Page 20 of Taken By The Dark Three
They vanish down another hall. My pulse hammers. That must have been Selene. So she’s proving her worth in forcedtrials. It’s typical of Orthani to put a captive to the test, deciding whether to use or discard them. The news that she triumphed so boldly sparks a grudging admiration. The Red Purna’s rumors about her skill aren’t exaggerated.
I continue deeper, guided by torchlit passages. My aim is to find a vantage point to confirm her location or glean more details from unsuspecting lips. The fortress’s architecture grows more lavish: pillars etched with swirling patterns, doors adorned with carved serpents, floors inlaid with obsidian tiles. Occasionally, I slip into a recessed alcove to avoid roving guards. My efforts pay off when I catch sight of a slender dark elf scribe stepping out of a side office. He clutches a stack of parchment, scanning them anxiously.
I wait until he’s alone in a lesser-traveled hall, then sidle up behind him, pressing a dagger lightly to the curve of his back. “Quiet,” I hiss. “Not a peep.”
He stiffens, nearly dropping his papers. “W-what?—?”
I ease the blade closer. “You’re going to give me answers. The captive purna—Selene. Where is she being held?”
His voice quakes. “I d-don’t know exactly. She’s in the officer wing, under Commander Vaelith’s watch. We only have notes that she was seen training and then escorted to a private chamber. Fourth level, west corridor.”
I exhale, triumphant. “How many guards does she have?”
He swallows audibly. “Likely two posted at her door, plus the wards restricting her movement. She’s wearing a bracelet that monitors her location. Please, that’s all I know.”
I consider pushing for more, but time runs short. Another patrol might appear at any moment. “Where’s the child they captured with her?”
The scribe pales. “The child is in the lower wards, from what I’ve heard. Possibly in a specialized cell. She has unusual surges of magic. That’s all I’ve seen in the logs.”
My blade stays at his back, but tension roils in me. So Ai is locked away, her powers flaring. That lines up with the Red Purna’s plan—she’s a volatile piece on the board. “Thank you,” I whisper. A swift strike with the hilt knocks him unconscious, quiet and efficient. I ease him down, then tuck him behind a suit of ceremonial armor where he won’t be found immediately.
Now I have a direction. I ascend to the fourth level, hugging the lesser corridors to avoid detection. My heart beats with a mix of excitement and anger. If I find Selene, do I rescue her immediately? The fortress is heavily guarded, wards are thick, and she has that cursed bracelet. Perhaps I can’t whisk her out tonight. But at least I can confirm she’s breathing and plant seeds for future collaboration.
At a bend in the corridor, I pause. The tapestry on the wall depicts a grand historical scene of Orthani’s conquests: dark elves standing triumphant over spined beasts, a swirl of arcane lightning above them. I feel my stomach turn at the arrogance. The air tastes stale, charged with the city’s oppressive magic. But I push on, counting doorways until I reach the west corridor.
Two guards lurk near a door etched with Vaelith’s crest—crossed swords over a serpent’s eye. That must be it. My instincts scream caution. They’re armed with halberds, standing alert. If I rush them, I risk raising the entire fortress. I need a diversion. I check my belt pouches. One small clay orb rests there, containing a potent mixture of flash powder and chaos dust. The effect is short-lived but bright enough to disorient for a few precious breaths.
I step back, weighting the orb in my palm. If I toss it near them, the resulting flare might alert half the corridor. But if I do nothing, I can’t approach quietly. Another option is to set a separate distraction away from the door, pulling them from their post. My mind races. I glance around, spotting an ornate candelabrum near a tapestry a short distance away. If I sabotagethe candelabrum, it might fall, start a small flame, draw them over.
Quietly, I detach a small line of wire from my belt, hooking it across the corridor at shin level near the candelabrum. Then I locate a second vantage point from behind a half-drawn curtain. I slip back, pick up a stray chunk of metal from the floor, and lob it so it clangs against the candelabrum’s base. The heavy stand wobbles, tipping into the tapestry. Flames lick at the cloth. Perfect.
“Fire!” The guards snap to attention, rushing over. Their footsteps pound as they scramble to unhook the tapestry or douse the sparks. One tries to yank the tapestry off its rod, but the tension from my wire tangles his legs. He crashes, cursing. His partner leans down to help, forgetting the door for the moment.
Seizing the opening, I dart across the corridor, slipping into the chamber. The door closes softly behind me. The interior is dim, lit only by a single lantern on a rough wooden table. A narrow bed stands against one wall, sheets slightly rumpled. I spot a figure near the small slit of a window, black hair catching the faint glow: Selene.
She jerks around, eyes widening. I catch my breath. She’s every bit as dangerous as the Red Purna described—lean muscle underpinned by a fierce presence, tension in her posture. Faint bruises line her wrists where shackles must have been. She’s wearing a plain black tunic and leggings, typical Orthani garb for a prisoner forced into training. Despite the bleak setting, she radiates a coiled readiness, as though any second she might strike.
In one fluid move, she snatches a small knife from the table and points it at me. Her voice is low, threatening. “Who are you?”
I raise my hands in a sign of peace, though I keep my stance guarded. “I won’t harm you,” I whisper. “I’m Eryx. An ally, if you’ll let me be.”
Her expression hardens. “An ally from Orthani? That’s unlikely.”
My heart beats faster, noticing how the lamplight highlights her high cheekbones, how her eyes gleam with defiance. “I’m no friend of this city,” I say, stepping slowly closer. “The Red Purna sent me. I was told you were crucial to our cause.”
She snorts softly. “Crucial. Then why did they let me rot here?”
I grimace. “I suspect they planned for you to be caught, to stoke Orthani’s wrath or measure their defenses. I didn’t realize that until recently.”
Her anger flares. “So I was bait,” she hisses, turning the knife in her grip. “You’re part of their scheme?”
I place a hand on my chest. “I’m not a mindless pawn. I have my own reasons to see Orthani suffer. But yes, I work with them… for now.”
She eyes me like I might sprout fangs. “If you’re here to break me free, you picked a bad time. The wards are thicker than a demon’s hide. Not to mention this.” She raises her left wrist, showing me a metal bracelet etched with runic lines. “It shocks me if I step beyond a set perimeter.”
I swallow frustration. The fortress’s labyrinth is no place for a hasty rescue. “I know. I came to see if you’re alive and if you have a plan. If you do, I can help.”
She narrows her gaze. Her posture is taut, ready to spring if I prove untrustworthy. In that moment, I realize how the Red Purna’s betrayal must burn inside her, making her suspicious of anyone claiming to be an ally. Still, I sense a thread of reluctant curiosity.
