Who Ran?

Devrim hurried toward the cell, but Gandr somehow moved past him, making it there first. A sickly smell filled the air, just like it had in the hall with the fallen soldiers.

Velia lay crumpled in a heap on the ground. Blood pooled on the ground around her in a gruesome display.

"Gandr, wait!"

Ignoring the Emperor's warning, Gandr pulled the woman from the wall and laid her on the cot of her cell. The light was quickly leaving her eyes, but the faintest consciousness was still there.

"Sorry, Sire," Velia moaned softly, thinking the halfling was the Emperor. "I betrayed you."

Devrim saw her hazy gaze staring at Gandr with a pained expression. The grey-eyed man took pity on her. She was obviously a pawn in a much bigger scheme or the wolves would surely have rescued her. Instead they left her to die without a thought.

"We know, Velia," the Emperor said softly beside her.

Her eyes became even more unfocused as she tried to discern why the voice had not come from the direction she expected. "Forgive me," she said to the halfling.

Gandr flicked his gaze up to the Emperor and nodded slightly. He took the woman's hand and shifted into Devrim's twin. "Who is behind all this?" he asked as gently as he could.

The woman shuddered as the world around her began to fade to black. The shadows were coming, and the night air was seeping into her bones.

"Velia!" the halfling squeezed her hand tightly. It was becoming cold to his touch.

She whispered so softly that Devrim could not make out the words.

Gandr furrowed his brow. "Serta? Is that who wounded you? Do you know where he ran?"

The woman whispered again, this time even softer than the first. Then her head turned to one side and her eyes closed, never to be opened again.

"She's gone," Gandr announced, returning to his normal pale golden-skinned appearance. Since the soldiers had seen his powers, there was no use hiding just now. "Why do I feel bad for not using my magic to ease her pain?"

"You are sensing my compassion, Gandr. The woman was guilty of a number of crimes, but based on her final words, I don't think Velia joined the enemy willingly." Devrim looked at the nursemaid, and his compassion turned to concern.

Now that her soul had departed, he could see something was wrong with her face. It was ashen, and her nose and mouth looked more prominent than they had before.

There was more, her abdomen—around the wounds was the all too familiar purple ooze, but mixed in it, Devrim could swear he saw...

"That's impossible," he muttered. He pointed, at a loss for words.

"How?" Gandr likewise became speechless. It wasn't until Captain Caleb finally arrived that the silence was finally broken.

"Your Majesty." He bowed. "Agent Gandr?" There was a bit of uncertainty in his voice. His confusion only deepened when he saw the mauled woman on the cot of the cell. His mind was forming questions that his mouth could not voice.

"You came to report something?" Devrim rubbed his forehead.

"Yes, Sire. Two of the wolves escaped. The rest are dead, badly wounded or…encased in stone."

Clenching his fists, the Emperor began to pace. "Alert the city guard, though if the creatures made it in the gates without being noticed, I'm sure they have an exit plan."

Caleb saluted and left to carry out the orders he was given. His hard soled boots clacked on the stone floor, pausing briefly as he navigated the carnage of the prison hall.

The Emperor sighed. "What were Velia's last words?" he asked the halfling.

"I don't think she was making sense anymore. The closest I could come to was that she said 'Serta ran.' But why would she tell us who ran? Unless maybe he was the one behind all of it!" Gandr raised up his finger as if it were a revelation.

"I don't think that is it. We will have to keep thinking." Devrim covered the woman up with a blanket.

"Don't let anyone touch her. They can take the whole bed if they need to in order to bury her. We should wash off. I don't want that infection to spread to us." The Emperor shivered.

Someone had communicated that the battle was over, and the servants were already transporting people and creatures to the appropriate places for burial or treatment.

Thanks to the sturdy metal armor, only Velia had been affected by the poison of the wolves' claws. Those humans who died did so from the pure strength of the monsters, each leaving the world free from the painful purple ooze that plagued less fortunate victims.

Two wolves were still encased in the stone wall of the prison, their jaws snapping and the exposed parts of their arms and legs trying to grasp at anything that came too near. With their bodies missing, they looked like living stuffed heads. Devrim ventured to peek around inside the cell where the scrappy brown wolf was captured.

His rear and strange short tail were sticking out of the back side of the wall. Were it not for the gravity of the situation, it would have been humorous. As it was, the Emperor had half a mind to kick the creature in the tail for all the trouble he caused.

"Come here and try to get a piece of me!" Millard screamed defiantly. "You all are a bunch of cowards."

Devrim retrieved his sword from the ground on the opposite side of the hall and wiped it on a piece of fabric protruding from the bottom of his chain mail. He then held it up to Millard's exposed neck. The wolf quickly changed his tune.

"Whoa now! You cannot take anything I say seriously. You wouldn't hurt me while I am unarmed." Millard raised his hands as much as he could with them stuck in the wall. The menacing nails of his paws glistened in the torchlight.

"That is not your best argument," Gandr scoffed. "Now tell us, who do you work for? Tell me quick enough and I might just let you out of the stone."

"I ain't saying nothing!" Millard spat. The white wolf nearby had yet to speak, but she did not seem willing to comply either.

"Where is Serta?" Devrim demanded authoritatively.

"Who?" Millard's face contorted to one of genuine confusion.

"Your leader, Serta. Velia said he ran away." The Emperor pressed the sword toward the monster's neck, cutting off a small tuft of his ratty hair.

The brown creature paused, looked to make sure they were serious and burst out laughing. The white wolf seemed similarly amused. "You have your wires crossed, Sire, but I won't be the one to fix them. Good luck catching Serta, whoever that is." Millard laughed so much that it turned into a whiny howl. The more the two males watched, the more convinced they were that the wolfish creature was insane.

Dervim sheathed his sword. "Let them stay there for now, and give them some time to think. We should get cleaned off before we accidentally get any of that poison in our system.

Gandr followed him down the hall. Millard called after them. "Are you afraid of looking handsome like this rugged face?" he taunted. Then, realizing they were actually leaving, his voice became more frantic. "Wait, you aren't really going! This is unfair. I am part of a wall, for Fate's sake. Get me out of here..."

The cries faded as the pair left the dungeon, but not before they assigned new guards to duty with very specific instructions. There was only one thing to do now before exhaustion truly set in: get clean.

Somehow his attendants had anticipated his need, for when Devrim arrived in his room a hot bath was already drawn. The man removed his bloodied armor and clothing and stepped into the cleansing water.

The muscles across his shoulders, which had been tested to their limit in the wrestling match against Collyn, relaxed at last in the warmth of the steam. His mind clear at last, Devrim tried to make sense of Velia's last words.

"That wolf laughed at the name Serta, yet Gandr is sure that the nursemaid spoke of his hasty retreat. Serta ran...hmm." A flash of recognition caused the man to leap from the tub. As he wrapped a towel around his waist, he screamed for his attendants. They came before Devrim had even finished calling their names.

"Bring me the report on Velia and the report on Dania," he ordered as he searched for clothing. After a moment of scrambling, the Emperor was dressed and the papers brought before him.

Velia's mother had worked for Baron Gauss of Halcyon. The Baron had four legitimate sons, one of which had died nearly two years prior. Devrim's eyes stopped on the name of Gauss's third son. Holding his place in the report. The Emperor flipped through the investigation of the missing scientist. It didn't take long for the same name to pop off the page.

"It wasn't Serta ran." the Emperor mumbled. "It was Sir Taran!"

If his daughter and son were chasing down Dania, they were also chasing down her supposed fiancé. Which meant... his children were in far more danger than they realized.

Not only that, but Aurora believed the group was heading towards Oblivion--on a collision course with any creatures who might try to incorrectly try to find the Empress there. It was a huge problem. Devrim needed to warn them--and fast.