"A cellar door." He placed his staff through the large rusty ring and lifted. The hinges screeched.
"Shh. Saints! She will hear us," Cat said.
Finnian laid the narrow door backward. She peered down into the dark, dungeon-like hole and shivered.
"Allow me to enter first, lass. I shall detect any danger."
"Very well." Indeed, she did not want to enter that pit first nor second. Or ever. Surely, spiders and bugs of all shapes and sizes lurked down there.
But I will go down there for Torr.
Chills covering her arms and trailing down her back to her legs, she followed Finnian down the narrow stone steps. "'Tis frightening, like a cave. We need a candle," she whispered, trying to distract herself from the nausea and trepidation. "It reeks. Is there a dead animal down here?"
"Wheesht," Finnian hissed.
After a moment, her eyes adjusted to the darkness and the wee bit of daylight gleaming through the open cellar door. They crept to another set of steps that traveled upward. Would they be able to pass through the door at the top once they reached it, or was it magically blocked?
Holding to the back of Finnian's woolen robes, she climbed the steps behind him.
He pushed at the door. "Nay knob or latch here," he whispered. "'Tis on the other side."
"Maybe it will give way if you shove harder."
"A moment."
She watched in silence as his hands started glowing. She almost gasped. What sort of magic did he possess?
Metal and wood popped, the door swung forward, and light flooded the stairway. He poked his head out, then motioned her forward. They emerged in a back corridor beneath a servants' stair. Well then, mayhap Finnian did know some magic. Thank goodness.
They stopped to listen in the entry hall. A loud thump sounded above them. After finding the main staircase, they climbed it.
A woman's laughter reached them from down the corridor. Wilona MacRae... entertained by whatever horrible things she was doing to Torr. A fire of rage blazed through Cat's veins. She had never wanted to hurt, naykill,someone so badly in her life. She clenched her fists, ready to pummel the hag.
Finnian turned to her and whispered, "I will draw her away from Torr and keep her distracted while you free him."
Cat nodded and hid behind the door to an empty room nearby. Finnian slipped down the stairs again to the entry hall. A loud crash sounded. Heavens! What had he done?
A moment later, a door slammed, and light footsteps rushed past Cat's hiding place. She stuck her head out and saw Wilona's billowing skirts as she dashed toward the staircase. Heart pounding, Cat slipped farther along the corridor, checking inside each room.
Torr, where are you?
In the last room, she found him tied to a chair. He was naked except for a plaid thrown across his lap.
Relief flowing through her, she ran to him and took his face between her palms. "Thank God," she whispered." Are you well?"
He frowned. "Cat. 'Tis too dangerous for you to be here."
"Finnian is here, too, keeping Wilona distracted while I rescue you." She took her dagger and carefully cut the ropes that bound his wrists. With her jittery hands, she did not want to harm him in her haste.
He groaned and lowered his arms. "Thank the saints."
Noticing raw stripes and bleeding welts on his arms and bare chest, she gasped. "That witch whipped you?"
He nodded. "Will you remove the reins wrapped around my neck? That's the magical bridle, and 'twill not allow me to take it off myself."
"Oh. Indeed." When she loosened the constricting leather and slid it off over his head, he sighed.
"Put that bridle in your arisaid so she can no longer use it," he said. "And let me use your dagger."
