From this vantage point she could see the high crossway between the two towers that made up the foundation of the structure, but it was impossible to see if the book she sought was indeed there. Taking her chances, and following orders, Anneleigh crept towards the left tower and found the lift. With constant foot traffic of those cultists using the elevator and the ever present watch of the guards stationed at its entrance, Anneleigh knew her chances of ascending unnoticed were slim. She watched as the elevator made its ground floor stop, several cultists entered, and it rose slowly to the high walk way. There seemed to be no stops between the ground and the walkway high above.
“At least that works in my favor.”
Anneleigh thought as she continued to watch for their weakness. “If I manage to get on the contraption I’ll
have a few moments breathing room while I make the journey.”
Once again the lift reached the
ground. This time, however, several
cultists exited yet no cultists entered.
Instead it continued to descend with its last passenger. Intrigued, she began to formulate a
plan. After several more circuits of the
elevator, she was reasonably confident in her assumption. The elevator did not travel to the lower
floor unless on the rider request, so when it does there is always at least one
passenger. In her viewings the need for
the ground floor seemed very infrequent.
“One enemy to clear from the elevator pad
would be much more reasonable that five.” She concluded as she left her
observation point and started to make her way to the lower entrance.
Making her way through the werewolves of
Stillmoor was easier than anticipated.
Although she move and smelt like fresh meat, they were happy to focus
their attention on the more likely meal.
The Abyssal inside proved only slightly more difficult. Unprepared and doing a poor job at watching
for intruders, Anneleigh was able to sneak up on many of them, slitting their
throats before they could produce a spell or call for help. The few werewolves who had been tamed by the
cultists managed to let out howls before their death, but their sounds were
masked by the answering call of the beasts outside.
Once the room was clear, it became obvious
to Anneleigh that her greatest obstacle would be the maze of the rooms
themselves. The rooms shared uniformity
and, much like the circular rooms of the Dwarven Lord’s Hall in Scarwood, each
room lead onto another. They were all
arraigned as a type of laboratory, with machines, work stations, books, and
cages lining the walls. Some of the
cages held live captives who screamed for attention, but soon grew quiet when
they realized her attempt to remain covert.
As Anneleigh cleared each room, she released the prisoners and directed
them out the way she had come. She then
took care to drag the bodies of the Abyssal into these cages. An empty room would be conspicuous enough
without bodies littering the halls as a clear indication that security had been
breached.
Onward through the maze she walked until
she came to a room with no connection.
Instead there was a man at least twice her height crouched beside a
small podium. He wore the Abyssal headdress
that covered his eyes and yet he seemed to study the books and parchment that
lay open in front of him. On a stone
Altar behind him was a Mathosian woman.
Anneleigh could not see if she was alive or dead, but the urge to
prevent his further experiments chorused through her just the same.
The man turned back to his Altar to find
Anneleigh standing there. To her
surprise, he smiled.
“You are no Icewatch.” He said to her. “Not a citizen of the north either. You must be a Guardian.” His smile widened. “You’ll make an excellent addition to my test
subjects. Thank you for volunteering.”
“I’m not just any Guardian!” Anneleigh
called. “I’m an Ascended.” He laughed at
her as he raised his hands over his head to begin his spell work, not taking
care to defend himself. “An ascended
with perfect aim.” She continued as she
shot an arrow into the smooth curve of his neck. As he lay dying and the pool of his blood
began to grow, the man began to shrink in size until he was no bigger than any
other Mathosian. His headdress fell from him in a clatter,
revealing his entire face.
Horrified, Anneleigh knelt beside him,
coating her knees in blood but hardly caring.
“Were you a Mathosian?” Anneleigh asked him. “Tell me now while I still have time to bless
your soul to the Vigil. Were you Abyssal
or were you simply taken over by Akylios?”
He laughed at her and spat blood in her
face. “The Vigil cannot help me
now. They cannot help any of you. Join the cultists as I did, or parish at
their hands.”
Anneleigh pulled the arrow from his neck
allowing the blood to flow more freely.
He was dead within seconds.
Unable to hide the blood, but trusting in
the fact that no Abyssal cultist would enter this area, she left to continue
the search for the elevator.
The rooms began to wind in a circle and
Anneleigh knew she was coming close.
Finally she reached a second dead end.
This room, however, was empty. A
large hole stood open in the ceiling and the platform descended from above,
closing the hole. She positioned herself
behind one of the pillars at the back of the room and waited for the
platform. Several times it paused at the
ground floor. Each time her pulse
quickened as she anticipated what she might encounter, slowing again when it
traveled upward rather than down. After
five circuits it finally descended further.
Anneleigh quietly waited as she watched as
a single cultist walked off the platform in the direction of the open
hallway. He paused to examine something
on the floor and the platform slowly began to rise. Fearful she may miss her opportunity,
Anneleigh quietly wished the Abyssal on his way when he stooped to run his
finger along the ground and Anneleigh stifled a gasp.
“A drop of blood.” She thought to herself. “That’s what he found on the floor.” In the blink of an eye the cultist ran out of
the room, following the blood trail.
Anneleigh quickly jumped for the platform that was now at chest level
and scrambled atop it.
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