Disclaimer: I do not own these characters or this world that they are in and I am making no money out of this. I just want to write a sequel to a really good book that I wish had one.
Chapter 10
Lavan woke up in a cellar, chains on his wrists holding him to the floor, all the colours were washed out again, so he was back in his coma. It looked like when he was helping that lady, Tyron and the Karsites had got him.
He looked around the room. No one was near, that was good. He had been barely able to hold it together. Kalira's death was still raw, but all this time in the coma, and later Kalira's help, had however, allowed him to keep his emotions in check; to detach himself from those emotions.
Now he was in a place where he could feel them, and let them run their course. And his Gift couldn't hurt anyone, well anyone real.
Soon he started to weep, to weep for Kalira, letting out his anguish that she was gone, and yet he still lived. He wept, not caring if his Gift went rampant.
It was a week before his emotional storm stopped.
He had a massive headache, so bad he had to keep his eyes closed and slow his breathing. Each breath had been causing the chains on his wrists to jingle, causing a nightmarishly sharp stab of pain to lance through his head.
Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he knew he was suffering from gift overuse. Major gift overuse. Kalira had used to help him with it. But now she was gone.
He heard the charred door opening, and looked up to see Tyron enter, striding airily, two Karsite soldiers behind him, it looked like they were acting as bodyguards.
Tyron walked up to him as the guards shut the door.
A few hours later Tyron and the guards left the room after a taunting session, it was not as bad as Lan thought it would be. He had expected far worse, torture maybe? His awful headache had given him something to focus on instead of the taunting.
He was exhausted and the dragon inside him, was silent. And he wasn't at all surprised when he found himself nodding off to sleep.
Lavan dreamed he was at the gates to the palace and collegia. The coma world's traditional washed out colours everywhere, his right hand lifted of its own accord, and he realised he didn't have control of his actions.
The gates opened and he strolled on through, he slowly walked through the grounds of the palace and collegia, finally stopping at the weapons silo remembering all those the sessions he and his fellow-former trainees had shared with the weapons master.
He continued on, following the path through the corridors of the trainees dormitory's, finally stopping at his old room he opened the door and looked in. "Why am I going through the palace?" He thought.
Stepping inside, he peered at the walls, the tapestries his mother had sent him for his stay here. He looked around, all his things the way they were before he left for the Karsite boarder.
After he had looked around he continued on to the companions stables, as he wandered through he eventually stopped at Kalira's old stall. He looked around and and saw something glowing he looked up to see Kalira's bridle the silver plate with her name was glowing. He touched the plate and, in his dream the world went white and then faded back into the stables but they had their full range of colour. He knew now, that to get out of his coma he would have to touch the bridle.
He woke with a start. He knew what he would have to do. He would have to escape and get to the stalls without touching anything. He could do that. He would have to open doors and things, that could be problematic. He could use a sword for that.
He would have to get a sword from the nearest Guard Post, he got the feeling that using a stolen sword from his captors would not work on them. Also, he thought that using a creation if rage and pain would go so well. So, he would have to make a plan.
After a few Candle Marks of planning, he realised that he could, possibly, make it to Companions Stables. But he would need to get out of his chains first. And the only thing he could think of to get out, was to try to melt the chains connecting his manacles to the floor.
It would be hard, but not impossible.
It had taken two days for his Gift Overuse induced headache to settle down so he could begin to try to melt the chains. It was hard, containing his anger powered gift and focusing it in his links.
Time seemed to slow down as he focused on melting the chains.
After several days of attempting to melt the chains, he gave up. All his effort, the precision burning, and restraining the dragon, it was exhausting.
All his effort and all he could manage was to get the chains glowing red. After a break, another headache began. But as he let his head hang forward he realised that he was leaning a little further forward.
The three links on both manacles he had tried to melt, had stretched. If he could heat up the manacles enough; and stretch them enough, he might be able to get enough slack to grab Tyron's sword and cut his chains.
Then he could possibly escape.
As Lan finished that last thought, the charred door swung open, as Tyron and his two Karsite guards entered for another of their random torment sessions.
When Tyron and his guards left. Lavan was full of suppressed rage. He felt that dragon stirring, struggling against its chains. For now he would have to fight to restrain it. Save its desire to burn for later.