Catalyst(61)

As soon as the light was gone, the elves became a blur. The three elves, though smaller than the guards, were able to surprise and take down the first one easily. Prastian used the hilt of his dagger to hit him in the temple, knocking him unconscious before he could respond. The second guard reacted fast enough to almost draw his weapon. Behast was on top of him before he could. Demay helped Behast contain the guard while Prastian hit the man in the neck, then in the head. The guard grunted before falling to the ground.

“Let’s go and get your friends,” I said, walking towards them.

“Hellsfire,” Prastian said and gestured to the candles.

I waved my arm and the flames re-lit.

“Wow,” Demay said. “How’d you do that?”

“Come on, we haven’t much time.” Prastian took the keys from the guards. One by one, we went down into the dungeons.

The dungeon’s mouth seemed to open wide and swallow us. The stairs were cramped, enclosed by the damp, mildew-covered walls. I shuddered. Even after spending almost three years in the caves on the White Mountain, I still hated enclosed spaces. As we descended into the blackness, the stench that crept into my nose was unbearable. It smelled as if a carcass had been left to rot in the baking sun. When we reached the almost pitch-black dungeons, we were in a hallway lined with cages. There were no windows. Luckily, there were also no other prisoners to deal with, although the dungeons were big enough to hold a hundred people. There were only the elves.

Two were slumped against the wall. One of them had open wounds on his arms. Flies hovered around the blood-encrusted cuts. The other’s face looked like it had been slashed with a knife. A third elf lay on a thin layer of hay. His breathing was erratic, and his green skin was covered with welts where it showed through the rents in his ragged clothes.

But things were far worse than their physical wounds.

When I extended my magical senses, I felt that their green mana was fading. I barely sensed anything in them. They were dying inside, piece by piece, withering until they were nothing. Even their ears pointed down.

I grasped the steel bars in anger, letting their rough surface scrape my palms. Premier was responsible for this. How many other people had Premier destroyed? I concentrated, trying not to lose control of my powers.

“Prastian, hurry up and open the gate,” Behast said, the anger in his voice rising. “I can’t stand to look at this. This is no way to treat an ally.”

Prastian unlocked the gates, and the three elves rushed to their fallen comrades. “My friends, we’ve come for you,” Prastian said. “Get up. We must get you out of here and back into the forest so it can heal you.”

“What’s going on here?” The oldest elf slowly opened his eyes. “Am I dreaming again, or is Premier tormenting us once more?”

“You old fool. It is I, Prastian. I’ve come to rescue you.”

The elf’s eyes widened in surprise. He blinked several times and stared at Prastian. “Prastian? Is that really you?”

“Yes, Marlese. But if you really like it here, I can leave you.”

“I’m sorry. My eyes are sore, but it must be you. Only you would have such terrible wit.” Marlese struggled to rise, and Prastian helped him up.

“Dashion, Wintrop, we must get a move on. They’ve finally come for us. I knew Sharald wouldn’t let us down.”

Behast and Demay helped Dashion and Wintrop, while Prastian explained the situation to Marlese. Marlese and Prastian walked over to me after their conversation was done.

“So you are the one to thank,” Marlese said, smiling at me. “I have a feeling my people are going to have a hard time repaying you for all the good you’ve done.”

I shrugged. “I haven't done anything yet.” I glanced up at the stone ceiling, imagining Premier out there. He had to be stopped.

Marlese grasped my arm. “I thank you nevertheless.”

I nodded. “Why were you thrown into the dungeons, anyway?”

“It was probably something Wintrop said. I think he angered Premier and was insubordinate.”

“Me?” Wintrop said. “I believe it was you who accused Premier of being a simple-minded fool.”

Marlese coughed. “As I was saying, things got out of hand, and a slight misunderstanding arose. I don’t think it mattered. Premier seemed eager to throw us in here before we could talk with King Furlong and, more importantly, before we could return to our king to tell him what we saw.”

“Marlese, we don’t have time for this,” Prastian said. His ears twitched.

Marlese's ears rose. “You’re right.”

“Wait,” I said. “Before we go, did Premier do anything when he visited you?”