or flirtatious. Until a searing heat and touch of flame singed through the fabric and swung the meaning firmly to the former. “Then let’s go together. We wouldn’t want you getting...sidetracked again.”

Once upon a time, being sandwiched between the firm grips of two chthonian women would have been a particular daydream of Aven’s. Oh, for youth’s wild imaginings. If Aven’s nethers hadn’t already retreated from the chill of Hellfrost, they might have tried to crawl into his abdomen from the tension.

They came to an intersection when, rounding the corner, Tanya almost hit them with the food cart.

“Oh dear!” the matronly minari housekeeper jerked back just before hitting the ashkari. “Sorry, Zadrine, dear.”

“Watch where you’re going, you old sow!” the ashkari snarled. “You-”

When Zadrine had jerked away from the cart, her leg hit Esharah’s. Esharah’s hit Aven’s - and dislodged the bottle. It sprang free from his pants, hitting the ground with a soft plunk. By good fortune, it didn’t shatter. Instead, it rolled. Right beside Tanya.

Tanya picked up the bottle and deftly shuffled it among the other items on the cart. “Clumsy old me! So sorry.”

“The confessional,” Esharah shoved Aven along insistently. “Come on, Zadrine.”

The ashkari looked faintly confused for a second before turning and marching along with them. As Tanya pushed the cart along, Aven could have sworn the minari gave him a wink.

* * *

Rather than torture, it seemed that today the priest wanted a demonstration. The destination was different than the usual interrogation chamber, instead simple an empty stone room with windows to an adjoining one. In the adjoining room, Yvris and Zadrine waited, leaving Aven and Esharah in the empty chamber.

“I understand from Captain Erdrak that your abilities as a voidtouched have progressed,” the priest said. “Show me.”

At the priest’s command, Esharah unlocked the cursed manacles suppressing Aven’s power. It wasn’t the only power that arose. An intrusive thought entered too. What if Aven’s hand of the void could reach through the window? The priest was right there. All the power of Hellfrost prison. head of the church. Head of the prison. Mayor of the town. Executor of the county. Magistrate. All embodied in a single man within striking distance.

The thought came in a voice in his own head. Not yet. If Aven hadn’t felt Esharah’s power so many times before, he might have considered the thought his own.

Aven let Esharah’s words and simple reason win out. The priest still had the Book of Souls. In fact, it was in his hands right at that instant. Impatience and recklessness wouldn’t achieve anything.

With a sigh, Aven relented. Time to put on a show. He let the darkness pour into his hand, drawing it up and weaving the strands, forming a hand. He stretched out the hand and slashed the wall with its claws. The blackstone walls were more durable than common granite. Still, the claws left marks, scratches marring the surface of the blackstone. A twist of power, and the hand sharpened to a lance. A thrust left a small hole in the wall, perhaps a quarter inch deep. He’d learned that with thinner extensions, the power held greater edge and strength. The tradeoff was that the thicker the hand, the stronger the grip.

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Yvris nodded at the display, then gestured to the ashkari at his side, “Warden Zadrine.”

Zadrine raised her hand, and fire formed. A caster, a soul domain vis who could transform the Flow of their soul into tangible form. Where soul domain vis of attunement such as Ouron controlled elements found in nature, casters created the elements themselves. From Aven’s experience, Flamecasters were among the more common of those types.

From Zadrine’s palm, the fire shot towards Aven in a jet, leaving him just enough time to raise his voidhand in defense. The hand swept aside the flames, smothering them out in midair as easily as one might snuff a candle.

Yvris chuckled, “Excellent.” He turned to the glowering Zadrine, “Again. Using your arts.”

Instead of wild flames, this time the fire compressed into a tight ball. A mystic art, a mind domain vis shaping soul domain into a more potent form.

Fire met void in midair, and this time the flames did not extinguish. They pushed, heat flaring as the blackness of the void ignited. The ball of fire exploded, sending Aven flying back onto his (already decidedly sore) ass. Esharah stood at his side, but the blast hadn’t hit her.

“Able to smother common flames, even controlled by an attunement, and able to resist a 2nd circle’s mystic art,” the priest mused. “Scribe, have you recorded this?”

A mousy voice came from somewhere behind the priest, “It is recorded.”

“Warden Esharah,” Yvris said, “you can confirm that he remains at the 1st circle of power?”

Esharah responded in the affirmative. Yvris gave a thoughtful hum.

“The void really is a fascinating source of power,” the priest said. “Yet so few can harness it. Tell me, Aven, why do you have control when so many lose their lives or their minds to the void?”

My mother introduced me to voidblood when I was eight, Aven thought.

“Guess I’m just a lucky bastard,” he said.

“Lucky indeed,” Yvris sighed...longingly? “Zadrine, bring the other vis guards. We have more tests to conduct.”

* * *

The tests lasted another hour-and-a-half. Aven’s voidhand arm-wrestled a Strongarm. Smothered flames from weaker Flamecasters. Carved a soapstone to test its precision. A half-dozen other tests of the limits of his power. By the end, his arm ached from every place the skin split to release the void, as if in the aftermath of a hundred needles inserted all over his arm. Between the exertions of fighting voidspawn and the myriad test, Aven was thoroughly wrung out by the end.

Whatever conclusions Yvris might have gleaned from the tests, the priest kept them to himself, merely dismissing Aven back to his cell.

“What on hell were you trying to do with that bottle?” Esharah hissed as they returned to Zav level.

“We needed black blood,” Aven mumbled, rubbing his sore arm.

Esharah groaned, “We have literal gallons of the stuff from after your hunts! I could have taken some easily! Why didn’t you tell me you needed the blood instead of just asking me for an empty bottle?”

Hindsight was a cruel mistress, wasn’t she?

A pause as they walked beneath one of the Eyes.

“I can’t help you if I don’t know what you’re doing,” Esharah muttered.

That was the thrust, wasn’t it? He wasn’t working alone anymore. He wasn’t abandoned in the wilderness. He could crawl out of a voidpit on his own, but breaking Hellfrost...that would require more.

And there were opportunities all around. The other vis in the voidspawn hunting parties. Esharah. Perhaps other guards were dissatisfied with the current state of Hellfrost too. Aven had spent far too long staring inward. Time to actually pay attention.

“I’ll do better,” Aven promised.

They entered Zav level.

“Your sins will condemn you to the fires of hell!” Janaya roared through the bars. “When Hellfrost becomes a pyre, your corpse will fuel the judgement!”

“I’m sure it will,” Esharah gave the madwoman a smile as she locked Aven away in his cell.

Something about Janaya’s words nagged at Aven.

“Which hell are you speaking of?” Logash called from his cell across the room.

“What?”

“I do not know about your culture, but mine talks of three hells,” Logash said. “One for cowards where they are chased and torn apart by dogs. One for warriors where they do battle for eternity. One for the common, who sleep for all time. Is there another you are speaking of?”

Silence for a long one.

“Our hell is where the wicked are burned endlessly,” Janaya finally said. In a different voice than the ravings of judgment.

“Wicked...in what sense?” Logash asked.

“Murderers. Liars. Seducers. Slavers. Betrayers. Those who mock good and praise evil.” Janaya paused in the litany. “...and so on.”

“That is a lot of people,” Logash mused. “Who would not be condemned to your hell?”

Janaya didn’t respond.

The lower cells lapsed into silence. Logash gave Aven a questioning look, but Aven could only shake his head. The debacle with the black blood was a story best told later. When he could think of a way to tell it without sounding quite so damn stupid.

Ordinarily, this would be a time for practice. With the additional testing that Yvris put him through, however, Aven was a bit tuckered out for anything more. Logash never seemed incline to train within the confines of his cell, instead settling into a cross-legged position and closing his eyes – perhaps in prayer or meditation.

Janaya was the only one diligent in her usual activities.

“I see your sins, and you are judged...you will be judged...I see your sins and they condemn you. The shrieks of the damned rise up to call your name...to name to your crimes...to howl your name...”

The mantras were almost soothing after all this time.

“The fires shall blot out your name...the flames of perdition...of judgement...of...” Silence. “Flames of damnation. The flames of damnation will burn every last trace of your curse...your sins...your filth from the world. The flames of damnation will burn every trace of your filth from the world. Your cursed tongue will blacken in the flames...”

Again, the tone nagged at Aven. It wasn’t just ranting. It was...

The realization struck Aven like a bolt of lightning. The lines repeated, tone subtly altered. It wasn’t raving. It was practice.

He burst out laughing.

“What’s so funny?” Janaya asked after a long pause.

“Janaya!” he called out. “I thought you were mad! All this time, I thought you were insane! All those hours talking to yourself, all the threats and curses...you weren’t ranting, you were rehearsing! I took you for a lunatic, but you’re a thespian!” He laughed again. Until he was wheezing. “And the most dedicated I’ve ever met! Oh! I had no idea the star of this pageant was so close to me this whole time!”

“...those who mock will choke on their words,” Janaya hissed. With rather less gusto than usual.

The remark brought renewed laughter from Aven, “You mean, ‘my tongue will be blackened as fire consumes me from within’?”

“...don’t do that,” Janaya replied. “It’s disgusting when you do it.”

Best leave a master to her own work, then.

A squeaking wheel announced the arrival of Tanya’s cart.

“Hello, dears,” the minari woman’s smiling face was like a sun rising over the horizon. She trundled over to Janaya’s cell, “It’s carrot mash today. Don’t ask for my secret ingredient.”

Silence as the sound of food slopping into a bowl sounded.

An exaggerated whisper, “Oh, and don’t tell anyone, but I got you an extra biscuit today.”

“Thank you,” Janaya mumbled. “...when the judgment comes, you will be spared.”

“That’s sweet of you, dear,” Tanya said.

Aven was still laughing when Tanya moved on to him.

“What’s so funny, Aven, sweetie?” Tanya asked.

“Our starlet’s performance has moved me more than words can express,” Aven replied. “Her depiction of a madwoman is performed with such vigor! How could I not be moved?”

“I don’t think Janaya was ever the mad one, love,” Tanya said calmly while ladling Aven a bowl of carrot mash. She produced a small bottle from somewhere in her petticoats. A small bottle of black blood. “I believe this is yours?”

“Actually,” Aven met Tanya’s smile with one of his own. “That was a gift for Logash.”

“I’ll be sure to deliver it then,” Tanya gave him another wink. “Now eat up. You’ll need your strength.”

“Of course,” Aven bowed to her, “especially if the coming judgment is as fierce as Janaya claims.”

Janaya huffed in the cell beside him, “I’m still going to kill you.”

Aven kept the smile while eating his mash, “And I’m sure the crowd will applaud.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *