The pressure of Corruption's finger against his lip made him tense, but he reluctantly opened his mouth. He could taste the contents on the air before the beaker tilted. A generous mouthful of fluid rushed over his tongue, stronger than the goat’s meat, and his tastebuds sung with delight. Disgusted with his reaction, he clamped his mouth closed, imprisoning the mixture and refusing to swallow—No matter how tempting.

Corruption began rinsing his stained hands in a basin.

“Such a breath of fresh air. I had limited hopes for serpentine cooperation; powerful and cunning beings, but stubbornly entrenched in their own world.” He wiped his hands on an embroidered towel.  “If there’d been no cooperation from you, I would have had to break you like one would a horse.”

Rook winced. He wished to clench his teeth, but doing so would send the liquid closer to his throat. And at that point, he wouldn’t be able to resist swallowing.

“There, there.” Corruption patted Rook before turning away. “You cooperated. Fully aware cooperation makes for stronger assets. Understand, however, that we must have a few sessions before I allow you to reunite with your human friend. To solidify continued obedience. Dalia was understanding as well, but that was expected. Young humans have a pliable, reasonable nature. Tell me…”

Rook tensed and the liquid pressed closer to his throat; sweet yet tangy, salty, and demanding to slide down. He nearly coughed. He held his breath and clenched his stomach.

A loud knock interrupted Corruption.

“Enter.”

A woman entered, appearing human, save for her pointed ears and grey skin.

“My liege.”

As she bowed low, Rook realized her face was also slimmer and more stretched than the average human’s. An Elf? He couldn’t smell anything through the tonic’s scent clouding his nose. But he recognized her voice. She’d been the one to cautiously challenge Thruin in the cavern when he’d first arrived.

Straightening, the elf spoke, “A group of hunters—hired kobolds, I believe—scaled the mountain’s northern side. Thruin’s sentries missed their approach. By fluke my research team spotted them. I know kobolds are common enough, but these showed little interest in hunting game and scouted one of the mountain vein openings. They’ve made camp, but I suspect they plan to eventually enter.”

Corruption frowned.

“With the moon nearly blocked, it makes prime cover for trespassers. If they suspect we’re here…”

“To take you on, even at your weakest, would be a fool’s errand, my liege,” the woman stated.

“Regardless, the moon’s full coverage won’t be until several nights from now. If they’ve heard of us, they’d be wise to wait until then.”

“One kobold departed down-mountain with a scroll. I’ve sent two to intercept discreetly.”

Corruption tapped his chin. “It can’t be coincidental. But I’d hate to change locations because of mere scouts.”

“Thruin would say to make an example of them.”

“But that isn’t what you think?”

“Parading bloodshed would ruin what you’ve been discreetly building towards. Far better our foes continue to think we're little more than a whispered bedtime tale. We reveal on our terms. However, if they are here based on rumours of our presence, we should find the source. The kobolds could be working for any species—the dae, trolls... Killing them now ruins our chances of finding out who hired them.”

“Tell Thruin to increase security around all veins. Only kill the kobolds if they enter too deep. I want you to prioritize finding the message’s recipient.”

“The dwarves from two weeks ago…”

“An indirect possibility, but they don’t work with kobolds and word rarely spreads from their mines. Show me the vein the kobolds are camping by.” He looked at the door. “Aerope?”

The minotaur showed at the opening. She bowed low to Corruption. “Handlers not return.”

“The boy’s yours to handle alone.” Corruption gestured at Rook. “See it done properly. Afterwards, find me.”

Aerope’s tail swished. “Did wrong?”

“Not intentionally.”

Corruption left with the elf, leaving the minotaur and Rook alone. She helped him out of the chair before binding him for the trip back.

“Unnaturally quiet,” she commented.

Rook pointed toward the swelling on his head.

The minotaur snorted.

“Heard. If trouble, my strength hold. No harm. But no give trouble?”

Rook gave an impish grin. The liquid slid back and he quickly adjusted his tongue.

“You talk to him?” she asked.

Rook mimed out the goat meat and how Corruption knew, followed by clutching his chest in the biggest sorry exaggeration he could muster.

“He’ll be fair,” the minotaur said. “I’ve served loyally.”

Brainwash talk, Rook thought. Kidnapping kids isn’t the work of a fair person. Employing psychopaths like Thruin is definitely not fair.

When back at his cell, he held his swollen wrists at an angle for shackling. This way, they wouldn’t lock so tight.

“Meet again,” Aerope said. “Beasts of strength—hated, yet wanted. Think future, will work well together.” She nodded, like it was Rook’s goal too.

Rook tried to smile, and his heart jumped as a sliver of the liquid slipped down his throat. His body begged him to swallow the rest.

The minotaur left.

He counted a minute—an agonizing sixty seconds—to ensure no one else would appear. Then he leapt to his feet, grabbed the chain and scrambled up the wall. The chain slipped through grip, and he tightened his hold. He restrained a groan as his foot slipped, jolting his body and letting another dribble down his throat. His stomach growled, demanding Rook release the rest.

No. It’s blood. Corruption’s blood. And who knows what else.

But he couldn’t simply spit it out. With many of the tunnel occupants being strange creatures, even if he covered it with gravel, they might smell it. He’d smell it for sure. He needed to get rid of it properly.

He pressed his mouth right against the ominous hole and spat the concoction in. Speckles flew back onto his lips. He dropped to the ground and subconsciously licked them. Allowing a swallow—finally—he closed his eyes as the taste ran warmly down his throat.

A little should be okay, he assured himself. Worried the concoction had dyed his mouth like a popsicle, he rinsed spit around it and swallowed. The lingering taste reduced, but a hint of it still teased him. He licked his lips again.

Now, time for long overdue action.

He sat on the ground, resting his knee between his wrists and against the shackle’s connecting links. Lining his wrists straight with the shackle’s openings, he tucked his thumbs up against his palms and bit his lip, sweat spiking across his skin.

One. Two. Pull!

The inner rims of the shackles bit into his skin, forcing him to press his thumbs harder against his palms. With a sickening jolt, they popped from their joints. He but his lip to muffle the cry.

Trembling, he twisted his hands, until they’d slipped all the way free. He swiftly repositioned his thumbs, his nerves lecturing him never to do that again. Breathing deeply though his nose, he flexed his fingers and wiped away the tears on his shoulder.

Using the wall to help him up, he grabbed the chafed bone left from the goat. He gripped it like a make-shift knife. Him and tools didn’t normally work smoothly together, but if it came down to it, stabbing blindly had to be somewhat effective.

Rook peered down the dim hall. No shadows. No guards. No sounds—aside from his rapidly beating heart. He gnawed his bruised lip as he crept forward. A pile of ropes provided cover just before the corner. He tried sniffing the air for the scent of goblins, but the concoction’s scent still dominated his senses. He grabbed a pebble and threw it down the right passage; the one he’d been brought through upon first arriving.

The pebble landed a ways off, clacking on the ground. There was a ruffle of clothing from further down the passage, but his immediate vicinity remained silent.

Left.

More like a distant feeling than a thought, he couldn’t have agreed more. That way had a passage that for sure housed Gwendolyn. And potentially Dalia.

Rook rounded the corner in a sprint, dirt and gravel poking through his socks. At a second intersection, he paused. Had it been a right or left?

Right.

He turned and continued to run.

Quick, the feeling urged.

Rebelliously, Rook slowed to a jog. A lack of shackles didn’t mean freedom. He was still on Corruption’s turf. The adrenaline from his fear was useful, but making him rush. That, he knew, led to poor decision making.

Once I find Dalia unnoticed, we can follow the route back to the cavern or find the veins the kobolds were said to be near.

All he knew was that they had to get away from here. The place was wrong. Corruption was… wrong.

Rook paused at each room he passed. Rook paused at each room he passed. Most were empty or used for storage, though one looked like a bizarre caveman hotel suite. There was a stone plate on a small table, next to a thin cot and a lynx rug. Rook assumed it belonged to one of Corruption’s lackeys before spotting a chain hooked to the wall. It was unlocked, but he shivered nonetheless.

Keep going.

Quicker.

This way.

The insistent directions increased in clarity, becoming actual words rather than feelings. There was even an excited tone to it. Was this really his mind’s voice?

I’m probably just personifying my own instincts.

Foot steps sounded.

Rook dodged to the side, hiding behind a jut of rocks. With his heart hammering in his throat, he watched a party of goblins walk by. Once gone, he continued at an even slower pace.

Almost here, the voice whispered. Or… many voices? Definitely not him.

Rook abruptly stopped, grabbing the wall as he intently waited for it to speak again.

Dodging had been instinct. Identifying Thruin as a goblin had been instinct. Mostly feelings and knowing. These guiding words however…

Quicker, it urged.

Rook bit his lip, his brow furrowing.

Well, it was helping. He’d let the psychologists sort it out when he got home.

He continued on tiptoe and turned into another hall.

The intersection he knew! But robed, scholarly figures were chatting in its centre.

As he started to back out of sight, metal clanged from the passage behind him.

Quick! The voice was urgent. The inlet. Across from you.

Without thinking, Rook threw himself into the thin, dark opening lining the rocky wall. Beyond the narrow gap, the space widened, though he scarcely noticed. His arms wheeled out, the bone dropping from his fingers, as his feet met nothing. He caught the ledge just before the vertical dive to nothingness. Hanging blindly, his legs scrambled against the cliffside, dislodging rock and dirt that never hit bottom.