As Erik promised, the guards came shortly after he left, carrying a tray laden with food.

  They slid it through the gap under the gate into Connor’s cell while Connor talked amicably with them. This time, he did not get a response and the guards turned and left without a word.

  It was to be expected. No doubt they were abashed from talking with him earlier. They’d probably argued about it. But, in time, he would get to them again. Whether it would be before they arrived at their destination and the Syndicate rearranged his mind to fit their desires, Connor didn’t know…

  He turned his attention to the tray.

  It held a plate piled high with steaming eggs, bacon, toast, sausages, and some kind of smoked fish. It smelled incredible. Beside it were two tankards. One of water and another filled with white wine. Both tankards were wooden. He would’ve thought that they didn’t trust him with glass, but the tray held gleaming silver cutlery.

  Including a knife.

  Connor’s mouth watered. He hadn’t slept since before the attack on Zauberer and with the long night, he found himself both tired and hungry. But they’d only recently left port and his priority was still escape. He’d been without food before. Figuring out how to leave this cell before the Syndicate twisted his mind was of far greater importance.

  He ignored the food and checked the cutlery more closely. He turned the fork over in his hand. Its prongs were slender, elegant things. Not perfect, but by far the best thing he’d come across so far for use as a lockpick.

  He looked up at the door to the room, wishing he could hear better outside and cursing the suppression of sound.

  He was sure that the ship was bustling with activity and there was every possibility that even if he got out of his cell, he would only have to return to it, or risk being caught. But, if nothing else, a chance to look around could prove useful. And, if he saw an opening, perhaps he could still make his escape now. While they were as close to Vigil as possible.

  If he could slip away without being seen… It would be a hard swim back, but not impossible. Unless they spotted him of course. Then they could just sail back around to him and scoop him out at their leisure.

  He shook such thoughts from his mind. He would assess the situation when and if he reached that point.

  His exhaustion and hunger faded out of his awareness as he set his mind to the task before him.

  He bent one of the prongs of the fork backward until it was almost ninety degrees, He then braced it against the floor and stood on it, slowly lowering his weight onto it until the slim prong snapped off.

  He picked up the sliver of metal and the fork. Not ideal, but he’d made do with worse in the past. He bent another prong of the fork into the position he needed, slid the food tray to one side, and brought his makeshift lockpicks to the lock. The bent fork would act as a tension wrench while he picked the lock with the slender prong he’d snapped off.

  Erik’s warning filled him with tension. There was no telling what the enchantments upon the cell would do to him. Other than pain, as Erik had said of course.

  But he could handle pain. Even death would be preferable to having his mind warped into a servant of The Syndicate. Why they hadn’t done that to Victor rather than use a collar, he didn’t know but he shook those thoughts aside. What mattered was getting out of this cell.

  Connor calmed himself and prepared himself mentally for whatever may come. He wished that he had a potion of magic sight to aid him in this.

  He reached deep inside himself and pulled on his magic. As always, it resisted him like some great unwieldy, slippery weight. But he forced it with his will, pulling it down toward his makeshift picks…

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  As he pushed his magic into the silver metal, the elegant runes on the dark iron bars flared to life with blue light as the air hummed.

  The hair on Connor’s body stood on end.

  Blue-white lightning arced and crackled over the bars then leapt at him from the gate and sent him reeling backward.

  He caught the edge of the tray with his foot as he fell. Dishes clattered and liquid sloshed amid the surge of lightning as he collapsed backward upon the floorboards. The breath whooshed out of him and his back arched as he writhed in absolute agony. His body was wracked with uncontrollable spasms as lightning coursed through him and white-hot sparks fell around him.

  Connor screamed.

  His vision darkened at the edges into a shrinking hazy dot. His fragile hold on his magic had shattered instantly and yet still the enchanted cage tortured him.

  His vision shrank until it was just a fuzzy smear in an ocean of black and finally, the lightning died down until it stopped.

  His body still spasmed from the memory of it. Every part of him howled with pain as his breaths came in short, shallow, choking gasps.

  Pain, Erik had said.

  What an understatement that was, Connor thought bitterly through the fog clouding his mind.

  The stench of singed hair now overpowered the scent of the food the guards had brought as he lay steaming and spasming upon the floor.

  A groan escaped his lips.

  Once he’d recovered enough to move, Connor sat up.

  He still felt shaky. Weak and fragile. With ghostly pain running through him. The tankard of wine lay knocked over on its side. Most of it had been trapped by the tray, forming a small ocean in which the remaining cutlery was submerged. It didn’t quite reach past the lip of the plate into the food.

  Connor sighed and pulled the wine-covered tray to him, wetting his fingers with wine as he did so.

  Best eat to keep my strength up. I’ll try again later. Doubt they went to all this trouble just to poison me anyway… just hope they didn’t drug it, he thought.

  He picked the spoon and knife out of the lake of white wine and ate mechanically, his hands still trembling. The food tasted good, he noted. Though it was hard to enjoy it like this.

  He wondered once again about the others the Syndicate had captured. How they were being treated. He hoped Adelia was indeed alright as Erik had said.

  ***

  Over the next few days, Connor tried many more methods of escape. He’d tried to drain the cell and been shocked just the same as when he’d repeatedly tried different methods of imbuing picks to get at the magical lock.

  All had ended in failure and agony, but he kept trying. There had to be a way. He was sure of it.

  When he wasn’t getting electrocuted, he dug through the wooden floorboards in a section of his cell obscured from any view from outside. It only confirmed that the bars of his cell extended under the floorboards.

  He’d made progress with the guards. They spoke to him often when bringing his meals. But they were no use yet. And he suspected it would take far too long for them to ever be.

  And there was the Syndicate’s love of geasa to consider. Even if he succeeded in turning the men, it would likely not prove fruitful.

  Erik came down to talk to him frequently, but their discussions weren’t all that productive.

  Erik refused to share much, particularly anything of any use to Connor. And the man seemed to wholeheartedly support the Syndicate’s ultimate goal. Whatever that was.

  Connor had learned some things though. Erik was well-traveled, far more so than Connor himself. They spoke often of differing cultures and creatures. Two things that seemed to fascinate Erik.

  Unfortunately, Erik gave little insight into his political beliefs and ideas. Reacting either with a sense of amusement or annoyance when Connor probed, and then shifting the conversation elsewhere.

  Connor couldn’t be sure, but from the little things Erik had let slip, he got the feeling that Erik wasn’t in the inner circle but was well above Vadik within the Syndicate’s power structure. At least for the moment.

  That Erik took guarding Connor so seriously and treated him so well continued to confuse Connor. And there was the lack of a collar and this ‘re-education’ to consider. He wondered why they bothered with him and not with Victor.

  Perhaps they think me an easier target? Connor thought. Or maybe that collar restricts what an alchemist can do, and they want access to something more?

  As always, he had questions, but no answers.

  Each day the ship carried him closer to the Syndicate’s secure facility and the ‘re-education’ that awaited him.

  Connor sat on the bed in his cell, his hands still shaking from the results of his earlier attempts at using magic.

  A few more attempts and I might start tasting sounds, he thought. He held his hands together to stop the trembling as he thought.

  He went over everything he’d tried again. Even tried to think of some way to use those glowing globes of magic. He’d attempted using them as magical explosives, but they’d proved completely inert, and trying to set them off fried him. He could drain them, which he often did, but other than that… they were useless.

  He let out a frustrated sigh.

  There has to be something I’m missing… some detail I’ve overlooked. There’s always a way out. Always… he thought.

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