Chapter 397

They couldn't see the source of the creaking noise, but they didn't need to. Everyone knew the sound of a closing door. Each of them was lying on an individual bed with no extras to spare. Their chains were short enough to allow movement, but not 'free' movement. More than one of the captive Scripture members wondered why they bothered with chains at all as none had any success in breaking the spell holding them fast.

But when the creaking ended and the door clicked shut, one and all the members of the scripture could feel the spell's effects beginning to fade away.

When Alain was able to move his head again he took another look around the room.

They were in a high tower, one easily twice as big around as anything in the Slane Theocracy's castles. The reason was fairly obvious, many demihuman races were much larger than humans. The beds at least were made for humans, they were even made in the style of the Slane Theocracy, the sort of thing one might find in a well-to-do merchant's home, if not a noble's. The mattress and blankets were fit for royalty, being a dark purple shade with scarlett ruffled trim. Beside each bed was a large standing wardrobe carved of cream colored wood which was polished to a shine, and at the foot of each bed was a trunk of tan wood which was also polished to a mirror like surface.

Alain finally recaptured the use of his voice and said, "Is everybody alright?"

One by one their grunts and groans became slurred speech, and their slurred speech became clearer answers as their tongues were restored to their full use.

"I'm alive."

"I'm fine."

"I'm pissed off, but otherwise okay…"

So it went from one to the next, and little by little the members of the Black Scripture found the effects of the spell starting to fade.

The rattling chains brought back memories of home, the trudging elves being marched from the battlefields, or the downcast, hopeless ones who shuffled with short steps made shorter by constricting heavy chains of their own, up the steps of the auction blocks. Or in the worse latifundias where the important families held to the more radical Yvonian or Dominican views of elves held sway… the comparison came up in each of their minds, and was liked in none of them.

"What do we do now?! What the hell do we do now?!" Tenghe half shouted while trying to keep his words to a whisper. His chains began to rattle more and he sat up and began to pace the stone floor while yanking his arms open and trying to break the chains.

His answer from the others was a slew of martial arts, chains went slack and then snapped taut as the heroes of mankind responded to their captivity with violent attempts at freedom. The rattling noise and shouts of fury bounced off the stone walls like small stones off heavy shields.

Their attempts at ridding themselves of the chains went uninterrupted. The meaning of that lack of interruption was not lost on Alain. 'They know… no… no, they 'believe' we can't break free of our chains.' He denied the reality that they might have been right and shuffled over to One Man Army. "Everybody, give me your attention for a moment!" He snapped out the words and their rages and frustrations all were given the briefest pause. "Maybe if we work together?" He grabbed One Man Army's left hand, and tilted his head toward the other.

Understanding dawned and the Black Scripture members began to pair off, one pair would grab the left and right wrist of a third, and all would pull in opposite directions.

"Heave! Heave! Heave!" They shouted it like dock workers on the long river hauling up fish in their great broad nets. "Keep it up! We're the Black! We're stronger than metal!" Alain encouraged them as best he could, and sweat sprang from every brow as one by one their martial arts began to give up their effects.

"What are these chains made of?!" Heaven and Earth gasped when he felt his comrades slacken their grip and his own body finally gave up the struggle.

"Even adamantite shouldn't hold up against this much power…" Divine Chant said with an academic curiosity, her fingers played over the chains that dangled between her wrists.

"My father was a smith. Before I was scouted, I spent my childhood playing at my father's forge, I thought I'd seen every metal there was. But there's got to be more than adamantite in this, the color isn't right." Cedran said and brought the chain up close to his eye. "Whatever is in this thing, I don't think we're breaking it. No way soon anyhow." The behemoth of a shield bearing monk grunted out his frustration and snapped the chains taut one more time for emphasis before he went limp and relaxed, his body falling into a seated position on the bed where he'd been laid down before.

"You're giving up?" The Divine Chain asked, his hands caressed the chains which bound him as if he'd found a new lover. It was an obvious effort of the dark haired man to not stare down at them again the way he'd done when he first regained control over his eyes.

Cedran shrugged. "No, but we won't get anywhere tiring ourselves out."

"We could try the walls." The Strongest Human suggested, his thick muscles tensed with a flex, "These walls, or maybe the door-"

"Come off it." Alain barked. "You think they'd put us in chains we can't break but forget about walls and the door?"

"Well, we can't just sit here!" Strongest Human barked back and in defiance of Alain's objection he approached the wall and interlocking his fingers together to make one massive fist, he brought his arm back and swung his flesh against the stone.

It rattled, the room rumbled…

But nothing happened.

He brought his fist away and looked down at his fingers.

"They were ready for us." Alain hissed. "Maybe they've been planning this for years. If what the Captain said was true… he's been on their side for a good long while. This room was made just to hold us."

"Fuck!" The collective shout went up just as a knock on the door to the room rang out, and a voice carried within.

"May I come in?" The woman's voice asked.