Chapter IV
Ohmac’s eyes fluttered, he was starting to wake up, slowly, but surely. There was a metallic taste on his tongue and a constant pounding in his skull, but other than that he seemed alright. The constant hammering was making his teeth thump in rhythm; the cloaked bastard had most likely kept on belting him on the head even after his regeneration had failed. He clearly didn’t like Ohmac’s rebellious side.

He got up slowly, the ringing in his head coupled with the weakness that came with the heavy use of his powers left his knees weak and his muscles spasming about, their consistency turned to jelly and fighting to get him into a sitting position, he struggled a bit until his back met the cold, hard surface of metal bars. The rancid taste in his mouth clued him into the fact that he had likely vomited, he, of course, had no memory of the event.

The room he had woken up in was dark, as dark as the hides of a Mormon cub, it took a few seconds for his eyes adjust to the darkness and for him realise that he wasn’t in a room, after all, he was in a metal cage. The bars of the cage were of a dull grey metal; derish, it was used in the construction of metal gates, shields and as a skeleton for the walls of grand fortresses. Not only was the metal dense enough to withstand to build the these superstructures it was also common enough not to be too valuable, the grey or black ingots of the ore were found practically everywhere in the continent, it was the most mined substance in the kingdom, and it was easy to see why, the metal’s only weakness was that it couldn’t hold an edge to save its life, it couldn’t be used in the making of swords. Many people looked down upon it for this reason, instead giving the title of best metal to petrified steel, a bright, silver-like alloy that you never had to sharpen, was hard but not brittle and a featured item in many a blacksmiths’ wet dreams, too bad that the process for petrifying it took millennia, it had to be bathed in the blood of the world for generations upon generations to be of any good, it was as rare as djinns, perhaps even rarer, the seven swords of the wardens - an ancient order that didn’t belong to any kingdom - were all made of petrified steel.

Knowing what metal, the cages were made of didn’t help him, he would be just as helpless if it were made of iron. He looked out through the bars of his cage, the sight that met him, dropped his jaw. He was in a massive cave, the ceiling so high above that it was draped in darkness, all around him. There were more cages just like his own, the whole cavern was filled with them. Some had people inside; others didn’t, their door left open waiting for their next victim.
There was a tunnel leading out of the cavern, through it seeped in the little light that was present, it led to the entrance of the cave. He turned to the prisoners around him, scrutinizing them more thoroughly, all wore what were once fine clothes but now were little more than rags, these people were nobles, just like Ohmac, he even recognized some of them, there a bit more than two hundred paces lay Count Wick, right next to him was his wife, Countess Wick, both in a different cage. So, it seems that the kidnappers were not only after him, they were looking to kidnap anyone of importance, but to what criteria? His father had told him they were after important information, but if that was the case, why would they also kidnap these nobles, it was apparent they weren’t normal people, but why were they still kidnapped, they couldn’t all be in possession of the vital secrets, could they? Maybe his father was mistaken? Perhaps the ‘reliable’ source of information his father trusted in was no longer reliable, his father had certainly trusted the source though, and it seemed to be at least partially correct. He scanned the room again, looking for any more people he knew, there were a couple, but all were out of comfortable talking range, a pity.

There was a cage to his immediate left, it was occupied by an old man, well into his 50’s. He was wearing the colours of house Aiopa, faded though it might be, a family that lived on the other side of the kingdom, he was sleeping with a hat draped over his head as if to keep the light of his eyes. These kidnappers had to have both the manpower and funds to deploy such a seemingly massive operation against the kingdom. Ohmac wondered how the King would take the actions of these people when he heard of their disappearance? Would he declare war on them, or would he take the time and care to look for them and bring them back home safely before getting revenge? Most like the former option.

“Hey, good sir, wake up!” Ohmac’s voice was weak, his throat felt like sandpaper; he couldn’t remember the last time he had water. He continued to shout at the sleeping figure anyway; answers were far more critical than his comfort.

The dishevelled prisoner got up slowly, taking the hat off his face and putting it on his balding head. He looked around, searching for the voice that roused him from his deep slumber.

“Over here, good sir!”

He turned around and squinted at Ohmac before uttering a word “Hello young man, you're new, you weren’t here yesterday. Who are you?” the old man’s voice was deep and had a thick optican accent that made the words seemingly roll off his tongue.

“Ohmac Gera of Gobkav, at your service Mr?”

“I’m, Ser Ferdinand Jules, knight of house Aiopa, it’s nice to meet you master Gera, I’ve heard a lot of things about you and your house, though I’ve never had the pleasure of meeting you face to face.”

Ohmac thought that interesting; his father had dropped out of the limelight ever since he had become the King’s spymaster, what was it about their house that was so interesting? Only his father’s immediate family knew that he was the spymaster; no one outside of the house was aware of that. “Only good things I hope.”

Ohmac changed the subject before the old knight could respond “Why have these people kidnapped us? Where are we anyway?”

The knight sighed in melancholy before answering “I don’t know where we are or why we’re here, the servant feeds us doesn’t talk at all, we think he’s mute, though we have figured out that all of us are disciples of Bast and that the men who’ve orchestrated this whole event are mages.”

“What? Like real mages? But there aren’t any on the continent!”

Ser Ferdinand looked at Ohmac, “I know there aren’t any in Alevkar, they probably used their magicks to travel over the vast distances splitting the continents of Alevkar and Er’gonie.

“Did they run out of babies to fuel their foul magicks?” Ohmac jokingly mocked their captors, seeking to lighten the mood.

“They don’t use babies to fuel their magick.” Ser Ferdinand seemed dead on to keeping the atmosphere heavy.

Ohmac was quick to reply, however, “yeah they do, have you never heard of the cautionary tales?

“Of course I have, who hasn’t heard, but you should know that they are all fictitious, nothing more than fibs parents tell their children to keep them in line, it’s obvious to any learned man, I mean come on, really they use babies for all the magick they do? The sheer logistics of it would condemn that story the fiery pits of hell. Besides, normal folk don’t have enough soulfire to ignite any magick, if they did we keepers could use normal blood for the activation of our powers, but we can’t, so it seems foolish to believe that mages, who need vastly more soulfire to fuel their magick, than us, would get it from sacrificing babies.”

“Then where do they get it from?” Ohmac sat up straighter, eager to hear more.

“They get it from the world, of course, the world is alive and as such produces soulfire, it’s just very difficult to get it at it from the surface, you have to go deep underground which is why they make deep underground layers, of course even then the soulfire of the world is tainted, and you would have to store it inside of you to refine it to a workable condition” Ferdinand voice took that of a scholar’s a man who had spent far more with a quill rather than a sword.

“Ok that’s all fun and games but how would that help mages get across the Arkvan sea, aren’t mages famous for their ritualistic magic?” Ohmac wondered out loud.

“No, you’re mistaking them for sorcerers. Look, there are five different types of people who use soulfire and all do it in a unique way, mages directly manipulate soulfire, sorcerers also manipulate it directly but instead of creating small lived reactions, they imbue it into a permanent or semi-permanent construction, warlocks imbue soulfire into inanimate objects and manipulate it that way, us keepers use soulfire to fuel our own individual abilities of which the four main ones are, strength to match an oxen’s blows, such speed that we could outrun horses and smarts that we could use to outwit even the gods, and healing the likes of which no mage can compete with. But these are only the common ones from a list of hundreds of different abilities.

“And the last type, you said there were five, but you listed only four?”

“The last method is the one used by the gods, divine magic and blessings, no knows how it works, and the gods tendency to change depending on the era makes it highly unlikely that we will ever figure out how to harness it for ourselves.”

“Can a person become a mage?” asked Ohmac, he was now genuinely interested in the subject, the old knight spoke with the surety of a man who was confident in his knowledge, he knew that being a keeper something he was born into, no one had thought him how to become a keeper, he just knew.

“Yes, unlike us keepers mages are made not born, all you have to have is sufficiently big reserves of soulfire, this is to stop your soul from being tainted by the worlds soulfire, remember what I told you, it’s tainted, same goes for sorcerers and warlocks, if you have sufficient reserves and the now how you’ll be on your way, of course, it’s going to cost you a leg and a half finding someone to teach you, especially inside the kingdom, the royal family and the nobility is dominated by keepers in this corner of the world, the monarch disdains of the idea of magicks stronger than ours, which is pretty weak. To tell the truth, we’re the only kingdom where keepers have such high standing.”

“So, does that mean I can become a mage?”

“No, we can’t refine soulfire that’s why we have to use the soulfire of other keepers, we can’t even use the soulfire of mages because they aren’t keepers.”

“I’ve always wondered about that, thanks for clearing it up, but all this questioning still hasn’t made it clear why the mages want us, and why would they stray so far from their homeland.”

“I don’t know master Gera, maybe for revenge? I mean the kingdoms of Alevkar did band together to invade Er’gonie three centuries ago, but I thought the bad blood had been cleared, if not from diplomatic apologies, then from the relative isolation between the two continents.”

The two stopped their conversation when they heard the footsteps of a man in iron soled boots, the man in question came into view, a huge hulking figure pushing a trolley filled with bowls. The small giant started passing each cell, dropping a bowl on to the floor outside the bars, the prisoners would have eat out of the bowl through the bars, but all the prisoners got up and started the feast not caring for their inability, their dirty hands scraping at the hard lumps of purplish cubes that their gruel was.

“Ikash!” Ohmac exclaimed looking disgusted, “isn’t that what they serve criminals back at home, they dare serve the likes of me ikash?”
The dishevelled, old knight looked at Ohmac, “well master Gera, they dare kidnap us, that’s something.”

Ohmac sighed in acceptance, “you’ve got a point there Ser Ferdinand, though it pains me to accept it, the reality we’ve suddenly been thrust into brings me to the edge, I hate this place despite having been for only half a mark.”
The trolley rolled past them, the ugly brute glanced at Ohmac and dropped a bowl in front of his cell, Ohmac didn’t get up to take it, what he needed now was water not food, he didn’t doubt he would lower himself to eat it later, but it was best to delay such a shameful act.
He looked up at the knight, he like others had started eating the ikash frantically as soon as it was given to him, Ohmac frowned, “how often do they feed us?”

The knight answered with his cheeks full of ikash “Once every two days master Gera, are you going to eat that?”

Once every two days! The day was only getting worse and worse, he lowered his head in defeat, “yes, Ser Ferdinand, I am.”