The sun, that tireless and punctual celestial body, was already high in the cloudless sky when little Sho, with his usual discretion of an elephant in a china shop, came running to our corner of the cell, panting and with his eyes shining with an excitement that was a mixture of fear and hope. Children are so transparent.
"You won't believe what I found!" he whispered with the subtlety of a thunderclap, gathering all of us – Erza, Jellal, Simon, Wally, Milliana, and, to my surprise, even old Rob – into a tight, conspiratorial circle. "I was 'helping' to dig near the west wall, like those idiot guards ordered, and I found something! A tunnel! It's small, a bit tight, but you can get through easily, one at a time. I explored it a bit, just a tiny bit, and I think, I really think, it leads to the other side of the tower, outside the walls!" His eyes shone like two little stars in a soot-filled sky.
Jellal, with his natural leadership instinct and a seriousness that belied his age, immediately leaned forward, his normally pensive eyes now lit with a flame of determination and quick calculation.
"Are you absolutely sure about this, Sho?" he asked, his voice low and intense, his young mind already working feverishly on possibilities, escape routes, and probably how to turn this into an epic adventure.
"Absolutely! I swear on my collection of shiny pebbles!" Sho affirmed, with the conviction of someone who had just discovered a treasure map. "It's narrow, a bit smelly, I admit, but any of us can get through. I tested it!"
The other children began to stir, chattering excitedly amongst themselves, their previously sombre faces now illuminated by a new, dangerous spark of hope. Jellal, taking command with impressive naturalness, began to organise ideas, distribute imaginary tasks, and calm the more excitable ones. It was then that he, in his survey of 'troops', noticed my slender and distinctly disinterested figure, lounging lazily in a corner of the cell, observing the scene with cynical amusement and a poorly disguised yawn.
"Oi, Azra'il!" he called, with a nod that was almost a command. "Don't you want to join us? We're planning an escape!" His voice was full of a confidence bordering on youthful arrogance. Adorable.
I opened one eye, slowly, as if emerging from a deep and refreshing sleep. I yawned heartily, stretching my limbs with the grace of a bored cat.
"Escape? What a fascinating and dreadfully tiring concept," I commented, my voice drawling and purposely disheartened. "No, thank you, my young and enthusiastic strategist. I think I'd rather take my afternoon nap. The air in here is so… invigorating for sleep."
[Azra'il! For the love of all logic and compassion algorithms! Have you not the slightest shred of a heart in that ancient chest of yours?] Eos's voice exploded in my mind, indignant and with a level of alarm that was almost comical. [They're just children, frightened and desperate! The statistical chances of this harebrained, poorly conceived plan of theirs going wrong are upwards of 90%! Probably closer to 98.7%, to be precise!]
"So what, Eos?" I murmured quietly, just for her to hear, as I closed my eyes again, feigning absolute disinterest. "I can't be here protecting them forever, like an overprotective mother hen with her noisy chicks. They need to learn to fend for themselves."
[But you've always protected them! Even if they don't know it, even if it's been discreet and almost invisible! Your subtle interventions have already averted countless disasters and severe punishments!] Eos protested, her voice now tinged with genuine concern.
(Precisely why, my dear and observant AI,) I replied mentally, a small smile playing on my lips. (You keep telling me, with irritating frequency, that I'm too 'soft' with them, that I'm becoming inappropriately 'attached'. So now, for your satisfaction, I'll be like that wise, slightly cruel mother bird who pushes her chicks out of the nest so they can try to fly on their own.) Or, in their case, crawl through a smelly tunnel.
[Even knowing, with a very high probability, that they'll fall flat on their faces and possibly break their necks?]
(Falling like a lovely, ungainly sack of potatoes. It's a poetic image, don't you think?) I commented, with a lightness I knew would irritate her. (But, if the fall is too nasty, and chances are high, I'll be here to pick up the pieces and, perhaps, stick some of them back together. Or, worst-case scenario, to rescue their sorry arses after the adventure goes spectacularly wrong. It will be amusing to watch.)
"Please, Azra'il," Sho pleaded, his large, brown eyes, normally so timid, now fixed on me with an almost painful hope. "We really need you! You're the strongest!"
"No, my small and optimistic tunnel-digger, you don't," I replied, stretching again with an air of profound indolence. "You are perfectly capable of making your own choices, taking your own decisions, and consequently, bearing the delightful and educational consequences."
"But you're so strong!" Milliana insisted, her large cat-like eyes shining with a childlike faith that was almost touching. "And you're very clever too! You always know what to do!" Oh, the naivety of youth. If only she knew.
"And profoundly, wonderfully lazy," I completed, with a satisfied sigh. "Far, far too lazy to participate in risky, poorly planned escape schemes today. Perhaps tomorrow. Or next week. Or never."
Rob, the old storyteller, approached with slow but steady steps, his usually gentle expression now serious and a little reproachful.
"Azra'il, my young friend," he said, his hoarse voice laden with the weight of experience and genuine concern. "Perhaps you should reconsider your position. They trust you. They admire you."
"And that's precisely why, my dear Rob, I need to let them try this on their own this time," I replied, my voice a little softer and less mocking than usual, as I met his wise gaze. "Too much reliance on a single person can become a crutch, a weakness. They need to discover their own strength." Or lack thereof, which is also a valuable lesson.
Erza looked at me, her brown eyes, which had previously shone with newfound hope, now welling with a sadness and disappointment that struck me uncomfortably. Bugger.
"You… you really won't help us, Azra'il?" she asked, her voice little more than a choked whisper.
For a moment, a single, treacherous moment, I almost caved. Those eyes. But I held firm. Or at least, I faked it very well.
"Not this time, little giant. This is your adventure."
She lowered her head, her scarlet hair hiding her face, and slowly walked away, her shoulders slumped in dejection. Sho followed her, head bowed, looking like a scolded puppy. Jellal, however, after a brief moment of hesitation and a quick glance in my direction, which was a mixture of disappointment and stubborn determination, straightened his shoulders and maintained his leader's stance.
"Alright," he said, his voice surprisingly firm, turning back to his small, disheartened group. "If that's how it has to be, we'll carry on with the plan. We can do this ourselves!" Admirable bravado, considering the circumstances.
[You are impossible, Azra'il. Completely and utterly impossible,] Eos grumbled in my mind, her voice a mixture of frustration and something that sounded suspiciously like reluctance.
(No, Eos,) I corrected, with a small internal smile, as I watched the children reorganise themselves, their voices now lower and more conspiratorial. (I am painfully realistic. And, secretly, a terrible teacher with unorthodox methods. They need to learn to fight their own battles, make their own mistakes, and find their own solutions. That's how one grows.)
[Even if they get seriously hurt in the process? Even if the consequences are… disastrous?]
(Even if they get hurt,) I confirmed, closing my eyes and feigning indifference. (Sometimes, Eos, the worst falls, those that leave us with scars and a bitter taste in our mouths, are the best and most lasting lessons. And believe me, I've had plenty of those.)
And so, whilst I, the personification of laziness and indifference, pretended to be sound asleep in my corner of the cell, with occasional, artistically convincing snores to lend more veracity to my performance of absolute disregard, Jellal and his small, brave, and probably doomed group of aspiring hero-fugitives began the final preparations for their daring, audacious, and almost certainly fated-to-fail-most-spectacularly-and-humiliatingly escape attempt. They didn't know, of course, and it was better they continued not to know, that a pair of attentive, surprisingly worried grey eyes watched them from the shadows, every hesitant movement, every conspiratorial whisper, every childish, harebrained plan being discreetly monitored and coolly analysed. My espionage, however, had a small but significant technical problem: my 'infiltrator' agent was one of the cell rats, to which I had managed to attach a minuscule listening and viewing charm. The good side is that rats are discreet and everywhere. The bad side, and this was a BIG bad side, is that I couldn't control the blasted rat. It went wherever it pleased, usually after scraps of food or to mate noisily with other equally disgusting rats, thus providing me with intermittent, frequently useless, and occasionally deeply disturbing espionage reports about the love lives of the local rodents.
[You are a terrible, terrible liar, Azra'il. And an even worse actress, if you'll permit my candour,] Eos commented, her voice now tinged with an amusement she no longer even tried to hide, probably having access to my vital signs and detecting my rising anxiety levels, or perhaps just amusing herself with the mental image of me trying to obtain crucial information through a rat with ADHD and an overactive libido. [Your facade of indifference is about as convincing and watertight as a politician in an election year promising honesty and integrity. And your rodent espionage technique needs a serious upgrade.]
"Shut it, Eos. And hope the rat decides to follow the children instead of going off for another romantic rendezvous behind the rubbish heap. Otherwise, we'll have to improvise. And you know how I adore improvising." A genuinely maniacal smile played on my lips. That, indeed, would be fun.
-------------(*)-------------
The hours dragged on with the slowness of an asthmatic slug climbing a mountain of treacle as I lay in the cold, damp cell, staring at the cracked stone ceiling and trying, with all my ancestral might, to ignore the constant, irritating, and ever-loudening hum of worry reverberating in my mind like a persistent mosquito.
[You should have gone with them, Azra'il. It was the logical and compassionate decision,] Eos insisted for the hundredth, or perhaps thousandth, time since the children had crawled into that dark, dubious tunnel. Her insistence was beginning to test the limits of my millennial patience.
"Eos, with all due respect as my AI companion and occasional irritating alarm clock, shut your bloody trap."
[But what if something goes wrong? What if they get caught? What if…]
(I said, in no uncertain terms and with a rising level of irritation, SHUT. UP.) My mental voice was a low, dangerous growl.
The metallic, ominous sound of grates creaking open broke our little, edifying internal discussion. I remained motionless, like a statue of indifference, my keen ears catching only the muffled sounds of small, light bodies being unceremoniously thrown back into the cell and the loud, final clang of iron bars closing again, sealing their fate.
"You useless, ungrateful worms! Did you really think you could escape us?" the voice of one of the cultist guards, laden with contempt and cruel satisfaction, spat from the other side of the bars before his heavy footsteps receded down the corridor. Typical.
"BASTARDS! COWARDS!" Jellal's young, furious voice echoed through the cell, followed by the hollow, frustrated sound of small fists beating uselessly against the cold iron bars.
I rose slowly, with the grace of a rousing predator, observing the small, pathetic group of failed fugitives. They were all terribly bruised, covered in dirt and mud, their clothes torn and their faces marked by scratches, bruises, and the unmistakable expression of defeat and despair. Sho, the little digger, was on the floor, curled up in a ball, sobbing uncontrollably.
"It's all my fault… all my fault!" he cried, his voice choked and filled with a guilt no child should bear. "I found the tunnel… I came up with the idea…"
My grey eyes swept over the group quickly, doing a mental count: Jellal, Simon, Milliana, Sho, Wally… My blood, which I hadn't known could still run cold, seemed to turn to sheer ice in my veins. One was missing.
Where. Was. Erza?
In two swift, silent steps, like a hungry shadow, I reached Jellal, who was still clinging to the bars, trembling with anger and frustration. I brutally grabbed him by the front of his dirty, tattered shirt and lifted him off the ground with a strength that surprised and frightened him. My eyes met his, which were now filled with overwhelming despair, guilt, and a childlike fear he tried uselessly to hide.
"Where. Is. Erza?" I asked, my voice low, cold, and dangerously calm, each word emerging like a sharp, precise, and deadly blade of ice.
[Azra'il… please, remain calm. Don't do anything rash,] Eos's voice began in my mind, laden with an urgency and concern I rarely heard.
"It all happened so fast… so confusing…" Jellal began, his voice choked and trembling, tears starting to stream down his dirty face. "We were almost there… almost outside… when we were surrounded by a huge group of guards. There were two… two masked mages leading them… one was very thin and looked like a skeleton, and the other was fat and had a horrible smile…"
Simon, the gentle giant, continued the story, his huge hands trembling visibly as he spoke:
"They… they said only one of us needed to take the blame for the escape attempt. That if we confessed who had planned it all, the others wouldn't be punished so severely."
"Sho was shaking so much from fear… he could barely stand," Milliana sobbed, her large cat-eyes flooded with tears. "Erza… she looked at us… she was going to offer herself up… she was going to say it was her…"
"But I shouted first!" Jellal interrupted, his voice breaking into a sob of pure anguish, his small fists clenched so tightly his nails dug into his palms. "I said it was my idea! That I'd planned it all myself! I couldn't… I couldn't let my friends get hurt because of me!"
"But that fat, disgusting mage…" Wally swallowed hard, his eyes wide with terror as he recalled the scene. "He just… he just smiled. A horrible smile, full of yellow teeth and malice."
"He said he didn't believe me," Jellal continued, tears now streaming freely down his face, tracing clean paths in the dirt. "He said I was just a brat trying to protect the real culprit. He said it had been Erza. He pointed at her and… and then…"
"And then they attacked us with magic," Simon completed, his voice hoarse with emotion. "They shocked us with those shackles… it was horrible… And they… they took Erza…"
"They took her to the torture room," Sho finished between painful sobs, his small body trembling uncontrollably. "That horrible room in the sublevel… that's where they take anyone who tries to escape… or causes too much trouble…"
I dropped Jellal with a sharp movement, and he fell to the floor like a limp puppet. My mind, cold and analytical despite the icy fury beginning to bubble within me, was already tracing routes, calculating probabilities, and formulating contingency plans.
[Azra'il, please, think clearly. Don't do anything rash or overly destructive,] Eos warned again, her voice now laden with even greater urgency. [Remember your goal of maintaining a low profile in this world. Large-scale violence is not discreet.]
(Not now, Eos. Now is not the time for discretion or subtlety,) I replied mentally, my inner voice as cold and sharp as the winter wind.
I turned towards the cell bars, my blue eyes, normally so calm and observant, now shining with a dangerous, implacable light in the darkness of the hold. A predator finally awakened and hungry.
"Azra'il?" Jellal's weak, hesitant voice called from the floor. He looked at me with a mixture of fear, admiration, and a hint of desperate hope. "What… what are you going to do?"
A humourless smile, cold and sharp as a razor blade, formed on my lips. I faced Jellal squarely, my eyes fixed on his.
"I'm going to do what you incompetent children with piss-poor planning skills couldn't manage," I declared, my voice calm but laden with a promise of imminent violence. "I'm going to help clear up the considerable mess you've made. And you, my little failed rebellion leader, are coming with me."
"Me?" He asked, surprised and a little scared.
"Yes, you. Weren't you the brave, fearless leader of this brilliant escape plan? Then it's only fair you bear the consequences and take part in the rescue. I'm going to help you get Erza back. Consider it a practical lesson in leadership and responsibility." And perhaps a way for me to vent some of my irritation.
Jellal swallowed hard, but after a moment's hesitation, a new, fierce determination replaced the fear and guilt in his blue eyes. He nodded slowly.
We waited patiently, or at least I feigned patience, until the next, predictable shift change began and most of the guards were busy with counting and distributing the slaves. When the guards changed shifts and the corridor was momentarily empty, we slipped out of the cell with the ease of someone who had done it hundreds of times. The cell locks were, predictably, of laughable quality.
"Eos," I murmured, my voice little more than a breath in the dark corridor. "Where is Erza? Exact location. Now."
[One moment, Azra'il. Accessing vital energy sensors and the tower layouts I've collected,] she replied, her usual efficiency returning. Suddenly, a small, detailed holographic map, visible only to me, materialised in my peripheral vision, with a pulsating red dot marking her exact location. Sublevel. Interrogation room. Typical.
The sound of heavy footsteps and muffled conversations alerted us. Two guards, probably doing their usual, tedious night round, were approaching down the corridor.
"Jellal, hide there," I whispered urgently, unceremoniously shoving him into a dark, cobweb-filled corner behind some old barrels. "And don't make a sound, unless you want to join Erza."
I moved through the shadows with the silent, deadly grace of a nocturnal predator hunting its prey. The first guard, a large fellow with a bovine expression of boredom, didn't even notice my presence as I leapt onto his back like an agile spider. My small but surprisingly strong hands grabbed his head with precision, and with a swift, dry, brutally efficient movement, I twisted his neck. The hollow crack of bone breaking was followed by the dull, heavy thud of the body falling to the stone floor. Simple. Clean. Effective.
The second guard, slightly more alert but still terribly slow, barely had time to register what was happening to his companion. In one fluid, continuous movement, before he could even draw his weapon or cry for help, I picked up a sharp piece of metal I had 'requisitioned' from one of the construction tools and used it to slit his throat with a single, precise blow. Dark blood spurted in a grotesque arc, staining the walls, as he fell to his knees, his eyes wide with surprise and disbelief, before toppling to the side. What a waste of blood.
Jellal slowly approached from the dark corner, his dark eyes fixed on the two motionless bodies on the floor, a mixture of horror, fascination, and reluctant respect in his young expression.
"How… how did you do that… so fast…?" he stammered, his voice trembling.
"I grew up in Raven's End, remember?" I cut off his question with calculated coldness, whilst wiping the blood from my hands on the dirty tunic of one of the dead guards. "There, my dear Jellal, you learn from an early age that you either kill, or you die. It's as simple as that. A basic lesson in urban survival." A convenient lie, of course. But he didn't need to know the full truth.
He continued to look at me, that complex mixture of admiration and fear even more pronounced in his eyes. Good. A little fear was healthy.
I bent down and, with practical efficiency, took the weapons from the fallen guards – a short sword and a functional-looking spear. I extended the sword to Jellal.
"Take it. You'll need this if you want to be even minimally useful."
"But I've never… I've never fought with a sword before…" he stammered, looking at the blade with a mixture of hesitation and burgeoning curiosity.
"Then I suggest you learn quickly, young man," I replied drily, taking the spear for myself. It had a good weight to it. "Because I don't intend to kill every guard in this damned tower by myself. It would be dreadfully tiring and time-consuming."
[You are, once again, lying about your childhood in Raven's End to impress a child, Azra'il. And manipulating the situation for your own, questionable entertainment,] Eos commented, with that annoyingly omniscient tone of hers.
(This is not the time for your cheap psychological analyses, Eos. We have a red-haired princess to rescue,) I replied mentally, already moving at a quick but silent pace down the dark corridor. "Come on, Jellal. We don't have much time before they miss these two incompetents and raise the alarm." He nodded, still a little pale, but with a new determination in his gaze, holding the sword with trembling but firm hands as he hurried after me through the oppressive darkness of the tower.
The bodies, predictably, began to pile up in our silent wake, like breadcrumbs left by a particularly efficient angel of death. And, as expected, the inevitable alarm sounded throughout the tower, a metallic, strident cry echoing off the stone walls, announcing that the fun had officially begun. The heavy, hurried echo of guards' boots now mingled with low, guttural, and distinctly non-human growls rapidly approaching from various directions. It seemed the guard dogs had been let loose.
Magical summoning circles, drawn with careless haste and a sickly purple energy, began to materialise on the floor and walls around us. And from them, with a stench of rotting flesh and corrupted magic, emerged creatures that looked like the living, pulsating definition of a 'science experiment gone spectacularly and horribly wrong'. Deformed dogs, or what might once have been dogs, with exposed, throbbing muscles, misshapen jaws drooling a black, foamy liquid, and multiple eyes gleaming with blind hunger and bestial fury. It was as if someone had tried to resurrect a pack of roadkill, decomposing dogs using only the wrong bits, a lot of third-rate dark magic, and a total absence of common sense.
Jellal, who until then had been doing surprisingly well against the human guards, using his natural agility and a few lucky strikes with the sword, was now panting and pale beside me. The exhaustion and shock were beginning to show on his young, dirty face.
I quickly consulted the mental map provided by Eos. We were close.
"Jellal," I called, my voice calm and firm amidst the growing pandemonium, as I shoved another of those disgusting beasts away with a swift blow from my spear. "Erza is very close. Go down those stairs up ahead and straight down the corridor. It's the third door on the left. You can't miss it."
"But what about you, Azra'il?" he asked, his voice full of a genuine concern that surprised me. "These things… there are so many of them!"
"I'll take care of these lovely, badly-done taxidermy projects with anger management issues," I replied, with a smile that probably looked more maniacal than reassuring, as I forcefully kicked one of the deformed dogs trying to bite my leg. "I'm going to create a little diversion and take them for a sightseeing tour of the tower. A bit of exercise never hurt anyone."
"I can't leave you here alone to fight all of them!" he protested, with a loyalty that was both admirable and terribly inconvenient.
"We don't know how Erza is, Jellal!" I shouted, my voice echoing down the corridor as I blocked a particularly nasty bite with the shaft of my spear. "Every second we waste here could be crucial! She needs you! Go on, now!"
He still hesitated for an instant, his eyes torn between concern for me and the urgency of saving Erza.
"Trust me, lad," I said, a confident, perhaps slightly insane smile on my face. "I can handle myself. I've dealt with worse than these ugly mutts before breakfast." A small lie, perhaps. But a necessary one.
He finally nodded, with visible reluctance, and ran towards the stairs, disappearing into the darkness below. I turned to face the growing pack of necromantic beasts, now snarling and drooling with even greater hunger, their multiple red eyes fixed on me.
"Oi, you unloved freaks with hygiene problems!" I yelled, loudly striking the tip of my spear on the stone floor to get their attention. "The main course has just arrived! And it's in a great mood to play!"
With a final, defiant smile, I ran in the opposite direction to where Jellal had gone, the sound of heavy, scratching claws on the stone floor echoing behind me like a promise of pain and destruction.
[You know, Azra'il, even at your current level, with your abilities, you could still kill all of them easily, quickly, and efficiently, with minimal effort, couldn't you?] Eos commented in my mind, with that irritatingly logical tone of hers, as I decapitated another human guard who had the misfortune of crossing my path.
"And where would be the immense, indescribable fun in that, my dear, pragmatic Eos?" I replied, panting, as I skilfully slid under a clumsy beast's attack and impaled another guard who appeared out of nowhere. "Where would be the challenge? The thrill? Besides, I don't want to draw too much unnecessary attention from the bigwigs of this world. Discretion, remember?"
[Ah yes, of course. Because all these bloodied, decapitated bodies strewn about the corridors are a prime example of discretion and subtlety. Your logic is impeccable, as always.]
"Minor details, Eos. Just small, insignificant details," I muttered, as I kicked a particularly ugly, persistent dog down a long corridor. "Eos, I need a safe, discreet place to hide and let this initial mess blow over. Any suggestions?"
[According to my scans, there's an abandoned, probably rat-infested storeroom two corridors to your right, past that hideous statue of an octopus with too many tentacles. No one seems to have gone there for a very, very long time. It should be safe.]
"Perfect. Rats don't bother me. At least, not the normal ones."
With a final, powerful throw, I hurled my spear through three unlucky guards blocking my path, impaling them in a grotesque, efficient work of art, and ran in the direction Eos indicated, leaving a trail of chaos, destruction, and many, many bodies behind me.
[You're having a bit too much fun with all this carnage and destruction, Azra'il. Your endorphin levels are abnormally high.]
"Shut it, Eos. And get the mental popcorn ready. The best part is yet to come."