by Kate Gray
marrying his daughter? It was a question for some other time. For now, he had other things to worry over.
ॐ
Arras crept up, slowly, silently. He could not be certain what had befallen the men who had been riding away. There had been no sound of rifle fire, and he had seen no bodies as he’d crossed the distance between himself and Macconnach.
It cast a tangle of uncertainty over his plans, though not enough to dissuade him from proceeding. It was, to his mind, merely a case of greed turned to murder. That Macconnach and the girl would take part in such things was what muddied the waters.
Arras decided that he would have to be much more on his guard, and wished that he had taken the time to cultivate one of the enlisted men. If for nothing else, at least he would have had someone to take the first blows on his behalf.
The odds were at least more in his favor, with the other five men gone. Macconnach was the only real threat. The girl would be no trouble, and the native man was probably as soft as all the others Arras had met in Bengal. He would deal with the native first.
ॐ
“What is it?” She was surveying him apprehensively, thinking that perhaps he had sensed the beginnings of an attack.
“No, it isn’t that. I think we’ve a bit of time before our enemy makes itself known.”
“Then what?”
“I was only thinking of your father.”
“Not that again! We mustn’t be bothered about that right now.”
“No, I don’t mean to imply that. Has he ever told you his hopes for you, or how your future is meant to be secured?”
“Major, I do not know that now is the time for such a conversation.”
“I get the distinct impression from him that he would far prefer to see you live as freely as any man.”
Isabel paused in the midst of forming some quick retort. This was what she had been running away from, as soon as she had turned fifteen. More than seven years later, she had not stopped, not reconsidered, not allowed for any alternative.
With what result, she wondered? Just shy of turning twenty-three, she had easily forgone plans for the ball season. Her vision of the future had always worn blinders, ignoring any and all suitors with ruthless ignorance. Alex had once joked to her that anyone with serious intent would need to engage in guerrilla warfare. Perhaps that was what she was currently facing.
“You have been privy to my father’s thoughts on his daughter, have you?”
“I have, because he now faces the second half of his life, and has seen his wife taken cruelly from him. He does not wish the same fate for you.”
“You do not know of what you speak. You never knew my mother!”
ॐ
Arras could hear them arguing. Just as well. It would be far easier to take them by surprise if they were distracted. He paid little attention to what they said. Didn’t matter, really, as long as they were willing to keep talking and tell him where the gold was.
It would be gold. That he was convinced of. These Hindus were all but obsessed with the stuff. He’d seen a wedding in Calcutta, the bride must have had thirty pounds of gold on her.
It was a wondrous thought. The lost treasure of the lost raja. He would be on his way back home by dawn, the girl with him. He smiled inwardly at the thought of setting sail, and bidding farewell to this wretched land forever.
Forward, forward, forward. His mind began to glitter with possibilities.
ॐ
Perhaps. Perhaps there was no fruit to be borne in talking to her this way. She was of an uncommonly defiant nature. Macconnach sighed.
Arpan was still pretending to hear nothing, pacing around on the lookout for danger, one would imagine. Isabel stood across from Macconnach, her fists clenched, cheeks flushed. He resolved to try one last time.
ॐ
Arras rose up behind the native man, arm raised to strike as he came to his full height. Just as he straightened, his toes lost their purchase, and he slipped a fraction before righting himself.
It was a tiny noise, a slight crunch of dirt and stone, surely not enough to raise an alarm, but no; the other man began to turn. Arras panicked and struck too early; a blow glanced off his arm, and he met nothing but air. He howled in pain and fury, and lunged forward.
ॐ
Macconnach saw the first exchange from the corner of his eye. Isabel only heard the angry sound of someone in pain; they turned together to see Arpan struggling with someone who was quite human.
“Is that not that one of my father’s men?”
“It is. A Spanish officer. I beg your pardon.” He hefted up his rifle in favor of the sword, and rushed over to Arpan.
One solid blow of the rifle’s butt staggered the Spaniard, and sent him to his knees. Macconnach then leveled the barrel of the rifle on the other man’s cheek.
“Captain Arras, if I am not mistook.” Arras spat on the ground at Macconnach’s feet. “I shall take that as an affirmative. Colonel, you are not injured, I hope.”
At that, Arras started, and rolled his eyes over to Arpan in some measure of shock.
“Just a scratch, Major. I believe the captain may require a bandage, however.”
“I need nothing from you,” Arras hissed. “I wonder whether the general gave you orders to commit murder in his name, though.” He smiled as though he had every reason to. Macconnach stared at him in utter amazement.
“I have no thoughts of depriving you of your life, Arras. I only wish to know why you are here.” The smile faded from Arras’ face. He looked at the three of them, and swore in his native tongue.
“You mean to defy me, then. Very well. Tell me where it is, and I shall try to leave Miss Alderton’s honor intact.”
Isabel pushed past the two men to Arras.
“I daresay I heard you wrong. Would you care to repeat yourself?”
“Where is it?!? You greedy English pigs! How dare you!”
That was enough for all of them, but Isabel reached him first, and kicked him soundly in the jaw. Arpan gently reeled her back away from Arras, but not before he scrabbled at them both, and came to his feet holding one of the kukri knives they’d been carrying.
“You tell me, and I will go.” He was raving.
“Tell you what, you fool?”
“The gold!!!” He screamed this, now fully over the edge into pain-filled rage. Again, he was met with silent incredulity. Doubt began to creep in, but he was not yet ready to surrender. “Why else, then? Why did you ride out here with the natives, all in secret? Everyone knows that the raja of that cursed palace must have buried his treasure out here somewhere!”
He took some few steps backwards. The sun caught his eyes as it sparkled on the horizon one last brief moment, and then it winked its sleepy eye into slumber. He blinked, and stumbled a few more steps back.
“Captain, you have us all wrong.” Arpan began to speak, trying for a soothing tone, but Arras bared his teeth and snarled,
“You, whatever you are, silence yourself!”
“Arras, you are speaking to a member of Lord General Wellington’s staff. You might do well to silence yourself.”
There was a dangerous edge to Macconnach’s voice now, one Isabel had not yet had occasion to hear. This was the final straw for Arras. He could feel the ground turning to sand beneath him, and all his plans slipped away.
No, it wasn’t just despair, he realized, and looked down. His feet had disappeared under a layer of silt, and he could feel himself sinking further.
“Help me!”
“I see. First demands for gold, now pleas for help. You shall be quite lucky if the general doesn’t see you hanged.”
“Major! Look at his legs!” Isabel pointed, and Macconnach saw. The Spaniard was up to his ankles in the dirt.
“Is it quicksand?”
“In the hills? Good grief! No, there must be a cave, or a sinkhole. Quickly, get hold of him!” He was by then trapped up to his shins, then his thighs. They all tugged on him to no
avail.
“I can feel something. It is pulling….” In a thrice, he was gone. Isabel cried out, breathing raggedly. Arpan drew his sword.
“The hour is here.” Macconnach closed his eyes for a moment. “Be on guard. I sense its approach.”
“I would feel a little better about this if it were not just three of us, facing an unspecified danger.”
“Colonel, I thank you for counting me in your number, and I cannot but agree.” Isabel picked up the kukri that Arras had dropped, and drew out her little pistol.
They stood back to back, waiting, feeling the breathless anticipation that is the companion of dread. A few moments later, a rustling sounded downhill and caught their attention.
ॐ
They all tensed, ready for the unknown. Isabel could feel a sickening weight shifting from her chest into her belly. She was not certain whether she could face all this.
Idly, she wondered if every soldier felt such wrenching fear before battle. The noise grew louder, and she gritted her teeth. She would have to live long enough to ask some of them. Two forms sprang from the brush.
“Ranajit! What in heaven’s name are you doing here?”
“Miss Isabel, your father sent me. He found that one of his men had seemed to follow after you, and wished us to track that man.”
“If you mean Captain Arras, you’re too late.” Macconnach pointed to the spot which had swallowed the Spaniard up. Ranajit frowned.
“Major sahib, I do not understand.”
“I’m afraid we’ve not the time to explain. Suffice to say, we’re not to worry about Arras. There may be far worse trials ahead.” Macconnach put his hand on Ranajit’s
