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It was a crashing sound that woke him from his slumber. It hadn’t been easy to find a comfortable position to sleep in due to the hard surface of the bench. His sore, aching body hadn’t made it any better. He remained still and quiet to hear what was to follow, but all he heard was his own breathing and the incessant dripping in his damp cell.
Suddenly, a bright light came floating down the corridor. It was like a bright glowing sphere a few feet above the ground. Its glow was so intense that it blinded him more than made his surroundings clearer. Then it expanded and exploded, very much like a lightning bolt striking a tree but silent and without fire or smoke. After the explosion, all trace of it was gone. Prolur rubbed his eyes to regain his bearings. After his temporary blindness, he could see that his cell door was open, and a figure stood in the opening carrying something in his hands.
“Father Prolur,” a familiar voice said although not immediately known. “I have come to set you free.”
Prolur rose and walked towards the figure, who was dressed as a monk. As he came closer, his eyes adjusted to the dark, and he could clearly make out the figure. It was Father Rauman who was smiling at him.
“Rauman, what is this?” Prolur said in astonishment.
“Just a trick my father taught me,” Rauman replied. “Magic has always been strong in my family, although rarely used. Come, we must away quickly. The guards are asleep, another trick, but they will wake soon. We have prepared a horse for you in the courtyard.”
Without room for questions, Rauman walked towards the staircase that would lead them to the exit, and Prolur followed. At the bottom of the stairs lay a sleeping guard. The noise he had heard was most likely him falling down. With haste, they climbed the stairs and headed out into the fresh air. In the courtyard, stood a beautiful mare, fully saddled as well as fully packed. Rauman moved quickly across the silent grounds. The moon poked its face through the dark clouds and threw an eerie light on the two monks. Prolur moved slower than Rauman, and the younger monk’s nervousness showed as he waited for him. As soon as he stood by the animal, Rauman knelt down and put his fingers together to form a step. Prolur placed his foot on them and was hoisted into the saddle. Something he was very thankful for since he hardly would have been able to do it himself.
When he had situated himself, Rauman strapped a sword that he had been carrying to the side of the horse.
“We found this amongst your possessions the soldiers had taken,” he said as he patted the mare. “I believe a true warrior always should carry his weapon. For me it is my strong belief in the gods who rule us and in you, Father.”
“Those are maybe the most dangerous weapons one may trust,” Prolur replied gravely.
“Ride towards Dourland in the east and seek refuge there!” Rauman said. “Lady Armana sends word that she will find you there, with her son.”
Prolur nodded and looked to the east. Dourland was dry and mostly covered by a desert. To get there he would have to cross the great lake dividing the countries. A boat to take across would be easy enough to find, but to do it in secret would be the difficult part.
Prolur turned the mare around and turned towards the open gates. “I guess our roads part here, Father Rauman,” he said. “It has been a pleasure to be in your company. Take care, and I will always be in your debt.”
“May Haugar keep you and Destiana guide your actions,” Rauman said.
Prolur spurred the horse and rode through the gates. Rauman returned to the castle safe in the conviction that Prolur’s disappearance would go unnoticed until morning.
What he didn’t see was the figure hiding in the shadows, observing everything with betrayal in mind.
The doors to the great hall opened with great force, and di Sauria woke with a start. His head ached, and his surroundings reeked of wine and vomit. It was a soldier who had entered the room. He searched the hall for di Sauria and froze for a moment when he noticed him on the floor.
“My Lord di Sauria?” he said as the lord of Saurania tried to get to his feet.
“What?” di Sauria’s voice was raspy and low as he tried to control it. The soldier was notably nervous and stuttered.
“W-we have been informed that Father Prolur has managed to escape his imprisonment.”
Something snapped inside di Sauria, and he seemingly sobered up instantly. “What did you say?”
“The prisoner, Father Prolur, has somehow fled. The door to his cell was open, and he was gone.” The soldier backed away as he spoke.
“How?” di Sauria walked towards the soldier and grabbed him by the tunic, pulling him closer and breathing putrid air in his face.
“We do not know, milord.” The soldier clearly feared for his life now. “The guards have no memory of the event, and one seems to have died when falling down the stairs. The other prisoners refuse to speak of it.”
“Torture them until they have an answer for us. Now, saddle my horse, and fetch me my sword, troops, and a good tracker!” di Sauria was shaking, but he couldn’t tell if it was from rage welling up inside him or from fear of what would become of him if Prolur managed to get away.
“It has already begun.”
di Sauria let go of the soldier, stormed out of the room, and headed towards the courtyard.