Chapter Text
Zale was quiet…and so, so still.
It wasn’t that he didn’t make any noise…he moaned when Garl shifted him in his arms, a low, broken, pained sound that cut deep into the Warrior Cook’s heart. But it was like Zale tried to swallow them, flinching minutely as he did.
“Don’t worry, Zale. We’re getting you out. Just…hang on a bit more, okay?”
Another whine was clipped off, and Garl tightened his hold. He gently rubbed his hand against Zale’s arm, wincing as the grime on his friend’s body smeared. There were other, older stains smeared across his skin, as if someone had only given him a cursory wipe with a cloth and hadn’t actually bothered to properly get him clean.
He’d hastily wrapped him in Seraï’s cloak, to give him some protection and warmth. Garl was glad he’d had the foresight to grab the discarded cloth after Seraï had revealed herself as a cyborg.
Especially since Zale was wearing…not much, and those weren’t clothes exactly. His chest was draped with a torn and stained strip of gauzy cloth—ripped, snarled, and knotted behind his back. It had a dark, rusted stain at the bottom of it…and it was threaded through a…collar, pinned in place by a large, ruby brooch. The collar was golden with a leash attached, with matching belled manacles on his arms and legs. Zale’s lower half was bare, and there was a glint of white and gold nestled on…
Garl didn’t want to consider what it meant, a horrible twisting in his stomach if he focused too hard on the idea. When he’d wrapped him, there were flashes of more jewelry…on his chest, on his ears…a ring in his nose…
There were also the scars…long, thin lines that crisscrossed along Zale’s back and down the backs of his thighs; the skin on his neck and collarbone, along with his wrists and ankles, had marks and wounds from the metal digging into him, no doubt. And all the scars ranged from old and silvery to the harsh and dark colors of newly healed wounds. And there were so many—
“I’m sorry, Zale. We took too long.”
Then there was this room…Zale’s cell…and Garl wanted nothing more than to destroy everything in it.
The broken stand that Seraï had freed Zale from…they’d heard the blows to the wood, the sound of it cracking as they ran down the hall at the assassin’s shout. The discolored wood around the openings where Zale had been bound…the brighter stains matching the rawness of the young man’s neck and wrists. How long had he struggled against his bondage? How often had he been forced to kneel there, waiting for his jailers to return? Waiting to be tortured again?
There was a too small cage tucked into the corner, a bucket alongside it. Shelves with rope and bindings… And then there were all the racks of torture devices…whips, canes, knives, and other horrifying clamps and tools that Garl never wanted to know how they worked…or how often they were used on his friend…
Maybe he could set it all on fire? How fitting would it be for all the torture devices used to hurt a Summer Solstice Warrior to go up in flames?
Seraï was keeping an eye on the hall, her daggers clenched tight in her hands, tension in her every line. Valere, B’st, and the Resh’an puppet had left to check the rest of the wing, making sure there weren’t any surprises in the other rooms. And to possibly find anything of Zale’s in them.
The steps of the three returning felt like music to Garl’s ears, and he glanced up as Valere immediately returned to his side. Valere and the Resh’an puppet were…a bit ragged around the edges, an odd, shining, puckered welt on the Lunar Monk’s left arm. Both she and the Resh’an puppet looked like something wet had attempted to climb up them. B’st looked fine physically, though the pink Golem’s eyes seemed…sad when he’d glanced at where Garl was cradling Zale.
“Valere?”
“Found some more…disturbing things…” Her eyes were shiny with unshed tears, and her mouth was pressed into a tight line. Valere’s hands shook as she gently brushed Zale’s hair back, and winced as the blond flinched away. Zale curled further into Garl’s arms with a whimper, his eyes squeezing ever tighter as he shifted.
“…they were probably used to hurt your friend,” B’st murmured, and shook his head when Garl’s head snapped up to look at him. “We should discuss it later…when we are in a safer place.”
Seraï turned from the doorway, her feet scuffing softly against the stone floor and her eyes tight as she drew closer. Zale twitched at the sound, his eyes opening a crack and rolling his head towards the assassin, a questioning whimper that was nearly too quiet to hear drifting up from his throat.
Seraï froze as dull blue eyes locked on her, Zale’s brow furrowing as he stared. She shook herself when his eyes fluttered closed again, turning to Valere with a worried glance at the trembling blond.
“I can open a portal to get us back to the ship, if there’s nothing left in this area. Be faster…and safer.”
“It won’t give us away?” Valere’s voice was tight, violet eyes glancing up at Seraï.
“…It shouldn’t. I don’t think they have a way to follow immediately. And the Vespertine is docked at Cerulean Island, we should be able to get to the Sea of Stars fast enough before they realize where we went. Keenathan can also give us a boost, if we need it.”
“What about the aircraft?”
“I’ll open a portal for Cedric’s probe, so it can be flown away and used as a decoy. The way we crashed it into the Lair, I don’t think we’ll get much more use out of it, even if it could fit on the Vespertine.”
Garl felt a twinge of disappointment at that. Artificer had worked hard on making their flying machine out of the scrap they’d gathered of the Queen That Was, Catalyst, and Meduso. Even if it had been a terrifying and shaky ride to the Lair, being a bit haphazardly put together due to the time constraints and poor materials, at least according to Artificer; the fact that they had been able to fly at all was amazing. Garl had hoped they would have been able take it back for the robot engineer, even after their not so graceful landing.
“Let’s go then,” Valere stated, and Garl stood up with her. He pressed Zale into her arms, and shook his head at her startled look. Zale whimpered at the change, shivering and twisting as Valere’s arms tightened around him. She glanced briefly down at her partner, eyes wide. Garl suspected it was at how light Zale was now…he’d hated how it felt as well. The last time he’d hauled Zale up off the ground, dazed and a near dead weight after a battle, the Solstice Warrior been surprisingly hefty for his slight frame…but now…
“You all go ahead of me,” Garl said, already setting his pack down, and rummaging through it.
“What?! You aren’t thinking of staying behind!”
“Not exactly!” Garl’s hand finally grasped around the small fuel canister Artificer had given him when they’d gone on their “maiden voyage” with the aircraft, pulling it free with a satisfied grin. It was supposed to be emergency fuel for the machine, to be fed into an intake pipe in the back of the cockpit if they had run out of fuel too early. Artificer had warned him that it was highly concentrated, and to pour it slowly into the intake, otherwise it might have caused the machine to overload and…explode. Garl snagged it on a whim when they’d “landed” at the Lair, thinking he’d be able to use the volatile liquid for something when they got inside. Make one of his Cooker Surprises more explosive, if nothing else.
“That’s…Artificer gave us that, didn’t he?” Valere frowned at the canister. Seraï stared as well, eyes narrowed and calculating.
“Yeah…that would work,” she muttered, then turned and slashed open a portal. “Alright everyone, please get in the glowing green circle. I’ll help Garl.”
“Seraï?”
“Seems fair, and fitting, that we burn everything in this room…for Zale, I mean.”
Valere stared, eyes widening in realization, before her face shifted with determination.
“If there’s enough…there’s a set of rooms down at the end of the hall that could use it, too. Bunch of broken glass, you can’t miss it.”
Seraï nodded, and Valere turned to the portal, the Resh’an puppet a step behind her. B’st, however, turned away from them, moving to stand beside Garl. He blinked up at the tall Golem, a grin slowly forming as he met the unwavering blue eyes of the Spirit.
“B’st?” Valere shifted Zale in her arms again, wincing at how the blond shuddered and whined again. B’st shook his head at the Solstice Warrior, eyes determined.
“You need to go, Valere. I believe it would be best if I help Garl and Seraï in ensuring the destruction of the things that hurt Zale.”
“Thank you…” Valere dipped her head in a nod, and led the way through the glowing circle, the Resh’an puppet close behind her. Seraï slashed another portal open as that one closed, and the probe Cedric controlled flew up from the assassin’s pack to spin overhead for a moment, then settled to hover before the assassin.
“I shall move the aircraft away from the Lair to give you more time. This likely will result in the destruction of this probe when the aircraft crashes.”
“Understood, Cedric. Help Repine in its recovery while we’re gone, and try to get another probe made as soon as you can,” Seraï ordered. “…I don’t know how long this will take.”
“Affirmative. The Solstice Warrior’s recovery is a high priority. Analysis: In his reactions to stimuli and the implications of the uses of this cell, it is probable that his recovery will be long and difficult. With the destruction of the Dweller of Dread and The Queen That Was, this world’s chance of survival has been extended. Recommended Action: Take your time.”
“…thanks, Cedric…”
“Good luck, Seraï.” The probe dove into the glowing portal, and it closed behind the machine with a soft whoosh.
“Garl, you and Seraï go and get started on the other room,” B’st said, placing a hand on the stand that Zale had been locked in. “I will get everything into a pile here. You shouldn’t need much fuel to get that room going.”
“Right.”
Garl was just a step behind Seraï as they ran down the hall, the crashing of wood and metal being thrown about echoing behind them. The stonework was not as…fleshy or disturbing in this section, but they still skidded to a startled halt as they walked through the entrance to the room in question.
“What…is this?”
The broken glass Valere had mentioned was from a tipped over shelf, canisters shattered across the floor. A dimly glowing substance pooled around the broken cylinders, making the floor slick as Garl slowly moved further into the room. The monsters’ bodies were strewn about, and for a moment he thought they were octopuses…but there were no visible eyes on them, and some of them had too many limbs…
Despite all the broken glass and…dead monsters, it looked deceptively normal, if somewhat overly rich and tasteless in style. An enormous, low platformed bed was directly before them, draped with satin and silks; a huge pile of oversized and plush cushions were heaped directly to its right. A seating area was directly to the right of the entrance, a ring driven into the floor at the low, ornate chair’s right hand side. Further into the back, right corner, tucked beside the pile of cushions, was a low seated, mother-of-pearl enameled vanity with a large three piece mirror set atop it; glittering gems, gold and silver chains, and elaborate jewelry were strewn across its surface.
“What…are these things?” Garl knelt down by monster, eyeing the squished purple thing underneath one of the more intact canisters. “B’st…said these were used to—to hurt Zale…?”
He stood, turning and taking in the room more, the sick feeling from earlier settling further into his gut. Now that he was closer to the bed, he could see another ring driven into the floor before the pile of cushions, and attached to that….
A heavy, dark chain trailed across the floor. Another collar linked to it, thick and bulky.
The cushions were—had to be where—where Zale was kept when not in that cell. The stark difference in how their friend had been held was sickening, a whiplash between torture and pampering.
“These—fucking bastards—”
Garl turned to see Seraï’s tense form, hands clenched as she stared at the dead monsters.
“Seraï? You recognize these things?”
“Not—exactly. But I can make some…educated guesses.”
“…Let’s not go into it now.” He had an idea as well, and the thought turned his stomach even more. “Let’s just finish this.”
Garl’s gaze slowly scanned over the room once more; there were a lot of things that would go up in flames quickly if they piled it just right. Seraï kicked a few of the dead monsters closer together, as Garl grabbed the chair in the corner. He grunted as he threw it onto the tipped shelf, Seraï jumping as the ornate table clattered next to it.
“Here,” Garl handed the fuel to the assassin, pulling his pack around to grab his matches. “I don’t think we’ll need much with all the fabric, but all this slime might put the flames out…”
“Right. If we’re lucky, the damn stuff is flammable as well.”
Seraï started pouring the fuel onto the bed, working her way around to the right, throwing as closed of a line of the fuel over the cushions, vanity, and the piled furniture as she could. She poured a liberal amount onto the slime and monster bodies, then trailed a line to close it off back at where she started. The assassin then laid a trail towards Garl, further back where he was standing by the door. She capped the canister and nodded at the Warrior Cook.
“Here we go…”
The match caught immediately on the line of fuel, flaring and speeding down the trail. When it hit the slime, the fluid hissed and sizzled, before a flame caught and slowly started to spread; the slime itself had to have been flammable, as the flames flickered and grew even faster, strange colors sparking and flaring as the rest of it lit up. The bed caught immediately, and the cushions flared to life a second later.
Garl stared at the growing flames with a grimace, not turning when Seraï laid a hand on his shoulder.
“…B’st is waiting.”
“……Yeah.”
The sounds of destruction had stopped echoing up the hall; when they stepped back into the cell, B’st hadn’t left much intact, everything in the room heaped in the center of the floor. The stand had been broken down into pieces, the various shelves broken atop it as well. The torture devices were strewn overtop the pile, all capped with a twisted and crushed snarl of metal of what had been the cage. B’st stood beside the heap, eyes sad as he frowned at an odd piece of leather in his hands.
“B’st?”
“This was made by the Birdmen,” the Golem glanced up at them, “The cultists used them to deprive the senses of their…sacrifices to the Fleshmancer and their god.”
Garl took the leather from him, turning it in his hands. It was a hood of some sort, with a wide opening for what he assumed was intended for a beak. It bulged slightly out about the “eyes” and sides, though the inside looked as if the hood had been reinforced with padding. There were faint stains in the leather and padding along the inside, about where a person’s eyes would be…
“They used this on Zale, too…”
The leather of the hood crumpled in Garl’s grip, the image of a sobbing Zale being bound, blinded, and deafened while being tortured in this room...then all the implications of what could have happened to him in the other…
Garl couldn’t bear it anymore. He flung the leather on the pile, glaring at all the things that had been used to hurt his friend.
“Seraï. Please.”
She immediately stepped forward and dumped the rest of the fuel on the pile. Garl struck a match and quickly dropped it on top. They all took a step back as the heap ignited, flames curling and licking higher and higher. Garl watched in grim satisfaction as the leather hood started to curl and smoke.
“We need to go,” Seraï said, turning and slicing open a portal. Garl eyed the burning pile one last time, wishing there was more that he could do to this damned place in retaliation for all the pain inflicted on Zale.
“Zale needs you, Garl. So does Valere,” B’st murmured, gently steering the Warrior Cook around.
“…you’re right. Let’s go.”
The three stepped through the glowing green portal, the smell of the sea and the familiar wooden deck of the Vespertine a welcome change after the horrors of the Lair.
Valere carefully knelt down and settled Zale into the nest of blankets Yolande and Valtraid had built in the upper cabin. Yolande had given Zale a hard stare when Valere had stepped into the cabin, then the first mate rushed away, yelling something over her shoulder about getting more supplies. The Puppet had moved to the table where Resh’an had set up a workbench, the void of a face seeming to stare at the various beakers and tools scattered across its surface.
“Damn, he…he doesn’t look good there, Valere.”
No, he didn’t.
Valere sucked in a shuddering breath, willing the tears threatening to fall to stay put for just a little longer. She couldn’t break down now. There was too much to do.
The nest was large, and Zale looked so small laying in it. He had been frighteningly light in her arms, and now she could see how thin and starved he looked. Valere wasn’t certain if Zale was awake, but he twitched and whimpered when she started to carefully unwrap him from Seraï’s cloak. She left the cloth draped about his waist, not wanting to expose him any more than he already had been.
They hadn’t much time in the Lair to see how injured he was. Underneath the dirt and grime, there was a rawness about his neck and wrists from the wooden pillory and the shackles about his limbs; his back on down to mid-thighs was riddled with heavy scarring, and the number and severity of them made Valere want to hit something.
With how thin and limp Zale appeared when they’d rushed into the room to see Seraï cradling him in her lap, Valere had expected the worst…The cyborg had looked both anguished and resigned when she’d shifted the broken young man into Garl’s arms; Valere made a note to talk to Seraï later, to make sure that the woman wasn’t blaming herself for Zale’s condition…
Valere gently ran her hand along Zale’s face, frowning as her fingers caught in the tangles in his hair. His skin was far more pale and grayed out than she was used to seeing him, and his hair was so long…
She found herself fixating on it, such a small thing in the grand scheme of what had happened to her partner. Valere inwardly vowed that she’d find something to trim his hair back as soon as she could…Zale hated it when his hair grew out the slightest bit, complaining on how it itched and stuck to his neck with sweat. While they were in the Academy, she’d been the one to help him get the undercut just the way he preferred it in the back, and Valere could just hear his complaints that he could only see so much in the mirror, and could she please give him a hand…?
She shook herself out of the memory, and started rearranging the nest into something a little more supportive. Valtraid knelt on Zale’s other side and helped her move some of the blankets and pillows about, carefully lifting the whimpering young man so she could push a more supportive pillow underneath his head.
“Here, we should get those things off ov ‘im.”
Valere jumped as a pair of cutters swung into her sight, Yolande giving her a tight smile as she knelt beside Valtraid. The first mate set a couple of buckets and a multitude of rags on either side of the nest, steam curling and wafting up from the water inside.
“Right…” Valere took the cutters, and set them onto the thick gold ring about her partner’s neck. It took less time than she thought to cut through the metal, and Valtraid stretched it wide to slip it from Zale’s thin neck. The other manacles received the same treatment, bells jingling as they were lifted free. The quartermaster tossed them to the side with a disgusted noise, along with the brooch that had held Zale’s…clothing…to the collar.
Zale shivered and whined as they carefully maneuvered him up to pull the stained fabric free, his eyes briefly opening and flicking about the room before shuddering and curling in on himself. Valere winced inwardly as they gently settled him back down, then stuttered to a halt as she stared at the young man’s chest.
“What—what did they do—?”
There were golden rings with large beads threaded through Zale’s nipples, and it almost looked as if his chest was…developing into breasts. The cloth had hidden the soft, shallow curves, but…even with how thin he’d become, they were clearly there.
Yolande’s lips pursed tighter as she gently examined the jewelry, Valere hovering worriedly as the woman took hold of one. The first mate carefully pulled at the ring, pressing against the golden bead with her thumbs, and popped it free with a careful push. Yolande twisted the metal carefully and worked it free from Zale. She nodded with a grim smile and removed the ring on the other side, then reached up and removed the nose ring.
“There. Now, how’s about we get this boy ov yers clean, eh? Can’t be comfortable like this…” Yolande was saying, turning to her bucket and soaked one of the rags, then wrung it out and handed it to Valtraid. Both Valere and the man blinked at the first mate, even as he took the damp cloth.
“I think…it’d be best if ye be the one to check on 'im, Valtraid.”
“Ah…yes.”
Valere soaked one of her own rags, then winced at how badly the dirt smeared when she gently dabbed at Zale’s neck. She managed to get one spot under his chin clean when Valtraid choked on a distressed noise. Valere turned, startled, and froze at what the blond was staring at…there, punched through the tip of Zale’s dick, was another piece of jewelry. It glittered gold and iridescent in the flickering light of the lamps, and Valtraid shakily reached to examine the metal.
“They—is that—?”
Zale twitched and shivered with another quiet whine, tears welling underneath his tightly shut eyes and trailing down into his hair. Valere winced and turned to gently stroke his head, her partner shuddering and leaning into her caress, dull blue eyes briefly opening again but staring at nothing.
“…it’s not just this. He’s…” Valtraid’s voice dropped, voice tight with anger as he carefully spread Zale’s legs. “…he’s missing—parts…And—he’s got things he shouldn’t.”
Valere stiffened, not quite comprehending what the man was saying. Yolande reached for her as she moved to see what the quartermaster was looking at, but the first mate wasn’t fast enough to stop her.
She covered her mouth in horror and couldn’t stop the tears this time, unable to look away from Zale’s changed body. Nothing looked scarred or mutilated, like so many of the creatures they’d encountered in the Lair. Just smooth skin where his balls should have been, and just below that, the soft folds of an entrance…
“Oh—oh, Zale—”
Valtraid shifted, reaching and draping the cloak back over the young man’s waist. Yolande immediately got up to circle the nest and gently embraced the sobbing Solstice Warrior from behind.
“It’ll be alright, we’ve got ‘im now. He’s safe.”
“W-we took too long—Zale—we—we s-should’ve been faster—”
“It isn’t yer fault, don’t you start blamin’ yerself fer this—”
“Va—Valere?”
Her head snapped up to stare at Garl standing in the door, Seraï and B’st hovering worriedly behind him. He hesitated, glancing around and lingering on Zale; Garl shook himself, turning and striding into the room with a determined step. He knelt next her, placing a gentle hand on her back, and Yolande gently pushed Valere into his arms.
She had been barely holding herself together by the skin of her teeth these last few weeks…every delay they’d been up against winding her tighter and tighter inside, and now that they had Zale back—it should’ve been a relief! They had him and he was safe now!
—But he was so tortured and scarred and changed—just laying there limp and not even responding——
—She couldn’t be strong anymore.
“Hey, it’s—it’s alright. L-let it out.”
She could feel wetness dripping into her hair, Garl’s arms tightening about her as she clutched at him. There was a murmur of words about them, and both Valtraid and Yolande stood and followed Seraï out of the cabin.
“I can finish cleaning Zale,” B’st murmured, gently resting a hand on each of their shoulders. “Take the time you need…”
The ship rocked and lurched, familiar shouts as crew called to each other, echoing into the cabin as the Vespertine set sail. They were going home…