The satyrs dragged William away from his friend to a pit on the outskirts of the village. A rusted iron gate covered in some sort of growth was unlocked. Doltier hauled the entrance to one side with a hand. Then he pulled up William and drew out a dagger. William almost screamed as the blade surged toward him. The ropes around his hands and legs were cut with two swift movements, and Doltier, smiling, threw him in.

William fell into the darkness and hit the earthen floor hard, clambering up slowly as he did. His every inch hurt, and he groaned in pain as the gate slid shut above him. One hand touched the stonework and found it damp and covered in moss, and there was an earthy smell. He could hear it locked above him. He could see only a little light through the grating above.

Slowly, he pulled himself up. He had to get out of here. Had to save Felix. The satyrs were going to kill him if he didn't do anything. Getting to his feet, he paced, checking the mortar in the stone. Perhaps he could loosen one of the stones and would find...

Find what? A secret passage? The idea was laughable.

No, if there were going to be an escape from this place, it would be out the way he came in.

Gripping the stonework, William sought a handhold. After a few moments, he began to scale up the wall. His mouth was so dry, and he was so hungry, but he had to remain focused. Climbing up the wall, he reached the bars and grasped them. He set his feet against the wall and began to push against the bars, trying to dislodge them. They would not budge, and he finally dropped to the floor, defeated.

He'd always been more robust than most boys his age. But that strength was insufficient to bend or dislodge metal from the rock. Returning to his idea of a secret passage, he checked the mortar to see if it was loose. It wasn't, of course. So even if he'd found some, there was pure earth beyond. In time, he could dig a tunnel, of course. But he did not have time.

William began to panic, walking back and forth while trying to think of some means by which he could escape.

He had to get free of this place, whatever the cost to himself! He had to rescue Felix! He wanted to scream, to demand they let him free, but that would do no good. He should not give the satyrs any satisfaction. After all his pacing, it left him exhausted and without progress. Finally, he sat down against the rough wall and slid into a sitting position.

Hours later, food and water were lowered down. William dared not eat any of the meat. There was no telling what, or who, it was made of. He also felt he should not drink the water for fear that it was drugged. Yet he was too thirsty to listen to this feeling and drank it. It hardly seemed to have touched his lips before it was gone.

It dawned on him that there was nothing he could do with his power to escape this place. It hurt to think of it. He needed a miracle, and none seemed likely to happen. He wanted to cry, but he reminded himself that he was the son of a Duke of Harlenor. He resolved to pray.

To which god? Laevian cared nothing for mortal affairs save insofar as they affected the wilds.

Barden was a lord of trade and pleasant things.

Coinfurth's domain was mercantile, and William had nothing to trade.

Mel'Zayer belonged more in the study than in a crisis.

Isriath and Maius had no interest in dark and sunless places like this. They were of music and revelry, and he had no deeds to call on.

Kafka, God of Madness, was out of the question, as was Baltoth and any of the Demonic Archons.

Safara, Goddess of Love? She ate people.

Farasa of Destiny? What exactly did he have to bargain with her. She had no obligation to him.

Zeya, Queen of Heroes? He wasn't a hero and hadn't done anything impressive. Nothing beyond swimming for a day across shark-infested waters, anyway. And that was countered by not fighting the satyr.

Rioletta of Fate was well-known as a weaver of webs and a sadist. She was a known compatriot of Melchious anyway.

Karus' perhaps? Goddess of Choice or whatever domain she represented now, it had become ambiguous. But, no, he was not able to offer her anything.

Jaha, Goddess of Peace? A far-off deity of eastern lands and her domain had little to do with her.

Barden? He rarely appeared and was most associated with trade and roads. There was little trade through Seathorius, so he'd have little power here.

Imogen? He wasn't that desperate.

How many Gods did William know about anyway? Perhaps some God of Knowledge could help him? Well, what power could a God of Knowledge provide in these circumstances? William wondered if they had many agents.

So, by all accounts, he was nothing to the Gods. Elranor, Lord of Death and Healing, and knights were his only option.

But would the Lord of Knights even care? Felix was a Calishan, a race member who served his archenemy, and William was a coward. He had failed even to try to fight on that ship. Why should so great and mighty concern himself with them?

Whether he would or not, William had to try.

Clasping his hands together, he focused on connecting with the divine. "Elranor, my Lord..." he said. "I have failed you. For that, I am sorry. But Felix needs your help.

"Send us aid and... and I will dedicate the rest of my life to your service. Just please don't let Felix die!"

He waited for a response. For a moment, he thought he felt a presence. It was searching through his most profound thoughts, judging him silently. Then it was gone, and nothing was happening. He was stuck in this place, waiting for his friend to die horribly.

As time passed, it got gradually darker, and as the last light of the fading sun disappeared, he gave up entirely. Darkness came over the world, and not a beam of starlight reached him. He saw no sign of either Elranor or his captors.

He waited there in limbo, his cuts and bruises stinging him badly. He wondered what good his service was to anyone? He couldn't even avoid being captured. Then he felt it within the cell with him. It was not Elranor.