With barely more than a glance, Alex surreptitiously passed the ring of keys to Matt, who hid them in the folds of his clothes. Both men stood up but didn’t move closer to the bars of their cage. Instead, Alex cocked an eyebrow and gave Matt a confused look.
“Why is he acting like he’s surprised to see me here? I took a lot of blows to the head recently so I am kind of fuzzy on the details, but wasn’t he the one that brought me here?”
“He’s like that.” Matt said as though describing an incorrigible child. “Raymond is remarkably mediocre when it comes to... well, everything really. I mean, you've experienced firsthand how proficient he is at summoning magic. He tends to compensate by being overly fond of mummery.”
Raymond’s face purpled with rage, but as soon as he began to speak Alex turned his back on him and faced Matt.
“Oh, I get it now.” Alex said. “So, you’re saying he’s one of those henchmen that takes all his built-up resentment from being a constant disappointment that screws up even the most basic task – like a summoning ritual for example – and blames it on everyone else, only taking it out on those that can’t fight back?”
Raymond was cursing at them from the other side of the bars, but the two captives ignored him.
“More or less. People like him excuse their cowardice by calling it cautiousness. All too quick to take offense when those greater than they pierce that veil of self-deception, and jump on the first chance they get to reinforce their wounded pride.”
An alarm bell rang out a shrill warning when Raymond slapped the bars of their cell with the flat of a wicked looking curved blade. Alex turned around slowly, a look of surprise on his face as though he forgot Raymond was still there.
“You talk big, but you already tried fighting me and lost.” Raymond practically hissed at them.
“Well, yeah.” Alex said slowly, as if explaining something obvious. “You’re bronze rank, I’m an Outworlder that just arrived on this world. Wait, does that mean I am technically a newborn?”
Matt thought it over carefully as though the question held significant weight.
“There are definite religious beliefs that would support that claim, but if that is the basis of your argument, you would also have to take into consideration the various theologies concerning the soul. As a perfunctory compromise, I will say that yes: you are a newborn in terms on body, but not your soul.”
Alex turned an aghast look on the man who somehow found himself being tormented by his own captives, as though he were the one behind bars instead of them.
“Oh, Raymond!” Alex said with a disappointed shake of his head. “Beating up babies? That’s low, even for you. You’re better than that, Raymond.”
Raymond’s knuckles turned white as he tightened his grip on the knife he held.
“Say what you want about me.” He spat, holding up the knife he as though it was a shield instead of a weapon. “We will see how long it takes for your tune to change once you’re under my knife. They always do.”
“Um, you’re kind of proving our point, Ray.”
“I look forward to watching the life leave your eyes, Outworlder. You won’t be safe behind those bars for much longer.”
Raymond’s eyes burned with malicious glee but Alex just gave him a small indulgent smile like he was a toddler boldly declaring he could beat up an adult seconds before charging forward – only to be swatted aside like an overexcited pet that just came in from the backyard and their wet, dirty paws were aimed for the adult's clean white shirt. For Raymond was the type of man who lacked any meaningful sense of self awareness, as well as the ability to perform any critical introspective thinking, lest he prick his already sensitive pride. So, instead of having a discussion or debating his point, he resorted to violence – as long as his interlocutor couldn’t fight back that is.
The irony of bullying a man who couldn’t touch him – for doing precisely the same thing – was not lost on Alex. But he was also aware that his was a veneer of safety. As Raymond pointed out: he wouldn’t be safe in this cell forever. Sooner or later, he would have to come out from behind the safety of these bars and endure the consequences of his actions.
What? So now he wanted to be locked in here?
However, much like these polished metal bars, fear was a cage made to trap you, immobilize you. It sapped the strength from your body and eroded your will over time like course sandpaper rubbing against the bottoms of your feet. You have spent years traversing the rough terrain that was your life, navigating treacherous routes again and again, overcoming obstacles you thought were impossible until you conquered them. The obstacles that held you back, now held you aloft. Each new challenge elevated you to a new height as you continued forward until one day you could look back and see all your past triumphs laid beneath your feet like landmarks on a map. Your strength and confidence formed as your feet grew accustomed to carrying you through your everchanging path.
When you stumbled – as we all inevitably do – the weakness of your mettle was exposed, shattering the illusion of your invincibility, but not shattering you. Your mettle – like metal – grows stronger in the forge. The Smithy’s hammer, much like the consequences of life’s choices, coming down on the red-hot shapeless iron, and with every strike the weaknesses were slowly revealed and then ruthlessly pounded out as it was slowly molded into a shape more suitable to accomplish it’s designated task.
Most people find difficulty in changing themselves to better fit into this world. Instead, like a single misfit puzzle piece, they demand the entire puzzle adapt to the shape and image it wants. They force the world and those around them to change in order to cater to them and are often outraged when the results do not match the picture perceived in their head. For how could a single piece of a puzzle depicting an ocean ever belong in the one portraying a forest? Those pieces will never truly fit no matter how much force is applied, just like the iron that refuses to bend will certainly break under the hammer blows of life.
The people that fostered Alex as a child all shared that outlook on life. Treating him like a misshapen puzzle piece to beat until he roughly fit into the place they left for him. His mismatched edges sometimes ostensibly connecting to the pieces around him, but the picture always looked off when viewed with scrutiny. The path that life had Alex inherited was rough indeed, but he knew that regardless of overcoming all the things that eventually brought him here, once the fear picked up that sandpaper to begin its work on him, it was only a matter of time.
For a while, it will be like nothing was happening. His bravado and sharp tongue would keep his mind occupied as the sandpaper worked through all of the callouses that his feet had built up to this point. Day by day, layer by layer, the course paper will sand down the tough skin he had built up over the years until it was gone. He will wake up one day raw and bloody, the now sensitive skin of his foot sloughing off with every passing stroke until his soul was nothing but raw, bloody nerves and exposed weakness.
The pain will reenforce his defiance at first, reigniting his will to fight until that same pain eventually snuffs it out, like so much sand poured over a lit match. Everyone had their breaking point. Alex didn’t know how far he would go, but until he reached his, Alex was determined to kick every and scream every step of the way. He would give everything in this fight so that when they finally do kill him: the only thing left of him in this place will be a trail of his bloody footprints as he continued to struggle for the door leading back to his own path.
Eventually Raymond would take him away and he will have to pay for his words, but he had already accepted this consequence. Markov’s experiments already promised torture and death. So, what? Were they going to punish him by killing him more now?
Alex stifled a chuckle at the thought, and opened his mouth to respond, but Matt cut him off with a derisive laugh.
“Oh please.” He said, giving Raymond a withering look. “You and I both know that you can’t do shit to us, let alone kill us. Markov would have you strapped to that altar and fully dissected before the life left your worthless eyes if he even suspected you damaged our bodies. If any part of his experiment inexplicably fails, are you prepared to explain how it wasn’t your ineptitude that caused the setback, again? He’s already going to be furious at you for botching a simple summoning. Imagine how he will react when he finds out that despite the fact that he completed all of the hard parts for you, somehow you still fail to summon the proper entity? Not only that, but then you go and take the thing that was actually summoned and instead of safely isolating him so Markov can figure out what went wrong, you let him roam freely through the laboratory for hours before you finally manage to capture him.”
Matt laughed again, like he couldn’t believe the depths of Raymond’s stupidity.
“Did you just call me a thing?” Alex interjected distastefully.
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“Quiet, Alex. I’m speaking for you.”
Alex pursed his lips as though he was offended, but it was more to keep the smile from his lips.
“Now where was I? Oh right. So, on top of all that, you finally manage to get the Outworlder in your custody and your first impulse is to torture him? You realize that everything we said about you will be exactly the same reasons Markov will be so furious with you, if you torture us. Tell me, do you really think that you are worth more than the Outworlder and I?”
The fear of Markov’s retribution was clear on Raymond's face, but it was overshadowed by his hatred for these two men. These men who should be– and were- utterly under his power, were casually dismissing and disregarding him as insignificant, when they should be groveling at his feet.
“It seems like you have heavily overestimated your value here.” Raymond said with icy rage and turned towards Matt.
“Your continuous refusal to cooperate has deemed you more trouble than you’re worth. Your usefulness dried up long ago, and the only reason you’re still alive is because of your ties to the Hunters. We are waiting to confirm that none of your... friends are on our trail or looking for you the city.“ Raymond sneered at the word as though he thought Matt was the type of man incapable of having friends. Or because Raymond held little stock for such things as friendships. “Once we know no one is coming to look for you any time soon, Markov will dispose whatever is left of you in the forest for the Caermorphas to devour.”
Raymond turned to Alex with a hungry look on his face.
“And you, my dear Outworlder, are of even less value. You’re not the first Outworlder Markov had gotten his hands on. Your body holds little mystery or power worth extracting. On the other hand, the location of your summoning site would reveal far more details concerning the failed ritual than your body ever could. And I have the distinct pleasure of extracting that information and presenting it to Markov before he arrives. A rather painful process, I regret to say.”
Raymond licked his lips and caressed the knife he still held in his hands.
A chill ran down Alex’s spine and gripped his guts with an icy hand. But Alex’s tongue was already moving.
“Don’t you think you’re putting the cart before the horse?” Alex said, doing his best to keep to keep the sudden dread out of his voice. But a dark smile slowly curled the corners of Raymond’s mouth. Apparently, Raymond was very attuned to sensing the fear in others.
“What are you talking about?” He asked clearly enjoying Alex’s attempt at backpedaling. “And what’s a horse?”
Was he toying with Alex? Pretending ignorance to try and throw Alex off balance? No, Raymond’s pride and insecurity wouldn’t let him feign ignorance. Once again, Alex wondered just how accurate his translation ability was.
“What I mean is, aren’t you getting ahead of yourself? I understand you royally screwed up a simple task when all you had to do was perform the ritual someone else already set up. I mean, it’s like someone cooked a whole meal by themselves, and when they asked you to watch the stove for a moment while they grab something from the other room, they come back to find the kitchen on fire. Embarrassing, really. But to be fair you weren’t expecting someone to come along and turn up the heat.”
“And by that, I mean this,” Alex continued on hurriedly, but refusing to back down. “I understand you are trying to make up for your ineptitude – and I admire your ardor. Your chutzpah, even – but for a first effort, this feels kind of last ditch.”
Raymond’s brow furrowed in confusion.
If Alex could manifest his own stupidity, we would have punched it in the face. People had always told him that there was something in him that couldn’t help but flirt with his own disaster, but he never really understood it until now.
He said apologetically.
With Vi so deeply integrated into his consciousness, the whole conversation took little more than a second. He returned his attention to Raymond, who was still slowly grinding through his words with all the speed of a millstone.
“What I am trying to say is, there doesn’t need to be any kind of process – painful, or otherwise. If you want to know where the ritual spit me out, I’m more than happy to tell you. It’s not even that far from here. At least, if we are still in the forest that is.”
“And I would believe you, why?” Raymond asked.
“Well, I don't want to be tortured, for one.” Alex said, trying to keep the sarcasm out of his voice and mostly succeeding. “Secondly, I have nothing to hide. You’re the one that snatched me from my world and summoned me here, remember? I had no intention of getting caught up in -” Alex waved his hand, gesturing to their surroundings - “whatever this is. I don’t even have magic in my own world, and judging by what I have seen thus far, I would very much like to go back home. Helping you would be the best way to accomplish that.”
Alex smiled winsomely but realized at once that there was no charming this man.
“So, you wish to help us? Is that why you killed Katjav? To help us?”
Alex shot a guilty look at Matt, who surprisingly looked impressed.
“That was an accident.” Alex said. “He attacked me, tried to kill me. I didn’t mean-”
“This is all very interesting, but it’s also completely beside the point.” Matt said, stepping in.
“I don’t even know where to begin to explain how wrong you are about us. Your boss may have gotten ahold of an Outworlder before, but not one fresh from crossing through the astral. You really think that there is no residual Deep Astral magic running through his body after only a day or two? That magic was used to literally create his body. What do you think happens to that left over magic once you start healing him over and over? The astral magic may fade over time, but if you continuously expose him to magic from our world you will be practically flushing it out.” Matt said.
Wait, magic from the astral created his body?
Matt continued, not letting Raymond get a word in edge wise, but Alex barely heard him.
“You really think that Markov can track my friends without them noticing?” He asked, giving the word the same little twist Raymond did.
“When they come for me – and they will come – by the time you realize it, it’ll be too late. You really think they don’t know what you are doing here? You think I just stumbled across you by accident?”
“We handled you easily enough.” Raymond shot back. “Dealing with the others won't be a problem.”
“Fair point.” Matt conceded, and began walking towards Raymond.
“But That was more my fault, than yours. You caught me with my guard down. You really think that theirs will be? It’s not entirely your fault, I guess. You barely qualify as an Adventurer, so you wouldn’t actually know about Hunters. We are to Adventurers what a merely competent bronze ranker is to an elite silver ranker. But if you really think that low of me...”
He stopped at the boundary of the cell, his face practically touching the bars. Alex couldn’t see the sinister smile on Matt’s face, but he could see the sudden fear on Raymonds as he took a step back, the knife in his hand completely forgotten.
“Why don’t you step in here for a second?” Matt asked quietly, his words were as soft and deadly as a silken noose wrapping around your neck.
“My powers are sealed and my strength is diminished. Come, show me how easy I am to handle.”
Despite the fact that Matt had his back towards him, despite the fact that the animosity wasn’t even directed towards him. A sense of foreboding washed over Alex like a bucket of ice-cold water was being slowly tipped over his head. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and he felt a strong compulsion to flee, though he didn’t know where. It wasn’t a focused sense of fear. He wasn’t exactly scared of Matt as the sudden trepidation didn’t feel like it was directly coming from him. Not really. It permeated the room like a mood similar to when the father of one of his homes he was staying at slapped his wife at the dinner table and the rest of the family was trying to eat still. The scared children kept their eyes focused on their plates as they mechanically shoveled food into their quivering mouths. The fathers gaze burns a hole on the top of their heads as if looking for a reason to shift his anger to them for defying him. Alex was brave enough – or dumb enough – to make eye contact. Surprisingly, his foster father did nothing, only telling Alex to make sure he took out the trash after dinner.
The memory of walking around the side of the house with the bag of trash that night and sensing something dangerous from behind him before his foster father even came into view was the exact same feeling he had now. He felt like he was being hunted, stalked by a predator hidden in the shadows.
But in this cell, he had nowhere to go.
Curiosity fought through the debilitating dread as tendrils of magic appeared to waft around Matt despite the collar around his neck. The magic was so weak that Alex wasn’t sure if it was real or if his mind was manifesting it as a way to explain his sudden panic.
And just like that, it was gone. The whole thing lasted for only a couple of heartbeats, but Alex was heaving breaths as he did after finishing a particularly hard run. His shaky legs were heavy and gelatinous.
Whatever it was that affected Alex was gone now, and Alex no longer felt weakened by it.
Raymond on the other hand, was faring much worse.
He had tried to get as far away from Matt as possible. His back still pressed against the hallway wall. Half crouching, half cowering, he was staring at Matt in abject terror. His mouth was agape and Alex could hear his deep, raspy breaths from here.
“And that, my friend.” Matt said, his voice slicing just as easily through the silent tension as a blade parting soft, unprotected flesh.
“That Is the difference between mediocrity and excellence.”