Beauty and the Magician (Tales of the Red Witch Book 1)

Chapter 1 - Midnight Run

The walls felt like they were forever closing in on him. His very existence a gilded cage and him a colorful plumed bird constantly being prodded to perform.

Andri let out a soft mirthless chuckle as he sat by the fire; his knee bouncing in his impatience. A warmed drink in his shaking hand. His thoughts firmly on the trial he was set to face in the morning. He ran a hand over his hair.

He had to get out of here.

His mind began to turn over possible escape plans. It was not an easy process for him. He would much rather charge out baring his teeth and stomping like a cornered dragon but such a plan would likely only get him promptly escorted back to his room with extra guard detail. He shuddered as he remembered the punishment inflicted on him the last time he was caught.

Strategy and forethought were really not his forte. His lack of this trait was not lost on his captors; however, they should also know that he wasn't one to give up. And he wasn't too proud to seek help from a far more intelligent accomplice. However, the last time he had tried to escape, that accomplice had turned traitor. He frowned. Perhaps that person was now due a certain amount of retribution.

He jumped up from his chair and paced a few times in the dim flickering firelight while he downed the rest of his drink and placing down the empty glass on the mantle. He paused and listened for sounds outside his room. When he heard nothing, he decided to act. He wouldn't consider the ramifications. There just simply wasn't time.

He picked up his saddle bags and threw an assortment of basic items haphazardly inside. He pulled on his coat and grabbed his boots.

He silently unlocked the door to his stifling room and stuck his head out into the hallway through the small crack. Slowly he peered first to the right and then to the left looking for the tell-tale movements of guards in the moonlit corridor. He could head right and make for the stairs but the thought of revenge on the traitorous fiend was too good to pass up. His breathing was calm despite the pounding of his heart. A grin blossomed on his face. He turned to the left. The area was deserted for the moment, but he knew it would not remain so for long.

Hitching his saddle bag up on his shoulder and shifting his boots to his other hand, he crept down the darkened hall one slow step after another and soundlessly came upon his destination. The door was locked, but it didn't matter. He knew how to open it. There wasn't a single door in this place that could stop him.

Once inside, he spotted his target as he slept on, completely oblivious to the uninvited guest in his room. The traitor. If only he had kept his mouth closed during their last escape attempt.

Andri's gaze sought out a weapon. He spotted just the thing upon the dressing table and he drifted over and picked it up, careful to not allow it to scrape on the wooden tabletop. He tested the weight of the heavy ceramic pitcher. It was perfect. He made his way over to the side of the massive four poster bed and, sporting a slightly malicious grin, readied himself.

The figure upon the bed quietly snored, looking as innocent as a newborn in his white bed shirt and with a small bubble of drool at the corner of his mouth. Andri almost reconsidered his plan. Almost. He lifted the pitcher high above the sleeping man's head.

Andri shivered with glee as he tipped the pitcher and emptied it's cold contents upon the sleeping figure.

He had barely a moment to enjoy his triumph before he had to clap a hand over his best friend Stefan's mouth to stifle the ensuing panicked shout. He knew from extensive experience that Stefan could scream louder than a school girl with a mouse in her bonnet and it wouldn't do at all for his plan if he were to wake the entire castle before they managed to get outside of it.