CHAPTER 36: Unshackling the Wolf - Part 2

  The tremors intensified, sinking her feet slightly into the sand. Three craters formed before them, and from these emerged giant golden beetles. Their carapaces opened, revealing translucent wings that buzzed. These insects could move under the sand like fish under water, enabling the liberation army to march unburdened by logistics.

  A pair of leather-clad handlers wearing binocular-like goggles emerged from the backs of two beetles, followed by another handler from the third beetle along with Leloir.

  “The Nalhim tribe's envoys have arrived, Advisor,” Leloir said.

  The beetles were monsters. All monsters were untamable, but sometimes there were those less aggressive and somewhat controllable. The Nalhim tribe had found a way to harness these beetles for their benefit.

  “Tell them to prepare to enter Grest,” Seriah said.

  Leloir relayed the command to the handlers in their native tongue. Kirya had met Leloir months ago while scouting this island. She was fortunate Leloir knew the native language and could liaise with the tribe. The liberation army thus gained their aid, staying undetected.

  She and her crew climbed onto the backs of the beetles. The backs were transparent, segmented, resembling glass cages.

  “You must not fail,” Seriah said.

  Kirya nodded before the carapace closed over her, plunging everything into darkness. Understanding the tapping signals on the glass cage by the handler, her mount dived into the sand.

  The beetle's movement was swift, shaking and tumbling the contents of its back, often colliding with hard objects. When everything went as intended, the friction of sand against the carapace sounded like pouring sand.

  The handler's navigation was far from perfect. It took an hour to reach the cylindrical building. When the beetle's carapace opened again, Kirya saw the distinctive blue light of Artifica instruments and found herself already inside the cylindrical structure. Her crew followed not long after. As agreed, the beetles would return a day later to retrieve them.

  They were in a tall cylindrical room with air duct windows around the walls. A long Artifica instrument pierced the room from bottom to top, rotating, humming.

  They climbed a spiral staircase and entered one of the air ducts. As depicted in the perspective drawing, wrist-thick bars blocked the duct, but her crew had brought all the necessary equipment.

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  For almost a day, they sawed, pried, and filed the iron bars. The cloth-wrapped bundle on her back only complicated everything. They could not use Prana or Mana because, in such operations, it was always assumed the enemy had a Sense Field. Kirya thanked Azarion when she finally removed the last grate.

  She was the first to set foot on tenth sublevel. Both her hands clutched the scimitars. The entire room was dim and silent. There should not be a single guard here because according to Grest protocol, all soldiers would gather on the top three levels when under attack.

  After ensuring the room was safe, Kirya signaled to her crew. They entered, carrying the cloth-wrapped bundle.

  The layout of the tenth floor was the simplest of all the levels. There were only twelve cells around the room and a spiral staircase in the center. Kirya peered into each barred cell until she found the only occupied one.

  He sat cross-legged, facing the wall, his head buried between broad shoulders. His hair was long, white, and wavy, with a pair of sideburns extending into a ponytail.

  She and her crew knelt in front of the cell. “Vraka Keragan,” she called.

  His head turned. Grey eyes shone from amidst strands of hair. His muscles were still defined, but the long stay in Grest had left him thin. Chains ending in restraining bracelets on his hands and feet jingled.

  “Kirya?” The voice, usually bellowing on the battlefield, sounded deep and level.

  “I am here, Vraka.” She could not help but smile once the identity of the Vraka had been confirmed. “You, unlock this door.”

  “No need,” Keragan said. “Bring all your food and water.”

  Kirya never questioned the Vraka's requests. She gathered all they had left and slipped it into the cell. Still, she was anxious, anticipating guards that might arrive at any moment while Keragan devoured the four-person ration.

  “Bring Mitnal,” he then said.

  Kirya untied the bundle and revealed its contents, a double-edged straight sword. The blade shimmered like a mirror, reflecting the dim light into a glow in the darkness.

  Keragan placed the sword on his lap. Mitnal made a sound like crystal being stroked as his fingers ran along it, before stopping at the base of the blade.

  She knew what was inscribed there. The three core values of Kargadin – Family, Equality, and Freedom. These were the values that every Kargad had sworn to uphold.

  The Vraka's eyes snapped open. The gray hue flickered like quicksilver. He stood up. His height matched Barga's and far exceeded the average.

  Using the pommel of the sword, he destroyed all four of his restraining bracelets. Then, without preliminary stance, he swung Mitnal within the cramped cell, gouging the wall and tearing through the iron bars, creating a sharp, scream-like noise.

  “Vraka, please follow me. We will exit through the air duct.”

  “No. We destroy Grest. Grest is a symbol of Arvane's defeat on its own soil. By breaking it, we can ignite a widespread uprising in Arvane, easing our journey home.”

  “But… Vraka Barga and Advisor strictly instructed that your safety comes first. All of this operation is for you. If anything were to happen to you….”

  “We release the other prisoners. They will all help us subdue Grest from within. You may return if you wish, I will not blame you. I will do it alone.”

  “Vraka…, how much of your strength has recovered?”

  “Half.”

  Kirya grinned. “Then woe be unto them all. Vraka, you know we'll never leave you to ride alone. Please lead the way.”