Hammer of the Witch

by Dakota Chase

  That wooden frame was going to make excellent tinder.

  After placing the tankards down—carefully—I slid the coil of rope from my shoulder to the ground. Then I went over to the frame. It took me really putting my back into it, but I managed to knock it over. I cringed and hoped nobody heard the resulting bang as the heavy wood fell and broke apart, or the metallic clang of the manacles hitting the stone floor.

  I picked up the tankards again and placed them on opposite ends of the pile of wood that used to be the frame. Then I pulled the knife from my boot and uncoiled the length of rope. It took some sawing at the rope with the knife to cut it into two roughly equal lengths, each about twenty-five feet long.

  Long enough, I hoped, for me to get the hell out of there before the flame hit the black powder. I wasn’t sure how long it would take the rope to burn—I’d had Wilhelm soak it with oil.

  I put one end of the rope in the black power and then trailed the twin lengths across the room and out the front door. I took a deep, calming breath, then pulled out the striker and flint from my pouch.

  It took a couple of strikes before I got a spark to catch on one of the ropes. A flame flickered to life, a smoky burn because of the oil. I held the end of the second rope to the first. The flame was already licking its way down the first rope by the time the second one caught. Then I dropped it and ran like hell.

  Chapter Twenty

  I WAS almost a block away when the explosion came. I felt it before I heard it, a huge hollow boom that shook the ground under my feet. I spun around and saw the front of the courthouse blow out into the street, followed by a roiling cloud of thick black smoke.

  Voices began to shout almost immediately.

  “Fire! Fire!”

  “There’s a fire at the courthouse!”

  Although I wanted to watch, I couldn’t stay. I ran as fast as I could, but not back to the alley where I’d left Samson and the cartful of men. Instead I headed to the manor. I hid behind the kitchen, knowing I couldn’t be seen in the darkness there, and watched as servants and guards began to hurry from the main house. They made a steady stream, and every one of them headed toward the plume of smoke rising into the sky at the courthouse. I was once again grateful for the bright moon, which made it easy for them to see where the fire was burning.

  I silently prayed the only thing burning was the wooden frame, but I couldn’t be sure. I might’ve set the roof on fire. I know I punched a hole in it with the explosives. Unfortunately, I couldn’t be worried about the fire spreading. There were more important things for me to do right now, like sneaking into the manor house now that it looked like all the guards had left.

  There was movement near the far corner of the building. I squinted and saw Wilhelm and the farmers coming up the walk. They stayed close to the side of the building, partly camouflaged by the shadows. All of them were carrying weapons—scythes, mallets, axes, and pitchforks. They were farming tools, sure, but I’d seen enough horror movies to know they could inflict serious damage in a pinch.

  I hurried across the courtyard and caught up with them just as they were ready to enter the house. I had to go first—I was the only one who knew the way to the basement where the dungeon was located.

  We entered through the back door and went left, to where the narrow, dark staircase led to the lower level. The wall sconce candle was lit, providing a little light.

  Wilhelm handed me an ax. “Tread lightly. We do not wish to warn guards who might remain down there of our approach.”

  I nodded and clutched the heavy ax to my chest, hoping I wouldn’t need to use it and doubting I could even if I did.

  We were as quiet as a group of heavy-footed farmers could be. Stealth wasn’t exactly their forte, not that I was a ninja or anything either. To my ears, we sounded like a herd of elephants traipsing down the stairs, although I’m pretty sure we weren’t actually that loud.

  But silent we definitely weren’t.

  “Who’s there? Is that you, Frederick? What was that big noise?” a guard called to us just as my foot hit the bottom stair.

  I didn’t answer. Instead I screamed as loudly as I could, raised my ax, and rushed into the corridor. Everyone behind me took that as their cue and stampeded after me, yelling at the top of their lungs. I was hoping the guard would see the screeching, ax-wielding maniac running toward him and be shocked into immobility.

  Wrong. Oh, so wrong.

  The guard was surprised, definitely. I could see the shock on his face, but unlike myself, his reaction to the sudden appearance of a group of armed farmers was to pull his sword from its sheath and brandish it. “Who are you? Halt! Halt, I say!”

  I skidded to a stop just out of range of his long sword. “Put your weapon down. You’re outnumbered. You can’t win!”

  “What are you doing in here? Where is Frederick and the rest?”

  “There’s been a fire at the courthouse. They’ll be no help to you,” Wilhelm said. “Set aside your weapon and let us pass peacefully. There’s no need for blood to be shed here tonight.”

  “I am sworn to guard the prisoners!” The guard’s lips said “no,” but his expression said “let me the hell out of here!” He took a step backward, then tossed his sword to the ground, sliding it toward us. Wilhelm stooped to pick it up.

  “You were overwhelmed. There were too many of us,” I said, unable to hold back a relieved smile. “Nobody will blame you. Go on now.” I opened the first door to the right. “Get in here, and we’ll lock you in. Oh, by the way, which door leads to the cells where the accused are kept?”

  “Uh, um…,” he stammered and looked confused.

  “The accused. The witches. Where are they?” I frowned at him and hefted my ax.

  “Oh, ah, last door on the left.”

  “Okay, then. Give me the keys, and get inside.”

  He did as I ordered, handing me his ring of keys before he went into the room. He was even helpful enough to show me which key would lock the door.

  After locking him in, I led the group to the last door on the left, the one that led to the cells, and handed my ax to Wilhelm. The first key didn’t unlock this door, and it took me a few moments of fumbling with skeleton keys until I found the right one.

  The stench was worse on the other side of the door. I noticed the difference immediately and pitied those people, including Grant, who’d been stuck there since yesterday or even earlier. I took my ax back from Wilhelm and hurried down the hall, ignoring the stench, looking left and right as I trotted. “Grant? Grant, where are you?”

  “Ash? Is that you? Oh my God! You did it! You actually did it!”

  The happy cry was coming from my right. I ran to the bars and found Grant grinning at me from the other side.

  Even in the dim light, I could see the shocked relief in his eyes. I knew exactly what he was feeling—I was shocked I’d pulled it off too. We weren’t out of the woods yet, of course. We wouldn’t be until we were safely away from Trier. No, make that not until we were safely back in our own time. That’s when we could let our guard down and relax. Still, at that moment all I wanted to do was break down the door, grab him, and kiss him silly.

  There was so much I wanted to tell him. I wanted to talk his ear off, tell him all about how scared I was, how I’d stolen the cloak, rode Samson, convinced Wilhelm and the men to come back to Trier with me, concocted and carried out the plan to use Meier’s black powder to create a diversion.

  What I managed to say was “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, but get me out of here. You got the key, right?”

  “Of course I have the key. Do I look stupid to you?”

  “Don’t be a jerk. Just open the door!”

  And there went my romantic daydream of kissing him, right out the proverbial window, replaced by my usual daydream of knocking him on his butt. “Shut up or I’ll leave you in there.”

  He lowered his voice. “Come on, man. It’s Irmla. She’s sick. We need to get her out of here now
.”

  “Shit!” I glanced over my shoulder at Wilhelm, wondering if he’d heard. Not that it mattered—he’d find out in a minute anyway. “Okay, I’m hurrying.”

  It took two tries to find the right key, but then the bolt slid free and the door opened. Then suddenly Grant’s arms were around me, pulling me to the side as the rest of the men streamed into the room, led by Wilhelm.

  Grant pushed me to the bars, then, after glancing over his shoulder, brushed his lips against mine. “To be continued,” he whispered.

  And just like that, I was thinking about kissing him again. The back and forth swinging of my emotional pendulum was making me freaking crazy.

  He smiled at me and led me over to another familiar face. Brida hugged her father, who held her as if he might never let go again. It warmed my heart to see the love he so obviously had for her, even in this world where women were treated badly so often.

  Tears did well up as I watched Wilhelm kneel next to his wife and stroke Irmla’s face with gentle tenderness. “Irmla? You’ll be well soon. You’ll see. We’re taking you home now.” He got into a crouch, slipped his arms under Irmla, and lifted her into his arms. “Come, all of you! Help those who can’t walk. We are leaving this hellhole.”

  With Brida at his side, Wilhelm led most of the accused out of the cell. I smiled at Grant, hurried to the door on the other side of the hallway, and unlocked it. “Hurry!” I called out to urge the people there to follow the others.

  There were about twenty people in all. I wondered if the gray horses might be hard-pressed to pull all that weight in a single cart, but then again, most of these people were barely skin and bones. Grant could ride on Samson with me. I wanted to feel him close to me anyway, although I was not about to tell him so.

  Later, maybe, I’d let myself think about how scared I’d been. Scared I’d fail, scared he’d suffer. Scared I’d lose him forever.

  You know, stupid sappy crap like that.

  For now, I had to concentrate. This wasn’t over yet. We had to get out, cut through town, get over the bridge, and be safely somewhere in the country where Meier and von Schönenberg’s men couldn’t find us.

  “You still have the book, right?” Grant’s voice, tight with agitation, brought me back to the present.

  “Of course I do.” I patted my pouch, where the Malleus Maleficarum still rested. I hadn’t let the damn thing out of my possession since I picked it up in von Schönenberg’s bedroom. “Do I look stupid to you?”

  He smirked. “Not always, but looks can be deceiving.”

  “I will put you right back in the cell where I found you, so help me.”

  “Ass.”

  Funny, but even as irritated as I was becoming, that stupid nickname never sounded so good. I huffed, trying to cover how I really felt. “Come on, we have to move. The guards won’t be distracted by the diversion for long.”

  “Diversion?”

  “It’s a long story. All you need to know right now is that you’re being rescued by a bona fide genius superhero. Now, come on! Let’s go.” I urged him after the last couple of prisoners, an old woman being held by a younger man.

  We made our way to the main hall and up the rickety, narrow staircase without seeing anyone. It was only when we’d reached the first floor of the manor that a startled scream froze my heart.

  A servant girl stood in the foyer with a bucket of water in her hands. It splashed over the rim, forming a puddle at her feet. She stared at us with big, round eyes full of fear.

  “Shh, girl. Be silent. We’re no threat to you.” Wilhelm spoke to her sternly, reminding me of an irritated father lecturing a daughter who’d broken the house rules. “Behave and get on about your work.”

  His sharp tone may have served to pull her out of her shock at seeing all the prisoners escaping, but it couldn’t account for what she said next. Her voice was little more than a whisper, but I heard it clearly. “Good luck and Godspeed.” Then she nodded, turned on her heel, and walked away, toting the heavy, sloshing bucket of sudsy water with her.

  It seemed maybe we weren’t the only ones who knew the prisoners were innocent.

  Outside the house, the wind carried the sound of shouts and bellows from two streets over, where my diversion was lighting up the night sky. The roof must’ve caught fire. I hoped it didn’t catch to any other homes. The last thing I wanted was to be the cause of the Great Trier Fire or something. I’d be stuck here until I could undo it, which would be pretty much impossible if the whole city was reduced to embers. Plus, I really, really didn’t want to be responsible for anybody getting hurt.

  Grant tugged on my arm. “Is that your diversion?”

  I nodded. “That would be it.”

  “I never took you for a firebug.”

  “That’s because I’m not. I didn’t set a fire—just an explosion.”

  He gaped at me. “An explosion?”

  “Just a little one.” I shrugged and frowned. “I guess it was a bit bigger than I’d anticipated. I’m sure they’ll have it under control in no time. Look, we can talk about it later. Right now, we have to get out of here!” I grabbed his arm and tugged him along. We ran after the procession of prisoners around the corner of the building to the alley between the manor and the church where we’d left the cart and horses.

  I hoped they were still there. If they were gone, wandered off or stolen, we were royally screwed.

  Turns out, luck was still on our side. The grays and the cart stood placidly waiting exactly where we’d left them. Samson, his reins wrapped around one of the logs making up the side of the cart, remained as well. From his flicking tail and ears, he didn’t look pleased to have been left there so long, though.

  I noticed the basket of carrots on his side of the cart was completely empty. Greedy horse. He didn’t even leave one for the grays to split between them.

  “Hey, Samson. Good boy.” I patted his neck, but he turned his massive head and snorted at me. Yup, he was annoyed. Oh well, he’d have to deal. Right now he had to get us the hell out of Trier.

  I climbed up onto the wheel of the cart and slid my leg over Samson’s saddle, then looked down at Grant. “Come on! Time’s wasting. If I can do it, you can do it. Get up here.”

  He looked at me as if I had two heads. “I didn’t know you knew how to ride!”

  “I didn’t, not until now.” I shrugged. “It’s not so hard. Now, come on, we have to get moving.”

  Kruger and Wilhelm had piled all the farmers and Brida into the cart. Irmla was lying back there as well, her ride cushioned by as much hay as Wilhelm could gather into a pile.

  I, for one, was shocked. I’d thought every one of the people imprisoned and due to go to trial would’ve wanted to escape in the cart, but none of them did. They had family in Trier, and most of them opted to stay and take their chances. I couldn’t really blame them. They had parents living here, spouses, children. A few just shook their heads and ran off. I guess they either thought their chances to escape were better on their own than in a group, or they just didn’t trust us enough to stay with us.

  We wished them all luck as they began disappearing into the shadowed streets. The last to go was the old woman, who was still being aided by the man. Brida said he was her son, which explained why he wouldn’t leave her.

  Kruger flicked the reins over the backs of the grays, and the fully loaded cart lurched forward. The wheels creaked over the furrowed road, heading to the main street. We would turn right, heading away from the commotion at the courthouse, and weave our way through town toward the wharfs. It would be a short ride from there to the bridge. I silently prayed we’d make it before anyone at the courthouse realized something was screwy in Trier.

  Really, though, how long could our luck hold out?

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “ARE YOU sure you can handle this big guy? He’s beautiful but enormous.” I reached around Ash to pat Samson’s neck. This was actually a magnificent animal. My father would’ve paid
a fortune for a horse like this one. Spirited, great coat, perfect conformation—I stand corrected. He would’ve paid two fortunes.

  “Him? He’s a pussycat. We’ve become good friends, right, big guy?” As if Ash had been riding all his life, he clucked his tongue and tapped his heels against Samson’s sides. Samson ambled forward, breaking into a trot.

  I wasn’t used to riding single let alone double, and bounced pretty hard, praying I wouldn’t fall off and crack my skull open. Ash would never let me forget it if I did.

  One thing was for certain—our job here wasn’t done yet. If it had been, Merlin’s magic would’ve whisked us home the minute we rescued the prisoners. I wondered about the prisoners we’d rescued, the ones who were heading toward their homes. Would they all be recaptured later? Would they die anyway?

  I didn’t think so. Chances were good that somehow, when we’d interfered with history and gotten Irmla and Brida arrested, we’d begun a domino effect—a string of circumstances that resulted in these people being arrested when they otherwise would not have been. At least I hoped that was the case, or we were never going to get freaking home.

  Selfish, I know, but I really, really wanted to go back to my own time. Ash and I didn’t belong here. We just weren’t accustomed to living in the 1500s. I missed refrigerated food, indoor plumbing, and toilet paper. A guy just doesn’t understand how much he could miss toilet paper until he doesn’t have any. Oh, and a toothbrush and toothpaste. My mouth tasted like ass.