The people set upon Anvar so quickly that all the old elf could do was hide his face. His robe was shredded by the chains and the clubs repeatedly pounded his back and legs. Those holding staffs went for the head. Soon both Anvar’s ears were bleeding and the back of his head had been severely bloodied. A kick in the side knocked him on his back and his face became the primary target.
Necromancer stood silently and looked at his master with disgust. This was done in private because there was no honor in killing an old man in chains, but Mandrean loved the action. Necromancer, in truth, was a colder soul than his master, but he believed in giving his worthy opponents their due. Anvar had been worthy of respect as an adversary. He remembered Anvar’s last plea in his cell.
“Master?” asked Necromancer. “How did you plan to finish Greenlith?”
“Once the beating has him near death, I will use the Blue Sapphire to slice pieces off him while he is alive until his body surrenders.”
“That is a fine plan, but it does not let Greenlith suffer long enough. May I suggest you send him, with these wounds, to be one of the Forgotten Ones on the bottom floor of the prison? There without food, water, or light he will be slowly devoured by the giant rats roaming the level. Let him feel his life slip away over the days. It is much more suiting, don’t you think?”
Mandrean considered the plan. “I do want him to suffer as I have. If I do as you suggest, though, I will not have the pleasure of killing him for myself.”
“Come, My Lord, such an insignificant murder is beneath you and the great power you possess. He is not worthy of your effort.”
Mandrean saw that Anvar had stopped moving and ordered the people to relent in their assault. He stood and walked over to the limp body of Anvar. It was completely covered in blood. After watching for a few moments, he saw signs of respiration. “Don’t you die on me yet, Old Elf. I have a new cell for you. This time there will be no tea or guests. Guards. Remove him to the D Floor of the prison. Pay no attention to his cries or begging. He will become one of the Forgotten Ones and be denied all aid from this day forward. Now be off with him.”
As Anvar’s bloody carcass was carried away, Necromancer watched and thought, Anvar Greenlith, you are either the wisest man in Lavacia or the most foolish. Time will tell.
It took four goblin guards to carry Anvar’s nearly lifeless body from the throne room back to the prison. Upon entering, they started down the spiral staircase along the walls of the great roundhouse. They passed the Room of Horrors where Linvin had vanquished Hugon and saved Miri just a few years before. The next level down was a place where dead prisoners were kept until they were disposed of in the night when fewer eyes were watching. Below that was a storage room for the prison and the stairs came to an end at a narrow hallway. It was lit by lanterns and led to a massive oaken door with cell bars on a small window near its top.
In spite of their iron constitutions, the goblins covered their noses with rags as they opened the door. The smell of death, excrement, and decay was overpowering. With a heave, they threw Anvar into the room and shut the door.
Coming out of his stupor, Anvar tried to take stock of his surroundings in the midst of the menacing pain he was feeling. He lay in the spot on the floor where the lantern light shone in. As his eyes adjusted he saw forms the size of a dog race across the room. He was almost fortunate to have his nose broken and bloodied as he was unable to smell any of the foul odors about.
Anvar wiped the blood still flowing from his head with the sleeve of his robe. You really outdid yourself with this plan, Anvar. After being beaten nearly to death you get yourself thrown in here. Oh Linvin, my boy. I have played all my cards now. There are no more tricks left in my bag. I pray you come in time to save me.