Krieth had previously spent time in the Room of Howls and had past familiarity with quite a number of the devices there. It was a room aptly named, but fortunately not particularly close to his cell. The House of Pain was gigantic, and the Room of Howls was on a higher level; it would be a lengthy walk.
Or so he had assumed. However, they hadn't gone very far when Krieth unexpectedly felt magic around him. At the same time, he suddenly sensed a radical shift in Shar's position relative to his own.
It only took him a second to realize what had happened: they were still in Bleakblood, but had gone through a portal of some sort. Apparently his guards, not wanting to trudge up myriad sets of stairs, had employed a more practical (and probably unauthorized) method to get to a higher floor. Upon arrival, they immediately resumed their trek to the Room of Howls.
As they marched, Krieth heard frenzied activity all around him and found himself jostled regularly.
Guards and dark servants, he thought. Mobilizing before any of Darkchilde's "guests" use this quake to escape.
"Bale," said the guard on Krieth's right, "what's going on?"
"The quake, Halla" Bale replied. "Are you a complete moron?"
"What about it?" Halla asked, ignoring the insult.
"Don't know," Bale replied, "but weren't natural, I can tell you that."
"Because of the dark magics?"
"Exactly. The dark magics imbue the House of Pain. I've never heard of anything, or heard anyone tell of anything, that could affect this place. Plus, it's protected by the Elders – dark gods, older even than the Ten. And more powerful, if the stories are true."
"You wouldn't know it to look at this place. Cells torn open, holes in the ceiling..."
Holes! Krieth could barely believe his ears. Instinctively, he knew that sunset was not far off, and he preferred to escape into the light of day if he could. If he could just get to one of those holes...
"But that's on the other side, mostly, although there's one close by - near the Pool of Glass. Be thankful we're not in that section, or we'd be hard at work making repairs rather than simple escort duty."
"The way I hear it, there's not much damage anyway."
"We'll give them a wide berth just the same."
No! Krieth thought. His one chance gone. He quickly considered and dismissed running for it. Bleakblood was humungous in size, and while he thought he could remember his way to the Pool of Glass (another area which he previously frequented), he was still bound, unable to see, and at far less than full strength. He had little illusions about his odds of surviving the hospitality of the House of Pain at this juncture. He did not feel fear, only frustration that he would not be able to achieve any of his aims.
"Move along." Krieth felt the sword poke his back. While deliberating he had unintentionally slowed his pace and caused the guards to focus their attention on him.
Not far from where Krieth resignedly marched to his doom, the Pool of Glass shimmered and rippled much like an actual pool of water, which it cast the illusion of being. In this place, glass was used to provide the most exquisite torture to those in the House of Pain. Slivers of glass were pushed under fingernails, into eyelids and into every bodily orifice imaginable. Lastly, it was the Pool itself which inflicted the most punishment.
The longstanding rule was that anyone who could swim from one side of the pool to the other would be set free. An unsuspecting captive, looking upon the pool, would think it merely water. Upon diving in, he would discover this to me a most grievous error, and – in his efforts to get out – his own flailing would slice him to ribbons on the razor-sharp glass that comprised the pool.
Into this chamber of horror the quake had sent tumbling a great block of stone from Bleakblood's roof. It had landed in the pool with savage impact, sending wicked shards of glass in all directions. A torturer in the room at the time was immediately sliced apart, as was the prisoner he was familiarizing himself with.
A guard who was present had time turn away and move towards the exit before being savagely skewered by large fragments from the pool. He collapsed across the threshold of the door, dead before his body hit the floor.
As twilight approached, Shar's fading light came through the hole in the roof and, with the setting of the sun, moved at an angle across the floor until it hit the dead guard. The glass in the guard's back reflected the light in a brilliant cascade of colors that flew in all directions.
One of these radiant beams of light shot down a darkened hallway, to be reflected off the metal chrome of a lamp in a chamber at the far end. From there, it zipped across the room to where a ring of keys dangled from the inside lock of a half-open hallway door.
The beam, almost bereft of vitality at this point, was sent down this second hallway, at the end of which a prisoner and two guards were just walking by. One of the guards was urging the prisoner onward by poking his sword in his back. The little beam of light hit the sword, and its last remnant was reflected from the sword onto the very tip of the little finger of the prisoner's left hand.
Krieth felt the touch of Shar. It was weak and greatly diminished in strength, but Shar nonetheless. Instantly the god-glow was upon him. Although he felt its presence he could not see it, much as for all those years he could feel Shar but not reach him.
No matter, he thought. What was important was that Shar's touch had rejuvenated him – renewed a portion of his strength. He flexed, and the cords on his arms parted like wet noodles.
"Gods!" roared Bale. "Get him!"
Krieth heard movement and felt the guards grab him, one on each side. Odd that he still could not see them, but no matter. He shrugged, and the two men went flying. There was an audible crack when Halla hit the wall, followed by a scream. People formerly walking by now stopped to look, but Krieth was already in motion.
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