by Hays, Lara
A burning pain crossed my waist, telling me it was time to rest. I fought against the stitch, forcing my legs to keep pumping. My breath came out in shallow spurts. I crashed through the underbrush, weaving through the row of buildings, running away from the harbor.
The path ended in a jam of buildings. I could turn left and follow the road that Mendoza had dragged me down, but that seemed too obvious. I darted to the right only to be stopped by a six-foot high fence. Resolutely, I dropped my club on the ground, grabbed the top of the fence with my hands and hoisted myself up with all my strength, my feet slipping against the smooth wood. My arms refused to hold my weight and I dropped back into the grass.
I spun around, staring at my options. I could return the way I came, a direct path to the church. It was the easiest course of action; and the riskiest. I could try climbing the fence again. Or, I could backtrack down the grass alleyway, hoping to find an easier way to divert my course. As I eyed the grass path, my ears prickled at a distant sound. It was the swooshing sound of someone trampling through long grass.
I was being followed.
I needed to move!
Grasping the pointed tops of the fence planks, I thrust myself upwards again. My feet scrambled but finally found a hold. One at a time, I threw my arms over the fence, the pointy wood stabbing into my armpits. I inched upwards. When my waist was level with the top of the fence, I threw myself headfirst to the other side. I landed loudly on a pile of rubbish. A startled dog announced my position as I picked myself up and stumbled across the street.
No longer able to fight against the pain in my side, I slowed my pace to a steady jog. I tossed reckless glances over my shoulder, looking for a pursuing shadow. No one was behind me. After a few confusing turns, Mendoza would lose my trail, and then I would be free to search for Nicholas.
I loped passed three drunkards, keeping my distance from them. As soon as I had passed them, a booming voice broke through the darkness.
“Stop her! She’s a thief!”
The voice did not startle me nearly as much as the direction from which it hailed. Rather than being behind me, Mendoza’s voice was directly in front of me.
I skidded to a halt and took several steps backwards. I couldn’t see him but I knew he was there. I looked behind me only to see the three drunken men closing in. Mendoza definitely knew the exact thing to say for action.
I frantically searched for a way out. I dared not run forward. I had underestimated Mendoza’s speed, but I was not foolish enough to underestimate his strength. I turned quickly, running at full speed towards the three men, in the direction of the docks. I tucked my head and barreled easily through the inebriated trio.
Mendoza’s deep voice muttered a string of obscenities as I dashed away. I hugged the left side of the street where the shadows were the darkest, though there was not much point in being stealthy just yet.
The pain in my side sharpened. I couldn’t ignore it much longer. Pinching my waist in between my thumb and fingers, I pushed on.
I saw an intersection ahead. I ran hard, veering towards the center of the street so Mendoza could easily see the direction I took. At the intersection, I cut sharply to the left, almost losing my balance. My legs numb, I sprinted hard, then dashed around the corner of a stone building and hid.
My instincts raged inside, telling me to run. It took all my willpower to stay hidden against the stone wall.
I was winded and my breathing was heavy and loud. I couldn’t hold my breath for more than a few seconds at a time, but I kept trying so I could listen for Mendoza. In those quiet seconds, all I could hear was my thumping heart. I tried to muffle it with my hands, hoping it wasn’t truly as deafening as it sounded. I was sure it would betray me.
The light padding of footfalls on dirt caught my attention. He was coming closer. My plan worked. I perched on the balls of my feet, ready for action.
I held my breath as the footsteps passed me. I counted my heartbeats, though they were almost too rapid to track. I reached one-hundred-and-ten before I dared to let myself take a controlled breath. I was so focused on standing still and listening to my heart that I had forgotten to listen for the directions the footsteps took. Holding my breath again, I opened my eyes and listened hard.
The silence grew to a deafening din. I couldn’t even hear the ocean waves crashing in the distance or crickets chirping in the night. All was eerily still. Mendoza was gone.
Or, he was silently waiting for me to emerge.
The more I thought about it, the more I was convinced he was waiting for me, just around the corner. As soon as I ventured out, a burly arm would grab me and never let go.
I dared not move. I measured every breath, inhaling and exhaling with steady discipline. It took all my energy. My lungs were bursting, wanting to pant heavily.
He was waiting for me, I was certain. But, I realized, he was not positive I was here. If he were, I would be in his clutches now. No, he was standing frozen in the middle of the street, waiting for me to let down my guard enough to move.
This was a waiting game then. I would win. I would stay silent, stay still. After enough time, Mendoza would doubt himself and venture off to track me.
So I waited.
I distracted myself by counting heartbeats again, trying to identify rare sounds in the night—like the sound of a bird flapping its wings and the distant tolling of a bell. The minutes moved like molasses. Every moment I spent here was a moment wasted. Nicholas could be on his way to the church now. He could be there any minute. He might have already...I didn’t finish the thought.
I stared into the sky, expecting to see a lightening in the east signaling the sunrise. The air was still thick with night. How long had I been awake? It felt like forever, but the darkness told me there was still time before the dawn. Time was all I had. I hoped I still had enough.
Was Mendoza still waiting for me in the street? I had not heard anything for such a long time. I needed to move, to take action, but it was a huge risk. If I were caught now, there would be no mercy, no chance to warn Nicholas.
Just a little longer, I would wait just a little longer. I deliberated my next move, allowing myself to take action as soon as I had a clear plan. I could find my way back to the road the church was on and work backwards from there. That would be the best way to intercept Nicholas, but at the same time, it was also the most dangerous. Mendoza knew I had no regard for my own life—my sole reason of escape was to warn Nicholas of the danger at the church. Mendoza would be waiting there for me, planning to ambush me before I could catch Nicholas. I could not risk going near the church.
Instead, I could wind through town and cross Black’s trail at an earlier point. There was a chance Nicholas hadn’t even started searching for me yet. Maybe if I found my way back to the inn, I could stop him from ever embarking. That was my only choice, to pick my way through unfamiliar streets, hoping to find a location I had only been to once.
I inhaled deeply, trying to settle my nerves. Time was ticking away. I needed to move swiftly, but smartly. I peeked around the corner of the building. Just as I hoped, no one was there.
Cautiously, I tiptoed down the street, scrutinizing every shadow. I strained to hear any noise the night would reveal. I walked along the oceanfront until I reached another intersection, then turned left, hoping to travel parallel to the church street and eventually cut over. I was frustrated to see that the road curved unexpectedly to the right.
It was not long until I was lost.
I quickened my pace, fearing I had gone too far. I found a cross street that seemed to lead in the direction of the church street. I took it.
I was surprised by how empty the city was. In a pirate town where society’s rules did not apply, I expected revelers to be carousing all through the night. It was a little unnerving, but I decided it was a lucky turn of events. If the streets had been full of strangers, I would not know whether I was being followed, and I might have a harder time navigating the town
.
As I hurried down the street, I ducked under a low hanging sign before realizing I had been here earlier. With Black. The sign advertised a blacksmith shop. A horseshoe hung like the letter “U” from the bottom, letting the illiterate know the trade of the business. Black had threaded a piece of my hair through that horseshoe.
But the hair was gone.
Nicholas had found the trail.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
I sprang forward, running for the church, praying there was still time.
I anticipated the next landmark and searched quickly for the bunch of hair. It, too, was gone. I ran harder, ignoring the two other markers. I sped down the road, turning briskly on the street where the church was located. In the darkness, I searched for any movement. Every beat of my heart sent out a prayer, pleading to see a lone figure in the darkness. As the outline of the church came into relief, I saw the door swing shut.
“Nicholas!” I screamed, not wanting to believe what I just saw.
It was too late. He had already entered the church. By only seconds, I was too late.
“No! Nicholas!” I yelled as loudly as I could, my screams scorching my throat. It didn’t matter who heard me now. My reason for secrecy was gone.
I dashed to the church and hurtled myself against the door. It was bolted shut. “Nicholas, no! He’ll kill you!”
“Tessa?” My heart skipped a beat at the sound of his voice. He was alive. Nicholas sounded disbelieving and ecstatic at the same time.
“Nicholas, it’s me. You need to get out of there! Black is going to kill you.” I hoped my warnings weren’t futile.
“Run away, Tessa. I will find you. Just get out of here!” Panic tinged his voice. The fight for his life had begun.
I threw myself at the door again, noticing it gave a little. I remembered how rotten the boards were. With enough pressure, the door would surely break down.
Muffled voices and the sounds of furniture scraping across the floor came from inside the church. I listened for the sounds of a fight—the clanking metal of swords, the thud of fists falling, or the dreaded boom of a pistol. But I only heard a small noise behind me.
It was Mendoza.
His hulking figure, perfectly silhouetted in the night, crept towards me. His presence annoyed me more than threatened me. Fighting for my own life at a time like this was just a distraction. I shifted my weight to my toes, preparing to flee. Mendoza’s knees bent slightly in response. He was going to pounce. He couldn’t outrun me, but if he threw himself at me, there was no way to escape the strength of his mass.
Quickly calculating his intentions, I jerked slightly, spurring Mendoza to take action. In that moment, he did just what I expected. The full force of his brawn slammed into me. His tackle launched us both into the church door, which caved in from the force, rotten wood splintering all around us.
We skidded across the floor, crashing into a pew. The crack of buckling wood followed us. The pew had rammed into a rotten support column. I screamed and threw my arms over my head as heavy beams broke from the ceiling and buried me.
I was falling fast and the world was spinning around me. Sounds were distant, like the buzzing of a fly in the background. I couldn’t be sure, but I thought I heard my name. I felt as though I was spinning, free-falling through the air. But I could feel the floor beneath my back and a crushing weight on top of me. My arms wrapped around a heavy square beam across my chest. I hugged it tightly, trying to stop the sensation of falling.
I opened my eyes. Though I could not see anything but blackness, I could sense the stack of wood on top of me, a large beam only inches from my face. It was enough to help me reorient myself. The spinning stopped. I was lying still, buried beneath the collapsed roof of the church.
I choked for air, realizing I had not been breathing. Though I opened my mouth and sucked in eagerly, the crushing pile of wood prevented the air from getting to my lungs. I tried again and again, desperately sucking air in through my mouth, yet still suffocating.
I struggled against the weight that pinned me to the ground. A heavy beam lay diagonally across my torso—from my left shoulder to my right hip. I couldn’t feel my legs. I could move my arms, but my left arm was practically useless with my shoulder pinned so solidly against the floor. The beam crossed my right arm near my elbow, allowing me more motion. I managed to place my right palm under the beam, my arm bent at the elbow and wrist, coiled like a spring. Grunting with air I could not afford to waste, I pressed as hard as I could against the beam. It raised just enough for my lungs to expand. I inhaled deeply, but the air wasn’t right. A fit of coughing overtook me and I dropped the beam back onto my chest.
“Tessa!” It was Nicholas. His voice was loud and demanding.
I tried to respond, but I couldn’t stop coughing.
The muted sounds around me erupted into a loud din. It was as if I were in the middle of a waterfall, a rush of noise enveloping me. I heard angry voices but could not determine what was said.
The weight on me shifted and my view was no longer blocked by wooden boards. Brilliant orange spread across the hazy air above me. The sun must finally be rising, I thought. This night had lasted long enough. I wedged my arm under the beam on my chest and pressed it up again. Poisonous air burned my throat, making me cough, but I did not drop the beam. Again the weight on me shifted, and I made out the blurry shape of a figure standing over me.
The beam on top of me disappeared, and I fell back in exhaustion, coughing more and more with each breath I took. My eyes burned and tiny tears trickled from their corners.
The shape over me—I knew it to be Nicholas—latched his hands under my arms and pulled. My body shifted a few inches, but my lifeless legs seemed to anchor me down. Nicholas disappeared from my line of sight. Suddenly, I could feel my legs again. Hot pain rushed through them. Nicholas hooked his hands under my arms again and pulled me free from the remaining debris.
He tossed me over his shoulder and staggered for a few steps before collapsing onto the ground, spilling me in the process. Between the rasps of my own coughing, I heard him coughing too. I wiped away the moisture pouring from my eyes and tried to see what was going on. I squinted against the haze, seeing that the front half of the church had collapsed. Nicholas had pulled me from the rubble, but I could see a twisted arm tangled in with the beams. Mendoza. I turned my head to look at the back of the church, my eyes stinging instantly.
The church was on fire.
Angry orange flames licked at the walls and ceiling, cornering us against the slope of the collapsed roof. Rolling black smoke undulated above us.
I struggled to my feet, desperate to run. My legs wouldn’t work and I scrambled aimlessly on the floor. I gasped for breath only to inhale fumes. Nicholas grabbed my shoulder and yanked me towards the ground. I felt his hand press against the back of my head, pushing my nose to the floor. The air was cleaner here and I managed to take a few shallow breaths. I turned my head and glanced at him sideways. He held an arm across his face, using his sleeve as a filter. I copied him and buried my nose in my elbow as I slowly sat erect.
Our eyes locked. This was it. This was the end. He’d saved me and I’d saved him, only to die here in each other’s arms, sealing our fate with fire. It was poetic, albeit tragic.
The fire popped and another beam plummeted from the ceiling. Nicholas grabbed me to his chest, shielding me from the spray of fiery cinders. Our eyes met again, fear and panic raging behind the stinging tears.
“I love you,” I choked out.
Nicholas shook his head fiercely. “No,” he said. “Not like this.”
He rose to his feet, crouching low to avoid the black smoke. He hooked my left arm around his neck and supported my waist, helping me stand as well as I could. I ignored the searing pain in my legs and let him lead me several steps to a section of wall that was not on fire—yet. Roaring flames ate their way towards us. I cringed against the boiling heat.
Stooping low, Nicholas set
me down and filled his lungs as best he could. With both arms protecting his face, he stood tall and faced away from the wall. He raised his knee, then shot his leg out behind him, kicking the wall like a mule. Despite the roar of the fire, I heard the boards groan. He kicked it again and his foot broke through the rotting wood. With a few more well-placed kicks, there was a hole big enough to fit through.
I felt a cool gust of wind on my face and drank in the fresh air, just to cough it out again. The breeze fueled the blaze and the fire danced closer. I was afraid it would consume our escape route before we could crawl out.
Nicholas roughly shoved me through the hole in the wall. I coughed deeply, expelling the smoke from my lungs and breathing in the sweet outside air. I was so absorbed with breathing that I barely noticed the surge of people surrounding me. They helped Nicholas through the small hole and dragged us away from hungry flames of the burning church.
Safe on the other side of the street, Nicholas and I sat, huddled together, with a crowd of spectators standing behind us. The fire brigade raced around the disaster, desperate to prevent the flames from spreading. The hazy sunrise was as vivid as the flames before us. The whole world was on fire.
Nicholas’s arm found its way around me and I tucked my head under his chin. Our labored breathing grew even. We sat there for hours, just watching buildings burn.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
“Ooh,” I cringed at the sound of the metal snipping. “Not too much.”
“I have to make it even,” Nicholas said.
The scissors snapped again.
After a solid twenty hours of sleep, a hot bath, and a full meal, it was time to cut my hair.
I smoothed my hand down the back of my head, feeling where my hair stopped short halfway down my neck.
“I told you to keep your hands away,” Nicholas reprimanded impatiently.
I sullenly clasped my hands in my lap.
