Mauléon stood no different than it did in Sorne's memories. Her childhood home was perfectly preserved, as if no time had passed since her departure. Its half-timbered, half-stone buildings were still standing proud, encircled by a high stone wall. The cobbled streets were dappled with shade from the many elm trees that rose between buildings. Green growth was flourishing, from the climbing ivy to the trees themselves, softening the lines of roofs and frames. It was too tame, too cultivated. Sorne missed the almost violent beauty of Ash Kordh, the land of myths and monsters. Sakana had been on the doorstep, a frontier plenty wild itself. But now they were truly in a kingdom of men, and it made Sorne homesick.
She glanced over at Ekaitz. Lady Katalin could hardly set foot into Mauléon as a fugitive, so she and Vridash would be waiting in the Wood with House Ibarra's soldiers. Sorne and Ekaitz, along with a dozen others, were dressed as merchants. They'd even come with the wares, used to conceal their weapons and armor. It was almost nightfall when they arrived, which meant they only had an hour or two before it was time to change and go to their bloody work.
Amets was not to be found in their cottage, but that came as no surprise to Sorne. If there was some magical project in Mauléon, the powers in the keep would have arrested the witch to obtain assistance or prevent interference. Either Amets was captive or long gone. Hopefully, Ekaitz's friend in Mauléon would know which.
"I am not familiar with the Keep here," Ekaitz said quietly. "Do you think we can defend the gatehouse long enough with how many we have?"
"I think it's a bit late to be asking that," Sorne said as they rounded the corner of the old mill, heading towards the weeping willows around the pond. Their branches would shield the little meeting. She was still deciding how she felt about the Genevais soldier, given his appearance at her home and the favor his mistress was asking.
There, safely hidden behind curtains of leaves, shoulders huddled with nerves, stood Irune. She had aged considerably since Sorne last saw her, dark hair threaded with gray and lines appearing faintly in her forehead and at the corners of her mouth. Her jaw dropped when she realized who had walked in with Ekaitz. "S-s..." She covered her mouth with her hands, wide eyes focused on Sorne.
Ekaitz tensed, looking around for potential spies before glancing between Sorne and Irune. "Have you two met?"
Sorne sighed, though she was smiling slightly. It was good to know that Irune had survived whatever wrath Aldana had vented on the servants after her own disappearance. "When I said I knew Mauléon, it is because I was born here. I grew up with—"
She was cut off with a shriek from Irune and then a tackle. "I thought you were dead!" the servant said, suddenly a girl again as she practically spun Sorne around. "What happened to you?"
"A lot," Sorne said, hugging Irune. While she hadn't gotten along well with most in Mauléon, the lower servants in the Keep had a bond that could be forged only by unforgiving taskmasters. She hadn't missed them when she left, but she did appreciate it now with the help of distance and maturity. "How are you?"
"Good. The boys are good too," Irune said automatically. She paused for a moment and then cleared her throat slightly. "Right, after you left. Okoro and I have two sons now." Her smile made no attempt to hide how proud of them she was.
"That's wonderful," Sorne said with a smile. "How's Okoro?"
"Good. Slowing down a little, though he'd never admit it," Irune said, almost chattering as she tried to talk fast enough to keep up with her excited thoughts. "He's still a fine farrier, but his knees aren't what they used to be."
Sorne nodded. She had never spoken much to Okoro despite her impression that he was a decent man, mostly because she hadn't been able to understand him well through his thick Eth accent. He was a big, broad-shouldered man with mahogany skin and short, bristling hair. His beard was thick and curly, dark like a raven's wings. He'd probably bought off Irune's service years ago, if her memories of his skill with metal weren't mistaken. It meant for a quiet life. Which begged the question of why Irune was standing in front of her, preparing to talk to a rebel.
"I hate to interrupt, but we have pressing business," Ekaitz said quietly. "Perhaps after, you two can catch up?"
"Right," Irune said, suddenly self-conscious. "I got the bird saying you wanted to talk, sir. What can I do for you?"
Ekaitz looked over at Sorne for a moment before saying, "What happened to the witch?"
"Locked up. I reckon they wanted Amets to help the magister, but they've not had much luck trying to convince the witch. Last I heard, Amets is locked up across from the demon."
"Demon?" Sorne asked, raising an eyebrow.
Irune let out a sigh. "Not a real demon, I think, but definitely kith. Has one of them funny western accents. The Duke forbid anyone but the King or his men to carry weapons in Mauléon. Anyway, she walked in with a sword on her hip, the guards tried to arrest her, and she knocked the living daylights out of them. But there are more guards than there were demon, so she's cooling her heels in the Hole."
Sorne remembered the cell well, given how many days she'd spent beside it while her first combat mentor was locked away. It was a blighted square of solid stone and metal bars, completely devoid of any view of the outside world. There was no light in it, other than the flickering of torchlight from the doorway. Imprisonment there was not something she would have wished on anyone. "How long?"
"Been about two months now," Irune said.
"A demon-kith?" Ekaitz said, surprised. "Why is she here?"
"Well, Okoro says she's looking for an item, something magical. She didn't say why she wanted it, just..." Irune paused, lowering her voice carefully. "She asked him if he knew where to find the fire that struck down a god."
When Sorne suddenly went very still and made no noise, Ekaitz seemed deeply worried. "Does the mage know about it?"
"Maybe?" Irune said. "I don't think she's told anyone anything since she was locked up, except maybe Amets. Puts a good bruise on anyone who gets too close other than the servants who bring her food and water. Snarled something fierce at Luken."
"Luken's alive?" Sorne said, the rage flaring in her heart. She would never forget his role in making sure her hands burned, nor would she forgive it. The revelation that he was alive had kicked her brain out of conflicted concerns and into combat mode. Sorne's fight-or-flight instinct barely had any flight in it to begin with and with enough hate, even that was gone.
"He is," Irune said, albeit cautiously at hearing such venom in Sorne's voice. "He won't be happy to see you, Sorne."
She flexed her scarred hands. "I'll make sure of that," Sorne said. It seemed to worry Irune.
"Sorne, we have to deal with the mage," Ekaitz reminded her sternly.
Sorne didn't appreciate his tone, but she understood the message. "If we're going to do this, we want Amets. I don't know of anyone else who could counter a spell. You and I are both just walking, talking spell components to a battlemage." She looked at Irune. "Can you tell us anything about him?"
"I'm afraid I don't know much," Irune admitted. "He's warded his room and the library, and I haven't heard anyone say they've seen him anywhere else in the keep since he arrived, except the halls between those two places. Even servants aren't allowed in either. Only his spellguards can come and go."
"How many spellguards?" Sorne asked seriously.
"Six."
Sorne sighed. She doubted she could tangle with six spellguards, let alone six spellguards and a battlemage. "We need Amets before we set foot near the main target," she said quietly. She paused for a moment before continuing, "And I need to talk to that demon-kith."
The disguised soldier rubbed the back of his neck thoughtfully. "A demon-kith's not our problem."
"No, but she's my problem," Sorne murmured. "I'm pretty sure I know what she's looking for. I'm just not certain what she's going to do when she sees it."
Ekaitz studied her for a long moment. Finally, he muttered, "As you wish." He looked at Irune. "Thank you, Irune. We should go now if we're going to reach the prisoners."
"Happy to help. And please, be careful," Irune said, her tone one step short of fretting.
"We will," Sorne promised before leaving the protection of the willow trees. Ekaitz followed and together, they headed towards the keep. "We need a way to get past the guards at the dungeon."
"We kill them," Ekaitz said simply. "That many fewer the guards we have to deal with later."
"That could be difficult to do quietly. Everyone else isn't going to attack until midnight. How much coin do you have on you?"
"Some silver, one or two gold. You want to bribe them?"
Sorne shrugged. "If they give us the option. If pay for a guard is anything like the pay for the wardens, coin will be very attractive." She headed straight for the dungeons, passing through the keep's gates. They stood open, allowing people to flux in and out as the preparations for the spring festival were made. The rebels had chosen a good time to act, in Sorne's opinion. No one was paying much attention to where people were and who was strange.
The guards were inside the actual dungeon rather than manning the door from the outside. Sorne held the door for Ekaitz, mind in motion as she tried to figure out what she was going to say. Mercifully, the four guards sitting at the table were all unfamiliar, which meant the odds of being recognized were significantly lower. They all looked up when the door opened. To Sorne, they looked more like bandits than guards, lean and hungry-looking with scars aplenty and Talinese fair skin. Money was probably going to be their best option.
"What do you want, strangers?" the biggest of them said. He stood up, probably trying to intimidate them with his bulk and size, but he was only a few inches over six feet and his muscles, while considerable, in no way measured up to the orcs Sorne had met. If they had been in Ash Kordh, he'd be considered a runt.
"We need to speak to a prisoner in here," Sorne said calmly. "There'd be some coin in it for you."
All of them perked up slightly. "How much coin?" the big man asked.
Ekaitz held up his coin pouch. It was full, for occasions exactly like this. When the big man approached, he pulled his hand back. "Let us speak to the witch," he said warningly.
The guard chuckled. "We could just arrest you and take it," he said with a grin.
"You could," Sorne acknowledged. "But wouldn't that be rather a lot of trouble? I'm sure you could beat us, but if one of us had a knife or knew how to fight, you could be injured. This way, you don't have to worry about that and you get the coins."
The big man stopped, considering this thoughtfully. "A good point," he said, eyeing Sorne and Ekaitz. "Alright. Hand it over. Basile, take them back there and keep an eye on them."
Sorne's companion tossed the coin pouch and then both of them followed Basile. The prison was dark and dirty. A few cells had some light from the outside, though the iron vents were mostly to let smoke from the torches out. For the most part, the illumination came from candles or torches. These cells were where hope and dreams came to die.
"The witch is there," Basile told Sorne, pointing at the cell across from the Hole. "Make it quick."
As he was speaking, Ekaitz stepped up behind him. An arm wrapped around the guard's neck suddenly, holding so tightly that he couldn't breathe, let alone shout. The soldier wrenched and then dropped with his entire weight, snapping Basile's neck. He didn't release the man until the twitching stopped and he was clearly dead. Once his victim had completely succumbed, Ekaitz pulled the body into one of the empty cells and hid him under the moldering straw.
I'm sorry, Sorne whispered in her thoughts. It was necessary and there would be many more deaths before the night was through, but her mind inevitably turned to who would be left behind. It was a pain she knew altogether too well. She would never wish it on anyone.
There was a dry chuckle from the witch's cell. Sorne approached and was hit by the smell she would forever associate with Amets: nightshade flowers and aconite, death and disease. "So the little girl returns as a woman grown into her power," a smooth, androgynous voice said from the depths of the cell. "Amets knew that one day the debt would be repaid. Freedom is a true gift in exchange for healing." When Sorne stepped up to the cell, she saw Amets. The witch was still attired in cloth wrappings and dried grass, but filth stained those garments. Amets's frail and withered form hugged the shadows, but Sorne could still see dark eyes and dry lips.
"That's why I'm here," Sorne said, offering the witch a small smile. "We'll get you out as soon as we get the keys. But we need your help, Amets. The mage here has to be disrupted."
"Yes, Amets can be of great assistance. As can our friend." The witch gestured to the cell across the hall.
"The other guards have the keys," Ekaitz reported as he rejoined Sorne. "But they'll come looking for their friend and no one will hear the shouting from down here."
Sorne nodded and then turned, walking over to the Hole. Before she could say anything, the woman inside the cell rose to her feet. She looked as foreign as Irune had suggested she was. The woman was tanned like she dwelt in a desert, but her eyes seemed elven. Her face was angular and sharp. There wasn't a sense of softness anywhere in her bearing. Her dark hair was worn strangely, half shaved and half left in a long braid.
Strangest of all, though, was how she looked at Sorne. She seemed almost...reverent.
"I recognize you," the western woman said, stopping at the very edge of her leash. She was wearing a heavy iron collar connected to a spike sunk deep into the wall. "You are the fire that struck down a god."
Sorne stepped in even though she knew it was probably a mistake, her hands coming to rest on the bars of the cell. "My name is Sorne Thayer. Who are you?"
The chained woman smiled. "Sexta Vipsania Drusa, once praefecta castrora to First Legion of the Divine Prince Michael. I was beside him the day that he died. I saw what you are capable of. This is..." She paused a moment before saying, "...to call this meeting an honor is insufficient."
"Why were you seeking me, Sexta?" Sorne asked carefully.
"Please, domina, call me Vipsania. Not even my legion called me Sexta," the western woman said. "Why I sought you out is...complicated. The simple version of that answer is that I wished to know the measure of such a fire."
"I imagine you aren't particularly pleased with me." Whether or not that was true, Sorne acknowledged mentally that the western woman was being polite. She didn't know what 'domina' meant, but it probably wasn't an insult if she was going off of tone.
"As I said, it is complicated," Vipsania said. She seemed sincere, at least. "But know that I did not come to harm you, domina. Allow me to prove it. You seek to battle the mage here, yes? I could be of assistance."
"Can we trust her?" Ekaitz asked. "She served a demon. Kith aren't exactly known for being upstanding citizens."
"Kith?" the woman said, confused. "I do not know the meaning of this word."
"People who seek out demons to serve and gain boons," Sorne explained.
The woman's lip curled. "Ah, parasiti. I am not such vermin." She gripped the bars. "Please, domina, let me help."
Sorne took a deep breath. "I'm not going to turn away a potential ally, not one trained in the art of war. Vipsania, I'm trusting you. Don't make me regret it."
Vipsania grinned, equal parts pleased and relieved. "You will not," she said.
There weren't many places to hide, so Sorne extinguished two of the torches, turning the dungeon proper into an ocean of shadow with only a few lights. She flattened herself against the wall and Ekaitz did the same, preparing to strike.
The big man came in with the other two guards, frowning when he saw only the darkness. "Basile?" he called.
His answer was silence.
The big guard drew his blade, a falchion with a heavy chopping blade, designed to require little technique. The other two followed his lead as they advanced into the darkness.
Sorne murmured a few syllables under her breath, just enough to lock Unshiir. She didn't want to be on the receiving end of a blow that could easily kill, not without her armor. Then again, armor was hardly a requirement for her. She gripped the remnants of the torch tightly, ready to use it as a club. Her hands were hardened, yes, but she wanted a little bit more reach if she was tangling with the big one.
Ekaitz lunged for one, tackling him to the ground and sending his weapon skating across the stone floor. It landed by Vipsania's cell. The woman inside had to stretch as far as she was able to catch it with her foot, pulling it into the cell. Sorne heard the sound of metal on metal, probably Vipsania prying away at a rusted link.
Sorne saw the big man spin towards Ekaitz and reacted automatically. She slammed her club into the side of the guard's head, stunning him for a moment. He didn't drop, but it bought Sorne enough time. She kicked in the side of his knee, breaking it with a sickening crack. He screamed, at least until she jabbed him in the throat with the club hard enough to crush his trachea. She picked up his falchion and used it immediately. She didn't want him to suffer choking to death, so she hacked down through his neck. He would bleed out quickly.
The third guard went for her, swinging as hard as he could at the back of her head. There was a sharp sound as the falchion connected and then bounced off without so much as scratching Sorne. She turned towards him and brought her blade down hard on his shoulder, breaking his collarbone downwards. His armor protected him from a cut, but the force was still there. Her next blow was a backhand to the face. The falchion was heavy enough that it didn't have a great follow-through. He staggered back.
Unfortunately for him, he staggered back until he hit the bars to Amets's cell. A wizened hand wrapped around his face. He screamed as he shriveled away, vitality robbed from his decaying muscles and weakening bones. Amets flexed fingers and chuckled as he dropped. He crumbled into dust on contact with the stone.
Sorne didn't comment on the witch's powers. Everyone knew that Amets was unkind to those who gave offense, though she hadn't realized that the witch had true magic. Ekaitz finished off his foe and then started dragging the bodies into the cells, while Sorne grabbed the keys that had fallen. She unlocked the cells, first Amets's and then Vipsania's. The collar was the next thing to go, though Sorne moved into the western soldier's space cautiously.
Vipsania made no hostile move. She just rubbed at the raw wound left by the collar, clearly relieved to be rid of the thing. "You have my thanks, domina. Where to next?" she asked as she checked the edge on the falchion.
"We grab our gear from the others," Sorne said. "Vipsania, did you have a weapon and armor when you were arrested?"
"Yes, but numbers overwhelmed," the western woman said. "I do not know what they did with my belongings."
"They might be back in the other room," Ekaitz said, motioning for Amets and Vipsania to follow. He gave the witch his cloak, though cautiously. "You are the most distinctive, Amets. You should cover yourself."
The witch nodded. The cloak was big enough to comfortably wrap around stooped shoulders. It wouldn't draw much attention, not with the chill of early spring in the night air. "Amets is thankful, young man."
Together, the four returned to the room where the guards had been. Sorne searched the supply closet alongside Vipsania. They found nothing. "I can use theirs," Vipsania said, taking a spear and shield from the wall. She'd taken one of the falchions along with its scabbard. "I will miss my armor most of all."
"We can get you a new set," Sorne said. "Though it's possible that yours can be found elsewhere in the keep."
"Maybe one of the spellguards will be your size," Ekaitz said with a wry smile. "Let's go."