The Rogue Rider (An Inheritance Fanfiction)

Chapter 3: The Escape

When Ragin regained conscious thought he had no idea how much time had passed. He guessed a couple of hours, but it was always hard to judge time when one is wracked with pain. What he did know however was that he was in a cell, with neat iron bars blocking his way. His weapons had been taken away from him, and his mind was drowsy and fogged. He cursed quietly as he realised what that meant. They had drugged him.

He sighed softly, sitting up on the bed and rubbing his temples. It was then he noticed a strange itching on his right hand. Frowning he looked at it and froze. There was a silvery scar there now, one that hadn't been there before. It was oval in shape and there was almost a sparkling sheen that ran over it. The Gedwey Ignasia. Shining palm. The mark of a dragon rider.

For almost a full minute he stared at the mark, mixed emotions boiling through him. Foremost among them was disbelief. How could he, of all people, be a dragon rider? The idea was preposterous. He hated them. More than anything else he hated them. His teeth ground together angrily as he looked away from his hand and at the bars of the cage he had found himself in.

Another thought entered his mind this time. Fear. He had only heard rumours of the man that owned this house. Rumours of terror, death, and hope. All linked to one man. He didn't like the idea that Tharin Foeswarn might have somewhat of a grudge against him for the dragon hatching like it did. Though it obviously wasn't his fault. If he had known the dragon would hatch, he would have refused to do the mission in the first place.

He sighed and shook his head. He wouldn't stay here and let Tharin do as he will. He needed to escape. He was grateful that they had let him keep his clothes at least. That made the escape so much easier. First, he checked make sure there was no one in his immediate vicinity. There were guards down the end of the prison, but they had their backs turned and wouldn't see a thing.

He carefully ran a fingernail down a crease in the top he was wearing and opened up a small zipper. A small blue vial dropped into his hand, no larger than the size of his small toe. He quickly picked off the stopper holding the vial in a gulped down the contents without hesitation. Almost immediately the drug keeping his mind foggy and magicless lost its potency, and his head cleared. Next, he ran another fingernail down his left leg, opening another small compartment.

This time he fished out a small knife, the combined length of the hilt and blade was the same length as his wrist to the end of his middle finger. It wouldn't be any use for a duel, but for quick and silent assassinations it worked rather well. He smiled as he gripped the hilt of knife in between his fingers, it was too small to grip with his entire hand, and walked over to the door. With a silent word in the ancient language, it opened quietly, and he walked out, closing it silently behind him and locking it again.

He had learnt to always be prepared for situations like this. Far too often did he find himself in a dungeon, or locked away. The first time he hadn't been prepared and was forced to starve himself to fight out the drug that kept his magic locked away. The second time... well he had left the prison within an hour, unknown to the guards until the next morning. He hoped this time worked so well.

He slowly walked toward the guards, dagger in hand and magic at the tip of his fingertips. Without hesitation he brought his arm around the back of one of the guards, then thrust the dagger up through the man's throat, piecing the voice box as he did, so that all that came through the man's mouth was a gurgle of surprise. The other turned in surprise as his comrade dropped to the ground, Ragin standing over the body with his knife dripping blood in his hand. The guard put his hand on his sword and opened his mouth to cry out the alarm.

"Theyna," Ragin muttered with a wave of his hand, and no sound came from the man's mouth.

He then moved like cat, grabbing the man's throat and pinning him to the wall, dagger pointed at the man's head. Without so much as saying anything, Ragin pieced the man's mind with his own, strangely finding the process far easier than the other times he had attempted the same thing. He quickly figured out the quickest route out of the mansion.