Heir of Dust and Wind

Chapter 28 - The Only Way Out

He must have been in the dungeons for ages.

Although Raban had already guessed that a lot of time must have passed ever since his imprisonment during the war, he only realised how much, when he saw the unfamiliar lines on High King Farvald's face. Only his many years of training kept his jaw from falling open in shock. If the king had aged this much since he had last seen him centuries must have passed.

Although no magical being was truly immortal, most of them aged rather slowly, and the powerful sorcerers with Farvald being one if not the most powerful among them, aged the slowest of them all.

While had been able to remain relatively calm until now, Raban's heart and mind started racing at the realisation of just how much time had gone by since Dunstan had taken him prisoner.

Slowly and as inconspicuously as he could, he tried to get a more detailed account of where the sorceress and her little party had taken him. Finding himself in an enormous hall that contained benches full of sorcerers and Dracaeni in all didn't do anything to calm his nerves. If she had truly intended to exchange him for ransom, a neutral place for both their species would have been chosen.

Once, during the days of the riot or the war, he would have given a limb for this opportunity, all of them in one room, ready for him to take them all down. Now, however, he felt the spidery fingers of fear crawl up his back. A display like this could only mean one thing: the sorceress wanted to make an example of him either by torture or execution, perhaps even both. 

She had seemed so peaceful and considerate back at her mansion, but it had been foolish of him to assume that was different. Female or not, she was still one of them and if he had learned anything about sorcerers in his days, it was that all of them were arrogant, lying and cheating bastards. They couldn't be trusted. Sadly, the female, who had so much fascinated him ever since she had set foot into his prison cell, was no exception to that rule.

Should he, some stars-granted miracle, make it out of here alive he would make them all pay, he swore himself grimly. But first, he needed to get out of here and regroup his forces, if any of them were still left after Dunstan had no doubt realised his mad plans. 

Despite the unlikeliness of that happening, Raban mentally went through the names of the people who were willing and able to pay his ransom. Maybe he could also negotiate for an exchange of prisoners as skilled Dracaeni warriors were also prized possessions that sorcerers wanted to be returned from captivity. 

Frustratingly, he could only make guesses. Whether or not the odds were in face favour depended entirely on the state - or the outcome - of the war and of that Raban had no knowledge.

As they made their way towards the infamous Council's table, his skin started crawling with the tension in the room. For his taste, they were being watched far too intently. Something was certainly off about their arrival, but it had to be more than just the sex of the female that held him captive. While encountering a sorceress had been a surprise for him, it shouldn't be one for the rest of her kind, should it?

Taking in the room again, another thing struck him as odd. 

Raban had only been in here once before, upon Dunstan's declaration to leave the Council and to declare war on the King and his remaining Aldermen. He had been part of the guards that protected the Fae queen of the Southern Steppe, who had been the Fae's emissary. 

Back then there had been four large tables with benches for Colonels and Dracaeni, one for each Alderman. Now, however, there were only three, although they were four Council members if the sorceress was included. 

Given the strength of her signature, which lingered in the air all around her, she definitely belonged to the most powerful sorcerers he had ever encountered. This fact alone should have given her a seat at the table. Strangely though, the fourth seat, the one that had been Dunstan's no doubt, was just as empty as the part of the room where the fourth row of tables had stood.