Fire in the Hole (The Plundered Chronicles Book 3)

by Alex Westmore

  There is only one woman who can help me answer that, and she is very far away.

  But I know she knows I need her.

  And she is waiting.

  * * *

  “The Moroccans are the worst seamen,” One Eye grumbled as he retied a poorly tied knot. “Lazy, undis... undisci–”

  “Undisciplined,” Quinn finished for him. “Ya are right on both counts. This ship is a mess compared to the Malendroke.”

  “Aye, but keepin’ the cook was a brilliant idea, Callaghan. If ya had to keep one of them, he’s as good as enna. The man can cook somethin’ fierce.”

  “Suffer in silence, my friend. At least we have a ship to go home on.” Quinn was swabbing the deck with Fitz and One Eye. “We’ll be in Scotland in no time, and then we’re almost home free.”

  “Gotta say, Callaghan.” One Eye spat before continuing. “I never thought ya’d cut the cord from Big Red.”

  Quinn pushed the mop around and exhaled loudly. “He is far from bein’ healed. He needs a place to rest his broken body.”

  “Hey, I’m not feelin’ sorry fer the Scottish turd. He may have lost some skin, but he gained a woman. Not a bad trade-off, if ya ask me.”

  Fitz leaned on his mop and nodded. “Gotta agree with the Cyclops. Maggie’s smitten with him.”

  Quinn was surprised either had paid that much attention. “Aye. I believe there’s love in the air. Couldn’t happen to a better man.”

  “Think he’ll ever come back to the sea?”

  “I doubt it.” Fitz answered first. “Once yer mistress is no longer the sea, yer tied to the mistress of the land. Good fer him, I say.”

  They pushed their mops around a bit more before Quinn said softly, “Torture changes a man.”

  “That be true,” One Eye said, pausing his work. “When ya look at death in the face, ya know if ya get outta it, ya will do things differently. Besides, ya don’t need him ennamore, Callaghan. Yer a solid fightin’ pirate now, capable of carin’ fer yerself.”

  “Thank ya fer that, Fitz, but I’ll feel the loss of him nonetheless.”

  Fitz nodded and then, after a moment, changed the subject. “So, ya and al Hurra, eh? Ya could’ve stayed with her, fightin’ by her side. How come ya didn’t? And don’t say it was ’cause ya couldn’t kill innocents.”

  Quinn kept mopping. “I didn’t love her enough to fight her battles. We have problems of our own in Ireland. That's where I'm needed.”

  “Ah. Love. Aye. That’s a slippery eel, eh?”

  Maggie came above and waited for them to stop laughing before saying, “Tavish says you can take your leave at Ynys Lawd on the island Anglesey. He has kin there who can take us inland, and he says it is safer."

  “Safer?” Quinn stopped swabbing. “Has somethin’ happened?”

  “I was in talking to the cook, and he said he’d heard Mary managed to travel to England in order to ask her cousin for aid.”

  Quinn looked at the others. “She did what?”

  “Are ya sure?” Someone else asked.

  “Oh, aye. That daft woman thought Elizabeth would actually help her regain her throne. Instead, after Mary escaped Loch Leven, she fought and lost a battle before going to the one place on the damned planet she shouldn’t have gone. Daft, I say. Daft.” Maggie shook her head. “Tavish might feel the need to stand so solidly by our queen, but I’ve no such notion when she doesn’t think right.”

  Quinn rubbed her chin in thought. “And ya think this cook knows what he is talkin’ about?”

  Maggie nodded. “Said he heard it when he was at the last port.”

  “What was she thinkin’?” Fitz asked. “I thought her smarter than that.”

  “I daresay she wasn’t,” Maggie replied. “She landed on the sixteenth of last month and two days later was taken into custody by Elizabeth’s council. With poor planning like that, what good is she to her people?”

  “What happened then? Is she... is she still alive?”

  “Oh, aye, but I doubt she’ll ever be free again. Elizabeth and her advisors are seeking a trial for the murder of that rapscallion, Darnley.”

  Quinn inhaled quickly. “Is there new evidence to that matter?”

  Maggie chuckled. “The English need no evidence. They are looking for guilt so they can behead Mary and put a Protestant permanently on the throne. Anyway, I just thought you’d like to know you’ll be close to Scotland when we drop anchor.”

  When Maggie left, Fitz and One Eye stared hard at Quinn.

  “She is not our problem ennamore, fellas.”

  “Callaghan, the woman did not kill that man. How do we just walk away, leavin’ her holdin’ the bag?”

  Quinn turned to One Eye. “What are yer thoughts on the matter?”

  “I’m not the one to ask.”

  Simultaneously, they all glanced at the steps leading below.

  One minute later, they got his answer.

  “Lad, I canna let my queen hang fer a crime we committed.”

  “What are yer thoughts then, Red?”

  Tavish locked eyes with Quinn. “A man never lets another pay the consequences fer his crime. I doona expect ya lads to saddle yer hearts with me, so ya need not ken me plans. Now that we ken the Queen is bein’ imprisoned, I say we part ways at Portpatrick. Ya can go to Ynys Lawd without me.”

  Quinn and Tavish stared at each other long and hard before Quinn finally glanced over at Fitz. “All right. We part ways at Portpatrick. Then we’ll head straight away to Dublin and ride—”

  “No, Callaghan. That’s wrong.”

  Quinn gritted her teeth. “No, Fitz. It is how it must be. Tavish has his queen. We have ours. We part ways at Portpatrick.”

  Tavish’s eyes softened. “Thank ya, laddie. I didna wish to have to arm wrestle ya fer it.”

  Patting Tavish on the shoulder, Quinn headed up the stairs, followed closely by Fitz and One Eye.

  “Callaghan, ya cannot tell me–” One Eye started.

  Quinn wheeled around. “Ya are right. I can’t.”

  “But ya said we were partin’ ways at Portpatrick.”

  “I did.”

  “Ya can’t be serious about lettin’ the big galoot go to Mary hisself,” Fitz added.

  A tiny grin toyed at the corners of Quinn’s mouth. “I said we were partin’ ways at Port Patrick. That doesn’t mean we won’t soon meet back up.”

  Fitz and One Eye tossed their heads back and laughed.

  “Callaghan,” Fitz said. “Ya get more like Grace O’Malley everra day.”

  * * *

  The rest of the trip passed without incident. Quinn and her men arrived at Portpatrick, then helped Tavish into the small boat.

  If they stayed close to the shoreline, they could make their way to Portpatrick before nightfall. It was a little over a hundred miles, and the wind was to their backs. They would make Portpatrick long before dusk if the wind remained constant.

  “He’s sleeping just fine,” Maggie said before Quinn could even ask the question.

  “Drugged?”

  Maggie nodded. “Too stubborn for his own good, this one. He’s healing nicely, but is pushing a bit too hard. The rest will do him good.”

  Quinn nodded as she watched Maggie stroke his red hair. She longed for that kind of love, that kind of physical intimacy. “He’s gonna stop eatin’ or drinkin’ ennathin’ ya give him.”

  Maggie chuckled. “Isn’t that the truth? So tell us, Callaghan, what’s your plan to keep my big Scot out of trouble?”

  “The way I see it, Maggie, he’ll head straight fer Bolton Castle and to Mary so he can lend a hand.” Quinn motioned to One Eye to come over to her.

  With her arm around his shoulder, she whispered, “Would ya hate me forever if I told ya I am not who ya think I am?”

  One Eye smiled at her. “Callaghan, I may have but me one eye, but I still see more than most men do with two. If yer gonna tell me yer more like Grace than Fitz, I already know. Known fer some time.” He shrugged
. “And don’t give a shite one way or the other.”

  Quinn pulled away and stared into his one eye. “And ya kept mum? Why?”

  “Clean out yer ears, man. ’Cause I don’t give a shite. At first, it bothered me a bit... ya know, all them secrets makes a man wonder what else yer not sayin’. But then I seen how ya saved the crew, how loyal ya are to Captain O’Malley. Suddenly, it didn’t matter no more. Yer our second. That’s all I need to know.”

  Quinn felt her chest swell with pride. “Thank ya.”

  “No need. We’re family, Callaghan. It is what we do fer each other. Just don’t ask me to call ya she or her. Yer Callaghan to me now and always. Plain and simple. Now let’s get back to business.”

  When they joined the group, Maggie asked, “What can Tavish do for Mary that her people cannot?”

  Quinn glanced at Fitz, who looked away.

  “I see. You know who killed Darnley.”

  Quinn said nothing.

  Maggie’s hand went to her chest. “You killed Darnley.”

  “We had a hand in it, aye.”

  “Does the Queen know?”

  Quinn shook her head. “No. We thought it best to keep her innocent of enna part of it.”

  “Then what can he hope to gain by seeing... ” Maggie paused. “Tavish would not betray you.”

  “I am well aware of that, Maggie, but goin’ to see a queen who is under investigation fer murderin’ her husband could be more dangerous than what he realizes.”

  “Whatever will we do?”

  Quinn noted the pronoun. Maggie was one of them now. “A brute like Tavish visitin’ the Queen will surely raise suspicion.”

  Maggie nodded. “But two women–”

  “Exactly. While he would never risk yer safety, he will not allow us to remain. It is up to us to force his hand, and here is what I propose.” Quinn outlined her plan for getting in to see Mary. All of them listened without question, until she was done.

  “Are we all agreed then?”

  To a one, they said, “Aye.”

  “Red’ll be sore as hell at ya, Callaghan,” One Eye said, “but even he would have to agree, it’s a fine plan.”

  “We can only hope, Eye.”

  One Eye stared at Quinn a long time before grinning and shaking his head. “I know what ya said, but damn, ya will always be Callaghan to me.”

  Quinn nodded. “In truth, I will just always be Callaghan.”

  “Well now, if that don’t beat a hen a’peckin’.”

  * * *

  “Woman, ya chug me one more time, and we’re gonna have some ugly words.” Struggling to sit up, Tavish winced.

  “You call me woman one more time, and I’ll flay your front to match your back.”

  The men all snickered until Tavish fairly growled. “How long we been at the port?”

  “We arrived about half an hour ago. Fitz went to see if he could find us some coin to get you a carriage. You can’t ride, but you can sit.”

  “An Irishman thievin’ from a Scotsman is a bad idea, laddie.”

  “We have no choice, Tavish. We need coin, or we’ll have to cross the water to Dublin and wait fer me to return with–”

  “No returnin’, lad. Gettin’ us a carriage is good enough, then ya gotta get back to Captain O’Malley.”

  “How are you feeling?” Maggie asked.

  “Stiff and sore, but there’s somethin’ aboot bein’ home that gives me strength.”

  When Fitz returned, he had a purse filled with coin and a carriage.

  “Should we expect a fight?” Quinn asked.

  “Nah. Thievin’ is some of me best work. The carriage I paid fer.”

  Gently helping Tavish from the boat and up on board the carriage, Quinn stood back and assessed her motley crew.

  Seeing Mary was a risk for the men but surely not for Maggie and Quinn, so when Fitz handed her the pouch of coin, she took it, poured some out into her hand and handed it back. He knew what she needed.

  Fitz then put some in his pocket and handed the rest to Kwame.

  “Will you come to Ireland when you are healthy or just send word?” Quinn asked Tavish.

  He shrugged. “To be honest, lad, I have no idea when I’ll be back.”

  “I’ll take no argument from you about sending Kwame with you. With your bad hand, you’re going to need a second pair of hands.”

  Tavish nodded. “Aye. You’ll get no argument from me then.”

  “Good. Then please send word back with Kwame, once you are safe.”

  Tavish nodded and held his good hand out to Quinn. “Get home safe, laddie. We’re not sayin’ goodbye because that feels too permanent. Ken I am in good hands with the drugger here.”

  Even though she knew they weren’t really saying goodbye, Quinn felt a tug of sadness. “Get better, ya salty dog. We’ll be headin’ out now, Maggie, take good care of him and don’t let his gruffness fool ya. He’s a softhearted man.”

  “Fer a big galoot. Come on, Callaghan, let’s get goin’!” One Eye said.

  Kwame looked at Quinn knowingly before grabbing the reins. “I shall return as soon as they are safe, Callaghan. Look for me.”

  Quinn stepped up to Kwame. “I appreciate this more than you could possibly know. He... means a great deal to me.”

  “And that is not news to me, Callaghan. We are all surprised you are letting him go, but in the end that old Scot is always going to do whatever he pleases. Right now he needs to mend, and he has a good woman by his side to help with that. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  With that, the carriage pulled away, and when it was out of sight, Fitz started down the main road. “Oh boy, is he ever gonna be miffed at ya, Callaghan.”

  “I don’t care, Fitz. He’s not thinkin’ clearly.”

  “Ya think it could be from all the drugs she’s given him?”

  One Eye laughed so hard he snorted.

  “It doesn’t matter why, Fitz. What matters is we don’t let him try to see Mary on his own.”

  “That pigheaded Scot would try, wouldn’t he?”

  Quinn saw the smithy across the road and started for it. “He absolutely would. Thank god Maggie is around.”

  “She fancies that thick lug, aye?”

  “Aye. Verra much so. She’ll slow him down enough to give us time to ride. I’ll take One Eye. Ya ride solo. If we push it, we can get there before mornin’.”

  “I hate horses,” One Eye muttered. “There’s a reason they look like donkeys, ya know.”

  Chuckling, Quinn threw her arm around his shoulders. “I promise this will be the last horse ya ever have to ride with me, Eye.”

  As Quinn released him to talk to the blacksmith, she heard One Eye whisper too loudly to Fitz, “Seriously? There’s a female under all that?”

  Fitz laughed. “Seriously, old man, and if ya ever bring it up again, I’ll tear yer arms off and beat ya with the bloody ends.”

  “Jesus, Fitz.”

  “That person is, was, and always will be Callaghan, One Eye. Don’t ya ferget it.”

  * * *

  They rode until dark and slept in an abandoned barn before heading out again at daybreak. Bolton Castle was much closer to Scotland than to London, so it wouldn’t take them much longer to arrive.

  When they finally saw the castle in the distance, Quinn slowed, her eyes searching for a chapel.

  “Let’s go closer, Callaghan. There’s bound to be one nearer to Bolton.”

  “I told Maggie we’d be on the northeastern side, so we need to look around there fer a Catholic chapel. We can stay there tonight. Maggie will bring him along in the mornin’.”

  “Ya sure put a lotta faith in that woman,” One Eye groused.

  “She loves him, One Eye. She knows what’s at stake. Tavish is gonna have to rest. They can’t arrive enna sooner than tomorrow mornin’. If ya don’t trust her, Eye, trust me.”

  “Aye, Callaghan. That I do. I say we keep watch. We’re in enemy territory here, and I fer one d
on’t wanna see another dungeon fer a long time. Maybe ever.”

  “I second that,” Fitz said, rubbing his left ass cheek. “I’ll take first watch.”

  When they arrived at a small Catholic chapel, they dismounted and watered the horses. Quinn sent the other two off in search of food.

  Quinn leaned up against a tree and closed her eyes. She couldn’t remember being this mentally exhausted. Ever.

  How Grace managed to care for a crew of over two hundred was beyond Quinn. Being responsible for the lives of only a few others was taking its toll on her. The loss of Connor had as well.

  Once again, tears rolled unabated down her cheeks, even with her eyes closed.

  Connor had been such a good friend to her. He’d shown her how to fight close in, how to use the hilt as a weapon. He’d taught her so much about the pirate life. From cards to dice to drinking, he had mentored her in so many areas, been such a wonderful mate... and that he had suffered so horribly at the end just broke her heart.

  Yes.

  That was what she was feeling.

  Heartbroken.

  She hadn’t been able to get the image of his broken body out of her mind. Every arm and leg had been pulled from its socket. It had to have been an unimaginable and excruciating pain.

  And for what?

  So this bully religion could destroy all other religions?

  Rising, Quinn wiped her face and slowly, tentatively, entered the chapel. On the left of the pulpit was a statue of the Virgin Mary. Quinn was studying that statue when someone cleared their throat behind her.

  Whirling and pulling her blade, she found herself facing a woman with long, flowing red hair, flawless porcelain skin, and kind blue eyes.

  “Do you speak English?” the woman asked, not unkindly. She wore an emerald robe much like the kind Bronwen wore.

  “I do.”

  “Then will you kindly sheath your blade? No one but myself is here.”

  Quinn looked at the sword in her hand as if surprised to see it there. Quickly sheathing it, she bowed. “My apologies, m’lady.”

  “I am no lady, and no apologies are necessary. I am Beatrice, and you are the Celt I have seen coming.”

  “Then ya are—”