Where was I? How long had I been out? Long enough to take me back to Ara? The ground was still. This was not a boat. I rubbed a finger on the stone wall. Smooth stone, not rough-hewn brick. No hint of sulfur in the smell of it. No dampness.
Judge.
This wasn’t Ara.
So I was still in Threll, then. That was good news.
I pounded on the door, bellowing a string of expletive-laden demands. Then pressed my ear to the iron and listened.
Faint footsteps in the distance. Hints of garbled Thereni. A few words of Aran.
“…awake.”
“Give it…hours. Wait…be here.”
Hours until what? Until I was transported back to Ara?
That would be good, at least. If they opened the door, I could fight my way out. They’d be ready for that. Without my magic, I probably wouldn’t even have a chance. But I’d rather die fighting than go back to Nura’s table willingly.
Besides, there were other benefits to fighting, even in a fight that would end in guaranteed defeat.
Act.
I pressed my back to the wall behind the door, and waited.
* * *
I’d expectedthem to be eager to get me back to Ara. No doubt Nura would feel much more comfortable the minute I was safely encased in Ilyzath’s walls.
But hours passed. No one came. I pressed my ear to the door, trying to steal any shards of information that I could glean through thick iron.
The only clue as to why came in one of the few clear strings of words I managed to hear:
“…she’ll come…they’re…sure.”
She?
Eventually, the door opened.
I was ready. The soldier, a young man, hit the ground in seconds. I struck the next before he had time to see his friend fall—before he had time to call for help. Through the open door, I glimpsed freedom. A stone hallway. Dead end to the left. Exit to the right.
I seared the layout into my memory.
I managed to take down four of them. But by the time I turned on the fifth, four more men had joined them, overwhelming me. I hit the floor in a heap, wind knocked out of me by the largest of my assailants.
“’Scended, I didn’t think he’d get through so many without magic,” one of the guards muttered.
“I’m flattered,” I wheezed.
“You think we’re stupid, captain? Think we wouldn’t be prepared for you?”
No, not really. But it was worth a shot.
Besides, I didn’t need to win. I just needed to see.
Two of the guards yanked me to my feet. One, a woman, was a Valtain. The other, a young man, wore a sun sigil on his jacket. The Order of Daybreak. They had more Wielders here than I might have expected.
A middle-aged man wearing a captain’s uniform leaned against the doorframe. He eyed the wall, newly drenched in light from outside. He nodded towards it. “What’s that?”