Brutus raised the whip over his shoulder. “You little fools!” He whirled toward Castor, who tried to dodge him. Tanner winced as the whip sliced over Castor’s head. He leaped forward, stabbing at the captain, but the big man turned aside, and his sword only gouged across his breastplate. Brutus thumped him with a meaty fist, sending Tanner stumbling toward his friend. Castor threw the shovel aside and drew his sword, but the captain laughed, an ugly noise that thundered around the cavern. “Drop your weapons, and I’ll only cut off one of your hands. I’ll even let you choose which one.” He paced toward Castor and Tanner, flicking his whip and forcing them away from the forge, toward a rock wall. “I’ll take your fingers off, boys. I’ll dip them in your own blood” — he tapped his armor — “and add them to my collection.” As Brutus forced him back, Tanner could see beyond him that Gwen had slipped away from the forge toward the cages. She was gesturing desperately to Corrin, but he and the other boys were all frozen in their spots, watching the fight through wide, frightened eyes.
