Runeblade

B2 Chapter 260: Escape, pt. 1

Tugging gently at the corpse of the jailor, Kaius grimaced.

Hateful Nail was not exactly the cleanest of spells, and rolling the body onto its back was enough to slop his mashed brains out of the cavernous holes in its head.

An ugly reality of a dark deed, the face was ruptured, flaccid features split and twisted—still held in the vaguest of mockeries of a person by barbs of wire that punctured and wove through the corpse's flesh. If that wasn’t enough, the potent vibrations that were imbued in the spell by Resonance Amplification had down right liquified the soft meat inside.

It was a stark sight, one that forced him to confront the totality of what he had done. There was no guilt—no second guessing of his actions. Only a stifling sadness of what their actions had forced him to become, a sticky fatigue that massed in the pit of his stomach, sapping at his strength.

Yet the reality of the situation was that he had been forced to this point, and this would only be the first of many deaths before the day was done.

Deeper down, he knew it was more than stoic realism that hardened him to his deed. No matter how well he had weathered their attention, it was a simple truth that he had suffered.

As uncomfortable as it might have been, he recognised that a large part of him was looking forward to what was about to come. As black as it was, he needed to see it. The moment when they realised their mistake—that no one was coming to save them, and there was nothing standing between them and the anger he felt scouring his chest.

Stifling his divided feelings at so easily snuffing out a human life, Kaius turned his attention to the jailor's belt.

Having watched the jailor for weeks now, he knew exactly where the man had kept his keys. A small drawstring pouch made of soft leather, just a slightly darker shade of brown than the ones around it.

If they were lucky? Just an alarm.

If they weren’t? Well, Kaius wouldn’t be surprised if a group that had been so willing to kidnap, torture, and eventually kill young delvers would have precautions to prevent their prisoners from ever being able to discuss their experiences in captivity.

With the keys in hand, Kaius rushed to the door of Ianmus’s cell. The mage looked…tired. As worn out, dirty, and hungry as he felt.

Those remnant effects of their time in the compound didn’t reach his eyes. Those blazed with indignation and determination. Whatever came next, Ianmus seemed to be ready for it.

“Nice work getting his attention,” Kaius said, giving Ianmus a grin. “I’m surprised you had it in you. I almost thought all that time in the academy had made you allergic to being rude, or something.”

Ianmus rolled his eyes. “Oh, shut up. Even a priest would be a little biting after what we’ve been through.”

The mage leaned closer. “I hope this plan of yours is as good as you’ve made it sound,” he said seriously. “We’re only getting one shot at this.”

Kaius nodded. He knew that, but even if they had spent another two weeks before making their attempt, there would have been little more for him to learn. Sure, he would have been able to better confirm his understanding of their numbers and movements, but the benefit that would provide paled in comparison to the advantage of moving while their captors were occupied with defending from a surprise assault.

Holding the wardstone tight in his hand, he placed it over the nexus of the control formation for the cell, before he leaned back to crane his neck towards their latest ally.

“Kenva!” he called, causing the aen woman to jolt before she pressed herself up close to the door to meet his eyes.

“Yes?”

“I’ve seen the way you’ve been looking at the walls—like you’ve been tracking something moving through them. Is anyone coming our way?”

Once he’d first noticed her doing it, it had been all too obvious. The way she would focus on a point beyond the stark stone of her cell, following it as it moved. Given that she’d mentioned she had a powerful ocular skill, Kaius was almost certain it at minimum gave her some way to see living beings through obstacles.

A strong testament to her legacy, considering even his own Truesight lacked anything resembling such an ability.

Kenva froze for a moment, before she turned to the wall behind her, roving across its surface. Facing him again, she shook her head emphatically.

They had time. Hopefully enough that he could improve their chances before he left.

“What are the limitations?” Kaius asked as focused back on Ianmus’s cell. He knew they had to exist—even if she somehow had a Heroic skill, the ability to see through obstacles was far too potent for the first tier otherwise. ŘἈΝỘ฿Ё𝐒

“The radius isn’t the best—twenty long-strides, give or take. I’ll only be able to give us half a minute's warning, maybe a bit longer if they’re in an adjacent hallway,” she replied, her voice ringing clear, true, and utterly absent of the uncertainty that had perfused her when they had first met.

Kaius nodded. It was more than enough time.

The door to Ianmus’s cell clanked open, and he pulled the mage into a tight hug, one Ianmus returned with a fervour.

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Pushing him back by his shoulders, Kaius met Ianmus’s eyes. “Let’s do this.”

He passed the mage the key and wardstone. “Free the others, Porkchop first. I need a few minutes to inscribe as much as possible—we’re going to need the firepower.”

Nodding in understanding, Ianmus snatched up the keys from his hand before he deftly leapt over the pool of blood that was spreading from the corpse at their feet and rushed to Porkchop’s cell.

Kaius met his brother’s eyes—seeing the hunger and unsatiated fury that roiled within him, spilling over their bond and inflaming his own burning need to bring revenge and ruin against those that had subjected them to the most basal of cruelties.

“Patience. I need you to guard the door while I work.”

His brother huffed—but violent desires or no, Porkchop was no slave to his impulses. “Of course—just be quick. There is more blood that needs to be spilled tonight.”

“Believe me, I will be. Just don’t forget our objective is escape—even if I hold no sympathy for those who try to get in the way of that,” Kaius replied.

Feeling his brother's acceptance, Kaius turned his attention to his other task. Topping up his spells.

With his repertoire still drained from the fight with the bone biters so long ago, he was far less armed than he could be, especially because, without his sword and armour, they were all but his only method of attack.

Time was of the essence—he wanted to strike before their captors rallied and solidified their defence. While the early confusion of the attack was fully set in, they’d have the best chance of breaking through.

That meant his time was limited, and he’d have to be selective of what spells he inscribed. Thankfully, the rising level of Tonal Weaving and simple practice meant that even with a meagre five or ten minutes he’d be able to top himself off significantly.

Backing away from the cooling corpse of their jailor, he took a seat on the damp stone floor and closed his eyes.

Of his spells, Hateful Nail would take the largest precedence. He needed a way to kill, and Stormlash was loud. As strong as the searing lightning was, using it would be a surefire way to announce to his enemies that they had combatants coming from below.

Expedient Shunt had a similar issue—he doubted it would help significantly in the relatively tight confines of the corridors they would be moving through in their escape, and it too made plenty of noise.

That said, he would still do his best to inscribe a few more copies of each spell—his strength was in versatility, and he had no plans to completely limit himself.

Reaching into his centre, Kaius connected to his mana—wincing as at the overwhelming sensation of connecting to the resource. After being confined into artificial stillness for so long, his mana seemed almost furious—boiling with potency as it leapt to obey his commands.

It was almost too eager—straining against him as he tried to limit the current to the precise amounts that he needed for the delicate work of glyph binding.

He spent his first minute like that, simply refamiliarising himself with the flow and control of his mana, coaxing it back to a state in which it moved to his will like an additional limb.

Then he started his work.

Hateful Nail came first—with it, he was confident he would be able to eliminate the compound's guards with complete secrecy. It was a silent attack and, as his jailer had learned, all it took was a single Nail to the back of the head.

One of his newer spells, it was one of the inscriptions he was least familiar with. Still, it used the same rune-set as Stormlash and his Drakthar glyph, so he was highly familiar with each individual piece.

Seizing his mana, he linked it to his glyph, before he burned his already stressed will to loop it through his flesh—binding it into jagged three dimensional runes. The final working was a blocky thing. He knew that on his skin it looked like a thin shiv of black runes with a nexus at its centre.

Beneath the surface, it was much more complex. The formation expanded outwards diagonally, forming a trapezoid of densely notted mana. To make the complexity worse, it wasn’t like each line of script sat in neatly separated rows.

Oh no, that would have been far too easy. Instead they wove through each other in a dense interconnected web—joined according to an internal logic that he did not fully understand.

Not yet, at least. With his repertoire of glyphs and spells growing, he would soon have enough examples to start delving more into how they worked.

Despite the complexity, he finished the spell-hymn with a speed that he wouldn’t have dreamed of before he was forced into his current circumstances.

Normally, he liked to take his time to ensure everything was done perfectly—rechecking his work when necessary. Now, that went out the window as he bent his entire being into finishing as quickly as possible.

Less than a minute later, he was done.

The achievement came with the familiar chime of a skill increasing, but he ignored the notification in favour of focusing on his work. Without pausing, he flew into the next inscription of Hateful Nail, finishing it just as quickly.

With repetition in play, each inscription came faster than the one before, and he managed to inscribe a full nine casts in what must have been just over five minutes. While he would have liked to inscribe more, time was of the essence, and his new total of sixteen would have to be enough for his purposes.

Next he moved to Stormlash. As his oldest spell, he was even more familiar with its form. Two inscriptions later—bringing his total to six—he moved on, satisfied that it would be enough for his current purposes.

Slip step was next, four more flowing black inscriptions joining the glyph on his feet, increasing his total to ten casts. Finally he moved to Expedient Shunt, and inscribed it twice for a total of five casts.

He checked his mana.

Resources:

Health - 5970/5970 (36.1/min)

Stamina - 5830/5830 (42.9/min)

Mana - 7110/7110 (47.6/min)

Free Mana - 4090/4090

Reserved Mana - 3520

He winced, seeing how much he still had available. Sure, it wasn’t an entirely dead resource now that he could make use of it with Mystic’s Rend, but that skill was unavailable to him until he could get his hands on a bladed weapon.

Unfortunately, he was uncomfortable spending any more time sitting in the cells. As it stood, he could still hear the sounds of confused guards and desperate sprinting, and the compound still shook under the impact of unknown forces. That wasn’t guaranteed to last.

The quarter hour he had spent had been worth it for how much he had increased his arsenal, but any more than that and they risked the compound guards rallying and solidifying their defence.

They had to move, now.