I bring my blade back across the corpse's throat as I pull out my sickle, and then I bring my sickle down on the glowing scuttler. The sickle blade slices the eldritch creature in half and, just as with the one on Calmorien's head, the two halves fall down each side of his head, dangling from claws still embedded in the guard's skull, while the indigo aura wisps away to nothingness.

That was close. The apprentice must have maneuvered it behind me while we were talking, hoping to kill me while I questioned him.

The now inanimate corpse falls clumsily to the side, and a sickly smell of rot flushes over the chamber. I swallow back my bile and hack off the guard's head. This one won't be reanimated to sneak up on me again.

I rise. In the few moments it took me to take out the attacking corpse, the apprentice has stumbled away to the other end of the chamber and formed the other four corpses into a defensive wall in front of him, the nameless and the other guard brandishing weapons, while the two child-corpses brandish some sort of chiseling tools. 

Clever boy. He stares at me, frightened but defiant.

"That wasn't very nice," I say conversationally.

"I don't like being ambushed."

"Me either." I smile. It's not a friendly smile.

"Listen," he says. "I don't have any more information about the outsider. I've told you all I know. I'm sorry about your friend. I'm sorry about these two as well. But now-"

"Ciana and Landor," I interrupt him.

"What?" He looks confused. I gesture to the two child-corpses.

"Those are their names. The girl is Ciana. The boy is Landor. She knew how to make paint. He had visions of elvenhome far away. They were orphans, homeless and starving, and yet they dreamed of escape."

The apprentice flinches. He doesn't want to know their names. He doesn't want to think of them as elves with dreams and talents and empty bellies. He wants to think of them as tools. I am glad to take that comfort away from him.

"I'm sorry," he says again. "I'll make sure it doesn't happen again. " He gestures to the two smallest corpses. "I won't use them anymore."

I notice that he doesn't release the scuttlers from Ciana's and Landor's heads, though.

"But you've got to get out of here," he says. "You are not meant to be here. I've told you everything I know." He nods to the passageway leading back to the warehouse. "Go. Go now and don't say anything about this place or what we're doing. The exodus will be soon. Just be patient. And silent. And soon we will all be free."

Just walk out of here. I wish it could be that easy. I actually kinda like this kid. Has a pile more brains and courage than Triel. And a sincere conviction. Too bad.

I leap at the scuttler-animated corpses, blades slashing. Their movements are jerky and slow. With two weapons, it is not difficult to deflect their attacks and destroy the scuttlers perched on their heads. I take them out swiftly, with just one small wound to show for it - a cut on my arm from Landor's tool.

Too late, the apprentice turns to flee down the ramp to the passageway. I grab him by the neck again and slam his head against the stone wall. He cries out in pain.

"Don't hurt me," he whimpers. "I'm necessary. For the escape. My work isn't done."

"I'm sorry," I say, bringing my sword up. He panics.

"I didn't do it! I'm innocent!"

But he's not.

"You created the need for these bodies," I remind him. "Alvar was killed to satisfy that need. You are responsible. You are within the ambit of my vengeance."

His eyes widen in disbelief. 

"You'd really ruin the chances of all of us for freedom, just for vengeance for one dead kid?"

"Yeah," I say, slamming my blade home.