Amos stumbled into the jail cell with a violent push from the nameless Trenmir agent behind him. He had opted not to fight against the police in a major population centre. Considering they hadn't identified him yet, he was banking on making an escape before he was sent to trial.
Any further institutionalisation posed an even greater risk of recognition. Even if he was innocent for the accused crime, he was guilty of the greatest crime against the Maurish Empire: Being Drai.
The prison was called Rockfall Keep and could be found directly in the centre of the city, situated atop the river itself. The river carved through the land below, effectively forming a natural bridge which the prison sat atop, the lone building on the formation. Either side of the rocky natural bridge dropped away to open air, keeping escaped prisoners within bounds using the threat of the drop. Amos could hear bells and calls of sailors and ships outside his thickly barred window.
The Trenmir had placed a sack over his head when they led him to his waiting cell. He passed by many others interred in various cells. It seemed to be an intimidation tactic on the part of the Trenmir, allowing him to hear the moans of other prisoners.
Amos heard dripping of wet stone, dull thuds coming from either side of him, heaving sobs, and hideous laughter. One person was rhythmically tapping on the bars with their knuckles. It was a veritable cacophony.
Inside his cell was mostly empty. There was a shallow wooden bucket for the toilet, and a patch of straw for a mattress. The walls were made of great brick stones with jagged edges so Amos couldn't lean on them. The air was humid from the river and ocean nearby and allowed moss to grow on the walls in green and black patches.
The bars of the cell were thick iron. Impenetrable. The front wall was made entirely of them, and they were slick to the touch. The door was also made of bars, but crossed over each other, rather than simply vertical. Underneath was a space low to the ground, just tall enough to slide a meal through.
There were two windows, high up on the wall opposite to the door. They were barred too, the same thick metal. The light of a late afternoon pierced Amos' cell like blood streaming through punctured skin. It was this light that allowed him to perceive the entirety of his surroundings.
Amos walked to the door and tested it. Metal rattled down the hallway. There was a simple padlock and chain holding the door in place. Amos looked around for something to pick the lock with, but there was nothing. He didn't think a piece of straw would work.
Amos looked up at the windows.
When one door closes, another opens.
He used the jagged edges of the bricks to try and climb up to the windows. They were slippery with the moss and humidity. He fell on his ass several times.
Eventually, sweating and sore, he made it to the window's height. He saw Port Ryndem from possibly the tallest place in the city, except the roof of Rockfall Keep. The ocean expanded before him. The gulls seemed to have multiplied and the waters of the ocean and river mingled to form a mirror reflecting rays back at the sun. There was a gentle breeze.
Amos grunted and tried to shove the bars, testing if they were loose. They were not. He clambered over to the other window, again testing it the same way. Again, no loose bars.
"Fuck!" Amos yelled and let himself fall to the floor. He knew if he didn't escape himself, his friends would put themselves at risk to break him out. They would take on the entirety of the Trenmir, all eight corps, in an effort to free him. And they would die trying.
I have to get out of here before they send me to trial AND before Ink tries anything stupid!
What can I do...
At that moment, Amos found himself requiring the toilet. He eyed the wooden trough with distaste. It was getting dark by now, better to use it while he could still see.
The bucket was leaking. No matter how good Amos' aim, his urine seeped onto the floor.
"Eugh," said a woman standing on the other side of Amos' cell, "try and get it in the bucket, mate."
Amos turned to face her with alacrity, spurred by fear in his moment of vulnerability. He forgot to pull his pants up.
Through the bars, Amos saw the form of a guard. A civilian Trenmir agent wearing an insignia with a stylised eye in the centre of the classic Trenmir potion bottle. She wore a thin pair of spectacles and her red hair was cropped short.
At the same time, the guard perceived Amos in his entirety. She couldn't hide the smirk that creeped onto her face. "Not impressing me with that thing, peewee. Tiny dick Tim, as they say."
"I, no, I mean-" Amos flushed.
"It's dinner time, mate. If you can keep it in your pants long enough to stuff your gob," the guard laughed to herself and slid a tray of grey slop under Amos' door. He hurriedly pulled his pants up and inspected the food. Some of it spilled onto the dirty floor with the momentum of the guard's push.
As Amos was bent to inspect the mush, the guard banged on the bars with her baton trying to startle him. Though the sound startled him, he didn't give her the satisfaction in reacting. He simply lifted his head slowly and stared into her eyes. He committed her face to memory.
They don't know I'm Drai, or they would have inhibitors in me.
I could kill her with Aries' power right now.
The guard sneered at him, disappointed in the lack of reaction. "Enjoy your pissy slop, kid," she said, then walked away, trailing the baton on the bars.
Amos glared out the bars. His gaze settled on the padlock and the chain holding his door shut.
Wait, that's it!
I still have my powers!
Amos heard the prisoner next to him start to shout at the guard. "This is less than last time! You're starving me! This isn't right, this is a perversion of justice! Come back here and give me what I'm owed! You know I'm right!"
Amos sighed and sat to eat his slop. He pushed the side that was closest to the toilet leakage onto the floor and scooted over to sit on his pile of straw. It was gritty and bitter. Whoever was cooking must have a grudge because there was no way this wasn't intentional.
Amos sat with his back against the sharp bricks. He waited for nightfall in earnest to enact his plan. When he was sure the guard wasn't coming back, he moved to the front of his cell, by the bars, and called out to his angry neighbour.
"Hey," he said, just loud enough to be heard, but not overheard. "You been here long?"
"Me, darling?" the voice was genteel and feminine. The rage had disappeared, but it was definitely the same person. "But of course."
"I heard you telling the guard off about the food," Amos said.
"Oh yes, that was Gertruda. A most vile woman, undeserving of the position she holds. She takes a grudge easily."
"I don't think she likes me."
"Well she hardly likes anyone it seems, I can't imagine she even tolerates herself."
"Ha. What's your name?"
"I am Kethryllia, colloquially known as Thryll. You may know me."
"I can't say I do. I'm A- I mean John, by the way."
"John," Thryll turned the name over her tongue with barely concealed delight. "Enchanted to meet you."
"Uh huh. Hey, do you know how many guards are on during the night?"
"Oh, a devious question! Tell me, John, what do you intend to do with such information?"
"I'm getting out of here."
"A man with a plan! I do enjoy conspiracy!"
"Yes, so the guards?"
"How would I benefit from informing you of this?"
Amos sighed. "I'll get you out too."
Thryll clapped her hands in delight. She divulged every bit of information Amos asked of her; one guard (Gertruda), changeover at midnight, hourly patrols, layout of the prison, et cetera.
Gertruda passed by every hour, as Thryll had explained. When she passed the last time before Amos was to enact his plan, he placed his back to the bars and ignored her barbs. He stared out the windows and saw it was a clear night. The stars shone brightly.
In the left window was the constellation of Cancer. The right, Aries. Amos saw them connected with bright gold and red translucent lines respectively. He wasn't sure if anybody else saw those lines, or just the Drai, or just him.
He focused on Cancer. Gold filled his mind. In his mind's eye, he saw a soldier with a rectangular shield, golden light coming from within it to cast the shield itself in an ominous black. The soldier's face was obscured by a conspicuous ray of light.
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The soldier's body writhed. Amos squinted and realised it was a mass of golden tendrils twisting over each other. It reached out to him with an offered hand and Amos felt an ominous pull.
He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. Once more, he was back in the jail cell.
Then he turned to Aries. The soldier was replaced by an expanse of grey. Amos looked around for a figure similar to Cancer's vision, but found none. He felt alone, the pressure of solitude making the emptiness claustrophobic. Then, Amos looked down. Without seeing, he somehow knew there was an unfathomably large face set in the surface of the grey. It caused his heart to lurch.
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The face began to open its eyes, eyelashes the size of trees and thicker than a truck swooping down with a rush of air to crush Amos. He quickly disentangled himself from the vision in the same fashion as he did with Cancer.
Two paths. Two choices.
Amos chose to trust himself. He trusted his friends, but he would not put others in danger for his survival.
I am strong.
Amos put his hand through the bars and grabbed hold of the padlock. He knew it was safe; Gertruda had just finished her patrol. He channeled his mana and used Cancer's power to coat his hand with golden energy, then forced a small burst of mana to manifest from his palm as an explosion of superheated flame.
The padlock melted instantly.
Amos shook his hand. It was warm, but Cancer's tendril had protected him with ease. Arria's idea worked - he could use Aries' fire without burning himself!
Amos pushed the door to his cell open and stepped into the hall. It was curved - the cells formed the outer wall of a circular Keep. He stepped in front of Thryll's cell and found her wearing a tattered purple cloak, craning her neck to see what Amos was doing. She had pointed ears.
An elf? I didn't think those existed in this world...
Then again, I have been living on a farm and on the run from the police. It makes sense that I haven't seen everything Mauria has to offer.
"Hello, darling," she grinned, "come to save the princess?"
"Turn around," Amos said. He didn't want Thryll to see him using his powers.
"Would there be any repercussions if I refused?"
"You'll stay here and rot."
"So gruff," Thryll crossed her arms, but turned around as asked.
Amos grabbed the padlock and melted it off. The door swung open with a creak. Thryll eyed off the hunk of slag that had kept her imprisoned for so long. "Interesting..." she murmured.
They navigated towards the exit together, Thryll in the lead. She knew the way, where Amos didn't. Thryll informed him the only exit was through the guard room. There was to be confrontation with Gertruda - it was not yet midnight.
When they reached the reinforced door just before the guard room, Thryll made to push through with bravado. Amos held his hand out out and put a finger to his lips, then indicated that he would go first. Thryll shrugged then bowed low and flourished her hand with extravagance. She hung back as Amos pushed the door open slowly.
Amos looked around the room. There was a simple table with a set of cards set up for a game of solitaire, a small kitchenette, and a mug of what smelled like strong alcohol. Gertruda wasn't around. Amos looked back at Thryll and nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw a spectral red line piercing through his body. Thryll hadn't seemed to notice, but Amos knew what it meant.
Xaemarra!
At that moment a soft, melodic humming floated from a closed door in the corner of the room. Amos approached and listened for a short moment. The humming definitely belonged to Gertruda. Thryll's face suddenly became extremely stern, to the point of murderous rage, even.
Amos kicked the door open.
Gertruda was sitting on a toilet, humming to herself. She stopped when the door burst wide and saw Amos. Her eyes widened.
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Without thinking, Amos reached out to grip her entire face with his hand. He encased his arm with gold and then flashed the fire. Gertruda screamed and flailed her arms. Amos didn't let go. He flashed the fire again and again. More heat. More. Burn.
"Burn!" he screamed.
Eventually, he dropped Gertruda's charred body. She glowed with heat, like charcoal. Amos stared at it. He came to his senses.
"What..." he said, voice shaky. "What happened? What did I do?"
"You're a sneaky one, John," Thryll was grinning behind him. "I couldn't have done it better myself!"