Chapter Twenty-Three Ruhlin #2
“To what?” he murmured, receiving no response but dutifully attempting to match her slowed pace and soft footfalls.
He soon began to perceive light in the darkness.
It was just a faint rectangular smudge at first, multiplying into more as they drew closer.
He saw that the row of luminescence was the result of a glow cast through a series of stone slats.
The air had also changed, mustiness overpowered by an acidic melange of vinegar and lavender.
He reasoned it was a concoction employed to mask an even less pleasant stench.
Ohtera stopped to crouch alongside the first of the slats, the glow enabling Ruhlin to see her put a finger to her lips.
Slowly, she edged her head into the light.
After briefly squinting at what she saw, her nostrils flaring even more as her face tightened in repugnance, she beckoned Ruhlin to her side.
The room visible through the slats was covered in white tiles from floor to ceiling, gleaming in the light cast by a lantern suspended from the ceiling.
After his sojourn through the dark, the glare of it was such that he had to blink away tears before the room’s contents became horribly apparent.
The tiles were polished clean in most places but stained dark in others.
Ruhlin had seen bloodstains enough to recognise them now, his eyes tracing over the spatter to find its origin.
The body lay secured to a sturdy table by leather straps, a gag in its mouth.
Its eyes were open, even though all life had plainly fled this vessel.
It had been opened from neck to groin, seemingly in a single cut, the parted skin peeled back and pinned to the table to reveal bone and muscle.
The ribcage had also been parted, the breastbone cleaved and ribs prised apart to lay bare the organs beneath.
Despite the commanding horror of such mutilation, Ruhlin found his gaze mostly captured by the dead man’s face, for it was one he knew.
“Hulyk,” he breathed.
“If he was lucky, he died in the healer’s care,” Ohtera muttered. “Not all who are brought here find themselves so fortunate.”
“What is this place?”
Before she could answer a booming echo sounded from below.
Ohtera pushed Ruhlin back into the shadows, once again motioning for silence.
As they waited, he heard voices. Accompanied by the echo of footsteps, they were too faint to distinguish any words but growing in volume.
Then came the clatter of a heavy lock followed by the loud squeal of hinges as a door was opened.
As it did so, the voices became both clear and recognisable.
“And what progress can you offer me this month, old friend?” The Vortigurn’s tone was affable but tinged with weariness. This was a question often asked in expectation of a predictable answer.
“The latest results are encouraging.” Moyirn’s voice echoed with habitual reassurance but a singular lack of servility.
If anything, Ruhlin detected a poorly concealed note of resentment to the old man’s grating rasp.
“My latest subject lasted longer than the last, by a considerable margin. The stronger the blessing…” Moyirn paused, Ruhlin hearing his distaste for this term before the ancient spoke on “… the more durable they appear to be.”
“And the band?”
Ruhlin resisted the urge to draw back when Moyirn came into view.
Any movement might attract notice, besides Ruhlin felt a growing need to witness whatever might unfold in the room below.
“It performed better than the previous designs,” Moyirn said, the aged claws of his hands clasping either side of Hulyk’s head.
The fingers ruffled the dead youth’s hair before drawing something clear, a grey metal ring resembling a crown but lacking all ornamentation.
“But with some small deficiencies. A new smelting is required to further purify the metal. I believe it will be most efficacious in easing the… effects of the procedure.”
“Effects,” the Vortigurn repeated, amusement now evident.
“Procedure. How fond you’ve become of such cold, clinical terms. Once you talked of rituals and arcane elixirs.
Many was the hour I had to endure you endlessly canting away in some dead language or other, a good portion of which I always suspected you made up on the spot. ”
Ruhlin saw Moyirn’s hands tighten on the band, though when he spoke his grating voice held no anger.
“I assure you I did not. However, years of study have led me to the conclusion that such things are the legacy of archaic tradition. I have moved far beyond such frippery. My studies are concerned with objective observation achieved through careful preparation…”
“I don’t care, Moyirn.” The Vortigurn’s long, tired sigh ghosted through the tunnel.
“I don’t care if you call it a ritual or an experiment.
I don’t care how many corpses you desecrate or concoctions you mix in this fetid den of yours.
I care only that it works. As I have told you for years uncounted, I have but one question and requiring but one answer: Will it work? ”
Ruhlin watched Moyirn clutch the band yet tighter before he moved out of view. “Yes. Yes… I’m sure of it.”