Sea Spell (Waterfire Saga #4)(65)

“A chunk of the hallway just crumbled!”

“We’re going to be crushed!”

“There are three guards,” Sera informed Fossegrim. “You’ve got to get them all to come out. Are you sure you can do it?” she asked. He looked so weak and so pale to her.

Fossegrim smiled. The light of defiance burned in his eyes. “Watch me,” he said.

Sera nodded, then she returned to the guard room. This time she swam along the ceiling, hoping they would be so preoccupied readying themselves to leave that they wouldn’t look up.

When she was in position, she gave Fossegrim the thumbs-up. He returned the signal, lay down on the dungeon floor, then started yelling at the top of his lungs.

“Help! Help me! Oh, gods, don’t make me go back!”

Two of the guards were out of the room and down the hall almost immediately.

“Please! Help me! The spider bite…it’s so painful! It’s killing me!” Fossegrim shouted, pretending to writhe in agony.

“How did he get out?” one of the guards asked.

“Hey, you!” his partner shouted. “Hands on your head!”

“The tunnels…they collapsed and crushed the spider,” Fossegrim said. “I escaped, but she lashed out…she bit me…help me!”

Sera could see the third guard. He was busy loading a crossbow.

The plan would never work unless he followed the others. Go! she silently urged him.

As if he’d read her mind, Fossegrim started thrashing violently. He whacked one guard in the stomach with his tail fins and punched the other in the head. His strategy worked.

“Leo!” one of them yelled. “Get out here now! Bring the stinger!”

The third guard swore. He put his crossbow down and grabbed a barbed stingray’s tail, used for immobilizing unruly prisoners. As soon as he was out of the room, Sera swam in. She grabbed a sword scabbarded in a chain-mail belt and quickly buckled it around her waist, then picked up the guard’s crossbow. Next, she snatched a ring of keys off one wall, then raced back down the corridor to Fossegrim.

“On the ground! Now!” she shouted, as she came up behind the guards.

“What the—?” one guard said. He turned around, saw Sera, and rushed toward her.

She fired the crossbow. Her aim was true. The guard never knew what hit him.

“On the ground, I said! Hands on top of your heads!”

The remaining two guards quickly complied.

“Fossegrim, open that door,” Sera said, nodding to the cell on the merman’s left. She tossed him the ring of keys. He caught them with his gnarled hands, and a few seconds later, he was pushing on the door.

“Take your key rings off your belts, thrown them down, and swim into the cell,” Sera ordered.

The guards did as they were told. Fossegrim quickly pulled the door closed and, with some difficulty, locked it. He picked up the key rings.

The prisoners were more frightened than ever now. Their frantic calls echoed down the corridors.

“Prisoners, listen to me! This is Serafina di Merrovingia, your rightful regina!”

The shouting stopped.

“The noises you hear are the sounds of battle!” Sera shouted. “The Black Fins, my troops, are here. They’re fighting for the city! Join us!”

“No! Don’t go! Stay in your cells!” a frightened voice called out. “It’s a trick!”

“Vallerio wants to find out who’s loyal and who isn’t!” another yelled.

“Please don’t hurt us,” begged a third, miserably.

Sera pressed her hands to her cheeks. She was devastated. She’d expected a joyous reaction to the offer of freedom, to the chance to fight those who’d imprisoned them. But these merfolk had been so badly brutalized, they believed this was just another cruel ploy on her uncle’s part to extract information.

Summoning all her magic, Sera songcast the brightest, most beautiful illuminata she ever had. Its glow reached the dungeon’s darkest corners.

“Good people of Miromara, come to your doors!”

Sera heard groaning, shuffling, the sound of chains dragging over stone. Fingers, their nails black with grime, curled around bars. Frightened faces appeared.

“I am Serafina, your regina! This isn’t a trick!”

“Serafina! It’s Serafina! It’s her!” voices called out excitedly.

A few prisoners reached for her through the bars, but others shied away, pointing at her.

“Weapon…a death rider…kill us…” they whispered.

Sera realized she was still carrying a loaded crossbow. It was scaring some of the prisoners. She quickly put it on the floor.

“Sera…child, don’t!” Fossegrim warned. “They’re angry and afraid. They could lash out. Protect yourself!”

Sera shook her head, determined. “Citizens of Cerulea, hear me! I have laid my weapon down, and I’m going to unlock your cells. Do with me what you will. I would rather die at your hands than rule without your trust!” she declared.

As her words rang out, bouncing off the hard stone walls, Sera started opening doors. Fossegrim hesitated, then followed her lead, cursing at his broken fingers. One by one, the prisoners swam out, scared, unsteady, wincing at the bright light. Some were crying, others laughing. Some regarded Sera warily, others hugged her and kissed her hands.