Katja groaned softly to herself as the cultists carrying her stepped over a half sunken log, rotting in the turgid water of the swamp, shaking their helpless captive. They'd been marching for hours. The sun had risen, and was now setting again.

Where any normal person would have stopped to rest, the cultists just kept pushing forward, tirelessly. As far as Katja could tell, none of them had eaten or drank anything. They certainly hadn't fed or watered their captives, she was starving and half mad with thirst.

As they'd marched, some of the cultists wounded in the fight had started falling behind, unable to keep up with their wounds. They'd been left behind by their comrades who didn't pay them any heed. They'd catch up eventually, or they'd perish in the swamp.

Katja wondered what could make men and women push themselves so far, mindless of their own wellbeing. She was uncomfortably reminded of the Mistress and her mind control.

Several times, during the long march, Katja had begun to doze off, exhausted by the battle and lack of sleep. Rest was denied to her however. Each time she was close to falling asleep, Katja's head would fall back, waking her again.

It didn't help that, bound to a pole being carried by two cultists; she was constantly being shaken around as they trudged through the swamp. The journey had quickly descended into a hell of half-sleep and feverish dreams.

Katja had spent the first few hours of her captivity trying desperately to untie the ropes binding her, but had been forced to abandon her attempts. The rope binding her wrists to the pole had been knotted with sadistic tightness, her limbs had long ago fallen asleep, and worse, the hemp rope had been wet by the swamp and swelled, only adding to her misery.

And in the end, even if Katja managed to untie her hands, what would she have accomplished? She'd still be bound to the pole by her feet. She'd be dragged through the swamp, at least until her captors stopped and tied her up again.

As little as she liked it, her only choice was to bear her suffering as best she could and hope that a better chance of escaped revealed itself to her, before she was killed…or worse.

All of a sudden, looming out of the swamp, the cultists came upon the ruins of an old stone wall, crumbling and overgrown with weeds and vines. Despite that, Katja could make out more cultists wearing masks on the crumbling walls, keeping lookout, armed with a mix of slings, bows and javelins.

The war party passed through the crumbled gap in the walls where a gate used to be. The stones here were smashed to rubble and many where scorched black from a fire long ago. Inside the wall, Katja could see more ruins, overgrown and falling apart, but still in use by the cultists.

In front of the party, obviously their destination, a large black stone Ziggurat rose above the swamp. Unlike the other buildings, this one had been meticulously repaired and kept free of vegetation, or maybe plants simply wouldn't grow on the dark stone. Though no mage herself, Katja could feel a palpable menace radiating off the pyramid.

All of a sudden, the cultists carrying her, Thrycia and Nadia peeled off from the main war party, which continued towards the pyramid. The three captives were carried to a smaller stone building nearby. They paused a second outside the building.

Without a word, the two cultists dropped Katja roughly onto the ground. She groaned into her gag as the air was knocked out of her. She felt the cultists grab her bound hands and feet and quickly saw through the ropes.

Katja was too weak to resist as they roughly twisted her arms behind her back and tightly bound them with more cord. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her two companions getting the same rough treatment. The three were half marched half dragged inside the building.

The building proved to be a dungeon of some sort. Shackles had been fixed to the crumbling stone walls. To Katja's dismay, the chains must have been put there by the cultists. They were new and free of rust. She and Thrycia were chained at the ankle to the wall.

Nadia was dragged a short way away, through another door. The elf and woman, too exhausted by their capture, lay on the cold stone floor, unable to move. A second later, Katja heard Nadia's gag muffled scream of pain. The cultists returned, holding the limp sorceress between them. She'd been branded; a livid red burn marked her pale, skin over her right breast, in a strange rune.

After chaining Nadia, the cultists untied the three women and ungagged them. To
Katja's relief, the cultists set down an earthenware jar filled with water and a few loaves of stale, black bread for the captives. Starving, Katja and Thrycia grabbed the food and quickly began eating.

It only belatedly occurred to her that the food might be drugged, but Katja discounted it. If the cultists wanted to kill them, there was nothing their prisoners could do to stop them, weak as they were now. Katja picked up the jar of water and tried to get Nadia to drink some. Nadia looked up, weakly, from where she lay. She winced in pain as she sat up. "Can you cast any magic?" Katja asked.

Nadia shook her head. "No. I should have given them more credit." She gestured to the livid red mark burned into her skin. "This is a sorcerer's rune. It prevents me from using any magic." She groaned. "I didn't think we'd come this far south. Do you realize where we are? That was the black temple!"

When neither Katja or Thrycia showed any comprehension, Thrycia sighed.   

"Centuries ago a necromancer built the Ziggurat as a temple for his cult." She explained. "His followers grew in number and they began raiding the surrounding kingdoms, abducting hundred, thousands of people to be sacrificed in cruel rituals to increase his power, or worse, to be brainwashed into serving him."

"Eventually," she continued, "it took a coalition of six kingdoms to destroy him and his followers. Supposedly, the final battle took place here, on the steps of the Ziggurat itself. The necromancer was mortally wounded, but before he died, he cast one last spell, turning the land for hundreds of miles around into swamp. His surviving followers took his body deep into the pyramid, until the day he could be reborn, but before they could, they were all hunted down and killed."    

"Looks like they missed a couple..." Katja said, ruefully.
"Not likely." Nadia replied. "If our captors knew what they were messing around with, they'd make tracks for safer swamps to skulk in. Even dead, you don't want to mess around with this guy. Our Shaman friend probably sensed the power within the temple and wants it for himself. Unfortunately, if he starts poking around in the temple…"

"He might dig up something that should stay buried." Katja replied. "Where does the girl come into this?" She asked. The priest had dragged her with him and the rest of his followers to the Ziggurat itself.

"I don't know." Nadia replied. "He might try and sacrifice her on the temple to whatever demon his cult thinks it's worshipping. Maybe he wants to use her life force for a spell, something to do with unlocking the pyramids secrets…"

"There's a double new moon in four days." Thrycia added.

"They probably intend to sacrifice her then." Nadia replied. "Cutting her tongue out is standard practice for something like this. The last thing you want is the virgin screaming during the ritual and messing things up. The Mistress just used a spell to silence them. Our friend isn't that powerful. He needs all the power he's got for his spells; he has to settle for more mundane methods."

"Well then…" Katja said, turning her attention to the chains holding them captive. "I'd rather not end up on an alter with my tongue chopped off, or end up losing my soul to some undead necromancer. We have to escape."

"How?" Nadia asked, miserably. "I'm helpless, and unless you can suddenly learn to cast magic in the next five minutes, the three of us aren't going anywhere till our captors come for us." She lay back and moaned.

What happens next:
They escape…somehow…
The three are visited by an unexpected person…
They don't escape…