‘He’s still conscious,’ Aila said. ‘Hit him again.’
Kelsey glanced at the broken jug, then clenched her fist and punched the man in the nose. He yelled as blood gushed down his face, and she punched him again. Aila hauled him into the cell as he groaned in pain.
‘I’ve got the key,’ Kelsey said, her fist bruised. ‘Come on.’
They picked up the chains and ran out of the cell, and into a long passageway with rooms leading off on either side. They shut and locked the cell door, then Kelsey led the way, glancing into each room as they went.
‘In here,’ she said, and rushed into a room on the left. It was lit by a narrow window by the ceiling, and contained work benches and racks of tools. Kelsey dropped her chains onto a bench, and began rooting through the tools. They tried a set of bolt-cutters, but the chains were too strong, and they couldn’t get the long handles to close. Kelsey then tried a hacksaw, but the blade was old and rusty, and she gave up after a minute of fruitless sawing.
‘They used a hammer to drive in the pins,’ she said, eyeing the rack of tools. She selected a large hammer, and brought it down on the thick iron pin holding the shackles to the chain. ‘Ow!’ she cried, as the hammer struck the band round her wrist. ‘Pyre’s arse, that hurt.’
‘And it made a racket,’ said Aila. ‘This is no good; we have to get out of here before someone else comes downstairs.’
‘There’s bound to be a blacksmith in town; maybe we could ask them to remove them.’
‘We’d need gold to bribe them to keep their mouths shut.’
Kelsey continued to peer around the room. She found a long steel pole, narrow enough to fit through the links of the chain. She clamped her shackle into a vice, then drove the pole into the link closest to her wrist, and began to twist it. The chain links clumped together, and soon she was straining to twist it further.
‘Help me,’ she muttered.
Aila grabbed the other end of the pole, and together they twisted it a few more revolutions. Aila and Kelsey heaved at the pole, and the link gave, sending Aila flying to the ground. She glanced up and saw Kelsey grinning, the chain lying free on the floor.
‘You next,’ said Kelsey.
Aila got up and placed her arm into the vice.
‘What’s all that noise?’ came a shouted voice from the passageway. ‘The mistress is trying to sleep.’
Kelsey grabbed a hammer and dashed to the door, holding herself flat against the wall. Maxin pushed the door open and strode in. His eyes went straight to Aila, who was standing staring at him, her wrist clamped in the vice. Kelsey swung her arm, and the end of the hammer connected with the back of Maxin’s skull with a crack, and he toppled to the ground and lay still. Kelsey stared at him, as blood began to seep onto the cold, stone floor.
‘Did I just do that?’ she said, her eyes wide.
‘Stop staring and help me get the chain off,’ Aila said.
Kelsey didn’t respond, her eyes fixed on the body of Maxin. ‘Is he dead?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Aila, ‘and I don’t really care. Get over here; I can’t twist the chain off on my own.’
‘You don’t care that I might have just killed someone?’
‘He was working for Amalia.’
‘So, you’re saying he deserved it? You sound like my mother.’
‘Please, Kelsey. If Amalia comes down those stairs, we could be in trouble; we have to get out of here.’
The young Holdfast woman dragged her eyes away from the body, and took a few steps forward. Her right hand was still clutching the bloody hammer. She stared at the pole that Aila had rammed through a link in her chains as if she seeing it for the first time.
‘Kelsey?’
‘I’m just like my brothers now; a murderer. I didn’t mean it, I…’
Maxin spluttered from the floor, and emitted a low groan of pain.
‘There; see?’ Aila said. ‘He’s not dead. You’re not a murderer. Now, please, Kelsey, help me.’
She dropped the hammer and took the other end of the pole from Aila, and together they began turning it. As before, the chains bunched together, and then the link snapped and Aila pulled her wrist from the vice as the chain fell to the ground. Aila ran to the body of Maxin, and crouched by it. He was still breathing, so she began to rifle his pockets.
‘Oh,’ said Kelsey. ‘I thought for a minute that you were going to help him.’
Aila found a leather wallet, and slipped it into a pocket. She then hauled the man’s long coat off, and pulled it on, the sleeves long enough to hide the shackle on her right wrist.
‘And I thought I’d be the one who froze,’ Aila said, as Kelsey stared at her, her hands shaking. ‘How have you managed to live this long without resorting to physical violence?’
Kelsey said nothing.
‘Come on,’ Aila said, grabbing her arm.
They went to the door of the work room and Aila peered out. The passageway was in silence, but a loud groaning was coming from the cell where they had locked the young servant.
‘We should have killed them both,’ she muttered, as she half-dragged Kelsey out of the room.
They ran along the passageway until they reached the stairs, then Aila stopped at a small storeroom, and stuffed her coat pockets with food. When they were full, she turned for the stairs, and nudged Kelsey along as they ascended. At the top of the steps was another passageway, with a large door on the right. It was barred with three beams, and the two women lifted them from their brackets and
