The untold future sat heavy in my gut as I wrestled with the thoughts of the unknown and memories of the past, wondering if the palace’s front courtyard was still home to merchants hawking wares or if the tavern I’d often visited disguised as Cael still served customers.
Despite my deep memories of this place, the trek to the palace was longer than I recalled, the streets undulating with the growing steepness as we marched up the side of the cliff that overlooked the sea. The zindan was built beneath the palace, deep within the cliff itself; each of the cells was reinforced with sandstone blocks, creating a window to the outside that both offered fresh air and the temptation of escape. Over the centuries, many tried to climb out of the cell by way of the window, thinking to scale down the cliff face, only to be immediately swept away by the intense winds that whistled along the cliff wall.
Luckily for me, I commanded Air. Even with the cuffs attached to my wrists, I had little doubt that I’d be able to temper the wind enough to make the climb up less perilous.
My breath came in deep gasps, and sweat beaded against my brow and back, saturating my shirt and causing my hair to stick to my forehead from the hot and humid air.
While my work in the Northern Territories was strenuous and demanding, nothing—short of living here—could have prepared me for this hike.
The sandstone streets abruptly changed to paved stone roads as we neared the palace. At some point in our journey, I stopped gawking at the bustle of activity and started watching my feet, lest I trip over a loose stone or uneven patch of road. But, as the ground beneath me shifted, I pulled my gaze up, peering over the shoulders of the two janissaries in front of me to see the entrance to what was once my home.
The palace was carved into a cliff that overlooked the rest of Iluul and, despite the fact that it was constructed solely from the beige-hued sandstone that was prevalent in the Southern Territories, the interior of the palace was anything but rocky. Huge, sweeping buttresses supported tall cathedral ceilings that stretched to reach the gods themselves. The walls were sanded thousands of times until the rock was smooth to the touch. Some were painted, while others were plastered with intricate mosaic detailing. That same attention to detail was seen on the floors throughout the palace—delicate patterns of blue, white, and gold swooped and swirled, creating a vibrant and mesmerizing pattern that almost resembled the crystalline waters that surrounded our inlet.
A pang of longing shot through me when I realized that the incredible building that held so many fond memories was no more my home than a tavern down the street. It housed the rulers of the region, ones I needed to petition for assistance in the war against the gods, and I needed to remember to show theviziers and father the type of respect that their positions warranted. Approaching this situation with overfamiliarity would not help my cause.
Especially after missing for two decades,I thought wryly.
Instead of battling the crowd of merchants outside the main gates of the palace, the janissaries took a sharp right, leading me down a small, nondescript alley before halting outside an equally plain door.
I breathed heavily, wiping at my dripping forehead with my shoulder, and shook out the tension in my legs and arms. My muscles jumped and twitched, and I stole surreptitious glances at the janissaries surrounding me. Aside from the sweat that glistened on their exposed skin, they looked like they were fresh for the morning.
“How are you not all wheezing right now?” I muttered half to myself, certainly not expecting a response.
To my shock, the guard to my left twitched his lips in wry amusement before shooting me a mirthful glance out the side of his eye. “We train every day for years in order to be selected for these positions. Surely you remember the janissary training you underwent in your formative years?”
I balked, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water at the insinuation that not only did the janissary recognize me, he remembered intimate details of my childhood.
Before I could respond, the door flung open, exposing a room too dark to fully ascertain the interior.
“In,” the janissary behind me grunted, gently pushing me forward to follow the two other escorts into the space. Once all five of us were inside, the door closed, sheathing us in near darkness.
I had a moment to relish in the feeling of shade and shelter but was quickly jostled again once one of my escorts produced a Mage Orb.
On we walked through increasingly dark, yet blessedly cool tunnels as we made our way through the cliffs under the palace to the zindan below.
I didn’t try to engage the janissaries in any further discourse, and the only sounds that followed us through the tunnels were those of my slapping boots and harsh breaths. Embarrassingly, I started counting my steps, anything to keep my mind off the physical exertion.
The air turned sharp and cool, the humidity evaporating almost completely the further we descended, and the sweat dried against my skin until I was nearly shaking from the chill.
Time was an arbitrary concept in the dark and monotonous tunnels, and what felt like hours later, we finally stopped for a second time. This door was much larger and reinforced with steel in addition to an orb that recognized magical signatures for entry.
If only I’d stayed long enough, that orb would have been programmed to my magic and would have unlocked in my presence.
I sighed at the unfortunate situation.
This door swung open with abang, the salt-tinged wind blowing through the large windows in each cell of the zindan. I kept my head down, gaze averted, as I was led to an empty cell and pushed inside with much more care than I expected.
I closed my eyes, pulling deep breaths of briny air that smelled like my childhood, before casting a quick glance over my shoulder at the sound of a traditional lock grinding.
“Guards rotate shortly. The exiting guard will walk this hall before switching places with a new guard,” he mumbled just loud enough for me to hear over the crashing waves below.
I raised an eyebrow. “And why would you tell me this?”
The janissary smiled as he tapped the bars of my cell lightly.
“Think it’s about time we had a prisoner attempt escape, don’t you, Torin?”
My mouth gaped at his admission, but the janissary simply winked before trailing after the others, leaving me blinking rapidly in the solitary cell.
