Chapter 41 No Visitors
NO VISITORS
The iron lock slid out of place, followed by the sound of stone grinding on stone as the dungeon’s main door pushed open. The armed guard entered and stepped aside, allowing Slaide to walk past him. As soon as he’d cleared the threshold, the guard pushed the door shut once more.
Slaide paused momentarily, his skin prickling at the sound of that door closing. He steeled himself against the unease. It isn’t like that this time. They’ll never lock you in one of these cells again.
He pushed through that feeling, ensuring no one noticed Slaide Elias balking at the thought of being locked in this dank, windowless, soul-rending dungeon again. He closed his eyes, rolling his neck from left to right and back again, and his resolve returned.
Focus on the task at hand.
He walked down the aisle, noting that most of the doors were propped open.
Empty. He smirked, knowing the witches who’d been imprisoned here were likely somewhere safe.
He thought of the things he’d read in that history book.
The things Magnus himself had admitted to.
The things Hazel could—would—face if she stayed there.
Slaide picked up his pace. Was she even still here?
Was this all a waste of time? But then it came into view: the solid, iron door three times as thick as the others along the hall.
It was closed and bolted shut. Likely warded as well.
And if that was the case, he was going to need more help getting that door open, because the kind of chaos his magic drew on was far from the refined type that could be controlled with runes and glyphs.
He drew his shadows and storms from the world around him, relying on the unrefined mana he could find below the ground.
In short, while he was impeccably strong, Slaide Elias could not make or break warding spells.
There was no barging through them on sheer power or will alone.
And if he knew the mages, which he unfortunately did, these wards would retaliate against anyone who either tried to break them with the wrong magical imprint or tried to force their way in.
And that spell would be written to kill.
He turned to the guard. “I need access to that prisoner.”
The man raised a brow. “And I need a day off. No one is to go in or out of that cell. King’s orders.”
Slaide didn’t let his frustration show, but he had to think fast. “While that may be true, I was sent here to interrogate her. King’s orders.” He smiled that charming, murderous smile that made most people back down in his presence.
This at least gave the guard pause. But it was clear he was thinking it over, considering his options. He was going to call Slaide’s bluff.
“Master Elias, sir, I understand you’re a man of great power and status, but I’ve received no official word from His Majesty in regard to solicitations of the prisoner. Might you have something with his signature or seal indicating such?”
Slaide roared internally. Of the few times he’d ever come across a guard who could think on his feet and hold a sword equally as well, this man had to be one of them. He examined the guard, who just stood there, arms folded and watching him with hawklike intensity.
“No, he didn’t send me with anything official. Simply his words as you hear them coming out of my mouth. I’m not generally questioned on my authenticity. But no matter, if it’s going to be an issue I can just return to him—”
The guard looked conflicted. “Ah, well, I’m sure we can work something out. No need to involve His Majesty if it can be avoided, sir.” He eyed the door over Slaide’s shoulder. “I can allow you a few minutes, but you’ll need to be out before shift change.”
“And when is that?”
The guard glanced over his shoulder at the short, mostly melted candle by the main door. “By the looks of it, less than ten minutes.”
Slaide frowned at the candle and the guard. The guard shrugged dismissively.
“Primitive, maybe. But do you see any other ways to tell time down here? Magic doesn’t work here, and there aren’t any windows by which to see the sun or shadows cast throughout the day. So, we use what we have. You might be surprised at how well it works.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
“Right, well, better get moving.” He worked past Slaide toward the ominous door. The guard removed a key from his pocket—no, not a key. A wardstone.
In the center of the door was a large inscription.
There was a small circle within a larger one, and in the center of them both was a circle of glyphs.
Slaide couldn’t read them as they were inscribed in the ancient runic language.
In the center of the glyphs, there was a recessed shape in the door.
As he expected, the guard pressed the wardstone into the hole, where it nestled perfectly with an audible click.
Then, he turned the stone to the right by three glyphs, left by two, and then all the way around so that it was back in its original position.
He pressed his palm into the stone, and it sank deeper into the door.
What happened next, Slaide had never seen before.
The stone itself glowed with an eerie blue light, which flowed outward into the grooves connecting the glyphs, into the glyphs themselves, and then into and around both circles.
It was like watching water flow after a dammed river was unclogged. Fascinating.
This was followed by several more clicks and the grinding of gears within the door.
Slaide recognized the sound of steel against iron as the hidden bolts slid out of place.
Finally, the sounds ceased, followed by a release of air as the prison cell decompressed.
His hair rustled slightly as the breeze blew past them.
“You’re sure about this?” The guard had grown uncertain in the moments it had taken the door to open, going from seasoned veteran to nervous novice.
Perhaps he’d never witnessed this door in action.
After all, there was an innate fear that came with this cell; once you went in, you weren't getting out.
Slaide leveled a look at the man which was enough to convey the message.
He let out a hefty breath in response. “Alright then. Best be on alert.” He leaned into the door, and it groaned, moving inward.
What do these people think she is? A monster?
The irony wasn’t lost on him, that they let someone—something—like him walk around freely, while she was kept under the tightest security the kingdom had to offer.
She was but a girl. A girl who might possess magic thought lost for almost a thousand years with not a clue how to control it, but a girl nonetheless.
And yet, hadn’t they said the same thing when he was young and untested? Just a boy. He’d shown them, too. Shown them just what that boy they’d created was capable of.
The door opened into darkness. They were greeted by a whoosh of air that was cold and smelled of damp earth. He couldn’t see her, but he could sense her presence. At the very least, she was still alive.
Behind him, the guard lit a torch and set it into a sconce on the wall.
In the shadows that danced in the flickering flamelight, Slaide could see the rest of the room with a little more clarity.
A few feet in front of them was a wall of floor to ceiling iron bars, separating them from the cell proper.
That part was new. Perhaps they’d added that after the difficulties they’d had containing him.
On the far wall was a stone bench with a threadbare blanket, a wooden tray with a plate of food on the edge, completely untouched. Hazel was nowhere to be seen in any of the visible portions of the cell. She must be hiding in the shadows. And who could blame her?
In his periphery, Slaide caught the guard reaching for the hilt of his blade.
“Watch yourself. She could be anywhere. I told you we shouldn’t come in here.”
Slaide almost laughed. “You’re joking, right? What do you think she is, a snake? Going to strike at you from one of those dark corners? Please. She’s just a scared girl.”
“She’s a witch. A monster.”
“Right. Well, if you don’t mind, I’d like a minute with her.” He nodded toward the door.
The man recoiled as if Slaide had insulted his mother, then laughed hysterically. “You must be mad if you think I’m going to leave the two of you in here alone.”
“Some would say I’m more than just mad. But I must know, would you be looking out for her safety, or mine?”
“Sir, I-I only meant that…” he stammered and took a step back.
“Save it.” Slaide raised a dismissive hand. “Get out.”
The man, to his credit, faltered, and Slaide thought he might actually put up a fight. But that moment passed and he came to his senses, sighing as he turned to leave.
“You’ve got two minutes. That’s about all we have left before my shift is over, and I don’t want to explain to the next guard why you’re in here. At least give me that.”
“Fair enough.”
Reluctantly, the guard closed the door, leaving Slaide alone at last with Hazel. But would she trust him enough to come out?
“Hazel?” He took a deep breath. “It’s Slaide. Can we talk?”
Silence.
“I’m not going to hurt you. I don’t know what to say about…
about everything that happened. I truly had no idea.
The truth is, if it isn’t already blatantly clear, Magus despises me.
I have no idea why he keeps me around, despite my efforts to piss him off at every opportunity he gives me.
I live to be a thorn in his side. I am an asshole.
I am all the things everyone else says about me.
But I am not a liar. I’ve never lied to you, and I will not hurt you. ”
Something shifted in the corner, but he still could not see her.
“Listen, Hazel. We don’t have time for this. You can ignore me all you want, but I’m getting you out of here. I have mere minutes to discuss my plan. Please.”
“I thought you didn’t beg?”