Something smells suspiciously like… rat faeces. My scaly rear presses into cold, hard limestone, the simple cloth shorts providing little comfort. Neither this tunic – no support. The scathing grimace on my face is shrouded in the dank mist – surely, if one of those puny hairless apes were nearby, I could give them a bit of a scare, alleviating some of my boredom.
I crane my neck to look out through the bars of my prison. One of the apes walks by just now, so I call out to him, “A plague upon you spineless monkeys!”
“Keep it down, you decrepit reptile.” The human guard calls back, not even glancing in my direction. If I could see that darned pink bulbous face, I would give him the harshest spit I could muster. There must be some fire breath left in me somewhere.
I slide my back to the wall and flick a small pebble about. My third week stuck in this castle dungeon. Why would they even put me here for doing as my profession commands me? Raising armies of undead is not an offence punishable by incarceration! Had I issued an attack order to my minions then I would understand, but I had taken no such action! The ignorant worms.
Another guard voice echoes from the halls, “I don’t care what your dark lord says, I say you gotta get your gnome butt into the cell. Move it!”
Many footsteps echo from around the corner. Are the monkeys bringing a new prisoner? Maybe they will prove a suitable distraction from the droll walls I am well acquainted with…
An angry gnome, arms restrained by a guard twice his size and guided by another, turns the corner. His shabby clothes hang from his surprisingly muscular body. A darkness hangs over his eyes, a glowing red gleaming out from his irises. “Unhand me, vile tall-beasts!”
One guard, clearly fed up, “The less you struggle the earlier we can all retire for the night…”
The gnome’s teeth gnash against the air as spittle erupts from his mouth, “Your meagre holding cells will not save you from the reckoning. My dark lord will have your souls! I am his herald!”
“You’re doing a great job of heralding my headache, half-pint!” One guard opens the door to my cell, and the other hurls the gnome to the floor. “Hey, Fethy.”
I snap back at him, “Fethir. Do not sully me with such a-“
“Whatever. We brought you a friend. Play nice. And don’t eat this one.” The guards snort loudly and slam the cell door behind them.
My teeth grind together in a snarl, “I am no people-eating savage! Dragonborn are noble and mighty-”
They’ve already left…
The gnome is watching me with intense eyes. “We are to be cellmates.”
“Yes…” He watches me, expectantly. Why did it have to be a gnome? Of all the cellmates I could have received…
“Shall we acquaint ourselves with one another?” I can’t say I expected this level of politeness from him, after his babbling from before.
“You are welcome to continue acquainting yourself with the floor.” The gnome hastily jumps up from his awkward position on the ground, “Do not bother me, unless the murder of these wretched guards is on your mind.”
He pointedly clears his throat and holds out a thick, muscular hand, “Herick, the Tyrant’s Herald.” The… Tyrant’s Herald?
I am struggling to take this gnome seriously. Even at his full height, with chest puffed out, he barely reaches my hips. Though, with nothing better to do, I suppose I shall indulge the little man for now. “Fethir.” Until I know more of his background, he shall not hear of mine.
“Well met, lady Fethir.” Lady?! Has anyone ever used that title with me?
We sit in silence for a time. He takes up a seat, opposite my wall. A drop of water falls from the roof. Great, another leak.
Herick suddenly leaps into action… but stops when he realises that it was just water, and gradually slides back down to sitting on the bricks. What an odd fellow.
He notices my pointed attentions. “Lady Fethir. May I ask why they are holding you in here?”
Idle conversation will help pass the time, I suppose, “I am a necromancer. They fear my domination of the undead and mastery of dark magics.” He listens intently. A different reaction to what I am used to.
“Most fascinating. I am a fallen paladin, following the path of Gardrock, exalted deity of blood and harsh judgement. My lord, Warleader Orthin’arios, is a high crusader of Gardrock. We were to command an army of Death Seraphs to sweep over this meagre human kingdom. I did not exercise the appropriate levels of subtlety in my preparations…”
I doubt my skill in subtlety is much better than his, but perhaps there’s something else we can help each other with, “Herick.” He gives me his full attention, “I do not wish to spend the rest of my days trapped in this despicable place, beneath the boots of petty humans.”
“I like the direction of your thinking. Tell me more.”
A devious smirk creeps onto my face.
* * *
Herick and I have waited many months and plotted many things. It is on this day where we will put our plan into motion.
My necromancy is formidable, but I am limited to the corpses I can reanimate. Human commoners make terrible undead hordes. So Herick, with his connections to deities of immeasurable dark power, can provide the appropriate vessels for my summons.
In short, his unholy magic alone was not enough to summon the Death Seraphs he needed to enact his invasion, but my necromancy can amplify his magic, and together the human city will cower before us and our dark lord! All we need is access to our magical foci; my necromancy tome, and Herick’s axe. We’ll jump the guard delivering food, then cover our escape with a few animated skeletons from the bones around this prison. Yet, I can do little from within these bars, due to the magic binding curse placed upon them. So we wait.
The prison halls are deathly quiet. Not too different from the norm, but something about it gives me an uneasy feeling.
Some sounds of locks, keys and boots on worn stone echo from nearby hallways. We cannot see what is happening, so we’re forced to wait with pained anticipation.
Yet more hours pass. The halls remain silent. What is taking them so long? Herick’s usual stoic patience is waning.
Lonely footsteps descend the stairs towards our cell. Finally!
A large man, wearing shiny silver full plate armour, trimmed with gold and fancy crests. He wears a long red and white cape, flapping lightly off the back of his sharp, layered greaves. A thick moustache and beard frame his strong jawed face. He seems like he is walking right past us, when he suddenly stops, noticing us with a dumb look of surprise.
“Eh? I thought they transferred everyone already.”
“Transferred, what-“ I stop myself. Hmm. I can use this. “Release us both, immediately! We were both due to be escorted from the city borders hours ago!”
He shakes his head. “No can do, lass. I’m just here collecting up a few things. Warden left long ago. Change in command, all that. I’m just an errand boy, really.”
Herick jumps up, “So we are to rot away in this forsaken hole, forgotten?!”
The soldier shrugs, “Guess so. That’ll learn ya’.” He continues down the hallway.
“Stop right there!” He is blatantly ignoring me! “Sir!” Nothing…
A moment later, he walks by again. I leap up and slam into the prison bars, “I demand that you let us free!” His attention remains on his own path.
“Doesn’t look like you’re in any position to be making demands, little lady.” He follows the stairs up.
I stand a full head taller than this imbecile! I am in no way little! “Now listen here you-” He disappears up the staircase.
Herick and I exchange a resigned glance. The halls are silent once more.
All our grand plans crumble before us. We truly are locked away here, for eternity.
I find a small rock and kick it towards Herick. He watches it sceptically, then kicks it back. This is not the end I had in mind.
Not at all…
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