Ruin (Series)

Chapter 11: The Vault

It is done, my queen. The explosive detonated. The crew is no more.

Well done Lord Scieth. And the primes?

Both were marked clearly. If Vachir's men are as well trained as they claim, the primes should be captured or about to be by now.

Finally.

***

Vachir stood at attention. Outside the vault entrance, the battle was winding down. The few surviving divers were being gunned down or captured. From the sound of it, he doubted any would voluntarily surrender.

As a prime of air, he could feel the presence and, in more extreme cases, the emotions of others. Outside was a conflagration of horror and fear. They never saw it coming. Awakened were so rare, even a single death was a loss for all. He prayed some would see reason and surrender.

The enemy had been taken completely by surprise. The spy, implanted among them months earlier, had accomplished his task. Vachir watched...and felt every pained emotion of the bewildered attackers.

Their victory should have comforted him but, unlike the prophetess, he took no pleasure in the deaths of others, awakened or otherwise. His mood was dark.

For reasons beyond his understanding, The Prophetess had chosen to refrain from placing her icy grip on his soul. He served her because she had ultimate authority over the governments of Southern Ruin but, his heart was not hers.

He felt no guilt for having these feelings. So many lost; many of them far too young.

Around him, an entourage of air awakened stood, also at their own, poorer version of attention. Unlike himself, their eyes were all the signature grey-white of the Prophetess' brainwashed legions. Every choice they made, everything they saw, was subject to her ever watchful gaze.

A sharp squeal of metal on metal pulled Vachir from his lamentations as the vault door swung open. Turning a perfect ninety degrees to the right, he clicked his heels, and saluted the shadowy figure that emerged through the entrance.

Silhouetted against the fires and tracers still burning through the air outside, the hooded figure of the Prophetess' second in command stood for a moment, unmoving. To his left, Vachir saw the group of air awakened prostrate themselves low. He was a military man though and, thus, was only required to salute a superior.

Vachir held his salute, waiting for the figure to move, or speak. He could feel his gaze, much like the prophetess'. Vachir was the most powerful prime of air in all of Ruin though. If he could resist the Prophetess, he could resist her second. Blocking the parts of his mind he would rather keep secret, he held the salute.

After a minute, his arm begin to burn from the effort. Just as the pain was becoming unbearable, a white toothed grin appeared from behind the shadow of the man's hood. "Greetings Vachir. At ease"

The relief as he placed his hands behind his back and relaxed his stance was tremendous. As the figure approached, Vachir began his report, "Lord Sceith, welcome to the Northern Vault. I'm glad to see you made it off the ship without issue."

They began their walk down the long abandoned mine shaft. Sceith continued walking as he spoke, his voice young and yet, ancient all at once, the sound of it slithered through the air, "The escape from the Liberator, as they love to call it, was simple enough. The sabotage, not so much. I'm just glad that damn nuisance is finally behind us."

Their footsteps echoed on the damp rock walls as the sounds of battle faded. As they walked, Vachir inquired, "How exactly did you do it? Sabotage the ship, I mean, and escape before the explosion?"