“We need people on the beach,” I said suddenly, drawing the shooters and Abella’s attention. “We need people on the beach!” I repeated, motioning to the eight cannons spaced across the sand.
Another mortar fired from below us, hitting the side of the enemy ship with a resounding crack. The hole it left behind was enough to give hope to anyone—we hadn’t lost this battle yet.
Tristan ran up the stairs then, seeming to have noticed the same thing I had. Without a second thought, he flung himself into the water, swimming hard.
“Cover him!” I ordered the man next to me. “There!”
One of the pirates on the beach had pulled out his pistol and was pointing it right at Tristan. There was probably a good thirty feet between them, but I wasn’t willing to take that risk.
Neither was the sniper. Pointing and firing, he shot the ground in front of Tristan’s would-be attacker, causing him to jump back in alarm. Our other shooter shot at him as well, missing terribly, but stopping the man who had been coming to help the Black Knight.
Watching the men on the beach draw their guns, it occurred to me that Tristan wouldn’t be able to fight off all of them by himself. Just as I vaulted myself over the edge of the ship, I heard Mark’s cry of alarm and dismay. Now wasn’t the time to play it safe, though, and I’d fought pirates before.
Swimming steadily, I trusted that the men on the ship would watch my back for me, trying to ignore the cannon that fired from the Black Knight’s ship and landed in the water ten feet away. Heading in a different direction than my husband, I made landfall within minutes, gasping for air and drawing my sword out. The powder in my gun was useless now, but I grabbed it by the butt as well, thoroughly intending to club someone over the head with it.
The first man I reached had come to the waterline to meet me, a knife in his hand and three teeth missing from the front of his smile. Dodging his first thrust, I swiped my sword across his abdomen, not stopping for even a second as he fell to his knees behind me. A gunshot whizzed past my head, striking the next man in the neck and I silently thanked whoever it was that had shot him for me.
The Mission was a hundred yards away down the shoreline, free of cannons and full of missionaries. They would have supplies and weapons to defend themselves with and I intended to claim the building as a strong point for the match. Finishing off the last man who had been working the cannon in front of me, I made a dash for the cover of the building, bursting through the doors and sliding to an instant halt.
Carnage covered every inch inside the building, blood splattered over the walls. The missionaries were all dead, the gruesome sight of their bodies piled in the courtyard. It was unclear how long they’d been deceased, but I was sure it was recent. Tristan had said they were alive when he scouted—
“Hello, Samantha.”
Skin prickling, I turned, my gaze falling on Thomas Randall who was clothed in the robes of a priest, his hair combed back and tied smoothly. A smile that made my blood run cold covered his face. It was impossible to ignore the touch of blood on his fingers as he held a hand out to me.
“So nice of you to join me. I was worried I would have to go out and get you myself.”
“Stay away from me,” I warned, brandishing my sword.
“How sweet,” he replied, laughing. “You still think you can beat me.”
Icy disdain filled my voice. “I can damn well try.” Glaring, I hoped the frantic pounding of my heart wouldn’t give away how scared I was.
“If you insist.” Shrugging, he threw open the robe around his shoulders, revealing his normal clothes underneath, splattered and stained with gore. The material flew out behind him like a cape as he drew his sword, sidestepping and beginning to circle me.
Gulping, I watched him, waiting for any signs of him lunging, palms sweating as he continued to sneer at me, his eyes carrying a darkness that made me want to vomit.
Shooting forward, he brought up his sword, swiping it past my face as I leaned away, barely missing my cheek. Tristan had done something similar in our lesson the day before, though, and I easily shifted my weight, ducking under his arm and stabbing up toward his stomach.
Parrying my blow, Randall shoved me in return, spinning around, his blade flashing in the light as he yanked it down, barely missing my back. The sword cut into the dirt, kicking up dust as I tried to return the attack.
Easily deflecting me again, he laughed, striding forward and shoving me down to the ground with his free hand. “You’re a little slow, Sam,” he noted. “Been a while since you were in a fight?”
Growling, I scrambled to my feet, thrusting my blade toward him. Every time I thought I had the advantage, he somehow came out on top, shoving me to the ground again. After my face met dirt for the fifth time, I suddenly realized what he was doing.
“You’re playing with me!” Huffing, I stepped away, trying to catch my breath as I looked at him. He didn’t even seem bothered, let alone gasping for air like I was. Our fight was costing him no effort whatsoever.
“I thought you might enjoy a chance at believing you could win.” His voice was smooth and full of humor, eyes shining with mirth as he spoke. “It’s so much more fun when your prey doesn’t give up immediately.”
Infuriated, I charged him, screaming, the end of my cutlass pointed right at his heart. Anger flashed across his face and he slammed his sword up, deflecting me. This time, however, he turned the blade sharply, pulling my only weapon from my hand and throwing it across the room like it was nothing. Grabbing the front of my shirt, he threw me into the brick wall, smashing my head against it and holding me there.
“Don’t move,” he ordered, the sound of a gun cocking ringing in my ears. “It would be a shame to kill you, but I will do it.”
“Listen very carefully,” Randall said quietly, his breath hot on my neck and the barrel of the gun pressed against the side of my head. “I’m going to let you go now. If you fight, I will shoot you. If you scream or try to run, I will shoot you. If you do anything other than what I say, I will shoot you. Understand?”
“I’m not stupid,” I growled, resisting the urge to struggle.
“That’s a good girl.” Slowly, he released my head, stepping away far enough for me to turn around, but still holding the gun to my temple. “Now, I want you to look out that window there.” Motioning to the opening on the other side of the courtyard, he smiled, waiting for me to comply.
Nose twitching in anger, I slowly made my way to where he’d indicated, imagining all the while how I could get the gun away from him as he followed me with it. As soon as the bay came into view, though, I became preoccupied with what was going on outside.
“What do you see?” he prompted, sounding lazy and bored.
“The two ships are still fighting,” I told him, trying to see if either had gained any headway over the other. “It looks like yours might be falling behind.”
That was somewhat of an overstatement. The two parties were still firing on each other, the blue sky awash with flying cannon balls and smoke from the weapons. The water in the bay was sloshing between the two, rocking back and forth as if it were trying to choose which one to take under. The Templar ship was firing everything she had, breaking apart the other ship slowly, but surely. However, the Black Knights were still fighting hard, dealing just as much damage, though they had fewer cannons.
“What about the beach?”
Searching across the sand, I felt my stomach tighten at the sight of Tristan, bleeding and still fighting his way through the men around the last cannon. It looked like he and a few other allies had managed to gain control of the land, stopping the firing on the Templar ship from there and giving them the edge they needed to fight back fully. Gratitude for the men who had come to his aid filled me.
“You’re out of cannons,” I announced triumphantly. “Tristan’s stopped your men there, too.”
“Wonderful.” He sounded like he meant it, the word rolling off his tongue with ease and clar
ity.
Confused, I turned my head slightly, my gaze meeting that of the end of the gun.
“Look at the ships again,” he ordered, jerking the barrel toward the window. “Use the spyglass on the sill.”
Glancing down, I frowned at the object. Had he been here watching before? Either way, I grabbed the metallic tube and stretched it open, peering through to the bay again.
There was some kind of commotion on the Black Knight’s ship. There were people fighting on board there; someone had swum over and attacked them on their own ship. Gasping, I yanked the glass away from my face, only to lift it again, feeling sick.
Abella, sopping wet and bleeding from a cut on her face, brandished her sword, a cry I couldn’t hear leaving her lips as she brought the sword down on the man in front of her. By her side, Mark fought another, ruthless disgust written on his face. His blade ran through his victim, sliding in and out with ease. Turning, he charged a man who had been running for Abella, tackling him.
Faltering, Abella stumbled over something, falling out of sight. The man she attacked raised his blade high, slamming it down with an impressive amount of force.
Frozen, I stared with wide eyes, not believing what I was seeing. Mark resurfaced, fighting the same man, who he had in a headlock, but he hadn’t noticed Abella yet. Heartbroken, I waited for him to see that she had been killed, to do something to avenge her.
Suddenly, she popped into my view, her shirt torn and bloody, but she was alive. Exclaiming in surprise, I watched as she faced her attacker, holding her sword at the ready.
“What do you see?” Randall asked, some agitation in his voice. He poked the gun at my head and I flinched.
“The men on your ship are dying. In just a moment, the ones firing the cannons will have to stop to fight. Your ship is going to sink.” Relief coursed through me. Mark had been right—it was the Black Knight ship that went down, not ours. Everyone was still alive, too, thankfully.
“Good.” Sounding very pleased, Randall grabbed my shirt, yanking me away from the window. “Come on.”
The look on his face said it all. Shocked, I stumbled, yelping as he whacked me in the of the head with the pistol.
“You want them to sink your ship and kill everyone,” I gasped through the pain. “You planned this entire thing!”
He didn’t answer, merely smiling at me and shoving me through a door, into the hallway behind it.
“Why? Why would you sacrifice men you need to get out of this mess? You can’t honestly think you can win all on your own!”
Stopping, he pressed the gun against my head again. “Be a dear and shut up,” he said coldly. “Outside, now.”
Doing as he asked, I clutched the spyglass to my chest, wondering if I could use it to hit him or something. There would be more space to maneuver once we were outside and away from the building. Quickly, I put together a plan, praying I would have luck on my side.
Hurrying out, I glanced at the bay, trying to hide the fact that I was looking for some place open enough to try and wrestle him. He was heading for a break in the trees, ignoring everything around him. Sensing that it was now or never, I tensed, ready to jump into action.
A loud explosion in the bay caught me off guard and I spun around, gulping at the fiery cloud reaching high into the sky. Randall’s ship was on fire, sails and masts crumbling under the heat, the entire thing engulfed in flames. Raising the looking-glass, I felt my knees giving out as I watched Abella stumble across the deck, screaming, and jump into the water. Desperately, I searched for Mark, not seeing him anywhere. Finally, I found him, floundering in the water, Abella coming over to help keep him afloat. His face was red and burned, but other than that, he seemed okay.
“That was unexpected,” Randall mused, watching the spectacle as well. “But, if anything, fire is a good way for the ship to go out. Come on.” Grabbing the only weapon I had, he snapped it closed and put it in his pocket. “Into the trees, now.”
“Where are you taking me?” I asked evenly, obeying as the gun came in view of my face once more.
“Right now? Nowhere.”
We disappeared into the cover of the foliage on the shore, slipping into the forest that stretched out in front of us. After walking a short distance, Randall finally stopped. “Look up,” he ordered.
There was a black bag suspended from the tree, tied to a high branch. Staring at it, I felt my fear increase a hundred-fold. He had definitely planned everything that had happened today.
And we had followed right into it.
“Climb up and get it,” he told me, shoving me into the trunk. “If you so much as think of falling on me while you’re up there, I’ll shoot you.”
“What if I already thought about it?” I grumbled, grabbing onto a low branch and hoisting myself up. My hands stung from one of the falls I’d had during our sword fight, but the climbing was otherwise easy. Glancing to the ground, I saw he had moved out of the way. I wouldn’t be able to do anything short of throw something at him. How would I escape if I fell out of a tree after being shot?
Retrieving the bag, I scurried down the tree and tossed it at his feet, frowning at the barrel still pointed in my direction.
“Open it.” He kicked it toward me, smiling in what I normally would have considered a pleasant manner.
Picking the satchel up, I looked inside, almost surprised to see the cloth and ropes it held. Of course, he had made me hike out here and get my own bindings.
“Turn around and put your hands behind your back.” Stepping forward, he waited for me to do as he said, quickly pulling out a length of rope and tying my hands painfully together once I had. “Now, open your mouth.” He didn’t really pause for me to listen on that one, shoving a wad of cloth in my face, choking me with it as he pushed it past my teeth. Another strip was tied around my head, covering the entire lower half of my face. Finally, he pulled the last piece of binding out, knotting it around my waist before he wrapped it around his arm.
If I’d been able to talk, I would have said something scathing about being led around on a leash.
“I can’t have you running off, now can I?” Grinning, he picked up the now un-cocked gun and put it in his belt, tugging me sharply toward him. “Be very quiet. We have listening to do.”
Slowly, we moved through the trees, stopping just out of sight of the beach.
“Sam!” Tristan was yelling my name, panicked and fierce. “Samantha!”
“She’s not in the Mission.” Mark’s voice reached me. “Something is wrong. All of the missionaries are dead. This is not what was supposed to happen here!”
“I don’t care about your damn future,” Tristan spat. “Sam is gone! Randall’s taken her—again.” There was a hint of defeat in his tone and I felt my heart drop.
Unconsciously, I pulled on the rope that held me, causing Randall to hiss under his breath. Pulling the gun out, he pointed it at me, sending the clear message he was in control.
Falling still, I listened hard to the faraway conversation.
“You don’t understand,” Mark was saying. “The journal I read was written by a missionary. Now he’ll never share that you were here. I’ll never read it and . . . all of this will have never happened.” He sounded puzzled, and I could easily see his face of concentration in my mind.
“We can fix the future later,’ Tristan argued. “Right now we need to get Sam. Have the crew search one more time.”
“We’ve searched the entire area,” Mark replied. “There’s no use in looking again, not when we know where he’s headed.”
So that was why we’d taken our walk out into the woods. We were staying away from parties that would be scanning the beach. We’d also gone in a direction they hadn’t anticipated. Unless they widened their perimeter, they’d never see our tracks.
“What are ye doing?” Tristan finally asked, frustrated.
“The journal,” Mark spoke, rubbing his head in frustration. “I think . . . I think maybe I wrote it. It had
so much information and descriptions we normally wouldn’t have found. I think maybe this all did happen and I covered it up. I changed the future on purpose, so that I would find out all of the things I needed to know.”
Wishing Randall hadn’t heard so much, I glanced over at my captor, grimacing.
“Snake Eyes is from the future.” He breathed the phrase out slowly, quietly, and his eyes narrowed. “Of course. And you’ve known him in both times, haven’t you? That’s why he was so protective.”
It was a tiny bit satisfying, knowing that we’d managed to fool him over at least one thing. However, now that he knew, I was pretty sure he planned on making us pay dearly for lying to him.
“That can wait,” Tristan growled. “We have to leave now if we want to catch them. Ye said yerself, this trip could be more than a month long. I don’t know about ye, but I’m not waiting another month to make sure my wife is alive.”
“I agree,” Mark said instantly. “We should leave now. Abella is tending to Lomas; she can tell him where we’ve gone when he wakes up.”
“Then grab yer things,” Tristan ordered. “I’ll not wait another second to find them.”
Breathing heavily, I tried to listen for any other sounds from them, but they were gone. Tristan and Mark were heading off to save me.
But they were going the wrong way.
We followed them. After the first couple days, I began to see Randall’s wisdom in doing so. He was still getting where he wanted to go, but without being chased from behind. Tristan and Mark were so concerned with rescuing me they wouldn’t be backtracking. He was free to go along without always looking over his shoulder.
Carried Away (The Swept Away Saga, Book Two) Page 30
