There was a back door that led to the basement and out to the gardens. When Anna would come to the temple, she always used the basement entry. It made it easy to avoid the people’s stares if she arrived late to a gathering. And she never noticed anyone else ever use that door other than the priests. She wondered if the invading mages would even know about it.
Because the mages inside the temple had a close eye on everyone, she couldn’t inform others of her plan nor could she include them in the escape. She feared it would jeopardize her own opportunity. If she didn’t leave, alone, no one would leave. Anna took an unlit lantern from one of the tables at the end of the pews and crept her way to the bathroom hall to inspect the basement. It was completely dark. When she lit the lantern, it carried only a tiny flame, and she could see no further than a few steps ahead. But the room sounded unoccupied.
Anna knew that she was meant to be kept alive. Demitri Von Cobb, the leader of the mage clan, wanted her as his bride. They wouldn’t kill me, she thought. That notion alone gave her courage.
She found an exit near the gardens. But at the corner of the building there was a mage directing traffic in the streets, his back to her. He had a deep, raspy voice. She sidled along the wall, slowly and quietly. But someone shouted from behind her. The mage turned. Quickly, she jumped into the shrubbery lining the gardens.
The mage only looked back for a moment. Since the brush was much taller than Anna, he saw nothing and didn’t bother to investigate the noise. But she could see the mage clans running through the streets. They were wrangling the civilians that were still resisting.
Anna crawled to the edge near the street and overheard two mages arguing over which man they were supposed to take to the Illyrium oubliette, ‘where the old wizard is being held’. When she heard this the first name that came to her mind was Burton Lang. It was shocking to finally discover the whereabouts of the famous sorcerer.
But she remained focused on the escape.
While mages had two civilians roped up on the ground the shouting got its loudest. Anna took her chance and sneaked into the back of the carriage heading for Illyrium. The steel bars across the sides were rusty and the wooden floor was strewn with mold. When she looked to the front, everyone was chained to their seats. It was obvious to Anna that Demitri was sending only the strongest away from the kingdom. Every captive was a man, large and tough. So instead of sitting among them and leaving herself exposed where she obviously didn’t belong, she hid under a pile of blankets thrown into the back corner of the wagon.
After she settled into her nook and the wheels began to turn, all that Anna could think about was how easily magic overpowered metal. She couldn’t believe that she had stopped time by playing a specific progression of notes through her flute. With a power like this a thousand blades would be of no threat. Then, she thought about Rayne and his extraordinary form. He must help us, she thought. The stones he had set only delayed the invasion. The fact that Rayne’s memory was lost made it difficult for her to connect with him. And she didn’t know where to find him. If anyone knew how to find Rayne, it would be the infamous Burton Lang.
The trip was long and bumpy. Her legs cramped.
On arrival, Anna waited for the last man to be taken off the carriage before she could escape. No one had seen her get on. They can’t see me getting off, she thought.
After the mages cleared the wagon, they closed the gate behind them. Anna almost cried, thinking she was locked in, until she checked and the gate was still open. She watched them walk into an entry beneath the old castle. Then, she stepped off and hid among the rubble of Illyrium.
An hour had passed before the clan left. Anna crept into the tunnels. The further she went, the darker it became. And she was now without a torch. But the mages had left a door open for her to see a stone well. Anna walked up to the edge where there was a bucket used to lower people and things down and back up. Beyond the bucket she saw a light reflecting off of the water below.
Alone, Anna descended; the darkness becoming darker. Without someone at the top to turn the crank, her light weight brought her down slowly, and she realized that there was no way back to the surface.
At the bottom, the rocks were slippery. In the oubliette there was no sound other than dripping water, and the smell was surprisingly crisp. Over the water’s surface there was a thin mist rising with warmth. She called out several times hoping that someone would respond. But no one did.
Suddenly, a light from a small boat approached. There was an old man holding not a torch or lantern, but a wand with its tip lighting the space.
What could possibly give off light other than the sun and fire? Anna thought. She knew it was a form of magic and knew who the man must be. When the bow of the boat reached the gravel shore, she could see him. His drooping hood covered the top half of his face. “You’re Burton Lang,” she said. She felt an intense sensation being in his presence.
Lifting his hood, the man smiled. “I am,” he said. “And you’re Anna Lott. Please, come.” He held his hand out
