Dragon Mage 083 - The Prisoners (Patreon)

375 days until the Arkon Shield falls

Log report: Deep scan completed. Subroutine aligned with prime directive. Reinitiating Ashara Awakening… initiation successful.

—Trials Log Entry #232,129, 490,298.

The camp was a mess, or most of it was. Despite the fuss we’d made, the two great lizards had not moved out of position. Patches of grass were blackened, and some of the bushes were still burning. My doing mostly.

Thornton stomped about, putting out the fires. Cass… My gaze flitted to the redhead. Cass was moving between the orcs, her face an expressionless mask as she slit their throats—even the one I’d burned to cinders—making sure they were really dead, I supposed.

Now that the battle had passed, the scout seemed calmer, but I wasn’t deceived. There was a fragility to her movements. The seething hate that had burst out of her earlier could resurface at any moment, I knew. She would heal, but it would take time. Deciding to leave her be, I considered the waiting Trials message.

You have gained in experience and are now a level 59 Trainee.

I had advanced four whole levels from the skirmish, the first I’d gained since leaving the mountains, and it only served to emphasize the benefits of small engagements for leveling.

“Hey! You over there, come here!” a voice called out.

I swung around to face the cage on the wagon. One of the prisoners, a tall, muscular woman with jet-black hair, was addressing me. Her gaze was stern, and her mouth worked unhappily. She had been trying to get my attention for a while, I recalled.

“Let us out,” she demanded.

“It’s no use,” another said.

The second speaker was an overweight man with long white hair that fell past his shoulders. He was sitting slumped in one corner of the steel enclosure and, unlike his three companions, he did not appear the least bit excited by their impending rescue.

“I told you before,” he went on, “the cage is ward-locked. The shaman only keyed it to the brute-in-charge.” The man’s head jerked upwards as he gestured to one of the dead orcs, revealing his albino eyes. “These three are not going to be able to free us.”

Ward-locked? I wondered.

The woman growled. Clenching the bars of the cage, she shook it, setting their entire wagon rattling. “They can at least try, Cedric,” she snarled.

The other two figures in the cage stepped up to the bars on either side of her. One was a bald dark-eyed man who stared unblinkingly at me. The other was a wisp thin man with brown hair and hazel eyes. “C’mon, man,” the second said, addressing me. “Let us out of here.”

I exchanged a glance with Thornton and Cass, both of whom, bloody and dirty, had come up to join me. The pair remained silent. Jutting his head towards the prisoners, the sergeant indicated they were for me to deal with. I took a limping step towards the cage. Ignoring the pleas of the two, I ran my gaze over the enclosure.

It was a simple steel construction that extended the length of the wagon’s flatbed. The cage had a single door and no visible lock, yet for all that, it was obviously locked. Faint lines were scored on the insides of the steel bars—signs of enchantment—but I failed to see the crystals themselves.

Reaching out with my will, I analyzed the enclosure.

The target is an enchanted containment cell made from steel and inset with elemental crystals of earth and fire. The special properties of this structure are: unknown. Your lore skill is insufficient.

The cage was enchanted. Perhaps its crystals are embedded in the bottom. “Who are you?” I asked at last.

The brown-haired man laughed. “Let us out, and we’ll tell you.”

My lips turned down at his evasion. I tried again. “How did you end up here?”

“What does it matter,” the woman growled. “We’re here, and you can let us out.” She shook the cage again. “Do it!”

I stepped back and folded my arms across my chest. “Not until you answer some of my questions.” Not waiting for their responses, I cast analyze upon each of the four in turn.

The target is Liyanda, a level 67 human player. She has no Magic, is gifted with Might, has exceptional Resilience, and has meager Craft.

The target is Jain, a level 72 human player. He has no Magic, extraordinary Might, exceptional Resilience, and mediocre Craft.

The target is Pierre, a level 72 human player. He has no Magic, exceptional Might, mediocre Resilience and Craft.

The target is Cedric, a level 69 human player. He has mediocre Magic, Might and Resilience, and meager Craft.

I blinked at the Trials’ response. The four were higher-ranked than me, between level sixty and seventy. More surprising, only one of the four was a mage. The other three had no Magic Potential at all. My brows furrowed in thought. So why did the orcs take them as prisoners then?

Pierre, the brown-haired man, continued to plead with me to free them while the woman, Liyanda, shouted imprecations at me. The bald one, Jain, just stared at me, and Cedric bowed his head again.

I walked back to Cass and Thornton. Leaning close to the pair, I whispered, “Not a word about Sierra and Woodspire.”

Thornton’s gaze darted from the prisoners to me. “You don’t trust them?”

“Not yet.” I rubbed at my chin. “There is something strange about these four, and until we know more about who they are and where they’re from, we don’t give away any of our own secrets.”

Thornton nodded in agreement.

Cass, meanwhile, has been studying the prisoners intently. “Did you notice their clothes?” she asked abruptly.

I blinked at her.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“The tailoring,” she explained. “It’s exquisite. Wherever these four are from, they’ve not come from an out-of-the-way village. They must be from one of the cities, one with good tailors.”

Frowning, I studied the prisoners again. Cass’ observations were accurate, I realized as I took in the four’s clothing. Liyanda was dressed in form fitting leather that hugged her body and did nothing to hide her bulging muscles.

Jain wore loose-fitting robes of a fine-spun fabric with a silken sheen. Pierre wore a tanned shirt, pants, and knee-high boots, but for all the simplicity of his garb, the edges were finely stitched, and the buttons well-tailored. I couldn’t tell much of Cedric’s clothes, but they seemed just as finely made as those of his companions.

I rubbed my chin thoughtfully. The four were definitely from one of the sponsored cities. The question, though, was which one? It dawned on me then, too, that despite being prisoners, there was nothing that said the four weren’t orc collaborators. Are they orcish subjects who have somehow run afoul of their masters? It was a disturbing thought.

“Search the camp,” I said to Cass and Thornton. “Let’s see if we can’t find out more about these four.”

“Stop ignoring us, damnit!” Liyanda yelled.

I didn’t glance her way as I stepped closer to the cage. Shoving her fist through the bars, the large woman tried to grasp hold of me. I evaded her searching hands and turned my attention to the cage again. Curious to see if repurpose would work, I placed a hand on its surface. A Trials message opened in my mind.

This is an enchanted containment cell. The current owner is Jhaven, and the only allowed user is Wolsten.

You have activated repurpose. Do you wish to take temporary control of this structure? Doing so will allow you to unlock the cell.

I banished the Trials message and stepped back. Three pairs of eyes were fixed on me.

“What are you doing?” Pierre asked.

I studied him thoughtfully for a moment. Was he their leader? He and Liyanda had been the most vocal of the group, and somehow I doubted the angry woman was in charge. “I can free you.”

Hope lit in three pairs of eyes, but the mage Cedric only snorted in disdain.

“But I won’t do it,” I continued, “not unless you tell me who you are and what you are doing here.”

Pierre’s lips thinned, but he didn’t say anything. Unexpectedly the bald one, Jain, spoke up. “Free us, and we’ll tell you.”

I shook my head. “You’re in no position to bargain. Tell me what I want to know, then I’ll let you go.”

“You bloody bastard,” Liyanda yelled. “Let us out right now, or I’ll—”

I spun away, paying no heed to the rest of what she said. Walking back to the camp center, I, too, began ruffling through the orcs’ possessions.

✽✽✽

A little later, the two scouts and I finished our examination of the camp. We searched every inch, giving only the reptilian creatures a wide berth. The pair’s eyes were still closed, fast asleep by all appearance, and for the moment, I was content to let them be.

By the end of our search, we had assembled four heaps in front of the cage. Given the size and physique of the prisoners, it was not hard to guess to whom each pile belonged. The black leather armor and twin daggers matched the silent Jain’s size, while the bow and hide armor could only be Pierre’s.

The full set of gleaming plate mail, complete with tower shield and broadsword, obviously belonged to Liyanda.

A tank, an archer, and a rogue.

I turned at last to the most interesting pile: Cedric’s possessions. He had a staff made of polished black wood, and for a moment, I gazed admiringly at its length and design. A proper wizard’s staff. Better than the Focus I had crafted for myself, it had steel-capped ends and was covered in sigils. But more interesting than Cedric’s staff were the wrapped and sealed scrolls stuffed in a knapsack.

Pulling out one, I held it up for inspection. This action, at last, drew the mage’s attention. Rising to his feet, the overweight man pressed up against the bars of the cage.

“Be careful with that,” he snapped. “Those scrolls are worth a fortune.”

I glanced at him. He looked pale and worried. Not saying anything, I cast analyze upon the item in my hand.

The target is a single-cast scroll containing the Technique, reanimate dead.

Additional information revealed by lore: Reanimate dead is a spell that allows a player to temporarily animate a recently fallen foe with false life. A death magic skill of level 50 is required to use this scroll successfully. This item is destroyed after use.

“My, my,” I murmured, carefully setting the scroll down again. I inspected each of the mage’s seven other scrolls; they were identical. I eyed Cedric again. “So you are a necromancer.”

The mage glared at me but said nothing.

I turned to Liyanda. “And you are the party tank.” My gaze shifted to Jain. “A rogue?” Lastly, I glanced at Pierre. “And you’re an archer. A strange combination,” I mused. “And if I had to hazard a guess, not one formed by happenstance.” My eyes roamed over the group again. “Are you searching for a dungeon?”

Silence was my only response, but given the four’s stiff postures and sudden scowls, I knew I had guessed right.

“Is that why the orcs took you prisoners? To stop you from entering a dungeon?”

Again, no one said anything.

“Tell me,” I said, “or you aren’t getting out of there.”

More silence. I began to turn away.

“Your promises mean nothing,” Cedric said wearily.

I swung back around.

“You can’t free us. You are only a Trainee-ranked mage,” Cedric continued, “and certainly not strong enough to break the enchantments on this containment cell.”

I nodded, seemingly in agreement with him. Stepping up to the cage’s door, I repurposed it. I met the mage’s gaze. “Don’t be so sure about that.” Yanking on the door, I pulled it open smoothly.

For a moment, the four prisoners stared at me in shock. Then as one, they rushed towards the open door, but before they could get close, I slammed the cage shut again.

I stared up at their scowling faces. “You see,” I said mildly, “my promises are not empty. I can free you, and I will. But only if you answer my questions.”