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Part 7: Defiance & Solitude

The smells of burning wood tickled his nostrils. Arden slowly blinked open his eyes. He pushed himself up off a cold brick floor. The world was fuzzy. A flickering light was blurred at the edge of his vision, refusing to come to into focus. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, blinked several more times, and eventually the room around him began to reveal itself. He was inside a cage in what looked to be some sort of large, private study. A fireplace glowed against the far wall. Behind his cage stood about a dozen shelves of books. They took up the entire length of the perhaps sixty foot wall. At the wall to far to his right there sat a masterwork desk, equipped with several small cabinets on either side. Against the far left wall, a small light glowed dimly above a single door.

'How long was I out, and where is this place?' Arden asked himself. Whoever had knocked him out must have brought him here, and so… "This must be Rashban's estate" he declared aloud. He was suddenly beset by emotion as the feelings of frustration and shame returned. How had he let himself act so carelessly? He pounded the cage with the bottom of his fist.

And then it occurred to him - Merrows!
Where was Merrows?

His eyes quickly scanned his cage. No sign of the sprite. And so he scanned the room once again, but nothing. "Merrows!" he hollered, and waited, but no response came.

It was okay, it would be alright, he reminded himself, forcing himself to take a slow, deep breath. He and Merrows had been separated once or twice before. They had a trick for situations like this.

Arden sat, did his best to focus, and let his mind reach out. Their relationship of shaman and familiar meant that even apart, they still shared an empathic connection, and although it wasn't the most efficient method of communication, it was reliable. Arden felt his own worry and panic welling inside him, trying to explode, but sensed further. Something else was there. And there it was, he found the gauge on Merrows' feelings. The sprite was alive. Arden sighed in relief. The sprite was feeling an intense loneliness, with thick undertones of worry and discomfort. But just as Arden's wash of relief came upon him, Arden could sense the same relief in his familiar.

"Good, so now he knows I'm alive too" Arden smiled to himself. "Now, if I can figure out where he's at…" Arden grabbed the bars to his cage and gave them a tug. Sturdy, of course. And the lock seemed pretty solid as well. They were probably iron, what a pain. Arden held his hand flat against the lock, then quickly snapped his fingers. The iron took on an orange-brown coloration as its texture roughened and rust tried to take hold over the metal. But it wasn't enough. Arden laid a well-placed kick against the lock, but managed nothing but a racket. The lock was still deftly intact. Arden growled. His erosion hex would be able to whittle it away eventually, but the issue was, he couldn't use the hex on the same object more than once a day. Now he wouldn't be able to give it another shot until tomorrow.

He felt a wave of concern come from Merrows upon feeling his frustrations with the lock. "Damn…" he muttered. He didn't want Merrows to worry; the sprite had no way of knowing what was causing the frustration. So he focused on relief, hoping that Merrows would get the vibe that things were alright. It probably worked because the concern from the sprite soon faded back into an idle loneliness.

'I'll have to be careful what I'm sending out' Arden reminded himself. He gave himself a nod of assertion and put himself in a better mindset. He had more tricks up his sleeves than just his erosion hex. There was no way this cage would hold him. Okay, next trick.

What spells did he have left? Every morning Merrows would help him make contact with the Spirits, and borrow from them bits of their power. But without Merrows here, he wouldn't be able to prepare any others. He was stuck with what he had left from the day so far, an he knew he'd have to be wise about how he used them.

An arcane eye spell could do the trick. Allow him to see beyond the door on the left wall, maybe even locate Merrows. It was a higher level spell, but simple enough. It just required a little pinch of bat fur. He reached for his spell component pouch at his hip, and then stopped. He let out a long exhale, doing his best to suppress his disappointment. He hadn't picked up the small satchel in his hurry to get dressed. It must still be out by the springs.

No matter, there were other tricks still.

Without Merrows present, his contact with the spirits was loose at best, but it would be enough for a spell like this, and this one only needed contact with a brick, lucky him! He sat and concentrated, one hand touching the flooring. He had to make it count, as he'd only prepared a single casting. He placed his mind on Rashban, and more specifically the estate.

People talk, and when people talk the city hears. The spell replayed to Arden fragments of conversation, ghostly whispers, stories, rumors, too difficult to pinpoint a single statement, but in conglomeration spelling out a lengthy tale.

He gathered information only the architects could have provided, and discovered the basics of the estate's layout. He listened to a countless choros of praises regarding Rashban's springs and the elegance of his home. Nobles had come to visit him in frequent. And yet, as the spell began to fade, nothing was spoken about a study. Wherever this was, it must have been kept off the books. A secret that rumor had not yet heard. Irritating. But, at least he had discovered something about the estate's layout. Maybe once he got out of here, he'd be able to find his way out.

"Having fun?" the sharp voice sneered.

- - -

"Let me go!" Merrows hollered, banging himself against the bars of the black bird cage. His shoulder stung sharply with the contact against the cold-iron. It had evidently been constructed for keeping fey creatures prisoner, as they had an adversity to the substance. Still, he refused to submit, and again and again he threw all the force he could muster into bashing the thin bars.

"Enough of that racket!" the sharp voice bellowed. Even though the arcanist was standing at the other side of the laboratory, his words rang loud, as if they had come from right in front of the cage. Merrows jumped back from the surprise, and a moment later it didn't matter. The man took a single step, and at once appeared before the cage from where his voice had sounded.

Rashban the Conjurer was an obese monstrosity. Or, more, he should have been. Although his body boasted a good two hundred pounds of added girth more than it ought to, his features were fair. Handsome even. The combination was a bit unsettling.

"Now, hold still while I get a look at you" Rashban ordered.

Instinctive sass drove Merrows to eject a burst of colorful light on his observer. A technique that typically rendered victims momentarily blind at best, or completely unconscious at worst. And yet, the arcanist didn't seem the least bit phased. He simply stared at the sprite, as if looking for something. Rashban's eyes glimmered with a transparent red sheen and his sight locked onto the sprite's bracelet.

"That bracelet, hand it here" Rashban said flatly.

Merrows recoiled to the back of his cage, clutching the thread protectively.

"Give it to me" Rashban announced again, this time with an arcane authority in his voice.

As if his puppeteered by some possessive force, Merrows witnessed himself flutter up to the arcanist and quaintly hand over the bracelet.

"No!" Merrows rebuked as he snapped out of the momentary compulsion, but it was too late.

"Interesting," Rashban commented aloud, holding the thread up to his glistening red eyes. "This isn't a fey trinket. Where'd you get this?"

"It's Arden's. Give it back!" Merrows shouted, buzzing angrily against the painful bars.

"Arden? Ahh, the slumrat? Hmm…." Rashban placed the thread on his tongue and closed his mouth, then slowly pulled it from his lips as he savored the flavor. "I wouldn't have guessed scruff in the slums to have magic like this. But then again, filthy alley witchery runs amuck everywhere nowadays, doesn't it?"

The snide insults were driving Merrows well beyond his last nerve. He pounded harder on the iron bars, beating at them until he was left marred with iron burns. The arcanist paid him no heed.

And then he felt it. A sudden confusion, and frantic sense of helplessness. Arden! Arden's emotions were filling into him. Merrows took a breath of relief. At least his master was alive someplace.

"Where are you keeping him?" Merrows demanded.

"Oh… I see…" Rashban mused, setting the thread on a workbench and turning to the sprite. "You're a familiar then. And was that a little sparkle of hope in your eyes? - Must be your master has awakened. Well, I'll go see to him then."

"Get back here!" Merrows hollered as Rashban opened a door to leave.

"Oh, I will be. I have plans for you" Rashban sneered, and then shut the door behind him.