by Dana Fredsti
Stunned, the Puritan could only stare at her.
“You? A… spy?”
Nell smiled at him.
“Oh, it wasn’t very hard to peek in on your meeting with his lordship. Or to persuade your guard outside to let me come in and pay you a little visit. But I’m no spy, Master Pricker. No, I’m a witch—” She hissed the word dramatically. “—and so is she, even more powerful than I am. Now, you can let her out of those wrist irons harshly… or gently… the choice is yours. Either way, do it now.”
She raised the pistol in line with Stearne’s face. He nodded, dumbstruck, and with shaking hands freed Amber from the manacles. She fell back against the wall in relief, rubbing her aching wrists together.
“Nell, I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you.”
“Honestly? It’s my pleasure.” Nell grinned at her, then turned back to Stearne, the pistol unwavering in her grip. “All right now, Quaker Oats, make yourself useful for once and put all these things back in the bag. You can leave your torture tools. Go on, get to it!”
Stearne started in surprise, then hurried to obey. While he quickly filled the bag, Nell glanced over to check on Amber.
“Are you alright there?” she asked. “Don’t worry, this brute won’t lay another finger on you now—”
Stearne suddenly lashed out, swinging the bag like a weapon. It struck Nell squarely, knocking her to the ground and sending the pistol flying out of her hands. He followed with a vicious overhead swing that narrowly missed her skull, raising his arms for a second strike that wouldn’t miss its target.
“Stearne!” Amber called out from behind him. He froze, and couldn’t resist glancing back at her. “I give you the power of the scepter!” She held it in both hands, its orb glowing an unearthly green. She held it aloft just long enough for the terrified witch hunter to get a good look before she swung it with all her might, bashing it into his head. The green sphere shattered, and Stearne crumpled to the floor, unconscious.
“Totally worth it.” Amber smiled and tossed the broken remnants of her cosplay prop on top of his prone body. Nell sat up, rubbing her shoulder.
“I owe you for that.”
Amber gave her a hand up.
“And I owe you for getting me out of those manacles— but I do have questions for you.”
Nell grinned at her.
“No doubt you do,” she said wryly. “But first, let’s go free the others.”
30
On the north road from Lexden, one of the local millers stepped off to the side to let a horse-drawn wagon amble past toward town. He raised a hand to the two Roundhead soldiers driving it. They were hunched over, eyes to the ground, but they returned his greeting.
Amber turned to Nell.
“Do you think he spotted us?”
Nell adjusted her helmet and risked a quick glance behind them.
“No, I think we’re fine. Just remember, keep your head down, and if anybody stops us, let me do the talking. Be ready to hightail it just in case.”
Their stolen uniforms were ill fitting, but sitting up as they were in the wagon, the bagginess was less noticeable. They had left Stearne’s two sentries tied and gagged—just like the unconscious Stearne himself—inside the cottage. Nell had persuaded them to disrobe the same way she’d gotten them to leave their post—at gunpoint.
After she and Amber had donned their disguises, they’d located the wagon out back and helped themselves to it. They loaded it up with the rest of the things Stearne had hoarded, and as much food and provisions as they could find.
“Oh, by the way—” Amber extended her hand. “I’m Amber.” Nell shook it, easily handling the reins while doing so.
“Glad to make your acquaintance. I should tell you something, though.” She looked at Amber with a gleam in her eye and a wry little smile. “You see, my name’s not really Nell—it’s Elizabeth Cochrane. But everybody calls me Nellie Bly.” She raised an expectant eyebrow. “It’s my pen name. I’m a reporter.” She scanned Amber’s face for a reaction. When none was forthcoming, she shook her head and laughed.
“Oh, I’m so glad my editor isn’t here,” she said, shaking her head. “I’d never hear the end of it. Here I thought I was so famous.”
“Oh no, no, no, please don’t mind me,” Amber said, mortified. “I just don’t watch any of the news shows on television. I get all my news online, but I’m sure I must’ve seen you. Um, what network are you on?”
Nellie pursed her lips and puzzled over Amber’s response.
“I’ll tell you what,” she finally said. “We can talk to our heart’s content after we rescue the others. Right now what we need is a plan. Let’s see. First we need to do a head count of the guards.”
Amber nodded. “There were two at the top of the stairs, keeping watch on the door to the belfry.”
“Right, and they’ve turned the downstairs into a guardroom, too. There are always three or four soldiers hanging around down there.” She frowned. “I’m not feeling overly optimistic. These old-timey pistols are pretty dodgy. I know we could buffalo a pair of sentries, but dealing with any more than that, and we’d be getting too high for our nut trying to keep them all at gunpoint. What we need is a good Colt revolver.”
“Or an Uzi,” Amber mused. Nellie opened her mouth to speak, but Amber had another thought. “Also, it’s broad daylight. How are we going to smuggle them out past all these soldiers and townies?”
“Maybe we can pull around behind the churchyard and sneak everyone into the wagon there. Either way, we have to get those guards out first.”
“What we need is a distraction.”
Nellie nodded thoughtfully.
“A distraction, and quickly!” They were running out of time. The outskirts of town were already in sight. In another minute they’d be at the church.
“Oh!” Nellie brightened. “What if we start yelling that the Royalists are counterattacking?”
“Maybe… except that we’d blow our cover.”
“Blow our cover? Whatever does that mean?”
“Um, it means they’d see through our disguise.”
“Ah. Yes, of course. Silly of me.”
Amber frowned. “I’ve seen so many movies and TV shows, you’d think I could remember a good distraction from at least one of them. What would Mal Reynolds do?”
“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about, my girl.”
Before Amber could reply, a raucous screech pierced the air from above, spooking the horses and making both women jump. The terrible sound was answered by more of the same. They twisted around in their seats, looking up as a flock of winged shapes flew overhead.
More than a dozen of them appeared, great flying monsters, each the size of a hang glider. Their crested heads were as long as a man’s torso, their mouths like giant tongs bristling with teeth. And they were flying straight for the town.
“Pterosaurs,” Amber breathed in awe and disbelief.
Nellie stared at them in horror.
“What on earth are they?”
Amber turned back, grabbed the reins and gave them a sharp snap, urging the horses into a gallop.
“They’re our distraction. Let’s go!”
* * *
As they charged into town, chaos had just started to erupt. The massive pterosaurs were strafing the rooftops and the roads. They snapped up the unlucky chickens and sheep that didn’t get out of the way in time, then swooped away again. Screaming women grabbed their children and ran for shelter. Roundhead soldiers scrambled for cover and fired their muskets and pistols as the monsters circled overhead. No one took any notice of the horse-drawn cart careening past.
True to plan, they sped toward the bell tower and turned into the churchyard itself, driving the cart between narrow rows of gravestones before pulling to a halt under a large tree in the shadow of the church and belfry. The imposing stone structures helped soothe the anxious horses, which neighed and stamped nervously with each screech from
overhead.
Amber and Nellie leapt off the cart and ran for the door, where a stream of panicked soldiers poured out. The three or four men they had expected to find inside were closer to eight or nine. When those ran out, the young women ran in, only to collide with the two sentries. Amber was bowled over and hit the ground.
“Out of the way, you fools!” the jailer roared.
Nellie ran up and body-slammed the burly man, but only bounced off him to the ground. The two sentries swore but barely broke stride, hurrying to catch up with the others. Amber leaned over to her fallen companion.
“Are you okay? Why did you do that?”
Nellie rose up on her elbows and gave her a wide smile. She held up the jailer’s ring of keys and jingled them. Amber grinned back. Then the two dashed up the stairs and pounded on the heavy oak door.
“Guys? It’s us!” Amber called.
Someone shouted something back, she couldn’t make out quite what over all the noise. Nellie wasted no time unlocking the door, and the two ran up the steps to the belfry.
“Look out!” someone yelled.
A huge crocodile mouth full of knife-like teeth snapped at Nellie’s head, clamping down on her helmet. She screamed and it pulled back, taking her body nearly all the way out of the tower. Amber grabbed her tight around the waist, but only managed to get dragged up the steps with her. The pterosaur beat its wings furiously, trying to make off with its prey.
* * *
Cam let out a Celtic battle cry and leapt at the massive creature. He raised his arms and swung his chains down like a war flail on the thing’s long head. The iron links cracked hard against its skull, and the beast’s jaws flew open with a rattling, ear-piercing shriek, dropping Nellie back inside. He swung again, and this time the monster launched itself backward, and with an aerial twist it fled into the sky.
Another one, however, swooped in from a different angle to take its place, followed by still another flying over to get its share of the food. The pterosaurs seemed oddly fixated on the nooks and crannies of the tower, with all its delicious, wiggling creatures huddled inside the exposed belfry. One fished around for Merlin’s dormant body, but Alex grabbed up the bright yellow police rain slicker that covered him and lashed away at the prehistoric horror, yelling in an attempt to drive it off.
A third beast took Simon by surprise, clamping down on his arm. He cried out in shock as the toothy monster wildly flapped its wings and tugged, lifting him clear off the floor and into the air. Harcourt tried to pull him back, but a swipe of the thing’s head sent the professor flying across the space and crashing against the wall.
Cam turned to see Simon in danger of being carried off. He didn’t like the man, but couldn’t just let him become bird meat. Letting out another battle cry to muster his courage, he made a running leap over the ledge, catching a precarious handhold on two teeth of the creature’s lower jaw just as it took to the air. The pterosaur thrashed its head violently, shaking the men like a dog with a rat.
Simon managed to twist himself free, and hit the floor of the belfry.
Buffeted by the wings and flung about, Cam abruptly lost his grip on the teeth and slipped off, but the snapping jaws bit down on his chains. The links tangled in the thicket of long teeth, leaving him dangling in midair at the verge of the bell tower wall and a death drop. As the giant winged creature tried to fly away with him, Amber and a newcomer, another young woman, struggled to grab for his legs. Cam fought to hook a leg around one of the support pillars to avoid being plucked out of the tower altogether.
At last Amber caught one of Cam’s legs, and the newcomer grasped hold of the other. Both pulled with all their might, while he twisted and jerked at his chains. They struggled to keep their footing, feeling the pterosaur trying to pull away with all three of them. Then, with a wet crunching snap and a spray of blood, the tug of war flew apart. The pterosaur shrieked and fell backward out of sight, and the trio collapsed to the floor.
Cam sat up and shook his head, still stunned. He looked down at his manacles and saw what had happened. A pair of teeth eight inches long, their roots bloody and wet, had been caught in links of the chain and torn out.
He turned to find Alex fending off the remaining monster. It seemed unreal to watch the courageous woman keeping the ferocious bird-thing at bay, with nothing but a twirling yellow cloak. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as he stared in wonder.
With a sudden influx of noise and motion, the world rushed in again and he snapped to his senses. Alex yelled desperately. He snatched up one of the two teeth in his fist and rushed to her side. The beast was still distracted by her—it didn’t see his attack until it was too late. He stabbed his makeshift weapon deep into its eye. The thing let out a scream and its head collapsed on the ledge.
Then its whole body tumbled away, limp as a rag.
* * *
Alex exhaled in relief and turned to Cam.
“Nicely done, sir,” she said with a smile of admiration. He returned the smile, understanding her meaning if not her words.
“Salutatio,” he replied.
“Nell, are you okay?” Amber asked.
The newcomer nodded breathlessly and undid the chinstrap on her helmet, slipping it off gingerly. The faceguard had been torn clean away, and a line of pockmarks in the metal showed where the helmet had saved her head from being crushed.
* * *
Harcourt picked himself off the floor and retrieved his hat, while Simon sat up and leaned against the wall, holding his injured arm and eyeing the remains of his tattered left sleeve.
“Is it serious?” Harcourt asked him.
“The arm’s been better, but me poor sweet vintage coat got the worst of it,” Simon said unhappily.
“Here, let me take a look at—”
“There’s no time for that now!” Alex cut in. “We’ve got to get out as fast as we can, and right now.”
No one argued.
Amber hurried over to Merlin’s side. “Quick, help me get him up.” Cam saw what she was attempting and came over to lend a hand.
“What? You want to drag him along?” Simon scowled. “Come on, he’s as good as dead already.”
Alex frowned. “I hate to admit it, but he’s right, Amber. He’s unconscious and probably dying. He’ll just slow us down.”
Nellie and the Professor stood uncomfortably silent.
Amber looked up at them.
“Listen, I know what you’re saying, but please, you’ve got to believe me. He’s important. It’ll take too long to explain, just trust me, there’s more to him than we realize.”
“Whatever are you talking about?” Harcourt demanded.
“You wouldn’t understand—”
“Amber!” Alex said. “We don’t have time for this! Come on!”
Nellie looked to Alex, then to Amber.
“We can do it,” she said. “Go on, there’s a wagon just outside. We’ll be right behind you.” She joined in helping Amber and Cam lift the unconscious man. Alex frowned, but gave a quick nod.
“Right.” She turned to the others. “Come on then!”
They hurried down the steps.
Amber mouthed a silent thank you to Nellie, then she and Cam pulled Merlin’s unresisting body up to his feet. Each slung one of Merlin’s limp arms around their shoulders to carry him out, with Nellie trying to steady him from the front. After just a few wobbly steps, however, his legs and arms suddenly stiffened.
Nellie stared at his face in disbelief.
“Wait! He’s awake!”
She was right. The man had lifted his head, and for the first time, Amber noticed the latticework of tiny silvery hexagons stitching the lines of his wounds. His dark indigo eyes were still doing the same eerie falling-stars trick. She looked into them hopefully.
“It’s me, Amber. Do you remember? You contacted me.”
He frowned, peering at her without a hint of recognition. When he spoke, his deep voice crackled.
“The… E
vent. How much time?”
Amber looked to Nellie, but she was equally puzzled.
Merlin looked around at the belfry, at his rescuers. He turned to Cam, staring at him. Uncertain, the young Celt stared back and then spoke softly.
“Mat an traoù ganeoc’h ar bí, a dhrewdyh uasail?”
The man’s eyes fluttered for a moment, and then opened again.
“An Darvoud… Assa a-gensow? Kedhla pandr’a hwer?”
The two women were shocked to hear him respond fluently in Cam’s native tongue. The Celt shook his head and gave a longer answer in the same language as Amber and Nellie listened to their exchange in wonder. Then the man turned back to them and, without missing a beat, switched back to English.
“Where are we now?”
“We’re escaping from the Roundheads,” Amber answered. The man mulled this over for a moment.
“Yes… yes… that could work…”
“So, let’s go down these stairs, okay?” Amber suggested gently.
He looked at her as if she was the one touched in the head. “Yes, of course!” he cried out suddenly. “Let’s go down these stairs!” He immediately headed down the spiral stairs at a brisk clip. The three rushed to catch up with him. At the bottom he fairly threw open the door, but then stood there, frozen.
Alex, the professor, and Simon were there. So was a ring of some twenty or thirty Roundhead soldiers holding their firearms at the ready.
So, too, was Master Stearne.
31
The witch hunter looked on with malevolent approval, arms crossed, as the seven were made to kneel so the soldiers could bind their arms at the wrists with thick coarse rope. The villagers, re-emerging after the pterosaur attack, gathered to see the show.
“So thought you to terrorize us with winged gargoyles?” Stearne thundered for the benefit of his audience, striding up and down in front of the prisoners. “Bear away our children to the depths of Hell? Thought you that your hellish minions would aid in your escape? Your master Satan has failed you! The Father of Lies has betrayed you.” His gestures were sweeping, his oration theatrical.
