Janovic felt heat all around him. His skin burned as if he stood in the middle of a blazing fire. The intensity continued building, but he could not cry out. Searching for his voice to give an outlet to the pain he felt was like trying to grab and hold onto a handful of water, and the thought of water only made his pain that much greater. Burning heat began to sear through his entire body. He looked all around him for a way to escape his pain but everywhere he looked he saw bright, yellow and orange flames. As the pain overtook him his legs gave out and he went to his knees and then collapsed fully onto the ground. His body curled into a ball trying to pull back from the intensity of the heat that was slowly consuming him.
His eyes opened and he let out a gasping breath. The cool air felt wonderful as he breathed it in. The bedsheets were soaked with his sweat and he sighed softly as the memory of the pain in his dream faded. This was not the first time this dream had come to him, it was a call from his master.
Throwing aside the bedsheet he sat up and rubbed his eyes. Looking out the window he saw no hint of sunlight on the horizon. Given the position of the gray moon Loren, it was likely still hours before dawn. As his head began to clear he felt a sense of urgency come over him. In the past, he had waited before contacting his master, only to be shown how his master would not tolerate such disobedience.
Janovic had been drawn in by the promise of power and his own need to bring prominence back to the Order of Pious. Once he had given himself over to the power, the master had started to break him. The power, he learned, did not come without the cost of servitude. Many times, and many ways his master had broken him. Delving deep and finding parts of his soul he thought hidden from all but him, but his master found them. Through his breaking he learned skills he now found useful in his own endeavors. He had broken Natia and bound Mansel to him too. There were items his master had shown him how to find that gave him power of others, allowing their will to be bent to his.
He dressed in haste as he thought of his plans going forward. The Duke still troubled him. Plans within the Cadre were taking shape just as he had orchestrated them. The Patriarch had thwarted him too often in the past, but as Janovic slowly brought more of the Cads under his control, the Patriarch saw his power waning. It would not be long before Janovic made him so ineffectual he had to step aside, letting new blood take the helm of the Order.
Using the same passage Natia had to enter his chambers he exited his rooms. The innards of the Citadel of the Order were old. Few even knew of their existence, and the ones that did held that knowledge close. Silas had been the one to teach Janovic about them. Silas belonged to the Heralds of Quietus, a group of assassins older than the kingdom itself. While the members of the Order over the years seemed to take the secret of the passageways to the grave with them, assassins treasured such knowledge, and why not? It was a valuable utility within their profession.
Many would fear trusting an assassin, but Silas was bound to Janovic. A simple gold ring Silas wore on his left hand bound him. Many binding devices could be removed and their effects were gone, but if Silas or anyone else but Janovic removed the ring, it would mean his death.
The corridors were dark, but keeping his hand on the wall, and with his enhanced vision, Janovic meandered his way along until he found the stairwell leading down to the underbelly of the city. Once there he would make his way towards a dwelling kept in a reputable area of the city. Having material things was not a common practice within the Order, but Janovic needed a place away from prying eyes. Should he attempt to contact his master within the Citadel it would set off alarms, as wards put in place since the time of its construction would be tripped.
Janovic finally reached the bottom of the stairs, it was more than two hundred feet below his chambers and a good fifty feet below the street level of the city. These tunnels were thousands of years old. So old, the city sewers were actually above where he now walked. If one did not know where they were going they could get lost down here. There were areas where the tunnels had collapsed and other areas that went further underground and seemed to go on forever. He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a small glass globe and as he shook it three times it emitted a soft blue light that helped him navigate his way through the tunnels. Even with his enhanced vision the darkness in the tunnels was so absolute that it made it necessary to have some light to see by. Janovic remembered a time when walking in the darkness would have frightened him. The noises heard far off in the tunnel could be caused by any number of things. Silas had told him that the Heralds had documented encounters with creatures from an age long forgotten while roaming the tunnels. Terrifying beasts with scales that could turn all but the strongest blade and claws that could rend human flesh. With the power that now coursed through him he no longer feared such things. While he had his limitations, there was little in this plane of existence that he need fear.
The walk through the tunnels took nearly three quarters of an hour before he reached his destination. A small alcove with newer stone walls was where he stopped. Without knowing how to open the passageway the alcove seemed to lead nowhere. Reaching out his hand Janovic pushed on one of the stones, nothing setting it apart from the rest, situated high enough on the wall that it would be harder to accidentally trigger. When the stone was fully depressed Janovic pushed on the wall and it quietly opened inward. There was an iron rung ladder in the small space. The climb would take a few minutes but it led directly to the basement level of his apartments.
Though the climb was long he hardly broke a sweat and felt no fatigue in his arms or legs. When the ladder appeared to end, he pushed on the ceiling above him and the trapdoor opened upwards. He felt the tingle in his mind as he tripped his own ward on the doorway. His ward was permanent, just as the ones he had set on any entrance into his private apartments. Unfortunately, he could not cast these types of wards within the Citadel. The arcane methods he now had to utilize would be noticed. His ability to use the power bestowed by Pious was no longer available to him. The abilities utilized by the order only helped in healing and defense. When fighting a war such as he thought was necessary, one had to be able to attack decisively. Pious offered no such power.
As he climbed into the basement he closed the trap door. The basement was large with a smooth stone floor. Against the far wall was a table that was covered in many jars and vials containing different powders and liquids along with several sticks of chalk and tar. He walked to the table and picked up a jar containing a red tinged powder which he opened as he walked back to the center of the room. He made a circle on the floor using the powder. Walking back to the table he sealed and set the jar back down and then he picked up a stick of chalk. He turned and walk back to the circle of powder making sure not to disturb the edges. With the chalk, he began to draw symbols, seven of them, evenly set apart. Each one a different naming for the levels that many called hell. He needed to reach the seventh plane which required passing through the first six.
Finishing drawing the symbols, he set the calk aside and being careful not to disturb the ring of powder stepped inside and kneeled in the middle. Picturing each symbol in his mind he recited words in a long-forgotten tongue. The sounds were guttural with enunciated tongue clicks. As he finished the last recitation he felt a shift around him as the room seemed to spin outside of the circle. He suddenly felt a flash of heat build-up around him. He sat and waited patiently. A normal man would have wilted under the heat that surrounded him, Janovic was no longer surprised at his comfort sitting within it.
Suddenly he felt it, his master approached. As the presence neared Janovic felt a pressure, like a great weight was pressing against the front of his body. The dark presence that accompanied it was daunting. No light of happiness or joy could withstand his master's presence, only fear and pain. A large silhouette moved within the darkness, "you heeded my call," the voice rattled inside Jaonvic's head.
"Yes master," he replied touching his head to the ground in front of him. He learned long ago to not try and look directly at his master. Even the time he did, he never was able to see more than movement in the shadows.
"She is moving against us," Janovic knew of whom his master spoke.
"I believe she has chosen a champion master, the Duke of Eandar," he hoped to please his master with the news. "I plan to go soon, to see for myself."
Pain lanced through Janovic's body, "fool," the voice boomed in anger, "if he is indeed her chosen, he will know that you are one of mine."
Janovic fought against the pain, "then...ho...how master?" The pain began receding from his body and Janovic was able to take in a deep breath, the feeling of knives piercing his sides fading.
"I shall send you help," the voice washed over Janovic with a burning sensation he could only describe as soothing. Pain then pleasure, know the penalty for disobedience and the reward for servitude. When serving the master, that was the most important lesson one could learn. "You will know her when she arrives, but I warn you," the soothing sensation dissipated, "do not interfere with her plans or actions."
