The Wand & the Sea by Claire M. Caterer Page A

his neck. He had tried to speak up on her behalf to the prince, and later he had saved her life, when Grandor had nearly sliced her in two at the Battle of Midsummer.
    â€œAre we standin’ round here all night, then?” Bittenbender nudged her with the flat of his dagger. “Let’s find the prisoners.”
    Everett led them down another corridor to a tightly winding staircase that descended into the dungeon like a long black snake. “We’ll break our necks going down there,” said Ben.
    â€œWait,” Holly said. “I’ve got a light.” She pulled off her backpack and rummaged in it for the lantern Almaric had given her. At least, she thought he had given her one.
    â€œYe mighta thought of that afore now,” said Swikehard, and Bittenbender chuckled unpleasantly. Her face grew hot as she threw things aside looking for the lantern. How could she have forgotten it? Wasn’t she supposed to be the leader?
    A sharp scratch came from behind her, and Wiggers held up his own round light. “Will this do, Lady?” he asked. The other two Dvergar sniggered.
    Holly thanked him and stepped to the front of the group and started down the steps. It wasn’t enough that Ranulf was suffering, maybe dying , in his dirty cell somewhere below them, nor that somewhere in the castle, a full garrison of knights was ready to cut them down. No, she had to add being inept into the bargain. She carried a wand she could barely use, hadn’t planned ahead, and half her party didn’t respect her. She had heard the term fearless leader before, and it was not one she could apply to herself.
    â€œWe have no leisure for such thoughts,” came Jade’s voice, almost inaudible beside her. She didn’t know how he had read her mind, but it wasn’t the first time.
    The lantern threw tall, jumping shadows on the close walls as they descended the stone steps, which continued for several minutes before ending in a dank, holelike space. Everywhere the lantern light shone, the rough-hewn stone walls dripped with damp from some unseen source.
    â€œThis passage goes on for a little, then turns a corner to the dungeons,” Everett said. “Then there’s an open space with cells that go off in different directions.”
    â€œIf yer right,” one of the Dvergar muttered.
    As he spoke, they came upon the last turn. A dim light shone around the corner. Holly swallowed hard and beckoned to Bittenbender. “There must be a guard,” she whispered.
    â€œNae fer long.” The Dvergar slipped back against the wall and into the shadow.
    â€œDon’t kill him. Just knock him out.”
    â€œThis is our bit,” said the little man, gesturing to his friends. “You do yer own.” With that he rounded the corner.
    Holly forced herself to stay still, though she didn’t trust the Dvergar to do as she asked; a moment later Wiggers appeared and motioned to her. He led the way to the dungeon cells.
    She winced, though they weren’t any different from what she’d expected—a length of filthy, cramped spaces, lit only by a single lantern hung on the opposite wall. Off to one side a knight sat slumped, senseless, in a chair. A cold finger of dread touched Holly, but then she saw Swikehard looping great lengths of rope around the chair. He spat on a handkerchief, wadded it up, and stuffed it into the knight’s mouth. “Happy now? Takes twice the time to do it this way.” He knocked the knight’s chair over for good measure and handed a ring of keys to Bittenbender.
    â€œFind the lads,” said the little man, and he and the other Dvergar spread out.
    Holly traveled down an empty length of cells to the center, where she could barely make out a huddled form in the gloom through the bars. “Ranulf?” The smell of the place was horrid, a mixture of waste and sweat and fear and despair. The bundle in the corner only moaned in