the lady.”
“Yes, to and from her task. This is where you leave her. You can return later today, just before evening meal.” The priest dismisses him with a wave of his hand, and I don’t miss his brief smirk before he turns to the guards and nods his head to them. Moving from their spot behind us, they step up to my side and each grab my upper arms in their tight grips and pull me from him. I’m quite used to this treatment by now, but Wilson isn’t, and he looks outraged.
“You can’t expect me to trust you!” he shouts, taking a step forward as if to snatch me back. “Let go of her.”
“I’m afraid you don’t have a choice.” This time Priest Rodrick lets his full smirk be seen, knowing he has the upper hand.
Magic starts stirring in the corridor, and I quickly look to Wilson, whose fists are clenched so hard I can see the whites of his knuckles.
“Wilson, it’s okay,” I urge soothingly, and relief fills me when he pulls his gaze from the priest and looks at me instead. I give him a small, gentle smile. “I promise.”
“Clarissa...” He looks torn. I know he wants to protect me, but he can’t risk using magic against the priests again, especially since there are two armed guards holding me.
“I’ll see you later.” I keep my voice light, and don’t give him an opportunity to say otherwise. The guards begin marching me farther down the corridor, and as I glance over my shoulder, I see the mage and the priest scowling at each other. Their lips are moving, so I know they’re talking to one another, but I can’t make out what they’re saying. One of the guards yanks my arm, and I’m forced to face forward as they lead me away. After a couple of minutes, the priest joins us again, and as I peek over my shoulder, I half expect to see Wilson following us, but the hall is empty.
Reaching the door, the priest opens it and gestures for me to go first. I know from the past that they will push me down if I don’t descend quickly enough, so I enter the stairwell without complaint, the priest and the guards following me down. The spiral staircase is narrow and I’m not quite sure how the bulky guards fit. It pleases some dark part of me that this must be uncomfortable for them.
The guards at the bottom of the staircase snap to attention as soon as we enter the room. The large doors to the forge are pulled closed. There’s a sliding metal hatch that allows them to see inside without having to open the door, but most of the time the elf goes unwatched. I use this opportunity to look around, taking note of how many guards are down here—four—and their weapons—swords and crossbows. They seem so sure that his magical cuffs can contain him, as they have for the last hundred years, that their security has become a bit lax over time. These are all things that we can use and exploit when it’s time for us to escape.
“I wasn’t sure we’d see her again, not after those mages showed up,” a grizzled voice calls out, bringing my attention back to the guards. Turning, I recognise the guard from the last time I was here. He looks pissed off, watching me with a scowl.
“The magicians aren’t in control, they are merely an annoyance.” Rodrick walks over to the guard who was speaking, and I realise he must be the one in charge down here. The two of them talk in hushed voices. The two guards I entered with grab my arms again and part drag, part march me over to the large door. Two more guards walk over and start the process of opening it, the heat from the forge hitting us as soon as they start. It’s heavy, which I can tell from the grunting and straining of the two guards as it opens inch by inch. I wouldn’t be able to open it, but an elf shouldn’t have trouble with it if the stories of their strength is true.
“This one stays alive,” Rodrick calls out, making sure he speaks loudly enough so I can hear him. “Make sure there are no visible wounds. We’re being watched.” He’s talking to the guard in charge, but when I look over, I see them both studying me closely.
“We can get creative.” The guard grins