Michael Chatfield
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Four Horsemen Book 5 - Old Histories: Chapter 19
🕑 Added 2025-06-11 11:00:03 +0000 UTCThe world around them was bleak and foreboding as they materialized atop the dark gods’ prison. The air was heavy, thick with mana, and the skies above were a roiling sea of black clouds. Thunder forked and snaked silently between the clouds, either silent or drowned out by the churning maelstrom of sea that rotated around them in a constant deafening roar.
Petor immediately turned to the planar gem, feeling the wash of mana radiating from it. His hand hovered over the gem, his connection to the ambient energy snapping into place as he began to drain the flow, pulling the residual power into himself.
Desari passed the gem to him once he finished, her movements brisk and careful. He stored it away and took in their surroundings.
The prison stretched beneath them, its black stone pitted and weathered by centuries of corrosive sea spray. Serving to sharpen the divots in the top of the prison instead of smooth them over. Puddles of water collected in the hollows, reflecting the sporadic light of the clouds above.
Black ships rode the waves, their lights flickering as silhouettes moved across their decks. The occasional beam of light scanned the water, but none pointed upward toward Petor or the others.
“This way!” Mya hissed through the crystal, jogging across the top of the prison and moving closer to the hollow center and the pillar of blackened energy ascending into the spooling clouds above.
Petor couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched, though no alarms sounded, no shouts called out. The oppressive silence only heightened his unease.
He swallowed hard, his voice a whisper. “I feel like I'm running naked across the street.”
"Keep moving," Mya said. It spoke to how determined she was if she wasn't making a joke.
They reached the edge of the roof, looking down at the interior of the tower.
Petor frowned, hearing a noise just above the roar of the water.
"Anyone else hear that?" Petor asked.
"The prisoners moaning," Mya said.
Now he couldn't unhear it, thousands of souls moaning in pain, the noise filling the tower.
He gritted his teeth looking for something to distract himself.
Black liquid, flowed through runed holes in the walls, and then downward, moving like tar.
Even with his sight Petor couldn't see to the bottom of the tower.
"Lot of mana moving around down there," Desari said.
"See a way in?" Mya asked.
"There's a crane over there," Valter pointed.
"Good eye," Mya said—she was already moving around the edge of the interior.
They moved over to where the crane sat, bolted into the interior of the tower just above a larger opening, with several other openings down deeper into the tower. Dasari pushed ahead of Maya, holding out a finger.
"I know you want to do this quickly, but we have to do this smart as well," Dasari said.
"I know this place better than anyone," Maya said, working her jaw.
"And how many places have you infiltrated?" Dasari raised an eyebrow.
Maya bit back her words, though Petor could see the force of will that it took for her to do so. Dasari nodded to Maya and dropped off the edge of the roof, landing silently upon the platform that the crane held up. She took out a blade, inserting it into the doorway next to the platform. There was a faint click before she slowly opened the door and disappeared from view.
"It appears to be a cannon room. Coast is clear. Come on down," Dasari said, her voice carrying through the crystal, as if she was still right next to them.
Maya dropped down without hesitation and disappeared inside. Petor stored his spear, following after her, with Valter coming last. The platform swung as he landed upon it and entered the room filled with cannons. Petor closed the door behind Valter, latching it shut once again.
"This way," Mya said, leading once more as they moved deeper into the prison. The gun ports banged in the wind, the cannons laying ready, pointing outwards. Mya held up her hand, slowing them all, as Petor caught part of the conversation as two cultists rounded a corner heading right towards them. Neither of them showed any sign that they saw or heard the horsemen.
"I don't see why we're stuck here," one of the cultists complained. "We should be on the front lines at Osola, gathering reputation with the gods, not babysitting prisoners."
"This is a holy duty," the other retorted. "The gods demand oversight of the prison. It's a privilege, not a punishment."
"I just wish I got this privilege at another time. Who knows how much the crews at Osola are gonna get."
Their words faded away as they continued down the corridor, the horsemen going the other direction, heading down a set of stairs that Mya had found. They went down several floors until they were below the edge of the ocean. The stairs stopped as the moaning increased in volume. Mya crept along the corridor leading the others. Suddenly she froze, raising her hand to stop the group. Her eyes locked at something above. Petor followed where her eyes were stuck, holding back a shiver that threatened to run through his body.
An abomination was squeezed into a shadowed corner of the ceiling. The creature's body was a grotesque fusion of several creatures. It had a toothy maw in its center, surrounded by milky flickering eyes, translucent eyelids blinking independently, giving it an unnerving and unnatural rhythm. Tentacles adhered to the walls and ceiling around it, holding it in place. Each tipped with jagged talons, two of which were stabbed into the wall itself.
Mya bobbed from left to right, then continued forward. None of them spoke as they passed the creature, moving through the doorway underneath it. Its eyes continued to search through the corridor.
Mya altered her path, moving towards an alcove cut into the wall. "Remember, stamina first, then health, and make sure they get a weapon inside their prison," she reminded herself. She drew out a canteen filled with stamina potion, putting it through the bars of the alcove by the cursed plate. Valter had said this, sitting inside the alcove just moments before Petor and Desari moved to the next prison.
The prisoner hung from chains that were looped underneath their arms and behind their neck. Their bodies were pierced with needles that siphoned blackened mana from them. It flowed into channels cut in the stone, draining towards the interior walls. They were the veins of liquid tar that he had seen earlier.
"Hurry up," Mya urged. Petor moved down the corridor, pulling out the stamina potion in his canteen. He carefully maneuvered it through the bars of the alcove. There was barely an arm's length of room in the prisoner's cell. Carefully, he tilted the stamina potion into the prisoner's mouth. The prisoner groaned faintly, their eyelids fluttering as they began to stir. They drank hungrily as Petor switched from the stamina potion to the health potion, giving them only a small amount, lest their body heal beyond what reserves of power they had left.
The prisoner blinked sluggishly and sedated. Petor wished he could do more, but he had to keep going. There were hundreds, possibly thousands more throughout the tower. He took out a blade and laid it inside the alcove against a wall hidden from view. The horsemen moved through the corridor quickly and efficiently. Petor quickly became numb to the whole situation, working to become as quick as possible to help as many as possible.
He had just worked on one prisoner when he moved down the corridor, spotting a set of stairs that dropped to a lower floor. He took them down, slowing his steps as he spotted two cultists at an alcove entrance.
"Another dead one," one of them muttered, "Do we have to clean them up every time?" He sounded more annoyed and bored than showing any true emotion.
"It's not all that hard. It's more annoying when we have to get the fresh ones in there," the second said as he tapped an enchanted piece of metal against the alcove.
A flare of light disabled an enchantment as he opened the gate fully; it hadn't been locked–just alarmed.
With some grunting and cursing, they pulled the prisoner out from the alcove, their chains and tore out the needles from their veins.
Petor glanced back at the other horsemen now at the bottom of the stairs with him. His eyes caught motion as abominations climbed through the windows and along the ceilings towards the cultists and their grisly work.
"Here you go, beasties," the first cultist said, tossing the body unceremoniously on the ground. The abominations rushed forward with horrifying speed, their movements grotesque and unnatural as they descended upon the corpse. Talons and teeth tore the body apart, while the cultists laughed and returned to their task of preparing the now empty alcove.
"Don't worry, we'll be soon filling this one up with some of the people from Osola. Those Mardun will be pleading with us soon enough," one of them said.
Petor looked back at the horsemen, signaling for them to go down the other side of the corridor. Desari nodded, and waited for Mya to go first with all of them following behind. Petor could see the anger and rage coiled beneath her skin. She needed time and distance to recover.
Petor could see the anger and rage coiled beneath her skin. She needed time and distance to get away from this before she'd do something rash.
***
The whole process of feeding the prisoners stamina and health potions, as well as arming them, became automated and repetitive. They were two-thirds of the way through the tower now, moving as quickly as possible.
Petor drew out a stamina potion, raising it to the prisoner's mouth. An abomination on the roof twitched, its head snapping towards Petor's hand holding the stamina potion.
Petor quickly stored it away as the abomination moved towards the alcove in a grotesque mixture of stilted and flowing movements.
He moved slowly and carefully to get a better position, his instincts screaming at him to kill the creature.
It reached above the alcove, flipping on itself, its teeth-filled maw facing the prisoner as it climbed down in front of it. A talon-tipped tentacle stabbed into the prisoner's leg, eliciting a moan.
Petor readied himself to draw his spear and plunge it through the creature, standing just a few feet away.
The abomination stabbed the prisoner in the other leg with another tentacle, withdrawing its first tentacle and putting its talon in its own mouth, tasting the blood. It tore out its second talon, leaving two bloody holes in the prisoner's leg with blood streaming down their tattered clothes.
The abomination once more crawled up into the ceiling, adhering itself to it, its eyes flicking back and forth as it scanned the hallway while it sucked on its bloody limbs.
Petor forced himself to breathe to calm down and not draw out his spear and stab the creature. He moved down the hallway, careful to avoid any alcoves watched over by abominations.
***
Petor had to keep his mind removed from what was all around him and the situation that the prisoners found themselves in. Concentrating on it too long might distract him or make it all too real.
The power being drawn from these prisoners was much greater than that of the prisoners above. The air was thick with mana.
Petor fed a prisoner a health potion, their eyes flickering open and then closing to a half-lidded state. He had to skip whole sections as the abominations were more concentrated in the lower levels and the cultists less so.
He stored away the health potion. While they hadn't been able to feed all of the prisoners stamina and health potions under the abominations' watchful eyes, they had been able to hide and secrete weapons within most of the alcoves without drawing attention.
Petor stilled as a warbling wail carried through the upper reaches of the prison.
Petor looked at the others. They glanced between one another.
"Ritual," Mya turned and ran for the window to the interior of the tower. She jumped through the opening, hands first, flipping as she went.
Petor gritted his teeth and ran at the nearest window to him, Valter and Dasari doing the same.
The wail was taken up by the other abominations, spreading throughout the prison.
