by Unknown
A vague memory of his ma flashed in his mind. What would he do to keep his mother safe if he had the chance once again? He shook off the thought and focused on the present. “I know, but we must have a plan.”
She nodded. “Do you have any ideas?”
Ewan glanced around the large fortification before him. The menagerie was entirely outside the main bailey. What reason would they have for going inside? Did they give tours of the grounds? It wasn’t like anyone should be worried that a lady and a barely armed man could break anyone out or cause a ruckus.
“Perhaps… we just act as if we are meant to be here touring the towers. The White Tower was the original structure. Say you have a real curiosity, if asked.” He ran a hand across his forehead. The woman was giving him an ache. “I’m guessing ye can lay it on thick when needed.”
She smiled, half a grin, and in that instant he could so picture her comfortable among a group of ill-mannered seamen. “I think I can handle thick.”
Ewan coughed into his fist. She couldn’t possibly know what she was saying. But then she winked, and he forgot to breathe. He frowned at her and rubbed once again at the ache forming in the middle of his forehead.
She patted him between his shoulder blades.
“Come on,” he muttered and took her arm. They walked once again through the fly-infested, foul-smelling lion’s tower where the beasts lounged and swished their tails. One pissed through the bars, nearly splattering them.
“Just like the king himself,” Dory whispered, even though the guard had left them alone. “Overfed, lazy, and ready to mark the world as his own.”
Ewan’s laugh echoed in the corridor. “Best keep that opinion to yerself, lass, else ye find a more permanent view of these towers.”
As they exited she laughed, her raucous chuckle turning to the twitter of a songbird. She hung onto his arm like a lovesick maid. In his periphery he saw a couple of guards glance their way so he kissed her hand and tucked it back in his elbow.
“What do you think is this way?” she asked loudly and pointed inside the gates toward the White Tower. She pulled him along, though he shook his head.
“Pleassssseee…” she crooned.
He caught her up in a kiss, a casual quick taste of heaven, and then let her turn to pull him along. He shrugged at the guard at the gate. “My wife has a curiosity that will get her into trouble if I don’t keep a close watch on her,” he said in his best attempt at an English accent.
“I have one of those meself,” the guard said and gave him a pitying look.
“Oh, it’s so large!” Dory exclaimed as she pulled from Ewan’s grip to hasten to the next open tower toward the central White Tower.
The guard chuckled and shook his head.
“A man never gets tired of hearing that,” Ewan called, and the guard doubled over laughing.
She picked up her skirts and trotted daintily through the Byward Tower to stand before the formidable structure the guard had pointed to, the Bell Tower. She stared at it as if willing a door to show itself, then walked around to the back of the structure.
Ewan followed her, glancing side to side. “We shouldn’t be here. The guards will find us any moment.”
“This is it. Do you see a door?” she asked, her voice low, ignoring his common sense. There was bravery and then there was outright foolishness.
“If we are caught trying to break into or out of this damn tower, Henry will never listen to yer wishes. He’ll just throw us both in here.” She huffed and took his arm. “As long as we are acting like a common couple viewing the grounds, we are fine.”
They strode back along the wall with Dory pausing every so often to point at a raven. “There’s no entrance from this side,” she said, looking up at him with adoring eyes. “We need to go inside the inner bailey where the White Tower is.”
Ewan grumbled but guided her forward to another stone archway that let them into the inner yard. They were surrounded by heavily armed Englishmen, and so far no one had stopped them, although the heat of watchful eyes made his hand itch to hold his sword. Guards peered from their posts, walking on their boring rounds. He and Dory were possibly the most interesting sight to watch today.
As they rounded the corner to the building before the Bell Tower, two guards stepped purposely toward them. This would be the end of the tour.
“Dory—”
“I’m not stopping,” she said through a tight smile. “They need me. I can feel it.”
Ewan exhaled, his attention turning to the two guards plus the three above on top of the tower wall.
“Halt!” called a guard as he drew his sword and strode briskly forward.
Ewan bent his head to her ear. “We have to stop. We will find another way, even if I have to break them out myself. But you need to get out of here.” What the hell was he saying? Damn! All he knew was that he had to get Dory to safety.
She looked at him and paused, but then the glassiness of emotion mix with determination in her stare. “I might not get another chance to find them. I’m sorry.”
Chapter Seven
30 January of the Year our Lord God, 1518
Dearest Kat,
My meeting with our lawyer went well. Do not fret. He will do as I say, as he’s in too deep to proceed any other way.
And my meeting with you was perfect, my little minx. I think of our time alone often. Someday we will be together in the daylight.
Forever yours,
Rowland
Dory’s heart thumped a mad chase. By the devil! She had to reach Captain Bart. He and Will had walked shackled aboard the English ship under their own obvious strength when they’d been arrested, but they could have been abused anywhere along the way. They could be chained and dying, lying in filth in the cold cells of the Tower. All because of her.
“I said halt!”
“Good sirs!” Ewan called out. “We but wish to tour the grounds of this amazing fortification. We’ve been turned around. Perhaps ye could point us the way out.”
Dory breathed deeply, ignoring the tang of human waste wafting off the moat waters behind them. She found the light of her power where it sat in a ball at her middle, linked by a thin line to her birthmark. It was a soft glow in her mind’s eye and she imagined it growing larger, brighter, until it funneled out of her on an exhale. The wind picked up the ends of her hair and tugged at her skirts. Her hat strained against the hairpins rooting it into place.
Ewan would know she was responsible. Would he despise her for breaking her promise?
He spoke to the guards, but their words were merely a buzz in her mind. With another inhale and exhale she added to the wind’s speed and twirled her finger in the folds of her skirts. The wind swirled into a tight coil, dark clouds pushing in from far to the west.
“God’s teeth! Do you see that?” the guardsman yelled.
They turned toward the funnel shape of clouds up in the sky. Men yelled from the walls, pointing. Other guards ran through the bailey as dead leaves skittered across the grounds. Black ravens took flight, finding shelter in the tower ledges and nooks.
“Let’s go.” Ewan said with exasperation. He grabbed her arm, his fingers like iron as they ran forward through the plummeting hail.
“No!” she yelled, but the wind seemed to swallow it.
He guided her while she concentrated on continuing the storm, creating funnel clouds in the air to hover above Tower Hill outside the walls to the north. Storm magic was easy compared to healing magic—they both involved moving tiny particles of matter, but rain and wind moved much easier than blood and particles in the body. Creating wind tunnels and lightning and downpours took about as much energy as walking at a brisk pace. She could keep it up for as long as they needed.
Hail and rain pelted them as they dodged running guards on their way into the tower before them. Dory wiped the rain from her face and hastened next to Ewan as they ran through the tower and out the back, which led to the Bell Tower.
S
he gripped her damp skirts as she ran. Their wet, heavy drape tangled about her, catching at her knife against her leg. She breathed and imagined heavy rain and wind, and it smacked them in the face as they searched the granite blocks for the door. There had to be a door!
“Are ye doing this?” Ewan asked above the wind.
She wouldn’t admit to any of it. Even though she was in the Tower, she might need his help to get out. She also didn’t want to see his disappointment.
“Down there,” she yelled, pointing to a set of narrow stairs. To a casual onlooker, it might seem as if they were taking refuge against the tornados looming over the fortification. Swiving hell! London Tower was huge and nothing but rock. No wonder no one actually managed to escape.
He followed her down without more questions.
Dory’s chest burned from running and she breathed large, open-mouthed gusts. A stitch needled her side and she pinched it with her fingers, trying to unknot it before they had to run again. Ewan wasn’t even breathing hard. Blast!
“Is it locked?” she asked. She yanked out a pin. “Stand back!”
He shook his head. “Dory,” he warned and she turned to him. She didn’t say anything, just stared into his piercing eyes. He released a long breath and pushed the unlocked door inward for her. The wind whipped around them, carrying rain and leaves inside. Once the skies opened up to release the rain, she didn’t need to use her magic to keep it going, but the wind was another matter. Without her continued push of the elements, it would die.
Dory stumbled a bit inside, but he caught her arm. She had to make certain her father and Will were alive. That they hadn’t paid the ultimate price for her foolishness that night at port.
You can’t save them all, Pandora. She’s already dead.
The memory needled the ache in her head as she ran. But the child had moved in Julian O’Neil’s cruel arms, and Dory knew she wasn’t dead. She had run after the slave-trading pirate bastard as he carried the child through the tavern, causing Captain Bart to interfere. She pushed the nightmare aside.
The stagnant dankness swallowed them as they felt their way along the damp wall inside the Bell Tower. She gagged against the smell of unwashed bodies and excrement.
Each cell had a small window slit that let in fresh air and splashes of light. All was silent except for an occasional squeak and skitter. Rats. Her stomach twisted, but she kept moving. A deep voice from farther down caught her full attention.
“Will,” she whispered and flew past Ewan down the corridor, her boots slapping the musty puddles outside the cells.
“Wait!” Ewan warned from behind as she ran toward the voice. Movement behind the bars, men standing to see, muted comments and cries for help; she ignored it all.
“Captain Bartholomew Wyatt!” she called and heard Ewan curse in his guttural language, his heavy footfalls closing in.
Her eyes were adjusting to the dimness made even dimmer from the rain and gloom she’d brought on outside.
“Dory?”
Will!
“You rancid bastard, yes!” Her lips pulled into a smile so large it had probably never been seen before in this damned place. She grabbed on to the cold iron bars, shaking them.
Will’s large, muscular body unfolded from his crouch in the back. He took a step and stumbled, catching himself with his other leg. Good God, he was hurt! He’d always been invincible and strong. She couldn’t remember a time when he’d been truly ill.
His large hands came through to grab her head and pull her close. “Pandora, ain’t you a lovely sight for these eyes,” he said, his voice hoarse.
“Let go of her.” Ewan’s drawl was close behind, succinct, deadly.
Will did not let go. “Who the bloody hell are you?”
“Will,” Dory said, “either kiss me or let me go. You smell like hell.”
With that Will leaned in, kissed her forehead, and released her.
“Where’s the captain?” she asked, afraid of the answer.
“Panda?” the shadowed bulk whispered from a low cot along the back wall.
“He’s ill,” Will said, and looked past her at Ewan. “Again. Who the hell is he?”
“Ewan Brody,” she said. “Someone who is helping me save your sorry arse.” Or at least she hoped. “So be nice. Captain? Can you stand?”
“Nay,” Will answered for him though he still glared at Ewan with suspicion.
The male posturing was so thick, she could have choked on it. But there was no time to slap them around.
“Bring him to me,” she commanded. “All I have to do is touch him.”
“God’s balls, Dory. You shouldn’t be here,” Will groused. His gaze shifted to Ewan. “You should have kept her away, somewhere safe.”
“Have ye ever tried to keep her from doing what she’s bent on doing?” Ewan asked.
A small smile cracked Will’s lips and he gave a brief nod. He looked back at her. “If the captain wasn’t so sick, he’d stripe your hide for coming here.”
“Bloody right,” her father called from his cot. “Pandora Wyatt, get yourself out of here now.” Though weak, his voice struck a chord in her. “That’s an order.”
She blushed, though she knew he couldn’t see it. “Sorry, Captain, we ain’t on board ship,” she answered using her best pirate impersonation. He’d always hated her talking like that and insisted she use proper diction and grammar as befitting her English lady status.
“Wait ’til I get you back on the Queen Siren,” he said. “You’ll be swabbing the decks every night for a week, young lady.”
Will was already lifting her father’s bulk from the cot. Though Captain Bart was large, Will shouldn’t have trouble carrying him, but he was. Her father’s hand reached through the bars.
“Dory,” Ewan whispered, “we have to get out of here soon.”
She grabbed her father’s weak hand and instantly felt the sickness clinging to his organs. He also had an abscess on his foot, probably from a rat bite. Dory let the wind die outside. She redirected the magic, changing it in her mind to the blue-tinged healing light. It came from her hand into his, giving off a soft glow in the darkness.
She felt warmth at her back. Ewan? Did he try to give her strength? She relaxed into him as she funneled her power into her father, attacking the taint in his body, healing the bite on his foot. She reminded herself to breathe as the effort stole her strength. Moving the illness and liquids in the body required much more finesse, much more thought and power. She leaned heavily into Ewan.
“Will,” she said and he moved closer. She grabbed his hand with her other, her fingers wrapping around his thumb.
From her first touch she knew he had bruises and a strained tendon that were already healing, so she left them alone. She attacked the fog she felt in his lungs, the black crud creeping along his airways.
“I’ll be fine,” Will said. “Concentrate on the captain.”
“I’ve enough for both of you.” She hoped it wasn’t a lie.
Will tried to pull his hand away, but she held tight to his thumb.
“Let go,” he said. “I’m strong.”
Once the fog faded, she let her fingers open. Will pulled his hand back inside to better hold the captain.
“Dory,” Ewan said. “It’s taking everything out of ye.”
“Then I’ll give it all,” she said.
Captain Bart yanked his hand back. “Nay, you won’t.”
Dory released her hold, legs buckling. She smiled, partly because she felt Ewan catch her and partly because it didn’t matter. “I’m done anyway.”
“Get her outta here,” Will whispered, but the seething sound of fury lit the words on fire.
“Take the pin.” Dory tugged it from her tumbling hair. “Use it on the lock. Follow us out.”
Ewan lifted her against him. With barely a heft, his arm caught under her knees to lift her up. “There are guards everywhere out there. She’ll be seen helping ye escape,” he said. “It would be be
st to come back at night at least.”
“No,” Dory said against him. “We’ve come this far. They need to get away now.”
“Nay, child,” Captain Bart said. “The Scot is right. I won’t have you risking more. We’ll figure out another way.”
She closed her eyes and heard Will rattle the pin in the lock. “With the door unlocked, we’ll be able to get out on our own, so go Dory.”
Will’s voice dropped. “If you let her do anything that gets her harmed I’ll haunt you until you slice your own throat.”
“There’s no stopping a tornado,” Ewan grumbled.
Captain Bart chuckled softly. Dory felt her father’s fingers on her wrist and opened her eyes. He wore his lopsided grin, the one that meant what he never would say in front of the crew but whispered to her every night as he tucked her in.
“Thank you, Panda, but you have to go. We’ll figure this out.” His glance moved higher to Ewan. “Keep her safe, Scot. Swear it.”
She felt Ewan’s stomach tighten, his chest freeze on an inhale. Muscles throughout his body contracted as if he meant to fall around her in a protective shell. “I swear.”
The moldy stench washed over her, and she let her arms drop.
“Halt! Who’s down there?”
“By Lucifer!” Will hissed. “Go!”
Ewan swore in Gaelic and turned. She felt acid pour into his stomach and his pupils dilate even more. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.
…
Bloody hell! Ewan turned back but the look on the pirates’ faces told him plainly that there was no other way out. With Dory collapsed against him, a fight was not an option. He could hear the guards clipping along the wet stone toward them. How many were there? Could they fight their way out with Will and Dory’s father? In the torchlight he saw six guards traipsing toward them, two across the narrow corridor. Even if the three of them could fight at full strength, he was the only one with a sword. He needed a different plan to get Dory out safe.
“Help!” Ewan called. “Down here! Help!”
“Jesus, man, what are you doing?” Dory’s large friend asked.
