Kerrick strode to the window. “Lead them to Mom’s.”

“But—”

“Go.”

But instead of obeying him, Flea climbed through the window and dropped down beside him. “How can I help?”

“You can’t.” Biting down on his anger, Kerrick turned and resumed his efforts to pop the complex lock. Sweat soaked his shirt and stung his eyes. His fingers slipped on the pick and he clamped down on a growl of frustration.

Flea tapped him on the shoulder. “Company.”

The clang of a door echoed. Flea gripped the hilt of his sword, but Kerrick stopped him.

“A dagger’s better for an ambush.” Kerrick stood and drew his blade. He motioned for Flea to stand to the right of the main door, while he stepped to the left. He’d been wrong. Flea could help.

They waited. The jailhouse had two sets of heavy double doors from the processing area to the cells. Metal screeched as the second set was unlocked. A beam of lantern light sliced the darkness, then grew wider as the doors swung open.

Kerrick didn’t hesitate. “Now!” he shouted then grabbed the closest guard and spun him, ramming his head into the wall. The man crumpled in a heap.

He turned. Flea struggled with two men. Kerrick pulled one off the boy and slit the guard’s throat. Two more guards rushed into the fray, armed with swords and prepared for a fight. Kerrick discovered that bone armor was quite effective against his dagger. And their sharp rapiers snaked in past his defenses, finding flesh.

Kerrick drew his dadao sword. Even though he didn’t have much room to swing, he hoped the thick curved blade would intimidate them. Aside from a brief pause, it failed to impress them.

They pressed their advantage and Kerrick retreated. Soon his back hit bars. He was trapped and near the end of his energy. Flea made a strangled cry. Kerrick dropped his normal camouflage and increased his attacks, hoping to slip past them. Besides a grunt of surprise, the two men kept lunging with their thinner weapons. Fighting in tight quarters against two, Kerrick knew it was just a matter of time.

Another cry sounded and then the guard on the right jerked and toppled. His partner turned and Flea touched the man’s face. He froze and fell back.

Flea clutched his stomach, looking queasy.

Kerrick sheathed his sword and put a hand on Flea’s shoulder. “Keep it together, Flea. There might be more.”

Flea drew in a deep breath and straightened.

“Good. Watch for reinforcements.” He checked the guards’ pockets, searching for keys, and found a ring of them. Sorting through them, he isolated a large silver one that shone as if new. Kerrick returned to the pit’s lock and opened it.

Excited, he threw the bolt and opened the hatch. Two giant hands reached up and wrapped around his neck, yanking him into the blackness.

Chapter Seventeen

CHAPTER 17