Waywardly Wicked: Chapter FOUR

CHAPTER FOUR

Their overwhelmingly sore muscles cried out as their weakened and injured bodies slogged through the Moors outside of Branderscar. Mosquitoes and flies pestered them relentlessly and more often than not, they feared wild animals might leap out at them from the pitch black darkness that surrounded them. The mud and brackish salt pools provided uncertain footing, almost grabbing their tired legs and latching on, doing their best to drag them down into the muck. Barriddon determinedly led their procession with a torch while Furr continued to dictate directions from the map apprehended from the warden’s office while riding on the ogre Grumblejack’s shoulders.

“Should only be another half-hour or so if we keep heading this way,” she said as she spun the map around in her hands, M sighed as it appeared the woman had been holding it the wrong way, “Yep.”

“Don’t suppose you have room for one more up there,” Cirano called up to her, grunting in frustration as he gave up on a boot, leaving it to its new muddy home, “This terrain is no good for my aged frame.”

“Aw suck it up, gramps,” she chuckled as she pointed over towards Red, “The dwarf isn’t complaining and the bog’s up to his tits!”

“He’s not complaining because he’s mute, I’m fairly certain we have established that,” Ryahl said unamused, mirroring the expression on the unfortunate dwarf’s face and M was certain that if he were not using his arms to maintain balance as he waded that his signature salute would have been sent in the Halfling’s direction.

To the dwarf’s credit however, his pace seemed largely unwavering despite the swampland. They had managed to put some solid distance between them and the prison thanks to everyone’s efforts and the map they had acquired. Even so, the same knowledge lingered in the dwarf’s heart that remained in all those present as they could still hear search parties frantically scouring the bog in the distance.

“What are we going to do after this swamp anyway,” Furr said aloud as Grumblejack hoisted a downed tree out of their way.

“What do you mean,” Barriddon replied, his first real attempt at conversation since their flight from the prison, “we meet our savior at the designated meeting point of the abandoned mansion on the Old Moor Road and see what they have to say. That platinum-haired woman said she was sent by someone and that by escaping the most secure prison in Talingarde we would have passed her master’s test.”

“Why would we bother,” Cirano asked in a serious tone, drawing everyone’s attention, “We are free now, we could leave this ass-end of the kingdom and start a new life elsewhere.”

The half-orc stopped abruptly and spun about, moving at a startling pace before rushing to the aged wizard and harshly grabbed hold of his exposed arm that had been thrown up in instinctive defense.

“Look at this,” he shouted, pointing at the brand burned into the man’s flesh and compared his own to remind everyone that their dire situation was not over, “Every lawful organization in this thrice-damned kingdom recognizes this symbol as ‘Forsaken’, how long do you think we can evade search parties or wanted posters before one of us is recognized and we get shipped back into that hell hole or just killed on the spot?”

Cirano was shocked by the half-orc’s stunning display of logic though it made sense to him that having been hunted previously, the pig-nosed ruffian would likely have a much greater sense of how being the prey of manhunts worked.

“Our benefactor was able to provide us with the tools to escape the most secure prison on the entire island,” M added aloud, surprising everyone, including herself to an extent, “If nothing else, they are capable and knowledgeable of our plight. I think… Barriddon’s right, nobody else can really shelter us right now without risk of being turned in to the authorities or being found out. I mean, even if we went to a relative or friends’ home, they would likely be searched and could suffer the same consequences as us…”

“Can’t argue with that, “Ryahl smiled, “I would not wish ill on any innocent loved ones for our own safety.”

“It’s settled then,” Barriddon said definitively, offering an appreciative nod to the half-elf sorceress before slogging his way back to the front of the procession.

“Hell yeah! Road Trip,” Furr cackled with glee.

---

Despite the Halfling woman’s directions, the group did in fact arrive at a seemingly abandoned mansion on the unremarkable Old Moor Road within the hour of trudging through the swamplands. True to the mysterious woman’s word, a single lantern burned dimly in a second floor window. Aside from that little detail, the house looked quite fully dilapidated and run down.

“I feel him,” M heard Barriddon whisper breathlessly, though no one else seemed to notice, “Asmodeus…”

“Let’s get on with it then,” Cirano said aloud, shaking the half-orc from his private thoughts.

The group marched to the gnarled oaken door and before they could knock, the portal swung open wide on either side, revealing a blinding light that pierced the darkness surrounding them. As their eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness, a figure that appeared almost angelic graced their collective vision. The gorgeous platinum-blonde, emerald eyed woman before them stood in a welcoming stance in the doorway with a dazzlingly sparkling diaphanous white gown and bejeweled accessories. She appeared to be divine in every visual aspect. When she spoke, all thoughts of an angelic savior fled the sorceress’ mind.

“Dearest, you certainly took long enough,” she said with a dark and pitilessly teasing tone towards Barriddon.

“Well, Tiadora, I enjoy making you wait in anticipation,” the half-orc said in a flirtatious tone, though all it produced from the cold woman was a wry grin.

“We were beginning to wonder if you’d ever make it! Oh, and you did bring your friends, how wonderful! The master commands all of you to appear before him, but before that, you must be made presentable.”

“Slaves,” she clapped her hands together twice, the awful word drawing a wince from most of those in attendance, however a group of more than a dozen highly attractive men and women all wearing traditional servant livery appeared from the well-lit halls behind the woman with their heads bowed in reverence, “These people are our guests, see them to their rooms. I want them cleaned, dressed and refreshed. Quickly.”

The last word felt more than slightly threatening, and it showed in the servants’ actions as they burst into motion, hustling to perform their duties as fast as possible. A pair of male and female servants attended each one of the guests as they led them to separate rooms. As she was being led away, M looked behind her as even Grumblejack had his own attendants before being herded elsewhere. She couldn’t help but shake a sense of dread though as she watched Tiadora close the double doors behind them with that ever present dark and knowing grin.

---

As M reluctantly undressed for the warm bath that had been drawn for her, she studied the face of the female attendant who refused to disperse until she had ensured the sorceress had gotten into the tub safely and satisfactorily. The servant girl was certainly attractive but something about her seemed off, it was like the same magic that she employed in when using enchantment to charm others.

But infinitely stronger.

“What’s your name,” M asked the girl as she descended into the admittedly welcoming warm bath water.

The servant girl merely smiled sheepishly, shook her head and stared ahead with a glossy eyed expression. So that was it. All the servants were void of their own personality, their minds completely controlled by their mistress and master. A deeply disturbing thought crossed the sorceress’ mind then; she worried that she had erred in suggesting this course of action, for if the master of this place has magic of this strength at his disposal they may have essentially traded one cage for another. What use is physical freedom if your mind is trapped and manipulated by someone else?

Her thoughts were disrupted as the male servant appeared with a plate filled with mouth-watering appetizers and a glass filled to the brim wine. Though she initially covered her nakedness with her arms, she realized that the man possessed the same distant stare as her female attendant and realized that her attempt at modesty was lost on the virtually empty vessel. There was no embarrassment in his actions, no acknowledgement of her motions beyond completing his duties to provide refreshments and depart.

As the door closed once more, M’s belly growled tremendously as she discovered she could no longer resist the amenities being provided to her despite her caution. She immediately grabbed the plate and quickly devoured the food and downed the wine, her stomach was in ecstasy and she was uncertain if it was purely the quality of the meal or if it was due to the deprivation of anything beyond the slop given to them at the prison for the past few days. The wine even seemed to have been laced with some sort of healing unguent that flowed through her body and genuinely relieved her many aches and pains.

“Hope that wasn’t poisoned,” she lamented with a sigh, cursing her lack of self-control.

With her internal needs met, she returned to scrubbing her skin and removing the filth and grime accumulated from her hardships of the week. Truth be told, it was her first actual bath in quite some time, with her mother’s health in poor shape and their family store in Ghastenhall’s Saltsquarter in dire straits, she had been hard-pressed to find time or money for such luxuries as cleanliness just like most kingdoms’ lower classes. She remembered her mother giving her a bath when she was a child amidst a flood of soap suds and she could not help but smile as the warm memory filled her heart.

“Milady,” the servant girl’s voice brought her back to the present, “Your evening attire has been lain out for you on the bed when you are finished, I will wait for you outside. Please let me know if I am able to serve you further in any way.”

As she departed, M shuddered as she considered the girl’s disturbingly seductive tone on her last remark. She wished she could do something for these people to free them from their magically induced servitude but she knew that the magic at work here was far beyond her power to influence.

And she felt saddened once more.

---

A short while later, each of the former prisoners, all now dressed as nobles in beautiful and expensive finery that many of them had never hoped to see or wear in their lifetime, gathered in the hall by the grand staircase.

“Ugh, this outfit is so stuffy,” Furr complained about her formal dress, which similar to M’s was well-fitted and quite beautiful but the Halfling immediately grunted with effort and ripped the fabric from the waist down tossing the bottom half aside, leaving her underwear exposed, “That’s better.”

“What the hell are you doing,” Ryahl scolded.

“Oh yeah, you’re gonna get on me, Mr. Convicted Streaker,” she teased before turning to her male attendant, “Hey, Stretch, gimme your pants.”

Much to most everyone in the group’s surprise, the male servant complied, M merely shook her head as the Halfling woman cut the pants off at the knees before sliding them on herself.

“Everybody happy now?”

“Never,” Cirano sighed, “Speaking of creatures that are blissfully unaware of their abusive masters, where is the ogre?”

“The one you call Grumblejack has not been summoned by the master,” Tiadora’s voice called as she descended the staircase, “He asked for you six specifically and that is whom I shall present. You may bring your weapons if you so desire but you won’t need them; or rather, they won’t do you any good if you were to use them at least.”

With those foreboding words, the enchanting Tiadora headed upstairs and led them to a beautifully appointed office, richly decorated with dark wood furniture and sumptuous brocade tapestries. Sitting in a leather high backed chair is a devilishly handsome fellow who smiled as they entered.

“I believe you to be the first to ever escape from Branderscar Prison! Well done! Of course, you did have help from the outside,” he said with a wicked grin.

The man was tall, even from a seated position, bald and possessed a well-trimmed black goatee that seemed to correspond with his richly pronounced gold embroidered obsidian and crimson colored robes. More than that though, his spiritual presence alone was staggering, it felt as though even if she wanted to, M could not raise a hand to harm this man. It was precisely as Tiadora had said; any thought of harming her hosts or even self-defense came as a struggle to her at best. Barriddon on the other hand, while typically so aggressive and violent seemed to be at peace, eagerly listening to every word.

“But enough with the pleasantries. You must be curious as to why I’ve helped you. Rest assured that this is no random act of altruism. I have brought you here for a reason. My name is Cardinal Adrastus Thorn. I am the last high priest of Asmodeus left on the island kingdom of Talingarde. Once, not so long ago, the Prince of Nessus was rightly revered and respected alongside the other great powers. Now, the king of Talingarde has become a puppet to Mitran fanatics who wish to destroy any religion that does not bow to their insipid sun god. For their blasphemy, I will see the same people who imprisoned and condemned you suffer. I understand what you went through for I have faced it myself.”

He rolled back his dark sleeves and held out his arm to reveal an “F” burned into his flesh identical to the one everyone in their group.

“I am going to burn Talingarde to the ground and from the ashes I will build a new nation that knows its rightful master. I cannot do this alone. I seek servants worthy of our Infernal Father’s majesty.”

He rises from his seat and his eyes flash with hellfire and divine purpose.

“Join me! Serve me well in this most holy endeavor and I will raise you up in the eyes of gods and men. I will make you rulers of the new Talingarde. Today, swear fealty to me and to Asmodeus! Put aside forgiveness and I shall give you vengeance! Put aside mercy and I shall give you power! Put aside peace and become my harbingers of war! What say you? Will you swear your allegiance or will you burn alongside the rest of the blind fools of Talingarde?”

M’s eyes went wide as she began to realize the sheer web of darkness within which she had become entangled.

“Yes! All hail the Prince of Nessus,” predictably, Barriddon cried out in exultation, drawing an elated smile from Thorn.

Oh no… What have I gotten myself into…?

“Well, you had me at rich and ruling, I’m in,” Furr chuckled.

I don’t want to hurt anyone…

The mute dwarf, Red, pointed to the Halfling and then himself, patting his chest with his fist twice and nodding as if to repeat her statement.

I’m no fanatic… I just wanted a second chance at seeing my family again…

“I must thank you, Cardinal Thorn for aiding in our release and your hospitality,” Cirano chimed in, “However; I have no intention of becoming a revolutionary in a shadow war with the royal line of Darius. So, if you will excuse me, I will depart and take my chances elsewhere.”

Silence gripped the room as Cirano had said eloquently exactly what M had desperately wanted to express. The tension in the room was felt nearly tangible but Thorn sighed and broke the quiet.

“Ah, Cirano Dolvex… It would seem I was correct in assuming that you would be the one out of this little group to require some additional motivation.”

“I require no such motivations, good sir. I simply will not be used as a tool in some religious controversy that threatens my home.”

Thorn looks genuinely disappointed, though he does not stop the man.

“Tiadora, please show him the way out.”

“As you will, Master.”

The lovely woman opened the office doors for the wrinkled wizard and followed him into the hall. The doors closed behind them and a few tense moments passed before a very brief commotion was heard and the doors opened once more. Standing in the portal was a now thoroughly bloodied and smiling Tiadora carrying the head of their former companion, Cirano under one suddenly darker than black tendril-like arm like a melon. M covered her mouth to prevent her reaction from getting the better of her.

“My dear, you weren’t supposed to kill him in the halls, think of the mess,” Thorn shook his head nonchalantly.

“I’m sorry Master. He lashed out first and scratched me by plunging his knife into my chest. You know I can’t stand an insect that bites,” she smiled and sat gingerly at a small round table in the corner, placing poor Cirano’s head in the center of it as her disturbing black tendrils caressed the side of his still-agonized face.

Thorn then turned to the remaining members of the group, offering a false friendly shrug.

“Now where were we, ah yes, the fealty of our little family,” his eyes settled on the tall blonde man.

“What say you, ‘Ryahl the Bare’?”

The man of the wilds winced at the insulting nickname given to him from his conviction but he split his view with Thorn and his friend, the ebon-haired sorceress.

“In nature, fire exists as it is to bring about new life by consuming the old. Man continues to linger on by using that fire to forge a new future for himself, we must do the same. I will do as you ask. Cardinal Thorn.”

“Very good,” he smiled before turning to M, “and what of you, my dear?”

“I… I agree with him,” she said after a few moments.

“Excellent,” he said gleefully, “Let us make it official. Here is the contract, oh and have no fear of alteration, as these are infernally bound; I could not change them even if I so desired to change it, I could not without divine intervention.”

The contract presented to them was on a parchment that felt alien to them, leathery similar to skin but more perhaps fluid would be a good descriptor but the quill seemed ordinary enough and much to Ryahl and M’s dismay, the ink was most certainly animal blood mixed with some kind of powder for adhesion. Each of them signed the bottom, some more hesitant than others. M did her best to hide her distraught expression, but while it was obvious to virtually everyone that the grisly scene had disturbed the woman, none bothered to point out her shaken visage. What she found truly disconcerting however was that none of the others seemed bothered at all that their ally who had risked everything alongside them was just casually butchered by their hosts.

Behold on this day in the eighth age of this world a perpetual Compact is made between Cardinal

Adrastus Thorn (hereafter the Master) and those who would be bound to him as his acolytes (hereafter

the Bound). Both the Master and the Bound shall hold fast and true to this Compact through all trial and

tribulation. By blood and soul the Bound commit to the Compact and swear that it shall never be undone.

The Bound shall know and understand the Four Loyalties

.

The First Loyalty is to their patron and god – mighty Asmodeus, first among the fallen, prince of the nine

hells, our Father below. They shall do all that can be done to further his worship and his glory.

The Second Loyalty is to their master – He who is called the Cardinal Adrastus Thorn, High Priest of Asmodeus

in Talingarde. They shall do the Master no harm and obey his every commandment as long as those commandments

do not clash with their First Loyalty.

The Third Loyalty is to their companions – the other Bound who serve alongside them. The Bound shall deal

with each other fairly and honorably as long as doing so does not clash with their first or second loyalties. All

treasure, wealth and reward garnered in their exploits will be equally shared with all of the Bound who aided

in its acquisition.

The Fourth Loyalty is to themselves – for Asmodeus is the Lord of Ambition and all who serve him should

strive to become great and powerful in his service as long as doing so does not clash with their first, second

or third loyalties. By their weakness, ye shall know the unworthy.

The Bound swear that they cleave to and uphold the Four Loyalties even in the face of death and damnation. The Master swears that as long as the Four Loyalties are upheld, he shall reward the Bound as they deserve for their deeds. Thus it is written, and thus it shall be.

We being of sound mind and free will do so swear and let they who violates this Compact know all the

wrath of Hell unending.

Each of them read and signed the awful parchment in turn before returning it to the imposing figure in front of them.

“Very good,” Thorn said, smiling as he rolled up the contract and after reciting a minor cantrip, an identical copy appeared in his other hand before offering it to Barriddon who gladly accepted.

“Let me have that,” Furr piped in, “You’re gonna get it all crumpled.”

The half-orc rolled his eyes before extending it back to the Halfling, “I’m only giving this to you because I’m certain it will get thoroughly bloodied in my possession.”

“Master Thorn,” Barriddon said with reverence, “What do you require of us?”

The bald-headed scion of evil beamed with pride as he put a genuinely caring hand on the half-orc’s broad shoulder.

“Rest, my son. Prepare yourselves. Stay within the manor; you are still being hunted by the Talirean soldiery after all but fear not, the magical wards of this place prevent any prying eyes from seeing more than what I will them to see. In three days, we will begin your training in full.”

---

The next few days passed exhaustingly slowly for the young sorceress. The luxurious amenities their murderous hosts had provided did little to alleviate the sting of what had transpired in Thorn’s office. The image of Cirano’s death mask still burned brightly within her mind’s eye as his face was caressed by that platinum-haired succubus. She could swear she had felt that she-devil’s presence throughout the night or out of the corner of her eye several times throughout the past day or so. She shuddered as she attempted to shake the disturbing thoughts away while wandering towards the parlor for breakfast.

She had confronted her “friends” regarding their lack of response during that traumatic event the following day. Their responses were largely along the lines of “Nothing could have been done” and “No sense in more of us getting killed”; although Barriddon’s response was far more cold and to the point.

“I warned the fool wizard what he would get were he to disrespect the Prince of Nessus. This was his just reward for his arrogance and blasphemy.”

So that was it then. They were now in the employ of a high priest of a fallen religion on a mission to bring ruin to the kingdom she called home. Even so, Ryahl’s words of wisdom rang true within her heart, perhaps even more so than he may have intended. If she were to be thrown to the flames, she would not allow them to consume her but rather temper and strengthen. Lost in thought, she was shocked when she collided with another individual in the hall by the garden on the way to the parlor, causing her fall to the cold hard wooden floor on her rump.

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry miss,” the raven-haired, well-dressed man said as he extended an open hand to lift her from the floor, “I haven’t quite gotten used to this place yet and I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

She accepted the hand graciously and ascended from the ground, dusting off her robes before addressing the man further. He was a bit taller than she and possessed a disarming smile and playful countenance.

“It’s no trouble… No harm done,” She said quietly, offering a distracted but polite smile of her own, “We have not met before, have we? You don’t appear to be one of the servants here.”

“I should hope not,” he said laughing before turning somber, “That actually would be quite tragic. Ah, but no, we have not been properly introduced as my troupe has only just arrived recently. My associates have already met most of your group though I hadn’t anticipated that the last member of your rag-tag bunch would be such an enchantingly beautiful woman.”

This one was crafty with words it would seem; though, no doubt he had some horrific secrets hidden behind that bright demeanor. It was a welcome change of pace from all the gloom and doom talk that seemed to permeate these past few days, although she knew better than to completely let her guard down with the type of company with whom she was now forced to associate.

“In any event, allow me to introduce myself. I am Titus Rackburn, though my friends often simply call me ‘Trik’. You may refer to me however you please.”

“An alias for an alias,” she said somewhat distantly with a partial curtsey, “I am called M.”

“A pleasure to meet you, M; if you are headed to breakfast, please allow me to escort you.”

She considered it for only a moment before nodding her consent. He extended his arm in a gentlemanly manner but M shook her head, drawing a confused look from Titus.

“I’m actually fairly nimble on my feet when I actually look where I’m going,” she said, allowing herself to grin as she took the lead before heading down the hall.

The pair arrived in the parlor in short order and M was not surprised to see the mingling of their two groups having mixed results. Off by himself at the window, Ryahl seemed at peace staring out into the swamplands while Furr was futilely attempting to spark a brawl between Grumblejack and the massive muscular elven warrior who was eating at the table across from Red. As servants entered and departed the room, bringing in the morning meal, M found her place at the table with Trik politely pulling the chair back for her seating before he took the liberty of sitting next to her.

“Morning, M,” Furr said far too loudly, causing Ryahl to look away from the morning vista, “Looks like you found Trik! Or he found you probably! Why don’t you enchant Dostan here and have ‘em duke it out with Grumblejack? I bet it’d be fun as hell to watch.”

“Little one, you shouldn’t joke about that,” Trik responded before M could reply, “our barbarian friend here obeys only one dark haired enchantress and that would be Elise.”

The muscled elf nodded with a grunting affirmation.

“Aww… But I really want to see a good old fashioned bar brawl between an ogre and a freaking giant muscled elf! I’m not sure which one’s rarer to be honest…”

“Does it always talk so much, sweetness,” a melodic voice with a hint of venom echoed from the edge of the room that M had not noticed previously.

In the corner on a lavish L-shaped couch sat Barriddon and draped around him like a well-practiced courtesan was a voluptuous raven-haired woman clad in a snow-white robe. M could only assume this… overly forward woman could be Elise.

“Yeah, unfortunately; getting her to shut up is a task capable of only gods, I assume,” Barriddon chuckled low before locking lips with Elise, sending out a wave of discomfort to most in the room.

“Enough already,” another voice called from the kitchen as it entered the room, revealing a man who looked almost identical to the man who sat beside her at the table, “We’ll lose our appetites if you two are simply devouring one another’s faces all morning.”

“My twin brother, Tallus,” Trik leaned in and whispered to her, “Although Elise, Dostan and I tend to just call him—“

“Trak,” she said preemptively, stealing the words and momentum from him.

“Err— Yes, pieced that together quickly didn’t you,” he chuckled before addressing his sullen brother, “Now, now, Trak. Let Elise have her fun.”

“Hopefully the pig-nosed wretch and the lot of them die in the trials,” M heard Trak mumble under his breath.