Plain dark walls rolled past as the lift crawled down the shaft, guided by enchanted ropes. Wheels slammed into the walls with every sway, keeping the structure from breaking. A lantern attached to the frame above was the only source of light. Amalyn held Alena close as she shuddered with fear, whispering calming words to her.

  “I’m sorry we had to bring you down here,” Ordra said to her.

  “I understand.” Alena’s voice trembled as badly as her body.

  “When you leave, we promise you’ll never have to see this place again,” Benedict said.

  “Tell us about your life,” Shiyo said. “Before all this, I mean.”

  Alena sniffled and looked into Shiyo’s eyes. “It wasn’t much. I lived on a farm. Mother would take me to look after the animals while father worked the fields. I had a great bond with this one horse named Scarlet. She has reddish hair, a white mane, and is already very strong. Father said she would be mine when I grow old enough.” Her eyes watered, but she still managed a smile.

  “They’ve missed you, too, dear,” Amalyn said.

  “I need to see them again.”

  “You will,” Ordra said. “Everyone be on guard, we’re at our destination.”

  The lift settled on a bare stone floor. Walls hemmed them in on three sides and directed them down a plain, solid stone corridor only lit by small lanterns. Small puddles of liquid—hopefully water—stood in the indentations in the floor. The ceiling was at least seven feet from the floor, with a few stalactites growing from it.

  Ordra let Alena walk behind him and his pair of shields as they sneaked through the caverns. Unlike in the mansion, every sound rang through like they had come from a megaphone. Benedict’s sword twitched in his hand at every echo that came back.

  More sound soon joined their footsteps. Had they not known what was below, they might be frightened, but feminine cries and calls for help were absolutely what they needed to hear, heartbreaking as they were. Benedict sprinted to a small door cut into the rock. Inside, barely visible for the light filtering through the small window from the corridor, he spotted a woman trying to back herself into a corner. She didn’t respond to pleas.

  “I’ll get that,” Kirion said, standing next to the door. He tapped a glowing finger to the lock. It clicked, then fell off.

  “Where did you learn that?” Benedict asked.

  “Courtesy of the Ashen Choir. Diabolical in normal practice, but it has its uses.”

  Amalyn dashed past them, opening the door and helping the woman out. Dirt covered her face, barely concealing bruises, and her eyes stayed locked on the floor through long black hair. Like Alena, she wore little more than a long hempen tunic with a rope tied around her waist to give it some semblance of support. She flinched at Amalyn’s touch.

  “I can do whatever you want,” she murmured.

  “Dear… it’s all right,” Amalyn soothed.

  “Please don’t hurt me.”

  “They do as they desire with us,” Alena said. “Before we meet a client, they make sure to pour healing potions down our throats so the blemishes go away.”

  “Do you mind if I see the extent of what they do?” Shiyo asked her. “None of the boys will look. Or I will kill them.”

  “You may.”

  To avoid Shiyo killing all of them, the men turned their backs to the woman and stared right at the wall. Amalyn stood in front of them, eyes darting among them. Then her gaze settled on the woman. Her fists clenched, her eyes widened, her pupils dilated, and her nostrils flared. After the woman was clothed again, everyone turned to Shiyo.

  “I killed everyone up there already,” she hissed. “They didn’t suffer enough.”

  “All that matters is they’ll never be able to hurt these women again,” Benedict said.

  “Promise me any Ashen in this place dies,” Amalyn said to Ordra.

  “Any and all,” Ordra replied.

  Every subsequent door led into a cell. Some were empty, but most weren’t. The party went through the same rotation at each: someone looked inside to see if it was occupied, Kirion unlatched the door if it was, and Amalyn pulled the woman out. At the sixth door, after rescuing four other women, Benedict looked inside and called for the woman. In the dim light, he could tell she was naked and curled up against the wall. She whimpered as she moved, glint showing in her still-bright eyes.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  “Benedict?” she asked.

  “She’s in this one!” Benedict shouted to the others.

  Kirion immediately unlocked the door, and Benedict didn’t wait for Amalyn. As more light fell onto her body, his blood boiled. She held an arm over her breasts and curled her legs up in the fetal position. Bruises and dried blood ran down her face and torso. Slashes ran across her back, barely visible for all the bruises. Her arms showed signs of shallow cuts.

  Amalyn rushed past him and cradled Celica in her arms. Celica hugged her tight and cried into her shoulder.

  “I’m so sorry! I went out on my own and shouldn’t have! I’m such an idiot!” she screamed through her tears.

  “Girls who fight get treated worse than those who comply,” Alena said.

  “Kirion, who is the Ashen Choir’s master?” Benedict asked.

  “No one knows,” Kirion replied. “As far as I know, there is no one master, and the Choir’s head is a group.”

  Benedict looked at his sword. “Someone has to do the work.”

  A bang, then clacking resonated through the cave. All the captive women, Celica included, cowered.

  “That’s the elevator! They’re coming!” one of the women shouted.

  “They’ll know someone’s down here for sure,” Ordra said.

  “Then I’ll give them the welcome they deserve,” Benedict said. “Just get the others. I won’t need help.”

  Ordra clapped Benedict on the back. “They deserve hell.”

  Benedict nodded and switched from his sword to his rifle. “They’ll get it.”

  The sound of the moving elevator stopped for a moment, then started again. They were coming down. How many? The lift itself could probably hold nine to eleven people, going by its floor area. He had plenty of ammunition, and so forced himself not to worry about that. Thirty yards away, he waited. At that distance, they shouldn’t be a challenge.

  “If they found their way down here, you little worm…” someone growled on the lift.

  The response was in a lighter, pleading voice. “But how could they find this place? I’m sure it’s just one of us down here needing some pleasure. He wouldn’t know what’s going on above.”

  “You’d better be right,” a third said.

  Benedict dropped to a knee and held his weapon to his shoulder. Any shot should hit slightly above his sights. The lift settled to the ground, and three men stepped off. The one in the middle was smaller than the other two. He could go after his companions, both more than large enough to present a threat if Benedict didn’t have his rifle on him.

  They didn’t see him at first. He centered his pip on the left man’s head, then moved it down about an inch before he squeezed the trigger. One shot was all it took, and the man went down. The other drew a heavy axe from his coffer. Benedict fired again, sending him tumbling back. Two more shots finished the work. The smallest ran back toward the lift. Benedict fired, and he tumbled forward with a wound in his stomach. When Benedict reached him, he was alive, but bloodied and in pain.

  “Please! I can take you to my leader!” the coward said. “He’s coming here, in fact, with many fighters. You’ll be able to ambush them. I can show you where, if you let me live.”

  “How can I trust you?” Benedict asked.

  “I already told someone else about this place, betraying my leaders. Are you with others? It may have been one of them.”

  “Oh, you’re the one Ordra and Amalyn interrogated.”

  “Yes! Yes!”

  “How far away is your leader?”

  “He should be a couple hours away.”

  “How many fighters?”

  “At least six!”

  “Trivial.”

  “I can be an asset for you. They trust me!”

  “Did you tell them we were here?”

  “Well, yes, but—”

  A loud crack—and the bullet that joined it—silenced the lying coward. Benedict moved the bodies out of the walkway, then turned back. Ordra came down the corridor with nine women joining him and the rest of the party. Celica wore a long tunic and short trousers. All of her wounds were gone. For that matter, the other women also showed no signs of abuse.

  “The local Ashen Choir leader is on his way,” Benedict said.

  “Then we need to get moving.” Ordra turned to everyone. “Split the women into groups of three. Two of us go with each group.”

  “I need my coffer before we leave,” Celica said.

  “Where would it be?” Amalyn asked.

  “I don’t know. I just know they took it.”

  Benedict laid a hand on her shoulder. “If it’s here, we’ll find it. I’ll take care of the incoming enemies. Should give you all some time to escape.”

  “Not by yourself,” Kirion said.

  “Yes, by myself. I have plenty of ammunition and a great desire to use it.”

  “I can find Celica’s coffer,” Shiyo said.

  “Then everyone else can get things ready,” Ordra said. “Benedict, you’re going up first. Kirion, go with him and start getting wagons ready. We’ll need them.”

  Alena and two of the other girls rode up the lift with Benedict and Kirion. There was no time to wait around after they reached the top. Benedict ran through the complex as fast as he could, rifle cradled in his arms. Only the incoming enemies concerned him at that moment. A stamina potion kept him moving through the exhausted pain in his legs.

  Past the complex wall, the landscape was mostly plains with the rare, scattered bush. The road curved through it, following the contours of shallow hills, giving him almost no cover whatsoever for an ambush. He would have to use the crest of a hill or a bush if he wanted to catch them by surprise, and that wouldn’t last long. He stopped and knelt behind a bush, then let Morighana’s power flow through him and show him everything around him.

  Wagons moved out of the complex and turned to the woods, where Godwik and Binner waited with the Artificers’ Guild wagon. Ahead of Benedict, horses and riders came in a column. In the lead was the very same one who led the attack at the farmhouse. With Morighana’s power still showing him everything, he could shoot much better. Something told him he could have hit someone out to two hundred yards easily.

  But he didn’t. Instead, he simply walked into the road and waited with his rifle against his shoulder. The column continued, though they definitely saw him. Benedict raised his weapon and aimed at the fighter just behind the leader. Three shots rang out, and the man tumbled from his horse. The entire column stopped.

  “You!” the leader snapped. “I should have known. I’ll cut you into pieces and feed you to the dogs.”

  “If you wanted to do that, you should have brought more men,” Benedict said.

  “There’s a reward for killing Wraiths, you know. All I need is some minute proof. Good thing you aren’t the first one I’ve done.”

  He raised a spell rod. Benedict forced Morighana’s power into the bullet sitting in the chamber, then he squeezed the trigger. Like a laser, it traveled straight and true, tracing a brilliant blue line from the barrel directly into the leader’s chest. He had no time to react as his body folded over itself into nothingness. After him, the rest of the Ashen Choir had to go. They had seen him, after all, and they deserved it.