Heir of Dust and Wind

Chapter 45 - Interrogation

Dark, wet and moldy.

Trygve didn't know why, but somehow all the Aldermen's dungeons were more or less the same, despite their vastly different personalities. He thanked the stars that Gainor had stayed at home. Although there had been some improvements in the last weeks, Trygve doubted that he was ready to be in a place like this again.

As he followed Dathal and his Dracaeni Cillian who led the way, he wondered who the survivors were that Dathal had mentioned both in his initial message to Ava and then again in his study. 

Having been in Frode's service for so long, he knew nearly all of the Dracaeni and the Colonels that had served his former master. While some had shared the late Alderman's cruel views, others – much like Gainor and himself – had served him out of necessity. He sent a silent prayer to the stars, wishing for them to find some of the latter.

"Here they are," Dathal announced, when he finally stopped in front of a door, beckoning Cillian to open the door.

Dathal entered first and gestured for them to follow. Cillian remained standing outside the door. A sign of trust, he thought. If the Alderman hadn't believed their intentions to be peaceful, he would no doubt have insisted on Cillian being in the same room as him.

As his eyes adjusted to the gloom inside the cell, he could make out three shapes, two of which he recognised instantly. 

Kernan.

The sorcerer that sat on the floor, his back against the wall, was tall and slender. Compared to the others, he was almost willowy. But Trygve knew better than to underestimate him. He had watched him fight before and seen that he was no less lethal than any of his more muscular colleagues. 

Just like his late liege he wielded air magic and was a true master in his field. His dark skin stood in stark contrast with the white bandage that was wrapped around his forehead, a stain of blood suggesting that his escape had been a narrow one.

Standing next to him was his only Dracaeni, Roarke, whose exterior was very different. Whereas the sorcerer was tall the other male was short, taller than Ava but short for a male all the same. Where the first was dark, he was fair. His skin was so pale that the freckles on his face were clearly noticeable, even with the poor lighting. His hair was blond, just as his lashes and eyebrows, framing piercing blue eyes that looked back at them, clearly alert. Yet, despite their similar complexion, the Dracaeni didn't radiate the same cold that Frode had.

Although Kernan's eyes remained closed, as if he were asleep, his breathing gave him away. It was far too fast and uneven for him to be asleep. Trygve didn't doubt for a second that he was listening, closely. Roarke on the other hand did not conceal his attentiveness. He watched their every move like a hawk.

"Do you know them?" Ava asked in his mind. 

Despite still being tense, she did a fine job of not showing it. While he and Gytha might know as much because they were close and shared a telepathic connection, all Dathal could see was the confident sorceress that she was.

"These are Kernan, one of Frode's Colonels, and his Dracaeni Roarke. We're lucky. Although he served Frode for as long as I've known him, he has never relished in the cruelties that he displayed to entertain his guests. On some occasions, he even refused to participate."

"Kernan?" Gytha asked. "Isn't he said to be the oldest sorcerer of them all?"

"He is old," Trygve confirmed, "and there are a lot of rumours about him, but I don't know him well enough to tell you if any of them are true. You'd have to ask Orla about that once we're back."