Outlaw (Medieval Trilogy 3)

Wolf asked, eyeing his friend through the iron slats of the wall separating them. “You never once sent word to Garrick or Morgana that you’d survived the fall.”

“Aye, nor did you,” Cadell reminded him.

“I had reasons.”

“As did I.”

Cadell stared up at the small hole where a breath of fresh air sometimes filtered into the dungeon. “Nearly drowned and broken I was when I washed up on the shore. An old woman, one the townspeople called a witch, Fiona of the Hills, found me. There was barely a breath left in my body, nary a hint of life, but she took me in, healed me with her spells, herbs, and runes. I remembered nary a thing, my mind was near gone, but in time most of it returned. By then, ’twas years and many miles later.”

“So how did you come to be a magician?”

“Again, ’twas Fiona. She saw that I had the gift, as did my sister Morgana, and my grandmother, Enit. Fiona was a patient woman and childless; she was grateful to find one who could be nurtured and taught. She showed me how to use what the gods had bestowed upon me.”

“And you became a sorcerer.”

“So some say.”

“You can heal.”

“Sometimes.”

“But not yourself? You still are lame.”

Cadell stared deep into Wolf’s eyes. “ ’Tis wise to remember we are only people, even those of us who have been given special powers.”

“So you stay crippled by choice?” Wolf asked.

“ ’Tis not so bad.”

“Cadell, ’tis nonsense ye speak!”

“Shh! ’Tis time.” Cadell’s gaze shifted to the stairs and Wolf felt it, that tiny rush of air stirring through the cells before the first scrape of a boot was heard. “Holt approaches.” With a twisted smile, Cadell turned his attention to the staircase and his lips moved not, though his words reached Wolf as surely as if he shouted. Do not forget, Ware, ye are injured so badly ye may not survive.

Like an emperor visiting paupers, Holt strode through the shadowy caverns that were the dungeons of Dwyrain. His mouth was compressed against the foul air, but he carried himself as a conquering king and walked steadily, only to stop in front of Wolf’s cell. Four soldiers stood behind him, their hands on their weapons as if they expected the prisoners to attack through the bars.

“Lord Holt!” the jailer exclaimed, jumping to his feet from the stool where he’d been nearly napping. “I knew not that ye’d be visitin’ the prison.”

“Be still!” Holt ordered as his eyes slitted in the darkness and settled on Wolf. “The lady has bartered for your pathetic lives.”

Wolf’s nostrils flared and his muscles strained. Glaring at his captor through the bars, he prayed for one more chance to place his bare hands around Holt’s neck and strangle him until the bastard could not draw a breath. Megan, sweet Megan, would be better off widowed. “Bartered with what?” he snarled.

“Her subservience.” Holt’s smile was smug and Wolf’s insides turned to ice.

Megan? On her knees before this lying, murdering cur? Never! Not as long as there was a breath of life in his body.

Holt studied his fingernails for a second, as if thinking. “She cares about your flea-riddled hides. Because I want to please my wife, I listened to her pleas, but granted not everything she wanted. ’Twas my decision, as an act of good faith, Wolf, that I would release everyone but you.”

Wolf felt a second’s relief. At least those he’d dragged into his personal mission of vengeance would be safe. But there was Megan to consider. He could not allow her to spend the rest of her life living as Holt’s doormat.

“The traitors will be banished, of course, and they will be freed one day at a time to prevent them from banding together and plotting against the castle. But you, Wolf, will hang for your treason.”

Wolf felt no fear and managed a smile. He was about to tell Holt that he’d meet him in hell, but Cadell’s unspoken voice called to him. Hold your tongue, Ware. Do not mock him. Play the victim.

The thought was revolting. “I cannot!” Wolf announced, and Holt laughed.

“But you have no choice. You’ll swing by your neck until it breaks or until you can no longer breathe. Either way you’ll be dead.”

Wolf rolled onto the balls of his feet, ready to lunge.