Leisa cradled Sorela in her arms, headless of the bones under her, or the cold water soaking through her cloak.

God’s be praised. You’re alive.

The handmaiden looked up through the crag at the nightsky, raindrops landing on her face and in her eyes. She smiled, thanking the gods for Sorela’s life—though she had been badly wounded.

The other prisoners scrabbled at the rope, fighting to be first to climb out of their prison. Leisa didn’t care. She didn’t want to climb up that rope before the mage.

“Lord Jalen goes first!” Serin commanded, but when the other desperate prisoners didn’t listen, he bashed one man with his fist and he rolled down the mound of bones, flailing heavily before crashing at the bottom. “The lady mage goes next! Then Leisa—then Jasen. You sorry lot can go when they’re up!”

The last man-at-arms on the rope was just scrabbling over the edge, shins kicking over the side.

Jalen looked to the Serafe’s for permission. Serin gave their lord a nod of approval, and he scrabbled at the rope, but flailed like a fool.

“No,” Liesa said. Having watched the others, she knew how to do it now. “Like this, my lord.” She showed his how to twirl his calf around the rope so he could us it for a foot hold to boost himself up one step at a time.

He nodded. “Thank you.”

Leisa smiled at the young man. He was her age. He did as instructed and climbed well.

Sorela groaned, mumbling something indistinctly.

“Everything will be all right, my lady,” Leisa assured her as she fumbled about with the bottom of the rope. “Help me tie her.”

Serin put up his sword and assisted.

“Hurry up,” Falan said. “They’re almost here.”

The rope was tight, but looked very uncomfortable under Sorela’s ample breasts. Leisa hoped hauling her up this way wouldn’t put black and purple bruises all over her. She had enough of those already.

After lord Jalen was up, she called to the soldiers above. “Pull!”

With three men hauling her up, they made short work of getting Sorela out of this cursed pit.

“To arms!” Falan called.

Thumping footsteps echoed out of the passageway they had come from, followed by throaty words in a strange language that carried like the wind.

Leisa’s heart skipped a beat as she grabbed at her sword when two fellbeasts, half again the height of any man, emerged from the passageway. They hissed, faces contorting as they bared hand long fangs, their claws the length of Leisa’s forearm.

Her eyes widened.

“You ready for this?” Serin asked gravely, glancing at Falan.

“Are you?” Falan shot back.

The monstrous fellbeasts unfolded their wings which were nearly the span of the cavern and Leisa’s stomach twisted into a knot. With powerful beats of their bat-like wings, wind buffeted them all and Leisa covered her eyes, muttered a silent prayer.

A scream issued from above and came at them ending in a loud crack of bone. When Leisa opened her eyes she found one of the soldiers lay before her, a bloody mess.

Gods! She recoiled at the sight.

Panting, Jalen said, “Why did they leave? Someone tell me why they left?”

“Stop crying, Jalen,” Leisa said. “It’s going to be all right.”

“I’m not crying! WHY DID THEY LEAVE?”

“I do not know why!” Falan said, “We need to get out of here before they come back. Leisa—up the rope! You next, Jasen.”

The stable boy and soldier hopeful nodded vigorously.

She didn’t want to say it aloud in front of Jasen. He was panicked enough as it was, but Leisa believed the fellbeasts had left the crag to get into the open where they could better fight.

She grunted as she pulled herself up the rope and using her calf just as she had instructed lord jalen to do.

Above, she could hear her lord’s panicked commands.