Chapter 3. The escape
Aedion's perspective
Darkness surrounded him, unforgiving darkness. Nothing to keep his mind from wandering. Aedion had lost all perception of time. He was chained to the wall and starred at the floor he only could see when a guards brought light as they came to water and feed him, making sure that general would make it too his own execution. Such irony.
He would die, Aedion had accepted that. For a very long time he had known that he would die with regrets. There were many things he regretted and events he wished would had played out differently. He had lived accepting that it would be his faith, using the bottle to ease the pain that came with that knowledge. What he had not accepted was that he would not die in combat, but die when the axe of his executor would separate his head from his shoulders.
Now when he stood chained in his cell, since long lost the feeling of his feet and covered in his own feces, there was only one thing on his mind; the memory of his eight-year-old cousin. He knew he never would be able to replace it with the nineteen-year-old version he knew was out there. There was so many things he needed to know; was she as beautiful as everyone said? Did she still love chocolate? He chuckled at the thought, of course she did, it was Aelin he thought about. Maybe he should be glad instead, he would never have to know what she thought about him and what he had done. His own disgust was bad enough.
Aelin's perspective
Her slow paste was driving her mad as she sneaked through the catacombs. She followed the vague directions Elena had given her through labyrinth of corridors, secret doors and never ending turns and places where the corridors split into more corridors. Still she memorized every turn and change of level, figured out to where in the castle the secret doors would lead and refined her plan.
In every inhale, she could feel the lurking darkness, knowing it felt her too. Her grip on the long knives in her hands never softened, she was always ready for something to appear around the next turn, always wishing it would had been Damaris in her hands. The ancient blade had been left behind in the apartment as it would give away who she really was.
Aedion's perspective
He heard the sudden sound of a fight somewhere outside his cell, it was over so quickly he began to believe his mind was playing games. No alarm sounded, noting did. Not until he heard the sound of a key placed in the lock to his door and the creaking of the door as it was opened. The light from the corridor were blinding.
Lifting his head was an effort, a part of him wished that the person in the doorway would close the door and leave him, he was so tired. Soon his life would be over, two days left if it still was the same day as a guard had visited him last. He guessed it were as his stomach wasn't eating him from within. Aedion felt a chill run down his spine as he was reminded of the guard who had spoken to him, the unhuman stare and empty laugh as told Aedion his life soon would end and that if anyone would try to save him, this person too would die.
He shook his head; he wasn't worth saving, if it was what the person in his cell wanted to do. As his eyes adjusted to the light, he just stared at the person walking towards him. A red cloak, a female figure and wicked looking blade in each hand. A croachan. His life would be ended by a witch. At least better than being executed during the prince's party as entertainment.
But no, she sheathed one of her blades and used her free hand to unlock his chains. When they no longer held him up, he fell to the floor. The witch mercilessly grabbed him a half carried, half dragged him with her. They passed the guard, he was still breathing to Aedion's surprise. Why would she leave a witness behind?
The witch dragged him to a room Aedion guessed belonged to the prison guards. On the floor next to their chairs, four more men laid knocked out and on the table by them stood a nearly empty bottle of alcohol. Aedion picked it up as they passed the table and emptied it in one gulp. The strength of the liquor numbed the painful piece of meat that was also known as his body. Why hadn't she killed him already?
He felt the hard gaze of the witch and replaced the bottle where it had stood before, letting her drag him through what seemed to be a secret passage. A wardrobe that once had been placed against the wall had been knocked over and laid on the floor, revealing an empty whole that lead to a stinking corridor and what seemed to be the catacombs the general had told him about.
His lungs were burning, his breathing shallow and still he ran, not only for his life but the life of the witch who seemed determined not to leave him behind, he had stopped begging her now. They ran for what seemed to be an eternity of darkness and stench. Still she knew exactly where they were going, sure about every turn in the underground maze. The alarm had started to sound through the castle and none of them had mentioned the fact, the witch hadn't said anything else than hurry.
Suddenly she grabbed his shoulder and stopped him, stepping in front of him with the blades once more in her hands. There was a creature before them, an indescribable darkness. The witch fought the beast with the grace of someone who had been trained by a ruthless instructor, her every move perfected. Aedion did not know if she won, only that she waved for him to move.
"Hurry!" Was that the only word she had in her vocabulary?
They ran again, but this time Aedion wasn't able to go on for long. He tripped over his own feet and fell, at least he learned that she knew some cusswords as well. She carried him again, they were moving too slow.
They entered a room, Aedion could make out that there were at least ten passageways they could choose from. He was dumped on the floor and as he tried to stand, everything lost focus and he fell back to the ground.
He felt the sharp pain as the witch cut him after ripping of pieces of fabric from his already torn shirt. She covered one of the pieces in his own blood and the next one to stop the bleeding. Then she ran of leaving him only a knife to defend himself with and a promise to come back.
He saw her a few times, she skipped into one of the passageways and came out from another, using his blood to leave a false trace and when she came back to him, his mind had cleared.
"What are you going to do with me." A witch would only free him if she had any use of him. And the only person he could be used as leverage to was Aelin. He couldn't let that happen.
"Later. We need to move."
"Tell me." Aedion wanted to say more but fell silent when he heard steps coming towards them. Every second he could hear more of them and they came from every direction. Aedion could scent that not all of them where human.
"What is it?" Her voice was merely a whisper, as if she felt what was coming for them.
"We are doomed."
Chaol's perspective
It was midday when a resistance member entered the flat. He carried news from the castle. The Wolf of the North had been killed during his escape attempt and so had the croachan who had been helping him. Both killed by the king's men.
He had lost her again. This time for real.
*Insert crazy evil laughter* The evil writer era has begun.
