Inside the cage was a man.

He was naked. His skin was dirty, scarred and blistered. His hair was long and ragged, and hung over his face and shoulders. He was kneeling on the floor of the cage, hunched over, trembling.

The guttural, moaning sounds were coming from him.

Nayl glanced at Drusher then led the way out onto the landing. His weapon was up and ready at his cheek. As they moved, he covered each angle and turn.

They edged down the metal steps onto the circular gantry. Drusher could smell the rank stench of the man in the cage. The sounds he was making made Drusher’s skin crawl.

The man heard them approach, or smelled them. It felt to Drusher like an animal response. He looked up at them in terror. Drusher saw his wild eyes staring through the matted fringe of his hair. He murmured something and backed away into the far corner of the cage.

Drusher peered at him.

‘Any idea who that is?’ he whispered to Nayl.

Nayl was watching the hatch and the other platforms for signs of movement.

‘No,’ he replied. ‘Not a clue. But it looks like the poor bastard’s been in there for a while, magos.’

‘Magos?’

They both looked around. The man in the cage was timidly rising to his feet, hunched, pawing the lank hair out of his eyes so he could stare at them. They saw a dirty, broken face that had been ravaged by years of pain and anguish.

‘M-magos?’ the man said. His mouth moved oddly as he spoke, as if he was working very hard to articulate. A man speaking a language that he had just learned, or which he had forgotten years before.

‘M-magos?’ he said.

‘You can speak?’ said Drusher.

‘Watch yourself,’ Nayl warned.

‘Magos,’ the man said. He edged towards them. ‘Magos,’ he repeated. ‘I am. I am. That is me. I am the magos. You know me?’

‘Do you have a name?’ asked Drusher.

‘Magos,’ the man replied with an anxious nod. ‘I… I am the magos. M-magos Sark.’

Nayl and Drusher glanced at each other quickly.

‘Are you Draven Sark?’ Nayl asked sternly. ‘Answer me. Are you Magos Draven Sark?’

The man nodded furiously. He was panting. Drusher saw a weird expression on his face. He was baring his teeth like a dog.

He was trying to smile.

‘W-w-w-will you let me out?’ he asked. ‘P-please. I am Dr-draven Sark. Magos Draven Sark, a-and I would like to c-come out of here now.’

‘It depends,’ replied Nayl. ‘Who put you in there?’

‘He put himself in there,’ said Jaff.

Nayl and Drusher turned around sharply. She was standing on the gantry beside them. She looked scared.

‘The hell did you come from?’ Nayl exclaimed.

Jaff gestured to the chamber around them.

‘I found this place. I’ve been looking around.’

‘Where are the others?’ asked Nayl.

‘I’m not sure,’ she said.