Xander woke to the sound of screams. He listened and determined that they were coming from the same floor. They were female, so he assumed it was Naseem being tortured. He looked down to his arm and found it bandaged. It was hard to move it. The pain felt like his nerves were on fire. He tried to peek beneath the bandage but decided it might be better to leave it alone for now. He staggered to his feet, holding on tentatively to the wall of his cell. Through the small slit window, he could see the guards outside his cell. Upon seeing he was awake, the guards brought a pitcher of water. They ordered him to move away from the door and put it inside, then quickly closed and locked his door again. He was impressed with the change in his treatment by the guards. He felt weakened by the wounds he could not heal. But the water was a welcome change. Cooling as it went down. The earthen pitcher felt smooth and cool in his hands. He splashed his face with water also. He heard the screams again and felt frustrated that he couldn't do a thing about another's pain. He hoped that Naseem was able to keep her magic empathy secret from Trune. He hated to think how he would test that ability in her. He thought about his own torture and when he thought about the dragon blood he felt the most unnerving craving for it. He remembered what the book, written by Trune himself, said about its addictive qualities. He shivered. The need hit him suddenly and left him gnashing his teeth and flexing his hands. He paced the cell. The guards paid him no attention. He took the opportunity to relieve himself in a small dented pot in the corner. He continued pacing his cell and listening to the screams. He wondered if Trune was just being cruel or trying to learn something. The screaming stopped abruptly, and now he was concerned if Naseem still lived. He tested the door, but it was sturdier than he hoped. It was time he considered escaping. He knew Trune would soon tire and take the power from the remaining healers despite his cooperation. The healers posed a threat to Necromancers. He felt a wave a nourishing, welcoming magical wave. Mana. It streamed in as though forced from its source. It floated all around him, like snowflakes or dandelion fluff only he could see. He waved his fingers and it gathered to his touch. Magic he could use despite the collar. It was everywhere. It surrounded him, stuck to him, danced in his sight and tickled his face and ears. The guards did not seem to even notice it. Though he could see it lightly stick to them too. If he could feel it and see it, then he knew Trune could too. He would have to move fast. He whispered to the mana and it reacted to his use and the guards were gently put to sleep. He unlocked his door and quietly made for the main room. He moved his fingers and gathered the mana to him and whispered again and they gathered and sped off towards another passage. He followed them quickly and found Naseem and Marta in cells beside each other. He quickly unlocked the doors. Marta helped Naseem to her feet. They came back into the main room. It smelled of fresh blood. And Xander's craving came back. He walked to where there was a small cabinet. He unlocked it with a word and grabbed the prepared darts, then saw a vial of blood, and it whispered to him. He touched it and it was ice cold. He grabbed it too. He stuck himself with a dart of dragon's blood, he relished feeding the relentless niggling in his head and body. Then he gathered more mana to himself. Then he gathered what strength he had and power exploded from him, knocking off his and all of the collars from the prisoners. He could hear the pandemonium from the lower areas. He quickly healed Naseem and they ran to help the prisoners before they were slaughtered for retaliation. The magic reacted faster, almost as though it read his mind. And before he knew it the guards and lower mages were defeated. They ran outside blinking at the sunlight. Where was Trune? Where was Nidhuggr? Desert. They were surrounded by it. They were in the wastes. They would have to cross it. The Orc prisoners began to sing. It was low and throaty. And before his eyes grass and vines started to grow. The Elves bent and touched the grass and it spread out before him like a trail of life. When the vines ripened they had flowers that were heavy with sweet nectar, and everyone took a flower and drank deeply. They walked on. The part fae took animal forms and scouted and protected the group. They did not stop but made progress across the wastes slowly and steadily. Xander did not pay attention to how many nights or days they walked, the magic and nectar keeping them energized as they went. They approached the end of the wastes and they saw an encampment, in the midst of them, were trees grown to contain a living space. They ran to safety and rejoiced in the welcome of the Fae. Gathered in a war camp, with shadow warriors patrolling the outside and tents for the Orc and Elves. The fierce warriors of the Kazakh were practicing with their Cockatrice. The war camp welcomed and rejoiced in the return of their lost people. Kenna grabbed hold of Xander so tight he thought he would not ever breathe again. He smiled and hugged her tight. Kissing the top of her head. It was then he could hear the call that floated inside the Mana. It was Elda's voice stirring whoever could hear to action. It drew them all here. Hope. It was intoxicating.