Back to the Homestead

The iron door clanked shut.

“I don’t like having these cells down here,” said Thay.

Roe looked over, his eyes understanding, “I know. Neither do I. But we have to have some place to hold those who we capture. At least until we figure out what to do with them.”

A gruff voice came out from the barred door on the right. “Better just kill me. And yerselves. The Sons won’t take nicely to you killin’ our members.”

Roe glanced at that cell, then with worried eyes at the other, silent cell. Inside a skinny man, his hands and neck chained in iron, sat cross legged staring at the door with one unnatural metal eye.

“We have to contact Biena. She will know what to do.” Roe looked to his companions. They all nodded in agreement.

As they all filed out of the basement, Leshy held his backpack tight, the large tome inside seeming unnaturally warm.