Broken Chains

He fought back, ignorantly pushing back against something he could not comprehend even as he hit the ground. His head seemed to swell, each breath one closer to his last, but Stonecrusher would not yield.

Death would be welcome when it came.

Narcurius looked down at the suffering slave on the ground and smiled. The slave should begin to bleed from his ears and nose soon, just before the wild thrashings that would accompany his bursting heart. Even a slave this tough could not endure this much longer. No one could fight against the waves of terror that Shak’resh affected in this form.

Yet the slave fought on. Narcurius felt resistance, like a gathering wind, pushing back, the resistance growing with each passing moment. Worry creased his brow as he stepped back a pace, then looked at the air around the slave. He almost gasped when he saw the blue-aura that could be only one thing.

Narcurius stepped closer to the balcony, he could not see it but he knew his own greenish-black aura pulsated around him in response to the other’s. He bent the full force of his will, all of the raw Shak’resh that he could funnel toward the slave. It wasn’t enough. Narcurius cried out when the slave started to rise, bleeding heavily from mouth and eyes. This was impossible! His power vanished as a rushing filled his ears.

Suddenly it was gone. Narcurius sucked heaving gulps of air, looking down on the slave who now lay in the midst to the fallen guards, then up to his superior who regarded him with a blank stare. "I thank you, Vestor Caldinor," he said. "For helping me."

"I helped myself, Narcurius." Caldinor casually swatted dust from his sleeve. "And all In’gral whose shame you risked by that slave that almost effected your Unbeing." The Vestor looked away from Narcurius, watching guards roughly binding the feet of the slave. "If you would agree to a few terms, I would be willing to forget this unfortunate... incident."

This was happening too fast. "Thank you Vestor, I agree to-"

"However, if our Shakar were to get wind of this," Caldinor turned to Narcurius, and smiled tightly. "Your overlooking such an ability in the slaves under your control will most likely be enough for you to lose your robes for... a year, maybe longer."

Caldinor had him trapped, he wasn’t out of danger yet. Narcurius wiped his hands on his robes and straitened, "Vestor Caldinor, you saw for yourself, the slave could wield... it. That power is almost unheard of." Caldinor gave no sign of softening, maybe he could distract him. "Is he dead, the slave?"

Caldinor laughed. "No, not dead, weak as a baby, but he will live."

"I’ll skin this blood-be-cursed slave and his Nine myself then. His hide-"

"No. The slave now belongs to me." Caldinor’s birdlike face flattened as he smiled. "I have ...uses for him."

"Vestor, surely I will be a part of his collection ritual. You may have the use of him and I.... the joy of seeing him suffer....for his crimes. The cost of the guards alone will-"

"You may have nothing," Caldinor held a finger before Narcurius’ face. "His uses to me are far beyond your limited visions. The only crimes here are yours." Caldinor looked below and waved to a group of guards. "Ingmen! Gather the slave bag and bring him to the Stone."