Pax took a step forward, wanting to sneak a quick look through the bars so he could prepare for whatever was happening out there. Just as he got close, another guard appeared, pulling a cart behind him. Pax flinched back as he stopped at Pax’s door.

“Back against the wall.” This guard was smaller, his eyes angry and narrowed over a beak of a nose. “Hands where I can see them.”

Pax complied quickly.

Producing a ring of keys, the guard had Pax’s door open in no time.

“Don’t even think about it,” barked the man as he grabbed a small bucket from the bottom of his cart and set it just inside the cell, water slopping over the lip. Next, he tossed a stack of clothing on the floor beside the bucket.

Before Pax could think of trying anything, the guard had shut the door with a hefty clunk.

He eyed Pax, face twisted with distaste as he rattled off instructions, “Strip everything off. Use the rag and water to wash yourself. Put on the clean clothes. Do not keep any of your own dirty rags. You have five minutes to finish or one of us will come in and do it for you.” His grin turned nasty. “And you really don’t want one of us to come in and wash you. Got it?”

Pax clenched his jaw and gave the man the smallest of nods, but the guard had already grabbed his cart and pulled it noisily to the next cell. Pax sprang into motion, hoping to finish before anyone else came to stare at him through the cell bars.

He took a quick sniff of the water and was surprised at how clean it seemed. After a cautious sip, he took a handful of deep swallows before getting busy following instructions.

When he was done, he had to admit that despite being scratchy, the tunic and pants weren’t half bad, made of a thick material that wouldn’t tear easily. The fringes of the sleeves and pant legs were even dyed in Thanhil’s traditional blue.

Pax had just finished pulling his shoes back on and secreting the two lengths of cords when a third guard appeared at his cell door, a ring of keys in one hand and a set of manacles in the other. A large man, he moved slower than the other guards and the buttons of his uniform strained to contain his bulk.

“Hands out through the bars,” the man barked impatiently. “Now!”

Pax jerked into motion, clambering to his feet, even though the last thing he wanted to do was approach the door.

“Through the same gap, idiot,” yelled the guard as he lifted one manacle and clamped it tightly around Pax’s left hand.

Pax hurried to move his right hand into the same space as his left before his eyes stared down at the soft glow that was already fading from the manacle on his left wrist.

Horror filled him as he realized the significance. The manacles were powered, likely by tiny earth cores, which meant there would be no escape without the control stone.

Pax tried to jerk his right hand back, but despite his size, the guard was fast. His hand clamped down, immediately followed by the rough surface of the second manacle closing around Pax’s other wrist.

“This one’s done,” the guard called to his left before flipping through his keys and using one to open Pax’s door. Then, without another word, he moved further down the hallway to the next cell.

Before Pax could consider making a run for it, another guard appeared in the doorway and reached a baton toward Pax’s manacles. The end of the baton snapped into contact with the center chain attaching the two manacles, jerking Pax’s hands forward. The guard didn’t even look at him, simply turning and walking back the way he’d come so suddenly that Pax was almost pulled off his feet.

Scrambling to stay upright, he managed to follow the man who led him down the hallway lined on one side by identical cells, all standing empty now. Pax kept his eyes scanning for Tomis and Amil, but this part of the prison was deserted.

Stepping through the far doorway, they emerged into a larger room with doorways leading to multiple hallways; obviously a room for the guards. Chairs and tables sat with remnants of meals and card games strewn about, now left untended. A weapons rack stood mostly empty against the far wall, only a few worn nightsticks and a single cracked helmet still set on it. An alcove to the left held racks of uniforms and other clothing hung in a haphazard array. Pax realized that even if he’d managed to squeeze through the bars of his door, he’d never have made it past this room unseen.

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Other guards emerged from adjoining hallways, dragging their own prisoners along with the same callousness as Pax’s. But he still didn’t see either of his friends.

In moments, Pax was being pulled up the stone stairs at the end of the space and out into a walled courtyard, drizzly with flickering shadows from the lit sconces arrayed along the walls. No one was wasting flame stones here. And above the walls, Pax could see just the faintest hint of the coming dawn.

Other young prisoners stood shivering, looking miserable chained together in multiple lines. The chains binding them together were attached to a row of poles anchored in the ground at the front of the courtyard. Behind them, two sides of a large wooden gate banded with strips of dark iron loomed ominously.

With efficient movements, the guard pulled Pax to the end of one of the prisoner lines. He grabbed the trailing end of the chain and with a quick manipulation of the control baton, Pax found himself firmly attached just behind a young girl with tear-streaked cheeks who wouldn’t meet his eyes.

Pax ignored her, turning his head to search among the shadowed crowd for some sign of his two friends.

Was that Amil? Pax squinted. Another figure seemed to have Tomis’ bulk.

“Amil! Tomis!” Pax couldn’t stop himself from yelling out as he craned to see over the other heads.

Two rows over, a tow-headed figure jerked around, and Pax caught a glimpse of familiar features just before something smacked into the back of his head, reigniting last night’s headache. Pax tried to jerk his hands to his head, only to pull against the manacles.

A guard raised what looked like a padded nightstick in warning. Pax spared a moment to be grateful they weren’t striking with their usual iron-hard sticks.

“Quiet, or you’ll get more,” the guard growled, and Pax quickly shifted to the submissive posture he’d often used to pacify authority figures.

It worked, and the guard moved back to patrolling the other captives. As soon as he’d moved to another row, Pax strained to look in Amil’s direction again . . . and found him staring back. They exchanged tight smiles and something loosened inside Pax even though he could tell Amil’s captivity hadn’t been pleasant.

Reminding himself not to yell out again, Pax mouthed the name Tomis with his brows raised in question to Amil. His friend’s expression sank and Pax felt even worse. He should have left the younger boy safe with the rest of the crew.

Together, he and Amil scanned the growing crowd for Tomis. Pax thought he’d found him, only to have the other boy turn, an unfamiliar face looking back. Pax felt his panic grow the longer he went, unable to spot Tomis’ bulk figure anywhere.

“This is the last of them,” a guard called out from behind them.

Pax spun his head to look back, and his heart leapt to see Tomis being pulled up the stairs by a scrawny guard barely bigger than the boy himself. Tomis had his head down and shuffled along with none of his usual exuberance. Pax tried to catch his eye, but Tomis never looked up as the guard fastened his manacles to the end of another line.

And then it was time to move.

At a yelled order, the two sides of the heavy gate were levered open, and guards led the lines of prisoners out into the back streets of the city. Anyone making noise or drifting out of line got a swift whack. Pax glanced at the darkened homes and businesses as they passed, and knew most of them were probably excited about the coming day’s festivities.

When they finally reached the main square, Pax saw the stage had been finished and, though the lights had been turned down, it was easy to see all the work had been finished for the Awakening later.

Smooth, polished benches stood in neat rows facing the stage, while more extravagant booths with luxurious lounges had been built up along the sides for the more important audience members.

Pax was surprised to see there was even activity at the ceremonial altar that loomed in front of the inner keep. Usually it was cordoned off, a guard posted to ensure no one climbed the steps leading up to the large altar. But today, workers swarmed over the seamless rectangle of dark stone that rose to the height of a man’s head, cleaning and polishing. It was easily visible from any position in the main square. Pax wondered if the rumors were true about it absorbing life essence and the magical controls hidden somewhere in the heavy base, accessible only by the city’s governor.

The prisoner in front of him turned, giving Pax’s manacles a tug and forcing his attention back to the guard leading them toward a roped-off area sporting a painted sign with cheerful letters that read, “Candidates Only.” Rows of folding chairs sat festooned with colorful ribbons that fluttered in the pre-dawn breeze.

Moving past, they came to a rectangular area cordoned off with heavy metal barricades made of bars anchored on each side to heavy stones. On either end of the space stood a row of heavy stones with embedded, stout metal hooks.

Pax gave a quick jerk on his manacles, testing for any give. All he did was make the chain rattle and draw the attention of a patrolling guard who glared in his direction. Pax watched the row of prisoners in front of him being led into the space. Guards instructed them to sit down in a line on the hard ground before they fastened both ends of the chain to the heavy weights along the edges.

There is no way out, Pax thought as his group was led into the area and forced to sit on the cobblestones before being locked into place.

The cold stone penetrated the fabric of his pants and Pax couldn’t help the shudder that ran through him.

In a few hours, he would be awakened and there was nothing he could do to stop it.