The wagon eventually rumbled to a stop, the door on the back opening into a pitch-black space. Then one end lifted and it started to tilt, forcing everyone inside to slide out into the darkness before they were forcefully tipped. It was still pitch black, but the floor beneath her feet was stone, large flagstones, worn smooth. She moved slowly, trying not to stop on anyone, feeling her way towards a wall, as the sound of a gate slamming shut came from behind them.

‘Is everyone OK?’ There was a series of groans and complaints from around her. ‘Does anyone know where the hell we are?’ She felt her way along a wall, stone cut and worn smooth, rather than built.

A voice came from above them. ‘No talking amongst the prisoners!’ There was the whistling of a crossbow bolt, followed by a shout of pain somewhere near Stathis. ‘There’s plenty more where that came from!’

The group went quiet, the sound of soft whimpers coming from somewhere close by. Stathis lowered her voice, speaking towards the whimpering. ‘Are you injured? Let me try and help.’ Moving in pitch darkness, through a crowded space, was hard, as she pushed against unseen people, trying not to shove them down and out of the way, carefully feeling her way, hands first. A stick brushed against her hand, her fingers finding fletching, a person yelping in pain. ‘Sorry.’ As gently as she could, she ran her hands down the shaft, finding where it penetrated their shoulder. It didn’t feel like it had gone in too deeply, but the area around it was sticky with blood, still flowing out.

‘OK, this is going to hurt. A lot. Try not to scream, OK? I’ll do it on 3. 1, 2, 3.’

She snapped off the fletching, pushing the arrow through. Whoever it was at least had enough fortitude not to scream, sucking in deep breaths, their body going rigid in pain. A gentle golden glow washed out, illuminating a scared face, pale and drawn before the light vanished, returning them to the darkness. She carefully cupped her hands and summoned up a tiny mote of light, enough to barely illuminate the ground beneath her, and the scared face looking at her.

‘Any idea where the hell we are? And what for?’

They spoke softly, not wanting to get shot again. ‘I’ve never heard of anyone comin’ back from wherever the wagons go. Don’t know where though.’

‘OK, got any weapons or anything? Or at least something to make a light with?’

‘Nah, guards took everything.’

‘Shit. Mind giving me a hand checking the others and looking around? There’s got to be some way out of here, and it’ll be easier if everyone’s able to move.’

‘I’ll stay close to you. Do you think we’ll survive?’

‘I damn well hope so! Let’s go check the others.’

Stathis started to move, trying to reassure those she brushed against, while searching for a wall. Everyone looked to be from the poor part of town, all tired and worn, not particularly thuggish or violent. A few looked like workers, hauled in for breaking curfew, or tavern-workers, some still in fancy clothes, although with signs that jewellery and anything fancy had been ripped off. She tried to keep the light concealed, in case the guards above were still on watch. None seemed to be seriously injured, other than a few scrapes and bruises. They eyed her warily, hunched together, leaning in close together for support. ‘Does anyone have any idea where we are, or what’s going on?’

Someone close by sobbed, before being shushed by the others. A gruff voice spoke, light illuminating the barest edges of a scraggly beard. ‘Down the arena, I’m guessing. For whatever dark magic that bastard Duke’s brewing up.’ He spat into the darkness. ‘Got grabbed from my forge, didn’t even have a chance to grab my hammer, otherwise I’d show those bastards something!’

‘Does anyone have any weapons? Or anything useful?’ There was a general rummaging through pockets, as a small variety of hidden weapons were produced – nothing very impressive, a few glass shards with string at one end to form a crude dagger, or stubby belt-knives, or a few sharpened coins. Useful for surprise attacks, but nothing more than to cause some pain and an opening to run away. Well, expecting anything more had been optimistic, even if it would be nice to have a proper weapon. ‘I’m guessing something bad is going to happen to us soon, so we need to get out of here before then.’

The man laughed bitterly. ‘Less you can fly, then I don’t think we’re getting out of here ourselves.’ He ran a hand down the smooth stone, obviously cut to prevent such an easy escape, smooth and without handholds. ‘This is good craft, and the guards obviously don’t give a damn about keeping us alive.

‘OK. Anyone know roughly where the guard shot from? They must have an exit there.’

‘Think it’s about up there.’ A young man pointed, up into the darkness, hunched as if expecting to be shot at any moment. A small gleam, a tiny slither of light, could be seen, giving her a target.

‘Right. Everyone cover your eyes. And if I knock some guards down here, keep them alive, they might be useful for information.’

Wings of light burst from her back, several of the prisoners that hadn’t taken her advice swearing and, too late, covering their eyes as she leapt upwards. There was a startled shout from above, giving her something to head towards, trying not to scrape herself against a wall as she flew. Two guards saw the light, stepping onto a rocky balcony, wincing at the light coming from Stathis’ wings. A crossbow bolt shot wide, clattering off the wall behind her. She swooped, landing behind them, and shoving one off. The other she grabbed, as he desperately tried to draw his sword.

‘Where are the gates controlled from?’

He babbled for a moment before she shook him again, trying to get some sense from him. ‘The gatehouses! It’s heavily guarded, you’ll never…’ She smashed his head against the wall, knocking him unconscious, before grabbing his sword from his sheath and eyeing him up – he was a good head shorter than she was, and so his armour wouldn’t fit. Still, she grabbed his helmet, then shoved him over, down to the floor, where he was caught by the other prisoners.

From the sounds below, a certain amount of rough justice was being enacted already on the other guard. She yelled down. ‘Remember, keep them alive! I’ll be back to let you out soon.’ Then she threw the crossbows down as well, so they had some weapons, just in case.

With a helmet and a sword, she was doing better than before, although armour and a shield would be nice. And stealth had never been her strongest point, even without wings of light blazing from her back. She took a deep breath, letting the energy fade from her, shadows returning, before starting to explore. Hopefully the guards wouldn’t be expecting an attack from inside. And Brina and the others might work out where she had been taken, hopefully?

A long, curving hallway was the only exit, barely a pace wide, and utterly silent. It must still be night-time, from how dark it was, only light occasional torches, smell of pitch and smoke thick in the air. And beneath that, blood and fear. She shivered, sensing a darkness far beyond the physical, the same hissing, spitting heat as from the tower, only even stronger here.

She crept forward, leaping around a doorway, sword at the ready, poised to attack. And was greeted by an empty room, filled with all the usual detritus of an unused guardhouse – dirty clothing, unclean plates, damaged equipment. She found a shield, battered and worn, but better than nothing. From here, she moved faster, coming to a wider hallway – one end opened into what must be the arena, the night sky above her, too wide to see across, rows of stone seats curving away on either side. That meant she must be in one of the main entrance passages, for the audience to use. A noise from behind prompted her to dive behind a statue, several stone nymphs amorously tangling around each other above her.

A group of guards trooped past, armour clanking. Behind them walked a mage, or at least a robed and hooded figure, an ornate staff in one hand, a length of wood topped by a twisted curl of darkly gleaming metal. And behind them, accompanied by soft creaks and squelches, was the thing from the tower, or another version of the same beast. Seeing it clearly was far worse than the half-glimpses she had seen before – now it was clearly the twisted and stretched form of a human being, skin peeled and flayed, but somehow still moving and alive, glints of metal showing as it moved, spikes or nails hammed into it. Perhaps as some strange mercy, a mask had been strapped over its face, giving it an eerily bland face, nothing but a plain curve of dull metal atop a misshapen ruin of flesh.

It writhed and twitched, Stathis trying to remain out of sight, as the masked face twisted in the air. The wizard turned and made a gesture, incanting several magical words, as a band of black iron formed around its brow, the creature’s behaviour immediately changing, as it grew quiescent, obediently following along behind them. Several guards had been left in the hallway, blocking that route, forcing her back towards the arena.

She could dimly make out the soldiers in the centre of the arena, ducking low, hiding her sword in case it reflected light. A fenced area held several of the black wagons, currently not in use, and gated archways, that must lead to where the prisoners were being held.

She darted down to the wagons, pushing herself against one, as a few guards idled through a break, taking far too long before returning to their post. Inside one of the archways, there was a massive wooden gate, with a mechanism running up through the ceiling. She began climbing, the chain heavy with grease, trying to be as quiet as possible, focusing on moving, one hand over another. This is when Semari would have been useful, she’d have been up in moments! She hauled herself up, glad of stone beneath her hands rather than swaying, clinking chain.

She must have been too noisy, as a guard turned to look at her, dumb shock on her face. Stathis slammed the hilt of her sword forward, catching them in the chest, their armour absorbing the brunt of the blow, but knocking them backwards. It was clumsy, desperate fighting, fists more than weapons, trying to get them down, and keep them down, before they could cry for help. She got her fingers under their helmet strap and twisted, choking them, slamming their head against the wall until they went limp. She checked they were still alive, hoping that she hadn’t scrambled their brains too much.

She looked at the mechanism, following the chains and counterweights. Then a low throbbing noise started, coming from inside the arena. A scream sounded inside her head, fierce and shrill. A sensation of fire, fierce and strong, prickled her skin, before suddenly fading as she returned to herself. There was a small hatch on one side, which opened into the prison-cave. There was an immediate clamouring from those inside, as Stathis gestured for silence. ‘Something’s going on. Other people are here, we need to free them as well. When I open the gate, spread out, as quickly and quietly as possible, and take out as many guards as you can.’

The blacksmith yelled back. ‘You think I’m risking my skin for someone else!?’

‘Do you want to be a coward slinking away in the night, or do you want to be a hero? Think of the others, waiting for whatever is being done to them.’ Another scream sounded, this one louder. ‘Would you abandon another to the darkness? Stand up and goddam fight to protect your own, or who the hell is ever going to want to protect you? Didn’t you want to crack some skulls? Now’s the damn time. Step the fuck up and fight! Plus, this gate is into the arena, so the more people you free, the easier it’s going to be to escape.’ She grabbed a sword and tossed it through the gap. ‘And there’s more weapons as well.’ She grabbed a polearm off the wall and tossed that through. Then she pulled the lever, a chain rattling and clanking as a counterweight dropped, gate started to open. ‘Everyone, stay quiet!’

She dropped back down the chain as the gate opened, ignoring the grease now thoroughly soaked into her clothing. They moved forward, some now armed, at least seeming to listen to her, gathering around in a group, looking to her for leadership. ‘How many of you can fight? Keep low and out of sight, there’s guards around, and a monster. Anyone know where the exit is, or a hidden way out?’

Someone in the crowd spoke. ‘There’s drainage and old tunnels beneath us, they can’t have blocked all of them.’

‘OK, you take those that can’t fight, go find that, at least it’s somewhere to hide. Everyone else, don’t take any stupid risks or draw attention, and come with me.’ The group split up, some moving away, trying to pry up part of the floor.

She moved away, before anyone could start asking questions, wanting to keep them moving and focused on escape. The place was designed in a repeating pattern, so there should be another prison immediately to the side. A fire flared into life in the centre of the area, illuminating the soldiers, the creature obvious from its twisted and warped shape, still twitching and writhing.

They snuck around to the next area, where a guard was currently taking a piss against the wall. They looked at each other, Stathis holding up three fingers, slowly folding them, counting down. On ‘0’, they attacked, jumping the guard and dragging him down before he could yell, smashing his face into the ground, quickly beating him unconscious and taking his weapon. This time, there was a stairway to take, as they charged in, tackling another guard to the ground.

As he was being restrained, Stathis opened the slot into the cavern. In the pale light, grimy, tired faces, full of despair, stared back at her.

‘I’m freeing you. Just stay quiet and try and free as many others as possible. Any of you that can fight? We’ve got some weapons, but not many. The rest, stay in the shadows, try and find a way to escape.’ The gate started to rattle open, the prisoners immediately rushing forward. Stathis urged them to silence, pointing the way they had come from.

She froze, her body suddenly fever-hot, needles of heat piercing her, as a scream rang through the air, long and pained. The rest of the group stopped, drawing closer together for protection. A fire suddenly flared in the centre of the arena, illuminating tall wooden stakes that had been driven into the ground. One burst into flame, screams intensifying, a figure writhing in pain. A crimson stream of energy poured from their mouth, drawn towards the robed figure, disappearing into their staff.

Stathis spun, preparing to charge and managed three steps before being tackled to the ground from behind, the bearded man grabbing her. ‘I don’t know what you are, but you’re not taking that many by yourself, lass. You can’t fight them.’ Another scream rang out as another stake was lit, fire cutting into Stathis, until she forced her senses shut, forced herself to ignore it, ignore the pain and terror. ‘We save those we can. You’ve done more than you had to, more than most would! But we need to get out of here, before they notice.’

More energy, vivid, burning, tormented crimson streamed through the air, accompanied by cries of agony. Stathis clenched her fist, knowing he was right, but not wanting to just leave. Another group moved past, three people helping to carry an old man. Then a shout came from somewhere in the darkness, followed by the loud ringing of an alarm bell. ‘We go now, lass, or we’re never going!’ She picked herself up, moving with the crowd as they streamed towards another archway.

There was the clash of metal, those at the front in combat with more guards, others spilling in behind. Stathis shoved her way through, barrelling a guard out of the way, pivoting and attacking, easily pushing through a block, cutting into an attacker’s flank, then pushing through and taking out another one with a stab to the leg.

The mob behind her surged forward, streaming through the gap she’d made, grabbing weapons on the way. She let herself be carried along, as they rushed into the clear area surrounding the arena, a newly-built wall ahead of them. A large gate might have been tough from the outside, but from this side, it was easy to unbolt, even as crossbow bolts started firing at them. Stathis blocked one, feeling another graze her side and draw blood. A man ran past her with a crossbow, as she grabbed it off him and fired back, a cry of pain indicating a hit. As the flow of prisoners stopped, Stathis fled as well, the alleys and backstreets of the city, allowing herself to be carried along with the crowd, the city still and dark around them.