61 – Breakout

The corridor was narrow and cold. The door in front of her looked the same as the others. Heavy iron, no handle, the lock pulsing faint at eye level.

She let go of her glamour and pulled a new thread from her core.

The enchantment had a different shape than the rocks she’d been training with. The warming charms had a sense of uniformity, their magic emitting heat in all directions. This wasn’t how the lock worked.

The gears in her mind turned. What was the point of a magical lock? Making it harder to pick. With no hole, no pins to push, it was impossible to do without mana control. A skill people in Esmera didn’t practice much.

She spread the thread thin against the surface of the lock and began working it around the edges. Where she pressed too hard, it pushed back. It wasn’t the pull of ambient mana. Maybe some safeguard on the enchantment.

She eased off. The trick with spellcraft was never force.

Above her, footsteps crossed the courtyard. She could hear them through the vents.

She ignored them. She was already standing still, only her mana moving around the lock.

Something passed in front of an aeration vent, blocking the light for a second.

She kept weaving the thread until half the surface was covered in her mana. Then, she spread it like a blanket, covering the rest in one go.

She counted the seconds. The enchantment was grasping for mana, applying suction on her spell while simultaneously pushing outward in other places. She tensed as she prayed for her spell to hold. It did.

The enchantment died, suffocated.

Without releasing her thread, she grabbed the lock in her hands and pulled it open with a clang.

She froze.

Silence.

Then she pushed the door open. The smell came first. Stale air, old food. The cell was dark, with only a hole the size of her fist in the ceiling letting in almost nothing.

“Louis,” she whispered.

Something moved in the corner.

He was lying on the floor against the far wall. He pushed himself up on one arm, slow. His face was covered in grime, his shirt torn at the shoulder. A dark stain ran from his collar down to his ribs.

He sat up and looked at her.

“Alexandra?” His voice was raspy. “What are you doing here?”

She put a finger on her lips. “Saving you. Get out of here.”

Louis looked at her in a daze. He blinked. “How?”

“You figure it out. I need to move.”

“How did you get here?”

She grimaced. “Not now.”

Something banged on the door across from Louis’ cell. She looked back. The corridor was still empty.

She turned to Louis. “Move.”

He nodded slowly and stood up.

“You,” a weak voice came from behind the closed door. “Alex—Alexandra? Is that you?”

This voice…

“It’s me,” it continued. “Marick.”

She met Louis’ gaze.

What was he doing here?

“You know him?” Louis whispered.

She stepped closer to the door. Dispelled the lock. It was getting easier. Opened the door.

Marick was standing right behind it. She looked up at him. “You’re alive.”

He opened his mouth. “Lanterne?”

She flinched. Looked down.

He exhaled. “I didn’t want to believe it.”

“I’m sorry.”

He put a hand on her shoulder. “It’s not your fault.”

She shook. Bit her tongue. John… He doesn’t need to know.

Marick looked at Louis behind her. “You two know each other?”

“Let’s talk later. We have to leave,” she whispered.

Marick and Louis turned to her.

“We’re not leaving,” Louis said. “We’re running out of time. This is our best chance to stop them.”

Alexandra frowned. “With what army? One Gold, one Silver, and one Iron are far from enough.”

“Two Golds,” Louis said. ”What? Being locked up is surprisingly good experience for a thief.”

The author’s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

“More like seven Gold ranks,” Marick said, gesturing at the other cells. “I’m not the only village chief rotting here. If our homes and people are gone…”

“They are. All of them.”

“Then we want revenge.”

Alexandra looked at the next door on the right. It was locked, like all of them.

She moved.

The lock came apart faster than Louis’ and Marick’s. Practice. She pulled it open and stepped back.

The woman inside was on her feet already, standing in the middle of the cell like she’d been waiting. Older than Marick, grey threading through dark hair, a cut above her eyebrow that had healed badly. She looked at Alexandra, then past her at the corridor.

“Marick,” she said.

“Dena.” He moved forward and gripped her arm.

“I heard.” Her eyes went back to Alexandra. “And I’m in. Keep going.”

As she worked on the locks, freeing the prisoners one by one, Louis explained what he knew. “Lucius Merinus is preparing a bloodline ritual. He wants to feed Esmera to the Yshant, raise it to Platinum, and use the beast as a sacrifice.”

“A Warden, compromised this deeply,” Dena said. “It’s unheard of. ”

“A failed Warden,” Marick argued. “But if he wishes for the mark of Augustus…”

Louis shook his head. “He already has one. A bloodline. The entire family does. It’s old.”

The lock came apart.

“The fuck is a bloodline?” Alexandra asked, sweat beading down her forehead.

She was already moving for the next door, leaving the others to greet the man inside the cell.

“The best way to see it is as a hereditary perk,” Louis explained. “Though they’re generally on the stronger side.”

“A city for a perk…” Alexandra said. “Seems excessive.”

“You don’t realize how valuable a bloodline is. Being able to pass down a perk is how the most powerful clans are made.”