Into the Fortress

Into the Fortress

                Near the shear cliffs, only a small distance out to sea, the stars illuminate a rowboat as it floats up and down on the waves. Slowly it moves in the direction of shore; rowed by its sole occupant. She is an attractive woman, though one more beautiful than pretty. Perhaps her visage could be considered the work of a mastercraftsman, but not itself a masterpiece. Her brown hair is pinned up into a tight bun, and her leaf-green eyes are focused on the waves. Her frame is proportioned for work, not pleasure; but it still possesses an athletic allure. The rowboat seems to be of a strange size - perhaps for one and a half of her - but it is the occupant that is strangely sized: she stands two hundred and fifteen centimetres tall, enough to allow her to tower more than a head above most others. Her name is Dytja, and like much else, she is not from this world.

                Dytja stood up, rocking her rowboat only the tiniest of amounts as she did so. Up above sat an old fortress, long abandoned by all ordinary men. The ruins of the walls reached right to the cliff edges - in some places, they even stood where the cliff had long since collapsed, jutting out above the sea. The central keep stood a couple of hundred metres away from the cliff-edge. Dytja could see it from where she stood, though only because of its great height.

                The keep was her target. She had come to put an end to the activities of a great mage. A great mage who was recklessly spawning creations - monsters - and letting them loose upon the land. Few of the beasts were even slightly sapient, and of those, none thought twice about slaughtering humans. The mage - whoever they were, whatever they were - might be unknowing of the chaos they were causing, and as such Dytja would attempt to communicate first. But she was more than willing to kill.

                The row boat tightly anchored to a rock, Dytja stared up the cliffs. Her green eyes flickered about as they picked out potential footholds. It was not long before she found a safe path, and after making her way along the waterline for a short distance she began to climb.

                It would have been hard going for anyone not blessed with inhuman stamina - the cliffs towered fifty metres up above the water, and even the best handholds were barely possible to see (let alone grip). Yet for Dytja it was easy; or at least, she made it appear so. It was the result of several factors - her skill with climbing, her more than human strength, her boundless resolve, and most significantly her armour's enchanced grip.

                FIfteen minutes later she hauled herself up over the cliff edge, and stared towards the keep. Its great height was far more obvious from atop the cliffs - it stretched at least two hundred metres upwards, almost seeming to pierce the sky. Dytja was happy that she wouldn't need to climb all the way to the top to find her target - the mage would most likely be near the grand laboratory that occupied several of the lower floors. Such a space would be necessary for the dark magics they were being performed.

                The fortress's grounds were between her and the tower. The back half was far safe than the front half - fewer traps, fewer wandering or hidden creatures (if any), and no small buildings or tunnels for ambushes to spring from. Still, compared to ordinary countryside, the area was a two-hundred metre long, five-hundred metre wide grassy field of death.

                Carefully Dytja retrieved a large, torn sheet of paper from one of her waterproof pouches. It was a map of the fortress, made long ago. The material it was made from was a rare kind of paper - made from a now-extinct form of tree - that lasted hundreds of thousands of years, so long as it was not deliberately mishandled. It had been, and was on the verge of collapsing into tatters (having been, at times, used as a tablecloth, a dishcloth, and other things). It had been saved by a historian who had been horrified to discover that she was eating upon it; and given to Dytja to aid in her mission. Sadly there had not been time to reconstruct and duplicate the map in another form (at least, according to the historian - Dytja was sure that she could have mocked something up but had decided not to press the issue).

                Tracing her finger along the relatively well-preserved grounds part of the map, Dytja double-checked the location of the traps. Around her she could see several of them - long since triggered by wandering creatures or the natural change of the land. Others, also, would be safe - those that had contained war-dogs or other animals.

                After returning the map to her pouch, on a whim Dytja picked up a stone and threw it at the location a trap was supposed to be. Upon hitting the ground, the stone swiftly disappeared beneath the 'grass' with a wet plop. I wonder how many bodies lie at the bottom of that pool, thought Dytja.

                Walking through the traps, Dytja quickly made her way to the base of the keep. There were three exits to the grounds (two for maintenance staff that would have handled the gardens and traps, one for more important individuals); however, two balconies stretched out from several floors above. It was through one of these that Dytja planned to enter the fortress - the ground levels were likely to be filled end to end with monsters. And though she is a hero, Dytja is not foolhardy in the least.

                Again her eyes darted back and forth, searching for a path up to one of the balconies (and especially a path that avoided the windows). It was mere moments before she began climbing - the fortress was, compared to the cliffs, a cornucopia of holds that were easy to grip. Better still, the material the fortress had been constructed from was tougher than the cliffs by far and would not crumble beneath her weight.

                A handful of minutes later, Dytja landed softly on the balcony - having vaulted herself over the railing that girded the edge. The balcony itself was fairly large, designed to serve for both social gatherings and as an artillery platform. A pair of solid double doors, four metres high and two metres wide each, granted entrance to the platform. Luck was on Dytja's side - the doors stood open, revealing the fortress within.

                What Dytja saw inside matched her expectations - dark stone floors, slightly lighter stone walls and ceiling, any decoration long since rotted away. Magical lights illuminated the corridor, still able to perform their function after thousands of years.

                Occasionally glancing towards the doors to ensure no creatures had wandered close, Dytja pulled out her map and examined it. The balcony led into the fourth floor, a double height floor to enable the storage and deployment of siege engines to the balconies. I'll check storage rooms on my way to the servants' stairs; should be easy to confirm if the mage is near this level if they're in use. The lab is another four floors up, and I'll head straight there, thought Dytja, going over her plan.

                Map safely tucked away, Dytja began to advance into the fortress. The lights illuminated the inside brightly, allowing Dytja to move forward confidently. But she knew it was only a matter of time before some terrible beast wandered into sight and screamed at her.

                Two corridors further in, she heard a chilling wail come from behind her. She span around, and caught sight of a creature more tortured than any found wandering the lands.

                It looked like an impatient child's attempt to mould a bear from clay - clumsy, poorly done, torn apart from frustration at how different from a real bear it was. It had four limbs, but the right fore leg was shorter than the other, and twisted enough to appear broken. There was no true 'head', the body merely shrinking into a head-shaped blob towards the front of the creature. The presence of two eyes - stony gray orbs - certainly nominated it as a head.

                But chief in breaking any illusion of a head was the creature's mouth - a terrifying gash that split the 'head' in two, and extended back into the creatures body almost thirty centimetres on the left (and not at all on the right). The mouth was lined with teeth and had a vague hole in the middle, the source of the wail Dytja was hearing. It was also the creature's only weapon - the twenty centimetre claws on each paw were impractical for the creature to use, except perhaps when leaping.

                A swift motion saw Dytja armed and ready for the creature's advance. "Come, terror," she said softly. Yet through careful ventriloquism the creature heard instead a shout, right by its ear.

                In response the creature snarled, its wail growing higher in pitch. In its own tortured, wrongly made way the creature was trying to roar - but could not. WIth a final high-pitched pop the creature flopped its mouth closed and charged at Dytja.

                Despite the size and monstrousness of the creature, Dytja felt no fear. She stood her ground as it came at her, thundering down the corridor. When it was only a few metres distant it leapt. Hurtling through the air with its claws outstretched it was an intimidating foe.

                As the claws drew close, Dytja slashed out with her sword. Even as she readied for a second attack, the claws of the beast were falling off. In one swing she cut through every claw on the beast's forepaws.

                She struck again just as the body of the beast bore down on her. Her blade tore through the creature from the 'chin' to the 'crown' of its head, and much of the body behind. Though dead, the monster's body slammed into Dytja. Despite the size and speed of the creature, she was barely rocked by the blow.

                Dytja cleaned her blade on the creature's corpse, and looked around to ensure nothing had crept up during the fight. Quickly satisfied, she sheathed her blade and continued her intrusion into the fortress.

                The store rooms were empty and had obviously not been used in years. This worried Dytja - even if the mage did not require food for some reason, the materials used to create the creatures had to be stored somewhere. The alternative - that the mage was powerful enough to be creating the creatures purely from their own power - was concerning.

                Still, Dytja continued on. She made her way though three more corridors, one lit only by a handful of lights - the rest destroyed long ago in a calamitous fight. The last corridor contained the half-hidden door to the servants' stairs that she sought. Though she ran into no other creatures, the occasional groan or wail echoed through the corridors as a reminder of their presence.

                The door to the stairs was, unfortunately, locked. Sparing a moment to give the door a 'Really?' stare, Dytja opened one of her pouches and produced a strange, bulbous key from within. "This damn thing better work," she muttered, pressing it into the lock.

                The 'key' was a special device to deal with old magical locks in a very simple manner - blasting them with disruptive magic. Light shone from the lock as the device did its work with only a soft buzz audible, despite the destruction it was wreaking inside. Half a minute after Dytja placed the device in the lock the light went out; the device had finished.

                Disappearing the device back into her pouches almost unnoticeably, Dytja gently pushed at the door. It swung open easily, causing Dytja to smile - the lock was completely disabled.

                The stairs on the other side of the door were plain, and seemed to spiral upwards forever above. Below Dytja could see the bottom, illuminated by the magical lights - several floors below the ground. A quick count made her sigh - there were at least two levels of basement the map had not included. This mage better not be down there, she thought as she pulled the door shut behind her.

                The trip up was uneventful - the servants' stairs had seen no use for even longer than the storerooms (more than likely because they were locked). Despite the lack of threats, Dytja was still exceptionally cautious as she made her way up the stairs. Millennia of experience had taught her to be ever alert in places such as this - automated security had a habit of surviving and popping out of strange places.

                After reaching the correct floor, Dytja once again used her device to crack the magical lock sealing off the servants' stairs. Very cautiously, very slowly, she pulled the door back into the stairwell a crack and peeked through.

                The corridor outside was almost entirely full of crates and boxes. They were made of a strange gray-blue wood Dytja had not seen for many years, and each was labelled in a peculiar script. Despite the uniqueness of the script, Dytja quickly figured out that each label was simply an identification number.

                This will be our mystery mage's supplies. Probably found them here, as well; some of the traps below looked like they used this wood, Dytja thought. Almost certainly they are located on this level.

                With no other way forward, Dytja clambered up onto the containers. She made her way through them, unable to reach the floor. Instead she was forced to squeeze over, under, and between them as she went. Despite the inconvenience of the path, she was able to make her way carefully towards the centre of the floor, where the largest laboratory lay.

                As she closed on the centre, Dytja was forced to squeeze between a stack so high that she was squished up against the roof while crawling through. After tumbling gracefully down from the high stack to a much lower stack below Dytja received a shock. Right in front of her, dominating the space between two tall stacks she had entered, lay a mound of strange winged creatures.

                They resembled bats, but rather than being black or brown they were a strange, sickly green colour. They also had long, thick tails - similar to those of lizards in shape - that were longer than their forty-odd centimetre bodies. Though strange (and perhaps unusually adapted) they did not appear to be the work of the mage - they were likely natural creatures that called the fortress home.

                Although likely harmless, they numbered at least two hundred and the slumbering pile completely blocked Dytja's path forward. Dytja spent some moments considering her next move, before retrieving a lime coloured ball from one of her pouches. She inspected it thoroughly, then made her way to a gap between a pair of crates and dug herself in.

                Out of direct sight of the pile of creatures, Dytja gave the ball a quick squeeze and threw it out from her hiding place at them. As soon as it fell upon the pile, the ball blazed brightly - illuminating the area in a green glow so intense that it even shone through some of the crates.

                Awakened suddenly from their slumber, the bat creatures made a cacophony of bird-like chirps and squawks as they burst into the air. They squeezed through tiny gaps leading to other areas, fleeing from the light. In a matter of moments all had fled, chirps and squawks growing distant as they continued their flight.

                Dytja hopped up out from her hiding place and picked up the ball. It had been knocked around by the creatures as they fled, but had come to rest atop a barrel. Even more luckily, the ball was still undamaged. Giving the ball a quick squeeze to douse its light, Dytja returned it to her pouches.

                Looking around, she noticed what the bat creatures had been lying upon - a half-devoured skeleton of some kind; still fresh. Glad I didn't fight them, Dytja thought to herself. Wait. How did they get that in here? Worried, she inspected several of the crates. Knowing what to look for, she found signs on many indicating that long, tentacle like limbs (for example, the tails of the bat creatures) had been used to move them around. Well, that's pretty terrifying.

                Thankful that the creatures were growing more and more distant, Dytja made her way up the far stack. She was not far from the centre - and hopefully the bat creatures would not return until her task was finished.

                Dytja slipped into the small gap between the crates and the door and sighed. Empowered so strongly that it glowed, a warding symbol had been carved into the door. The scratches in the wood were recent - the exposed wood a completely different colour to the rest - and the magic was that common to all places of the world, that of signs and sigils.

                As such, Dytja could be certain that this blocking ward was the work of the mage. Further, she could tell that they were one versed in sigil magic and quite powerful with it - a sign that they were not an ancient being, reawoken to torment the world (such beings were only rarely proficient in any magics beyond those they had brought with them to this world). But best of all - the mage was definitely located within.

                Again Dytja delved into her pouches, eventually pulling out a pencil sized stick with a tiny blade affixed to the end. The stick was carved intricately with many symbols, several of them softly glowing or pulsing with great power. The blade itself was carved twice as intricately, and the magic glowed thrice as bright. For such a small object, the tool held an incredible amount of magic.

                Armed with the tool, Dytja made several cuts into the ward. With each, more parts of the sigil went dark and those still lit grew brighter. Soon only a single bright line remained, running from the top to the bottom of the ward. Swapping the tool to her left hand, Dytja drew her sword with her right.

                Deftly Dytja cut through the centre of the line. With a bright flash, the magic dissipated immediately. Many would have been blinded, but Dytja was already in motion, stowing the tool and kicking the door at the same time. Sword readied, Dytja strode into the room as the door slammed open loudly.

                Perhaps luckily, the mage was nowhere to be seen inside. Evidence of recent - and frequent - use abounded, however. The central lab was an almost circular room, roughly forty metres in diameter. Several crates and barrels similar to those Dytja had spent twenty odd minutes climbing over were scattered along the wall, some open, a few obviously empty. The lighting was surprisingly minimal - the room was lit by only a few magical lights, a contrast to the many that lit the corridors.

                The room was dominated by a central pit. It was one metre deep and ten metres in diamter, and was full of strange stains and other muck that indicated it was the focal point the mage used to create things. A pair of crude ballistae flanked a raised platform the mage stood upon when focusing their energy. Most likely the ballistae were intended to deal with any creature that got out of control after creation, or to threaten the more sentient.

                The space between the pit and the walls was littered with corpses - failed creations or those the mage was forced to kill. Some showed signs of being autopsied, and those further from the pit seemed to be less well-formed, older creations.

                "Lucky," muttered Dytja to herself, relieved that the mage was not present. Cutting the sigil as she had would have lit up both sides of the door and certainly alerted the mage.

                All other doors leading into the room were similarly warded, glowing softly in the dark room. Hoping that the mage could not see the sigil magic as well as she (few could) Dytja closed the door behind her and began examining the room in greater detail.

                She uncovered little her quick survey had not. Still, she established that although the mage had been gaining in skill over the years they had not advanced far - the oldest corpses were barely different from the freshest. With a little luck, the mage would be as incompetent in combat as they were at creation.

                A close look at the opened containers confirmed her suspicion that they contained a common (on other worlds) material that was often used for creating new living beings; somehow able to take a true, flesh and blood form based on the whims and desires of the creating mage. Unfortunately, in this world, the magic within the material was weakened and it rarely - if ever - worked correctly if not being used by the truly powerful. Even then, the resultant creatures would be unable to breed, and often possess shorter lifespans. But Dytja was relieved it was not blood magic or soul magic that the mage was performing; both were far darker (Especially when used together).

                Apart from her investigation, Dytja also disabled the ballistae. They were haphazard constructions that would be difficult to rotate, but she did not desire to be shot by one. Investigation and sabotage complete she made her way to an exit on the far side of the lab from where she had entered, and examined the sigil.

                The door was the most used (in fact, the only one obviously in active use) of the doors. It led (via a pair of corridors) to both the main stairwell, and to several rooms that could easily serve as personal chambers for the mage. The sigil upon it was just as strong as the rest, but slightly different - if one understood symbols correctly, and applied some magic in just the right spot, it would temporarily release the door.

                Retrieving her tool once more (Dytja herself could not channel sigil magic), Dytja pressed the bladeless end into a particular point of the sigil. A soft sigh came from the door as the magic holding it rigidly in place dissipated, and Dytja was able to pull it open with ease.

                The far side of the door provided no shocks, and so Dytja began to make her way through the (thankfully clear on this side of the floor) corridors - following what seemed to be an occasionally cleaned, much walked path through them.

                For once, the closed door Dytja found herself in front of was unlocked. Better still, signs of the mage's habitation were strong - across the hall and through an open door lay the mage's study. It was a mess of logbooks, some haphazardly stacked, others haphazardly shelved. A lifetime - or more - of experiments.

                Of course, the biggest confirmation that the mage was on the other side of the particular door Dytja stood at was the snoring. It was fairly soft, but Dytja's ears could easily pick it up. Though emboldened by the mage's sleep, Dytja remained cautious as she opened the door slowly.

                Her caution was appropriate - the floor on the other side of the door bore a sigil that would emit a loud alert should any other than the original maker disturb it. This included, for example, the gust of wind created by a hastily opened door.

                The inside of the room was, like the rest of the fortress, illuminated by magical lights. The ones in the mage's room had been dimmed somewhat by cloths placed over them, but the room was still almost as bright as the corridor outside. Clothes littered the floor, spilling out from a quartet of trunks, mostly garments in the style of a nearby kingdom to the north. At the far end of the room sat the bed; apparently cobbled together in a similar manner as the ballistae.

                Upon the bed lay two people, side by side. To Dytja's eyes they seemed to be father and son - the younger man looking like a thirty year old version of the elder (who seemed to be around sixty). Both had cloths over their eyes, and the younger appeared to be wearing ear mufflers - likely to avoid hearing his father's snoring. Both had full heads of hair, the younger's a rich black and the older's a fine gray. Beyond this, they seemed unremarkable - ordinary and average build, slightly below average height.

                That explains why there were two ballistae, Dytja thought to herself. Carefully and softly she stepped around the sigil guarding the doorway (sparing a moment to wonder how it was attuned to allow both of the pair to pass) and made her way up to their bed. Without a sound she drew her sword and laid it across their bodies.

                "Time to wake up, shitheads," she said, in between snores.

                With the awkward snarl of an interrupted snore the elder woke up and removed his eye-cloth. "Shit!" he yelled, one arm poking the younger to wake him.

                "What is it?" the younger muttered as he awoke. Upon seeing Dytja, he added, "Oh no."

                As the pair of them scrabbled up the wall, trying to get as far away from Dytja (the son tossing aside his earmuffs), she asked, "Alright. Stay put. You two are responsible for the creatures wandering out of here every few days?"

                "Ye-yes," stammered the elder. "What of it?"

                "They've been going on rampages. Dispose of your bloody work if you can't make it properly - screw up stuff like this and you make a being that hates itself and the world, even if it can't even comprehend why," replied Dytja.

                "But we can't! They're our - they're like - we made them! We can't kill them," said the younger.

                "You killed plenty that actually threatened you. I've been through the lab. Those that you've let loose are the ones that recognise you as their 'creator' in whatever twisted way this magic works. They're the ones that won't harm you. Now, either you agree to do the damn cleanup, or I kill you and everything I run into on the way out of here. And if the monsters keep coming a small army is going to come up here and kill everything," threatened Dytja.

                Both of the mages turned pale. "A-alright," stuttered the elder. "We'll kill the dangerous ones."

                "You better," replied Dytja. "And if the army fails, I'll come back here myself."

                Leaving the mages cowering, Dytja turned to leave. On her way out, she stomped right into the middle of the doorway sigil, causing it to let out a massive screeched right at the petrified pair.

                Dytja left the room to make her way out of the fortress. As their ears slowly recovered, the pair heard her yelling, "And you might want to deal with those bat creatures while you're at it!"