The clang of metal on metal from the gate pulled him out of his reverie. Cheidan glanced behind him and noticed the feeding trough was now filled. Giving a wistful glance at the plains in front of him, he turned around and slowly walked towards the waiting meal, hooves clip-clopping on hard-packed earth of his cage.
And a cage was all it was. For all the attractiveness of the illusion of being free and roaming on great, open plains, it was still an illusion. He had discovered in the early days of his capture that if he approached too closely to the borders of his cage, the illusion broke down. Beyond, he could see the stone walkways and other cages like his. Within each of the cages were indistinct forms, blurred by the same illusion in his cage. Only when one of the other occupants came close enough to see past the illusion, could he see them. It made communicating quite difficult, since the same energy that created the false image was also used to mute sound.
When he bothered to give it thought, he had to admire the psychological effects. Which was better? To give into the dreams and the illusion, and pretend you're free, or break it utterly, by always confronting the bars of your prison and hope for contact from others also in their cages? No wonder he rarely saw anyone, if that was the price.
But Centaurs are herd creatures, and are not suited to being cut off from their own. As a stallion of Dontha's herd, he had worked hard guarding the females and foals, and supporting them. Most Centaur herds only had one stallion, but Cheidan was young, and by the next season, would have started his own. It was while he was scouting a possible location to establish his new herd that he wandered away from the rest, and gotten himself here, where ever 'here' was.
He took a handful of the grain and oats in his trough and chewed thoughtfully. Even if he made it back, somehow, another stallion would have taken his place. There was nothing to which to return. But that did not mean he wanted to stay here.
Cheidan finished his meal with a handful of bitter apples and washed it down with several gulps of water. That was something else he missed, ale. And women. A good strong drink and a couple of mares, and he just might be happy here.
He shook his head and banished that thought. Never! Freedom first, then worry about the rest. But how? The gate through which his food appeared was too small for him to fit, and the bars that surrounded his parcel of space were stronger than he could bend, and would even sting and burn him if he touched them. If he was going to escape, he'd have to have help from the outside.
His only contact with the outside world was when his food was brought in. Tiny Gnomes, not even knee high, brought in the trays and buckets. Even then, they seemed to wait until his attention was diverted before they came in.
Cheidan racked his brain for what he knew about Gnomes. Mischievous, shy, and an unnatural grasp of all things mechanical. If anyone would know about the locks and cages, they would. But why were they servants here? He could tell by their demeanor (when he saw them) that they weren't happy to do this. If they could work together...
He slipped off his shoulder pouch and dug through the contents. His knife, bow, quiver, and spear, all of his weapons, were taken from him. But he was left with everything else in his possession. And in one pouch was a small device he had found.
On the Great Plain, it was common to see caravans. And from time to time, even caravans that had been attacked and raided. Humans and dwarves and elves all bickered with each other, as well as factions within. The Centaurs just shook their head. With all those males, no wonder they fought.
But when the herd came across a ruined and stripped caravan, the least they could do would be to bury the dead. And while he was doing just that, he found this small, circular object. It fit into the palm of his hand, with writing on the front in a circle around the outside edge, with tiny arrows. The function of the object puzzled him, but the metal work was quite enticing. And the back opened up to reveal toothed wheels, some so small he could barely make them out. Quite fascinating, really.
And something a Gnome could appreciate. He waited a few hours, until he thought it was about time for the next feeding, then set the device down on the ground, next to his trough. Then he hunkered down, and waited, pretending to doze off, but ears cocked for the slightest sound.
As they say, a watched pot never boils, and Cheidan was about to admit they were right, when a tiny click caught his attention. His ears twitched and through slitted eyes, he saw the procession of Gnomes bring in his meal. As they turned around to leave, he turned his head to watch them directly. One by one they walked out, but the very last one saw his gift, and picked it up.
Intently, the Gnome studied it and then turned to look directly at the Centaur. Cheidan favored the Gnome with a slow wink, and was pleased to see a smile of delight cross the Gnome's face. He then hurried out to join his compatriots.
The next day when the Gnomes returned, the last one in the group stopped just outside the door, turned and faced Cheidan, gave him a deep bow, and then raised his hand, holding all 5 fingers spread wide.
The following day, the ritual was repeated, this time with only 4 fingers held up. Cheidan caught on quickly. On the next day, and only 3 fingers were raised, he knew he had it. Something was going to happen in 3 days. He didn't know what, and he didn't wish to alarm anyone, so he made no outward change in his behavior, but he steeled himself to take advantage of what ever happened, to act instantly. When the last day arrived, he was almost too excited to sleep. Only after berating himself over and over to get rested, did he finally manage to doze off. He was awakened by a roar and thunder so powerful his ears folded to protect themselves. As he looked around he saw that the illusions had been completely dispelled, and could see cages as far as his vantage point would allow. Off to the side, he saw a billowing pillar of smoke and flame. There was also an opening in his cage, another gate that he had never seen before stood open. Without a moment's hesitation, he dashed through it, and out into the stone walkways. Assuming that the smoke came from where all the magic was controlled, it made sense that it (and his cage) was near the center of the pavilion. Keeping the pillar to his back, he trotted towards what he hoped was freedom.
It didn't take long before others joined him. Elves, Satyrs, fairies and sprites... all manner of creatures were kept here, and they were all rushing towards freedom. He assumed that he was one of the first ones to actually leave his cage, since he had some forewarning. But it didn't take long for the others to take advantage of the confusion and make a dash to escape.