Chapter 8: The Prisoner's Return

Yvris was going to be livid.

He’d asked Esharah to retrieve Aven and take him directly back to confessional after the voidtouched returned from the day’s hunt. Now, the prisoners were back, and Aven was missing.

“I recall yourd orders were to keep him alive,” Esharah said slowly.

“I know the orders,” Erdrak growled, stabbing the butt of his spear into the snow. “Voidspawn got him. End of story.” The ogre spat, “And good riddance. A voidtouched is the last thing we need here. It’s one prisoner. Doesn’t make a damn difference.”

Esharah could feel the lie. Frankly, Erdrak was not a particularly complex individual. Even without her empathic sense, the truth was obvious. Esharah, however, would not be the one to tell Yvris the truth.

“I’m sure it was an unfortunate accident,” Esharah said, giving a placating gesture. “I’ll let you give that particular report to the Executor.”

Yvris was definitely going to be livid. Even though prisoners died nearly every day here. Just another soul consumed by the Hellfrost, dying for the Empire. The only person Esharah had found who could resist the Book of Souls, now nothing more than meat for the voidspawn.

The rest of the prisoners were dispersing, being led back to their cells when a shout came from the watchguard.

“Winged, incoming!” the guard called.

Esharah stiffened. A familiar presence in her empathic sense confirmed her fears.

A winged chthonian soared over the walls of the Hellfrost Keep, halting over the courtyard. Guards and prisoners alike gasped and backed away as the winged warrior descended. Clad in black armor, one hand holding a harness in which a much larger creature was strapped, a massive zhagra ogre. The winged dezar dropped the ogre into the courtyard before landing herself.

Vestra vis Nightblood was a striking figure, even to those who couldn’t innately sense the power she held. Taller than many men, with curling horns reaching higher still. Blue-gray skin darker than Esharah’s, wings jutting from her shoulders composed of black bone. No membrane was needed to allow the daemonblooded woman to fly, her flight a power of its own. She carried no weapons; there was no need when she could have killed everyone in the courtyard with fists and wings alone if the whim took her.

Vestra smiled when she saw Esharah.

Esharah sighed and greeted her older sister, “Vestra.”

“Esha!” Vestra’s booming voice carried across the courtyard. As she marched over and flung her arms around Esharah in a bone-crushing hug. To tight to be affectionate, especially when Esharah pointedly did not reciprocate. Her gleaming eyes scanned over Esharah as she pulled back, “You’re looking well. I’ve heard good things about your rehabilitation.”

Esharah’s fists clenched. Thankfully, she didn’t hold Vestra’s attention.

“Vestra!” Erdrak called out, stomping closer. The skull-marked collar that he wore around his neck glowed, the skull’s eyes alight with azure flame – a fire mirrored by a similarly skull-marked bracelet on Vestra’s wrist.

The only person present taller than Vestra, the ogre captain almost matched her in intimidation. Esharah glanced aside. She had no desire to see the display about to unfold.

“Draku,” Vestra cooed.

The overwhelming emotion of morbid fascination filled the courtyard as the dozens of onlookers saw Vestra grab Erdrak by his skull-marked collar and yank the ogre down into a deep kiss. A quite audible one.

Esharah glanced over at the zhagra ogre that Vestra had brought. On second look, Erdrak was not the only person present taller than Vestra. This new ogre was probably head and shoulders above even Erdrak. An absolute giant of an ogre, seven-and-a-half feet tall at the least if he were standing. Esharah didn’t know enough zhagra to be sure, but she thought he was an older one. Certainly, his beard and hide were shaggier than any other snow ogre she’d seen. Besides the harness around his chest, he also wore the usual sealing manacles on his wrists and ankles. A vis then, for such chains to be necessary.

His mind did not hold the fear or rage common among new arrivals. Only calm. Less the blankness of Aven’s mind (Esharah felt a pang of guilt at the thought of the now-dead man) and more a tranquil lake. Or a peaceful snow-covered field.

“What brings you to Hellfrost?” Esharah asked politely.

Vestra shoved Erdrak away to answer, “Just a special delivery.” She jerked her head towards the zhagra, “This one is interesting. He held off a whole company of soldiers on the Daggerpeak front before I captured him. A strong one.” She gave Erdrak a smile with a distinctly teasing edge, “Maybe even as strong as you, Draku. The first since you to meet my challenge.”

Erdrak growled and shot the zhagra a dirty look.

The doors of the keep groaned open, and Yvris emerged, Zadrine following close behind.

“Vis Vestra,” the head warden bowed. “We are honored by your presence. What brings you here?”

“Prisoner,” Vestra gestured towards the ogre, “Strong one. Good for the mines or cracking open voidspawn.”

“I wasn’t expecting prisoners outside of the usual cycle,” Yvris said. “Is this one in addition to the usual shipment or...?”

“The others are on their way,” Vestra waved her hand dismissively. “Wagons’ll arrive as usual. I caught this one just after the shipment was sent out, and Governor Iraias asked me to deliver it myself. I wouldn’t pass up the chance to see how my dear sister’s rehabilitation is coming. I trust she’s been behaving herself.”

Esharah squirmed as Vestra’s gaze settled on her again.

“Warden Esharah has been behaving superbly,” Yvris reassured her. Then a glance at Esharah, “...for the most part. Where is the...other prisoner you were supposed to bring for confessional?”

That was distinctly not Esharah’s problem. She glared at Erdrak.

The ogre captain cleared his throat, “That boy. Voidspawn got him. Hard luck.”

Anger flashed in Yvris’s eyes, which was fine because Esharah wasn’t the target of it at the moment. “He’s dead? You were ordered to keep him alive!”

“We’re fighting voidspawn,” Erdrak growled. “I’m not keeping him latched to my tit. He died, and that’s that.”

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Esharah could practically see the struggle between Yvris’s fury and caution at Vestra’s presence. Fury won out.

“He was a valuable asset, you damned fool,” Yvris hissed.

“He was a voidtouched,” Erdrak snapped.

Yvris stiffened. Esharah felt the anger rise further. Alongside a sudden wave of interest and smug glee from Vestra. So much for keeping Aven a secret. Not that such secrets would matter if he was dead.

“A voidtouched,” Vestra repeated slowly, a smile playing at her lips as she stared down Yvris, “You know, I don’t recall that being in the reports to Governor Iraias. Quite a bit of information to forget to include.”

“A new arrival,” Yvris said quickly, muscles tensing. “The, ah, report must not have reached Governor Iraias yet.”

“A pity for such potential to go to waste,” Vestra’s gaze turned back to Erdrak. Where Yvris’s reprimands invited defiance and rage from the ogre captain, Vestra’s disapproval only brought a sullen shame. “And you don’t seem guilty or sad about losing him. Surely you weren’t afraid of a voidtouched, Draku.”

Erdrak growled under his breath.

Vestra turned back to Yvris, “Governor Iraias already has...questions about the mismanagement of Hellfrost. Losing an asset so carelessly makes one wonder if such an assignment is too much for you.”

Yvris’s expression turned ugly, “My leadership is not for an attack dog to question, not even Scal Iraias’ bitch.”

Fury erupted off of Vestra in a crashing wave. More than mere emotion, Vestra’s vis power turned that fury into a physical presence that smashed everyone unfortunate enough to stand in that courtyard to the ground. Non-vis were flung backwards. Even the vis fell to their knees, Esharah included, as the power of Vestra’s soul struck them. Only Erdrak remained standing, and even he looked strained, teeth gritted and veins popping from the force.

The only one completely unmoved was the Zhagra ogre, still sitting on the ground with that same calm as before.

“I hope,” Vestra spoke calmly, but the volume rose to be loud as thunder, “that you do not need to be reminded of your place. Or of my master’s. You are here by Governor Iraias’ will. By his will, you can be removed. You understand?”

Yvris choked out the words, limbs shaking, “Yes...Vis Vestra. I understand perfectly.”

Vestra’s presence diminished, the weight lifting, and Esharah released a heavy gasp. Esharah rose on unsteady feet. Her empathic sense screamed in the aftermath of Vestra’s fury. The rest of the onlookers rose slower. Yvris got to his feet, brushing the snow off his coat with shaking hands. He looked like a man trying to hold himself together, and not quite managing.

“Governor Iraias will no doubt be disappointed that an asset like a voidtouched went to waste, but he has overall found your performance...acceptable,” Vestra said. “So far. You are fortunate in that regard.”

“Of course, Vis,” Yvris said. “Thank you for the...prisoner. You’re welcome to stay as long as you wish.”

Vestra smiled. That was the last thing that anyone at Hellfrost Keep wanted, but no one could object.

“Much as I would love to stay and...catch up,” Vestra ran a hand across Erdrak’s arm, though her eyes flicked to Esharah. “I am a busy woman. I’ll check whenever Governor Iraias deems it necessary. I hope the situation will improve before my return.”

“We won’t let you down, Lady Vestra,” Zadrine interjected, bowing low.

Vestra gave Zadrine a genuinely bemused look while spreading her wings, “Who are you?”

Esharah felt the words in Zadrine’s emotions like a slap to the face. She could almost enjoy the feeling of Zadrine’s shock.

Before Vestra could take flight, another call came from the watchguard, “Unknown approaching! Northeast!”

A wave of surprise. There was nothing to the northeast. No settlements. Not even barbarians. Only voidspawn.

Hope broke through Esharah’s own emotional fatigue. That damned hope, always waiting for opportunity to rise back up, even if its presence only heralded new disappointment.

Vestra soared to the top of the walls in a single leap. The rest of them had to take the much more mundane route of the stairs. Vestra’s interest gave Esharah little clue, nor did the watchguard’s confusion. She had to see with her own eyes.

Covered in black blood, stumbling across the snowy path with a corpse on his back. If hope hadn’t prepared her for the truth, she might have assumed the figure was voidspawn. A monster come from the pits of hell. Maybe he was. Step by step, Aven drew closer to Hellfrost. Even as Vestra’s surprise turned to interest.

“You said that he was dead,” Yvris glared sharply at Erdrak.

The ogre captain said nothing, only watched Aven approach with bulging eyes.

“Open the gates!” Yvris commanded, whirling to the guards. “Let him in!” He paused, then turned to Vestra, “Or you could retrieve him.”

“I could,” Vestra smiled, “but it looks like that one has dragged himself and a corpse for miles. I wouldn’t want to ruin a heroic feat like that by carrying him the last bit of the journey.”

“We don’t even know if that...thing is still sane,” Erdrak growled. “Voidspawn got him. I’m telling you. No one could get covered by that much of the black blood and keep their mind.”

“I...suppose some caution is in order,” Yvris said. “Open the gates, but have soldiers ready.” Another glance to Vestra, “I’m sure our warriors could handle a single rogue voidtouched if necessary, but your aid would be greatly appreciated.”

“If I have to intervene, I shall,” Vestra replied, gaze on Erdrak. “But I will be quite disappointed if that is necessary.”

The gates opened. A dozen guards formed around the gate in a semicircle, Erdrak at the center with halberd raised. The wardens stood behind, the tension filling the air. Zadrine stood beside Yvris, flames dancing around her claws. Vestra waited at the top of the wall, leaning on the battlements and watching with interest. The other prisoners watched from the back, whispers of fear and unease among them.

Aven stumbled through the gate. His presence entered Esharah’s senses. Changed. Before, the strange blankness of his emotions had masked despair. Resignation. Those had gone. She couldn’t yet tell what had taken their place.

“He’s...still human,” Esharah whispered. Yvris glanced at her sharply. “His mind...it hasn’t been lost to the void.”

Excitement thrummed in the head warden.

“Stop right there!” Erdrak shouted out.

Aven stopped. He carefully laid down the corpse from his back, then stood tall.

He grinned, “You didn’t tell me I’d get a parade.”

Silence greeted the statement.

Yvris laughed, shoving past Erdrak and clapping Aven on the shoulders, “Aven! And here Captain Erdak claimed the voidspawn got you.”

The guards lowered their spears and halberds but didn’t relax their grip, tension settling into a fainter unease. Erdrak was glaring at Aven. Esharah could feel the wheels spinning in the ogre’s mind, drying to weave a lie that would justify leaving Aven out in the wilderness to die. Probably more work than his brain had in years.

“That’s exactly right,” Aven’s grin widened.

The wheels stalled as Erdrak’s confusion couldn’t quite process the statement.

“Voidspawn got me,” Aven said, “and they dragged me right into their pit.” He rolled his shoulder. The sleeve rolled down to reveal the veins standing out like black cords. “I crawled back out.” He gestured to the corpse at his feet, “I brought back Old Fox too. He died fighting for the empire. He deserves a proper burial.”

Yvris’s eyes lit with excitement, “That is...quite the achievement, Aven.” He slapped Aven on the shoulder again, “We’ll discuss your experiences in detail later. Esharah, please escort Aven back to his cell. Along with our newest prisoner.”

Esharah had almost forgotten about the Zhagra ogre. He still sat patiently in the courtyard, watching politely. When the guards unchained Aven from the prisoner and bound him in the sealing manacles again, the Zhagra did not resist.

Guards and prisoners alike kept their gazes on Aven as they walked. Whispers and fear followed. They passed beneath the Warden’s Eye, then into the keep. Down into the depths.

Distracted as she was, Esharah very nearly forgot to dodge when a burning splinter flew from Janaya’s cell.

“The mouth of the grave opens for you!” Janaya roared.

Esharah was too numb for the usual performative smile.

“This place is quite lively,” the Zhagra ogre spoke for the first time, voice a rumbling chuckle like wind rushing through the trees of the tranquil forest in his mind.

“Lively as the dance of the damned in the pyre!” Janaya shouted.

“It’s good to see such vigor, even among the damned,” the ogre nodded, stepping willingly into his cell.

Aven showed the same lack of resistance as Esharah returned him to the usual cell.

“Why in the hells would you come back here?” Esharah asked as she closed the door. The Warden’s Eye far above was there as always, but at this point, she didn’t care. If Yvris was watching even now, she would risk it.

“And leave such lovely company?” Aven grinned in reply. In the adjoining cell, Janaya’s vengeful oaths peaked louder.

Esharah shook her head. Maybe everyone who passed through the Hellfrost was mad. Maybe the madness here was just infectious. Maybe she was already too mad to tell.

“About your proposal from before,” Aven said, as Esharah turned away.

She paused, but she didn’t reply.

“I have a counteroffer,” Aven said.

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