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the pommel against the back of his head. The guard collapsed to the dirt floor, twitching in jerks and fits.

Lyra circled around the man and glanced back at him as she passed the torch mounted to the corridor wall. His body settled, no longer moving. Dead or unconscious, either suited Lyra.

She came to another room, lit by a single torch. Three heavy doors lined the walls to each side of the narrow space, while the torch was mounted to the wall opposite from Lyra. Moving toward the nearest door, she whispered.

“Cal? Are you in there?”

A booming voice came from inside the room. “Let me out. I’ve done no wrong.”

Lyra frowned. That wasn’t Cal’s voice.

She moved on to the next door, “Cal? It’s Lyra. I’m here to help.”

A moment of silence followed.

“Lyra?”

Lyra moved to the last door on that wall, the one from where she had heard the voice.

“Cal. Is that you?”

“Lyra? What are you doing here?”

Replacing her sword in the scabbard, Lyra drew her dagger and the two bent needles she stored in the same sheath. She knelt before the lock, inserted one needle, and began to poke around for the trigger. The needle found resistance and she twisted it until she felt a click. The other needle followed, along with a similar process. It clicked, and she slid her dagger into the lock. When it didn’t turn, Lyra frowned. Her heart sank as she realized that there were three tumblers.

Cal’s voice came from the other side of the door. “Are you going to let me out?”

“I’m having trouble with the lock.”

“Did you get the keys from the guard?”

Lyra turned and looked toward the corridor, wishing she had thought of that. She sheathed the dagger and needles, retracing her steps to find the guard still lying facedown. Kneeling beside him, she used her dagger to cut the ring of keys from his belt. The man stirred, groaning. Lyra held the dagger ready if needed, but the man didn’t move again.

She stood and ran back to Cal’s jail cell, trying two keys before she found one that opened the lock. As the door swung open, the torch light ate away at the darkness within. Cal emerged into the light and Lyra’s heart soared. She darted forward and hugged him tightly.

“Oof.” He choked. “I’m thrilled to see you, too. Would you mind freeing my hands before someone comes and locks us both up?”

Lyra released her embrace and noticed his arms shackled behind his back.

“Sorry.”

She examined the keyring and found a set of smaller keys, the second of which unlocked the shackles clamped around Cal’s wrists. With them removed, Cal stretched, working his arms and rubbing his wrists.

“If I ever have to wear those things again, it will be too soon.”

“I’m sure.”

“We need to get out of here.”

“Really? You don’t care for the accommodations?”

Cal grinned. “The room is fine. It’s the service that is lacking.”

Lyra chuckled. “If that’s the case, I agree. Let’s get out of here.”

“Just a moment. I don’t have anything to write with, so I need to borrow your dagger.”

She handed him the knife. Cal pulled his sleeve up and began tracing a rune on his arm, gritting his teeth as the shallow cuts drew blood here and there. When he was finished, he handed the dagger back to Lyra and closed his eyes.

Anxious moments passed as Lyra stared toward the corridor, expecting to see guards appear at any moment. She looked back at Cal as his eyes opened, crackling with red sparks of energy. The symbol on his arm began to glow brightly, pulsing before fading. Cal staggered, and Lyra leapt forward to grab him, holding him upright. After a moment, he nodded.

“I’m good now. Thanks.”

He turned toward the nearest cell door and grabbed the handle, pulling the door off the wall, sending splinters flying from where the lock and hinges were torn from the thick wood. The man inside cowered, blinking at the light. He was a small man, old and thin.

“You are free, Jessep,” Cal said as he helped the man from the cell.

“Free?” The old man appeared dazed, confused.

“Did you forget that I have the keys?” Lyra asked.

“Oh. Good idea. Would you please unlock the other doors?”

As Lyra approached the third cell on that side of the room, Cal broke the shackles from the old man’s wrists. She opened the cell door and found a big man inside, with thick shoulders and a shaggy brown beard, streaked with splotches of blond. The man squinted at the torchlight and gave her a grin.

“Thank you, lassie.”

Cal slid beside Lyra. “Don’t get any ideas, Hagget. She’s with me.”

“Why? Are you going to perform your witchcraft on me?”

“Do you want to escape or not?”

The big man stepped out from the cell, ducking to get through the door. “Oh, I want out of here, and I plan to take a guard or two down on my way out.”

Cal nudged the man’s shoulder, and he spun around so violently that he fell into the wall. With ease, Cal gripped one of the man’s shackles and broke it in two. A moment later, both shackles fell to the floor, and the man turned toward Cal with a strange look in his eyes.

“That’s some interesting magic you’ve got there.”

Cal smiled. “It comes in handy from time to time.” He turned to Lyra. “Open the other doors. I believe they are empty, but I want to be sure.”

As requested, Lyra opened the other three cell doors and found them empty. Cal nodded to Lyra before turning toward Jessep and Hagget.

“We’re getting out of this place. Stick together until we’re clear of the keep. After that, we split up and it’s each man for himself.”

Hagget nodded toward Lyra. “What about the girl?”

“I’m with Cal.” Cal turned toward her, and she gave him a smile. “You won’t get away so easy this time.”

He smiled in return. “You seem to have your mind set.”

“Yes. Now, let’s go.”

With Hagget in the lead, they walked into the corridor and headed toward the stairwell. The big man gave the prone guard a kick in the ribs before pulling the man’s cudgel from his belt loop. The guard groaned as Cal and Lyra stepped over him.

“Did you do that?” Cal asked, pointing toward the guard.

Lyra replied with a grin and a shrug.

They crept up the steps and slowed as they reached the room at the top. Four guards sat at the table beyond the open doorway, one of whom spotted them emerging from the stairwell. The man leapt to his feet.

“The prisoners are escaping!”

The guards scrambled for their weapons and rushed toward them. Hagget met the first guard head-on, grabbing the man’s wrist to stop his sword as Haggett’s cudgel thrust into the guard’s abdomen. Hagget then hit the man over the head as Cal darted past him.

Cal caught the next guard’s cudgel with one hand, picked the man up as if he were a doll, and tossed him into another guard. Both men flew back into the room, smashing into the table and chairs, sending chair legs spinning as the table collapsed to the floor. The fourth guard swung his sword at Cal from behind, but Lyra’s sword blocked the strike, the impact jarring her shoulders. Cal turned on the man, grabbed his shirt and lifted him off his feet, slamming him into the wall. The guard hit hard and fell to the floor, unconscious.

Hagget grinned. “That was fun.”

A horn sounded, its tone reverberating.

“What was that?” Lyra asked.

“Warning sound,” Hagget replied. “They know we’ve escaped.”

“Let’s go.”

Cal ran down the hallway to the front door with Lyra and Jessep close behind, while Hagget brought up the rear.

They passed through the bailey, into pandemonium.

The clashing of steel rang throughout the square as soldiers in plate-covered leather armor fought with city guards and sailors. Cal, Lyra, Jessep, and Hagget stopped to watch the spectacle, trying to make sense of it.

The door behind them blasted open, and a stream of guards sprang forth, dozens of them running past to join the fray. Amidst it all, Lyra spotted a pennant of white marked by a rising sun.

“I see the Kalimar flag,” Lyra shouted.

Cal nodded. “Kalimar must be attacking the city. We need to get out of here.” He turned toward Hagget and Jessep. “You’re on your own. Good luck.”

Hagget grinned and ran off into the night. Jessep nodded.

“Thank you, sir. I’ll do right by this second chance.”

Jessep turned and left as a Kalimar soldier in front of Lyra cut down the man he was fighting. The soldier turned toward her with fiery bloodlust in his eyes. Lyra raised her sword and blocked his strike, the impact making her teeth chatter. With fury in his eyes, Cal grabbed the man by his sword arm and violently flung him toward the heart of the square. The man spun three times before crashing into Kalimar soldiers and Wayport guards alike, nearly fifty feet away, blasting through a dozen men like a heavy gust through a

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