[i]Paint the earth.[/i] Kire found herself smirking, if only briefly, and she nodded in reply. When Ysarynn wiped her face, Kire realized her own face must be covered in blood too—hers, and the slavers they had slaughtered. Once they had blocked off the way behind them, using the gates the slavers had built for it, the crates they had unload, and a cage Kire had managed to tear from the wagon, they were off. The elves, Bolym at the head, took over the wagons and horses. Kire took one of the free horses. “Ride with me, Chieftess.” They both needed to conserve their strength for what lay ahead. 

They had met no real opposition as they rode down the hidden trail. Either the rest of them had been trapped behind them, or had fled to safety, or were with the ones that had gone to capture Ruli. With the Gemini. Kire focused on the trail ahead and spotting danger on the way; the sooner she and Ysaryn reach their destination, the sooner they could help Ruli. They met a few stragglers ahead, but on horseback they were easy to dispose of. Soon, Kire could see the roads diverging: one of the paths looked brighter, the overcropping receding to let in the morning light more. [i]The way out.[/i] Kire worried there may be more of Itallo’s slavers guarding that path, but she would have to trust Bolym and their kin that they could hold their own. She waited just a few more moments to see if enemies would be charging at them. When none came, she gave him a nod and directed her steed to the other road.

“They’ll be alright, won’t they?” Kire murmured as they made their way straight ahead.  This trail veered left and began to slope downward once more. Soon, the light of morning disappeared, replaced once more by torchlight. She could smell not just Gemini magic, but the specific signature of Ikegai’s bloody art. The horse seemed to sense it too. In any case, the further they went, the less likely they would be able to take it in. Kire had it stop, climbed off the saddle, drew her sword again. [i]Mines? Ah.[/i] She had expected to find some passage that would lead to the underside of a manor or palace, but instead it looked like they were heading for the entrance to a mine shaft. The closer she got to the opening, the stronger the signatures were, she was afraid she’d lose track of where Gavin was taking Rulitus. On top of that, there was a new sensation: the smell of an orchard, filled with orchids and plums, with an underlying odor of rot. She remembered the crates full of stored elf blood they had left behind. 

Somebody was coming their way. [i]The first sentries.[/i] As Kire prepared for the attack, though, she could see the silhouette crouch to fit through the entrance before extending itself. “Oh [i]fuck me[/i],” Kire hissed. It was a Kartaian. She instinctively stepped back, arm held out to Ysaryn. The Kartaian’s head swayed this way and that, as if looking for something, before finally looking their way, lips curled into a snarl, smelling of decay.
[i]Decay?[/i]
Kire’s eyes searched its body for signs, finally finding the carved runes on its chest, the pinprick of light from a blood gem. She barely registered it when the Kartaian lunged with his sword. “It’s a doll. Puppet. Not alive, still deadly!” More silhouettes flickered in the torchlight behind the Kartaian. [i]More dolls.[/i] “Cut out the gem,” she said simply, before meeting the Kartaian-doll’s blade. This one was much less decayed than the other doll she had fought, and seemed quicker, too. With a grunt, Kire parried its blows, went in for an opening and slashed its leg off. She was about to go in for another when she felt multiple hands grabbing her. [i]Elf-dolls.[/i] Ysaryn’s kin. Empty now, save for the commands from the gem to protect the mine’s entrance. 

“Bastards!” Kire yelled as she pulled more dragon-strength from the Ring, throwing the whole lot against the Kartaian. She hacked through them, but they had no weapons, went limp faster than the Kartaian doll when she damaged them. [i]Fodder. He made fodder out of their corpses.[/i] They really were just dolls to the blood mage, playthings to test out his magic. She hacked off the head of the Kartaian doll last, cut out the gem on its chest while the other dolls writhed uselessly. She turned quickly to Ysaryn to see if she needed help, slashing the dolls nearest to her. [i]Gods. The bastard![/i] 

--

Gavin gulped when he blinked twice. His voice was shaking earlier when he made his proposition, and now there was no turning back. “You understand, don’t you?” he said, turning to Rab. “If he succeeds, the masters will be dead. Nobody to hunt us down when we escape. Help me bring him to the mines, to my chambers there, and you’re free to go after that.” There was a portion of the mines reserved for when he needed to make more difficult magic. Even when Akuma would relay the instructions, he needed concentration. Which was a difficult balancing act for someone who was under somebody’s thrall. Or maybe, getting him to focus on more complex rituals helped keep that defiant voice in check, just as when he would be tasked to conduct the experiments on the elves. Akuma would be in one of the chambers, away from where he would construct the dolls. Preparing the elf blood for Akuma’s sustenance required a different kind of fine-tuning. Different dolls, different purposes, and she was the most complex doll of all. When Gavin would fall under the trance of working on strengthening Akuma, half the time he wouldn’t be entirely aware of what his hands were doing, what some of the runes were for. He would almost become a doll, himself, and he would struggle to remember what he had done at all afterward. 

Right now, Akuma and Itallo should still be in the manor. Itallo, the poor fool. Totally ensnared. That was why the control worked so well for certain people: Akuma would use the glamour to dangle something they wanted in front of them, and that would be the magic’s way into the brain. Like a pest looking for the first signs of rot on fruit. And even when Gavin knew this rationale, it was one thing to think logically on it, quite another to fight it. Itallo, pathetic lord that he was, didn’t stand a chance against the glamour that made him believe his lost lover had returned. And this lost lover whispered dreams of empire into his small, greedy mind, played into his weaknesses as a lord who rose up from the ranks. 

The manor wasn’t that far from the mines. Precarious, but also convenient. By now maybe some of his men would be arriving with word of what had happened, and he would be expected. They would be looking for him, ask him questions, and dread washed over him. He had to show up before arousing suspicion. They needed to be quick. “He needs to look like we’ve bound him properly. Not too tight, though.” 

Eunuchs, those mutilated for their crimes, and human slaves that Itallo couldn’t sell manned the mines, or at least the parts of it that Itallo managed. But as Akuma took over Itallo, more and more parts began to be off-limits to ordinary workers, save for the few that had been assigned to Gavin. “I have to show my face to the lo—to Itallo. Follow this path, you’ll meet the eunuchs who would know where to leave him. Make sure you hand him over to them and that he’s safe. You have your freedom after that. If you don’t, they’ll all have our hide, and they’ll turn us into dolls. Like the ones in the mines, yes.” Gavin said all this as he administered the dose that would revive Ruli later.