“We will leave this place.”
“You are a fool if you believe Altham will allow that, more so if you assume Greenwood would give sanctuary to a red elf. This crypt will sooner be our tomb.”
The declaration made Rawn’s hands shake, but he curled them into fists. “I have a son, and you have two. When they were born, we lost the recourse to concede defeat.”
The reminder weighed heavy in the silence.
Rawn didn’t know if Leif would grant Elon sanctuary, but after everything he sacrificed for his country, he could ask this of him. “You saved my life more than once. I owe you a debt.”
Elon studied him in the dark for a moment.
“You escaped this place once before. How?”
Elon’s one eye moved up to the ceiling of their cell. By the faint light, Rawn could barely distinguish runes carved into the stone, but they were no longer active. “Sylar was the one who broke the warding spell in the prison. He said for one of this magnitude, the runes must be in perfectorder to work. No flaw. No line out of place. He understood the fundamentals of magic in a way I didn’t.”
Well, of course. Sylar had been an apprentice to become a Magi Master before he was taken, and he was highly skilled.
“We planned our escape on a day Grod was distracted questioning another. I stood guard as Sylar chipped away one of the runes in his cell with a rock, and the warding spell broke. With his magic, he broke out, and we fled through the eastern tunnels to the waterways.” Elon looked past him to the bars. “But they have adapted.”
Rawn followed his gaze to the ceiling of the main tunnel, where runes faintly glowed yellow. Out of their reach. “What of the keys to the cells? If I could?—”
Elon shook his head. “Grod never leaves them out of his sight. Short of removing the wards from the walls, these cells are also warded. As of now, there is no way out.”
The matter appeared bleak, and Rawn felt his strength wane. “It’s your prerogative to sit here and wait to die. But I will not join you.”
“If they are truly negotiating, that means Altham desires a trade. What would he trade you for?”
Rawn hadn’t thought about that until now, and he was suddenly anxious. What would they trade him for?
“They must have brought you here for something,” Elon pressed.
“Altham wants a key…”
“A key?”
Rawn fell silent, thinking of the memory he had recovered during his torture. After Princess Daiyu had gone, he found what she left on the table. A small rectangular box made of ivory, carved with the design of a sprawling tree. No more than three inches wide and six inches tall. Inside, on a bedding of red velvet, lay a bronze key split in two.
“Rawn, what key?”
“It’s a key to a door that should never be opened…” he said faintly, his pulse quickening as the words slipped from him. How did he know that? He sat up, his chest rising and falling with rapid breaths.
Elon grabbed his shoulders and made Rawn look at him. “Speak plainly. What door?”
“I know not.”
Whatever lucid facet that had surfaced in Rawn’s memory quickly swam away like a minnow into the depths of his mind. It was as though whatever he needed to remember had been purposely hidden.
But why and by whom?
Elon’s grip tightened. “Where have you hidden the second half of the key?”
“I don’t remember…” Rawn blinked at him. “How do you know there are two halves of the key?”
The question made Elon’s expression impassive again, and he withdrew to his corner against the wall. “I overheard the guards talking.”
On the back of his scarred hand was a fresh tattoo. The flesh was red and inflamed, but Rawn could distinguish very clearly the sigil of a maple leaf.
“They have placed us together for a reason, haven’t they?”
