The three figures who came to stand outside the cell each looked menacing. Caleb forced himself to stay quiet and remain where he was.

I’ve been through tough spots before, he thought. Even if I can’t remember them yet. I need information out of these people too, I just need to pay attention.

Virgil Draymon stood to one side, his round face placid and expressionless. By comparison, the tall, broad-chested man next to him looked as if he could breathe fire. He had a ruddy face framed by a copper-colored beard and a wide-brimmed black hat. The rest of his silver-trimmed outfit mimicked that of Malum Kane, save for a jeweled scabbard and a pair of heavy knee-length boots.

A new screen flashed next to the man’s face. Caleb had to tear his eyes away from the man’s murderous glare to quickly glance at it.

Name: Lord High Captain Eric Delacroix Class: Eldritch Knight / Eldritch Magic Wielder Alignment: Neutral Evil Eldritch Knight-Specific Specialties: Double Weapon Wielding, Second Wind… Eldritch Magic Wielder Specialties: Witch Bolt, Flame Strike…

“This man?” Delacroix demanded, jabbing a finger towards Caleb. “You’re telling me that this pathetic worm killed Malum Kane? Stabbed him in the back, likely as not.”

Caleb considered. Begging for mercy or sweet-talking his way out of here seemed unlikely. He decided to tough it out.

“I didn’t backstab your man,” he shot back. “I took his pistol and tried shooting him. When it misfired, I had to beat him to death with it.”

“Apparently, that’s the truth,” Draymon said. “The Guardsmen who made up his squad were quite emphatic about what he did. And rather upset.”

“Upset? Upset?” Delacroix glared inside the cell. “Little worm, you have no idea what you’ve done. As soon as this door is opened, your blood shall coat my sword.”

Delacroix’s hand went to the hilt of his sword. But a pale feminine hand moved to touch his, stopping all motion.

Where the Lord High Captain was all fire, the woman who stepped in front of him was his exact opposite. Her face had delicate features that seemed carved from ivory. She wore a silver dress and flowing cloak, both edged in black. The trim matched her long ebony locks. But her dark eyes held no more compassion in them than the Inquisitor.

One more screen blinked into being over the others stacking up at the edge of Caleb’s vision.

Name: Seeress Lady Lilin Ravencrow Class: Warlock Alignment: Lawful Evil Warlock-Specific Specialties: Otherworldly Patron, Pact Magic… Warlock-Specific Sub-Specialties: Witch Bolt, Teleportation, Remote Scrying…

“Stay your hand, Eric,” she said firmly. “This one, we can use.”

“He robbed me of one of my Komturs, stealing half of his accumulated experience! That’s grounds for execution, milady!”

“Perhaps, but not immediate execution.” Ravencrow turned to regard Caleb for a moment before speaking again. “You have the Outer Sight, as we. That should save time on introductions, at least. You know who we are.”

“I know who you are,” Caleb spat. “And I know what you are. Malum Kane explained your cult of Myrkur well enough. You torture and kill others for no reason!”

“Not for no reason,” the Lady corrected him. “Every life in Avalon is precious, has a purpose. It just so happens that the purpose of many is to fuel our advancement, our power. And we don’t just kill others outright.”

Delacroix coughed into his hand.

“All right,” she admitted. “Sometimes we do that. But not crudely. Not like Komtur Kane. I like to think of our process as a little more sophisticated. I don’t like squeezing the juice from a ripe fruit, only to throw the rest away. No, I want everything. The flesh, the seeds, the core!”

“You’re no better than a bunch of cannibals, then.” Caleb gritted. “I can’t even remember who or what I was before I arrived in Avalon. What happened, what twisted each of you this way?”

“Twisted?” Delacroix let out a laugh. “Myr picked us because of what we were, what we desired. In my prior life, I was an orthodontist. Lady Ravencrow worked in Human Resources.”

Caleb blinked at that. “Damn. You two are pure evil.”

Ravencrow shrugged at that. “Your judgement of me matters little. Now I need you to show me something.”

“Yeah? What?”

“What I wish to know.” She nodded towards Draymon. The man raised his hand and pointed at Caleb. A harsh electric crackle cut the air.

Instantly, Caleb’s nerves were on fire. His muscles spasmed, and he dropped to his knees. Waves of agony racked his body, tearing screams from his throat. He pressed hands and forehead against the damp stone floor, fighting the pain, fighting to breathe.

The sensation finally stopped, leaving him sprawled out and gasping.

“That was ten seconds,” Draymon said, with an air of satisfaction.

“And yet he fought back the entire time,” Ravencrow mused. “Perhaps you did kill Komtur Kane. You possess an impressive amount of will.”

“Or an impressive amount of stupidity,” Delacroix said, with a snort. “Drain his soul and let’s be on our way.”

“His soul shall make a marvelous meal,” the Lady agreed. “Yet it shall have to wait until the morrow. The next cell down has been prepared. The paladin’s ready for another soul draining tonight.”

“Pity,” Draymon sighed. “This fellow’s a screamer. But then, so is she. I like it when they scream.”

Caleb’s ears perked up at that. But he remained still, as if he’d passed out. Until he heard the trio walk on.

Cautiously, he got up and tried to look both ways down the corridor. It was empty, but he heard rattling chains and muffled voices come from off to the left. Further into the dungeon.

His next realization came with a chill: If I can’t find a way out, I’m done for. Soul and all.

Frustrated, he tugged at his wrist fetters, making the chain joining them clank. He paused and took a good look at the locking mechanism on his wrists. They were primitive, and what’s more, he knew at a glance how simple it would be to pick them.

“My memory’s still lost, but that’s another hint that I wasn’t a Boy Scout,” he muttered. “Doesn’t do me any good without something to pick it with, though.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, he realized that he didn’t need anything else. If magic worked the way he thought, maybe it would do. He waved away all the screens in his view except for the one about Craft with Iron.

Caleb’s eye jumped to two spells: Locate Metal Shard and Hold Metal Shard.

“Worth a shot,” he reasoned, as he put his right hand over the band circling his left wrist.

He closed his eyes and envisioned the interior of the lock. A three-dimensional picture winked on in his head. A simple carved set of protrusions inside held it shut without the right shaped key. But if they were pressed and held out of the way using his Hold Metal Shard spell…

The cuff on his left wrist popped open with a tiny plink.

A new screen blinked on before him.

Beginner's-Level Quest: Cast magic to materially alter an outcome: COMPLETE.

He smiled before waving it away. A few moments later, and he had the remaining cuffs on his right hand and both feet undone. Caleb shrugged the restraints off and went to the cell door. Unlike the fetters, it was held shut with a stout padlock bigger than his hand.

Feeling strangely confident, he touched the lock. Within a few seconds, it quivered as he manipulated it with his magic. This mechanism had a set of levers and tumblers, which took more time to set in place. Another minute or two, and he’d have it.

Suddenly, he heard more talking coming from further within the dungeon. He couldn’t quite make out what was being said. He recognized Delacroix’s ugly laugh.

Then he heard a woman speak. It was a pretty voice, and it was raised in defiance.

“I shall not submit to your evil! Do your worst, Kirren take you all!”

The crackle of Draymon’s pain magic sizzled through the air. The woman let out a scream, a long one that raised gooseflesh on Caleb’s arms.

Hurry, pick the lock and run! A voice in his head urged. All their attention is on that paladin. You won’t get a better chance to escape!

As if to drive the point home, what he now thought of as his Quest Window popped up again.

Adventurer’s-Level Quest: Attempt to escape Deephold Keep: PARTIALLY COMPLETE

Another crackle. The woman screamed even louder, though she didn’t break or beg for mercy. When the crackling stopped, he heard the wet, pitiful sound of sobbing.

Again, his mind flashed to what Kane had said: If you want to survive, you may have to do things you’re not completely okay with.

Caleb bowed his head and set his jaw.

I don’t know what kind of man I was, he thought fiercely. But whoever I was isn’t important right now. If I’m going to escape, I’m not leaving that woman. Or the families they’ve taken in just to drain and slaughter!

The Quest Window shifted as he made his decision.

Adventurer’s-Level Quest: Attempt to escape Deephold Keep: PARTIALLY COMPLETE. Quest difficulty increased 200% due to assumption of two additional Adventurer’s Level Quests. New Adventurer’s-Level Quest: Attempt to free the paladin and escape Deephold Keep. New Adventurer’s-Level Quest: Attempt to free all the prisoners and escape Deephold Keep.

Lir and Danu’s Helpful Hints:

Those you rescue are not all helpless. Use their strengths and expertise to assist you. Confrontation and violence usually result in death. We recommend that you avoid dying.

Delacroix’s laugh filtered up the corridor again, along with the sound of footsteps. Caleb snatched up his fetters and draped them around his ankles and wrists. He then sprawled out on the floor in the same position as when they’d left him.

“Delicious, delicious,” Lady Ravencrow said, as they passed his cell. “She has even more soul energy left in her than I thought.”

“Draymon,” Delacroix added, “I want a squad to bring down an extra set of chains. Not for the paladin, I’m not concerned about her. But I’m worried about the Beast we have in the back room. He’s already killed two men we sent in to feed it. I don’t want any more mishaps.”

“Yezzir,” Draymon agreed. “It shall be done.”

Caleb counted slowly to one hundred after they passed before he dared move.

Finally, he got up and went to the door. He immediately put his spellcraft to work. In his haste, the lock slipped out of his magical grasp and made a loud clank against the bars.

His skin crawled, but no one came to check out the source of the noise.

Then he heard the woman’s voice.

“Is…is someone there?”

“My name’s Caleb Ledger,” he called back, as quietly as he could. “I’m a prisoner like you. But I’m close to getting out, and I’ll free you as soon as I do.”

“I am Octavia Morningstar,” came the reply. “It is a noble thing you seek to accomplish, Sir Ledger. Yet I urge you not to do this. Escape and find others to free me and all the families trapped in this hellish place.”

“Just call me Caleb,” he said, as he continued to work. “And that’s not going to work. The bad guys run the entire town and port outside this place. I could use your help with this whole escape thing, Octavia. Are you able to move if I free you? If not, I’ll carry you.”

A gentle laugh at that.

“I doubt you could carry me, Caleb. And you may call me Tavia. Worry not, I still have my legs under me. Undo but a single chain binding me and I can help you.”

Finally, the lock made a plink. He swung the door open with a creak and headed down further into the dungeon. Caleb didn’t know Tavia Morningstar, but he already liked her. She’d urged him to help others instead of herself.

Her voice sounded musical. In his mind, he pictured the voice belonging to a good-looking young woman. A blonde, maybe.

The next cell was easily triple the size of his own, and it had no bars. He walked up and saw where the paladin had been restrained with a series of chains leading to iron rings set deep into the walls.

Tavia Morningstar was indeed a good looking blonde.

Caleb blinked.

He found himself staring at a palomino unicorn mare.