Of course, there was another way to get the key: move the cage itself.
But the cage was immensely heavy. To flip it or shuffle it over to the corpse would require the coordinated effort of all the terrified "pigs" trapped inside with him. By the time he managed that miracle, the second wave of the attack would already be upon them.
He couldn't rely on these scholars. He would have to do it himself.
He quietly drew his sword, careful not to alert the others. He slid the blade through the bars and laid it on the ground outside. Then he crouched down, pretending to inspect something, and waited. When no one was looking, he snatched a large rock from the debris and tossed it into the air.
CLANG! The rock hit the top of their cage. The aspirants inside yelped, covering their heads and flinching, their eyes darting nervously upwards.
In that moment of distraction, Elias reached out, grabbed his sword, and flung it like a spear.
Slice! The blade cut cleanly through the dead guard's belt. Just as he'd hoped, the key popped free.
"Was that just one rock?"
"It felt smaller this time."
The scholars, now veterans of aerial bombardment, started chattering again.
Elias saw his chance. He picked up a small pebble and, with a precise flick, sent it skittering across the ground. It struck a larger rock, ricocheted, and knocked the key a few feet away from the body.
The faint tink of metal on stone drew a few glances, but the fog was too thick. They saw nothing.
Elias waited. He then tossed a larger stone in front of the key. Pretending to sift through the rubble for the perfect projectile, he found another small pebble. A quick glance at the others, and he let it fly.
The pebble hit the larger stone at an angle, banked off it, and struck the key, sending it flying towards their cage. It landed just within reach.
He had it. He could grab it at any moment and escape. But before he could even savor the relief, the swirling mist around them intensified. A new sense of dread washed over him. Time was up.
He didn't hesitate. He thrust his arm through the bars, using his empty scabbard to painstakingly drag the key closer. He could have used his powers to simply pull it to him, but he needed a plausible story.
"Brother Blackwood, what are you doing?" someone asked.
"I think that's the key," Elias said, his voice flat.
"What?" A sudden scramble as the others crowded around him, pressing him against the iron bars. He gritted his teeth, fighting the urge to curse them all.
"Brothers," he said through a forced smile, "if you keep crowding me, how am I supposed to get it?"
They backed off. He dragged the key into his grasp, reached up, and inserted it into the lock. The cage was warped from the impacts, and it took all his strength to turn the key.
With a final, protesting groan, the lock gave way. Elias shoved the grille open and was the first one out. The others followed, cheering. He retrieved his sword, sheathed it, and listened. He could hear the faint sounds of fighting from the woods. No time to waste. He vanished into the fog.
His former cage-mates were still celebrating, even taunting the occupants of a nearby cage. Their joy was short-lived. A squad of grey-cloaked Guild agents appeared. "Who let you out?" one of them barked. "Get back inside!"
Faced with the Guild's cold authority, they fell silent and were herded back into their cage. One of the agents locked it, removed the key, and walked away.
A collective sigh of despair echoed from within. "Wait," someone said. "Brother Blackwood didn't come back in."
"Where did he go?"
Seven faces pressed against the bars, staring out into the empty, swirling mist.
Elias had one priority: his twenty pounds of Elven Grain. Two thousand silver coins. He wasn't leaving it behind. He had to find the right luggage carriage.
The carnage was sickening. He moved through the wreckage, his boots sticky with blood. He was just about to pass another mangled cage when a familiar voice called out, "Brother Blackwood!"
It was Willem. He was caged with the four sycophants. Sullivan Thorne had a bloody rag tied around his head. But what caught Elias's eye was the grey-cloaked Guild agent also locked inside with them. Smart bastard, Elias thought. He locked himself in for protection.
"Brother Blackwood! How did you get out?" Willem yelled.
The question was a death sentence. The Guild agent inside immediately pointed at Elias. "You! Who let you out? Get back to your carriage! Now!"
Damn it. Elias pointed vaguely behind him. "One of your men let me out," he lied, and immediately darted back into the fog.
The agent, fumbling for his own key, unlocked the cage and gave chase.
He didn't get far. As he passed a pile of shattered carriage planks, a blade shot out, burying itself in his side.
It was Elias, hidden in the shadows. He had made a choice. No hesitation.
The agent stared down at the sword protruding from his chest, his eyes wide with disbelief. He couldn't comprehend it. A mere aspirant, attacking him without provocation? Why?
"You..." he gurgled.
Elias ripped the sword free, spun, and slashed the man's throat. He wiped the blade on the man's cloak, sheathed it, and watched the body fall.
He hadn't wanted to kill him. But the agent was trying to put him back in the cage. That was a death sentence. In this chaos, he couldn't afford to be a prisoner. This was the cleanest solution.
Footsteps. Elias tensed, his hand on his sword.
"Brother Blackwood? Are you out there?" It was Willem.
Elias quickly covered the body with a large piece of wreckage and stepped out to intercept him. "What are you shouting for?" he hissed.
Willem, holding his greatsword, looked around. "That guard didn't give you any trouble, did he?"
Elias felt a pang of guilt. The oaf had come looking for him out of concern. "Didn't see him," he lied.
"Where are you going?" Willem asked.
"I'm worried about Midge. I'm going to find him." The words were out before he could stop them. A mistake.
Willem's face hardened with worry, and he started to run.
Elias cursed himself, grabbed Willem's arm, and steered him around the hidden corpse and down a small embankment, out of sight. "Have you learned nothing?" he whispered as a patrol of soldiers passed by. "They see us with this sword, they'll think we're beasts in disguise and cut us down."
Willem nodded, sheathing his greatsword. "You're right. But Midge—"
Without another word, Elias sprinted to a dead soldier, stripped off the man's uniform, and pulled it on over his own clothes.
Willem's eyes widened in understanding. The beasts were hunting aspirants, not soldiers. "Brilliant," he whispered, and immediately did the same. "If things get bad, we can play dead."
Play dead? Elias thought, rolling his eyes. This wasn't about playing dead. It was about moving unseen. Unseen by the beasts, and unseen by the other aspirants while he searched for his grain.