Blood and Oak- Wolves Will Eat

by Garrett Bettencourt

  “I don’t belong here,” murmured Ethan. “I don’t deserve this.”

  “Get up!” snapped the Djedid guard.

  “Go to Hell.” Ethan’s lips curled back from his teeth. “You hear me? Go to Hell!”

  Ethan launched at Bony Nose, barreling his chained fists into the soldier’s stomach. The shorter and skinnier Djedid staggered back against the wall. Before Ethan could throw another punch, Shark Eyes chopped his musket across Ethan’s back, then jabbed the gun butt into Ethan’s jaw. Stars scattered across Ethan’s vision. Sound turned muted as he collapsed on hands and knees. A foot kicked his side. He flopped on his stomach as both Djedid kicked him again and again. When they stopped, Ethan was curled into a ball, wheezing and spitting blood.

  Satisfied with their prisoner’s submission, the guards dragged Ethan by the armpits across a straw-covered floor. They passed through a barracks filled with bunks stacked three high. The beds were made without a wrinkle. Dunnage chests were placed at each footboard. Weapon stands with muskets and scimitars stood in the wider rows. A candle burned on a table in another, a meal of bulgur and coffee left forgotten. With all the commotion outside, the room was empty save Ethan and his captors. They were dragging him toward a pair of double doors flanked by torches crackling in sconces.

  When they were only a few paces from the threshold, it swung open. A Djedid soldier walked in from the exterior ramparts carrying a bundle of firewood. His arms were so laden, Ethan couldn’t see his face.

  Bony Nose gave a gruff command.

  The short soldier didn’t reply. He kicked the door closed behind him, but otherwise didn’t move.

  Shark Eyes repeated his comrade’s stern command. He took a step forward, a hand on his saber hilt, and launched into a string of angry words. There was a soft thwip as something landed on the back of Shark Eyes’ neck. He grabbed at the palm-sized object like a man slapping at a bug bite. It was a crooked stick, shaped like an obtuse V, with needle-like barbs at either end. One of the barbs was burrowed into the man’s flesh.

  The soldier with the kindling dropped the bundle, revealing the face of Melisande Dufort. “Surprise!” she cried.

  Shark Eyes lunged at Melisande. He froze, scimitar half out of his sheath. He blinked twice and then dropped in a heap.

  On Ethan’s right, another mysterious dart landed in Bony Nose’s neck. Ethan threw his shackled wrists around the soldier’s throat, attempting to strangle him from behind, his bruises hot with pain. Shark Eyes put up a groggy struggle. He bucked and shook, hooking an elbow into Ethan’s side. Ethan gasped, the wind half knocked out of him, but managed to hold onto the larger man.

  Ethan heard the voice of a girl with an Irish accent behind him. “He’s too big! He needs another dose.”

  “He’ll go down,” said Melisande, drawing her wooden war club. She struck Shark Eyes hard across the temple.

  Shark Eyes went limp in Ethan’s arms and slumped to the floor. A pool of blood collected on the stones near his head. Still panting from the fight, Ethan turned around to face the girl who had appeared behind him. A figure in a dark cloak was poised a few feet away. She must have slipped down from one of the third-tier bunks and was certainly the one that threw the darts. A black cowl obscured most of her red curls and much of her face. She couldn’t have been more than fifteen but moved with confidence. Her bright brown eyes flicked about the room, taking in every detail.

  “It’s okay, Fiddles,” said Melisande. “She’s with us.”

  The girl scowled at Melisande. Another of the odd throwing objects was pinched between her fingers. “You didn’t have to do that! I had another dart.” The girl produced a length of rope from her cloak and went about tying the hands and feet of Shark Eyes.

  “Sorry, Lil Red.” Melisande shrugged and grabbed Bony Nose under the arms. “I slipped. Help me, Fiddles.”

  Ethan felt the guard’s neck, but there was no pulse. He picked up the corpse’s feet and helped Melisande hide him under one of the rear bunks. “Who is she?” he asked, nodding toward the girl.

  “Sully’s sister!” Melisande had a toothy smile. “Can you believe it?”

  “Kaitlin?” Ethan looked back at the girl through the rows of beds. Kaitlin had already closed and locked the door to the ramparts. “She broke you out?”

  “She’s a thief—and a damn good one. She calls herself The Red Hart.”

  Ethan stepped back into the aisle and knelt beside Shark Eyes. Kaitlin had finished tying an expert fishermen’s bend around the unconscious guard’s wrists. He tried to meet her eyes, but she wouldn’t look at him. “Kaitlin?”

  Kaitlin’s eyes flashed up to Ethan’s, then darted away. “Aye, Kaitlin Sullivan. John’s sister.”

  “I’m…”

  “Ethan Auldon, I know. And she’s Melisande Dufort. You’re Johnny’s friends. I’m sorry about your hands.” Kaitlin pulled Ethan’s manacles close and worked a metal filing in the lock until they opened.

  The shackles fell away, and Ethan looked down at the blackening bruises on his palms. He tried to close his fingers and managed to get halfway to a fist before the pain became too great. Near as he could tell, no bones were broken, but the swelling was severe. “I’ll be okay. What about you? Are you all right?”

  Kaitlin nodded, eyes still downcast.

  As Ethan dragged Bony Nose under a bunk, he asked, “How do you know who we are?”

  Kaitlin went to the door and peeked into the castle hall. After a moment, she motioned for them to follow. “I watched the Nizam-I Djedid bring you here. Listened to your conversations from the shadows. And I broke into Varlick Naim’s chest and read his journal. He knows all about you both.”

  “Don’t remind me,” groaned Melisande under her breath. “Sneaky Ole Scruffy. I knew there was something off about him. I owe him a kick in the berries.”

  “No!” hissed Kaitlin, suddenly rounding on them. The light of a hall sconce fell across her fearful frown. “We’re not going anywhere near him. He’s an evil, dangerous man. Unless you want him to do bad things to you, you do what I say. And you do just like I do. Got it? Just like I do.”

  “It’s all right Kaitlin,” Ethan said, putting up a hand to calm her. He felt Melisande drawn up close behind him in the hall. “We’ll follow your lead.”

  “Swear it,” insisted Kaitlin, her breath quickening.

  “On our honor,” said Melisande.

  Kaitlin’s breath slowed again. “Okay, then. We’ll get Johnny and leave this place forever.” Kaitlin led Ethan and Melisande into the empty western hall, her eyes ever searching, ever alert.

  “Kaitlin,” Ethan said, hugging the limestone bricks as he followed her across the corridor. “You’re a very brave girl. Thank you for helping us.”

  The girl looked back, her eyes searching Ethan’s. “The job’s not done yet.”

  As they followed the young thief into the Great Hall, Melisande whispered, “So Kaitlin, what bad things did Scruffy have in mind?”

  “I’ll never tell you,” Kaitlin replied.

  “Why not?”

  There was a pause, and then Kaitlin looked askance at them. “Because then I wouldn’t be the only one with nightmares.”

  ###

  The Lake Fort

  The West Hall, First Floor

  Sunday, September 11th, 1803

  Day 2, Pre-Dawn Hours

  John Sullivan knew his next encounter with Naim wouldn’t end so luckily. Two Nizam-I Djedid soldiers prodded him down the hall toward the dungeon. His left foot felt as though walking on glass. As they passed an open door to the west, John saw into the powder magazine. He salivated at the sight of barrels of gunpowder, racks of muskets and scimitars, and spools of match-cord. The guards pushed him along and escorted him down a set of stairs leading into the dungeon. They stopped at the bottom while the guard with a long goatee felt at his waist for keys. The other waited impatiently at the dungeon door, his oversized felt hat low on his brow.

  A chipper voi
ce on the steps behind them said, “Looking for these, boys?”

  John and the soldiers spun around. A young woman stood at the top of the staircase, dressed like a Djedid but unmistakable with her short black hair, ice-blue eyes, and wood-sprite grin. In one hand, she aimed a pistol. In the other, she dangled a ring of keys. Big Hat grabbed for his holstered gun.

  “Nah-ah!” tut-tutted Melisande, her aim trained on his head.

  The soldiers froze, but neither looked ready to back down.

  John caught movement in the corner of his eye. Goatee was trying to slip a dagger from his belt unnoticed. The dungeon door behind them swung open, and Ethan Auldon stepped forward with another pistol.

  “Drop it!” commanded Ethan, his gun-muzzle an inch from Goatee’s temple.

  The soldier glared as he dropped his gun. John shrugged and treated him to a grin.

  It only took a few minutes for Ethan and Melisande to lead Goatee and Big Hat into an empty dungeon cell. Melisande kept pistols trained on them while Ethan bound and gagged them. Then they locked them in. Declan hobbled out of the cell he and John had shared. In the gloomy light of a single torch, he used the guard’s key to unlock his son’s shackles.

  “Declan,” whispered John as his manacles clattered to the floor. “How?”

  Declan gave a hint of a smile. He nodded over John’s shoulder.

  John turned around. He looked to the steps leading out of the dungeon where a dark-cloaked figure shut and locked the door, then turned to face him.

  John limped up to the lowest step. He looked up at the girl in the trim leather kaftan, an array of odd tools stuck through her belt and bandolier, a few licks of curly red hair draping over her cheeks. In the half-light, she looked as though buried to the shoulders in darkness. There was confidence in her athletic posture. Wisdom in her cognac eyes. She wasn’t the little girl he’d carried in memory for five years, but there was no mistaking her identity. “Katie…”

  The girl descended, her eyes wary. Did she still recognize her brother? As she reached the lowest step, tears pooled in her eyes. Of course, John realized. She’s scared of me. Bloody Sully could wash off the blood, but not the stain.

  Then Kaitlin Sullivan threw her arms around him. “Johnny.”

  John closed his arms around her. The throbbing in his foot, the searing in his wrist, the burning knots throughout his body—it all melted into the ether. A tear ran down his cheek. Five years since the terrible day he failed to protect his sister. Four years on the streets of Philadelphia. Three months across the sea. Hours under Naim’s heel. At long last, he had found her. “Is it really you, Rabbit?”

  “I’m sorry, John,” sniffled Kaitlin. “I didn’t mean to let him hurt any of you, but I wasn’t fast enough.”

  “Katie…” John held her at arm’s length, surprised at her height. How she had grown. “We’re okay. You did great. I can hardly believe it.”

  “You did better than great,” Melisande added. “You were like a silent huntress.”

  “We owe you our lives,” said Ethan. “And I owe you my hands.”

  “I think you lost something, Rabbit.” John reached into his pocket. He held a silver coin between thumb and forefinger.

  Kaitlin plucked the Islanded Lion from his fingers and examined the coin. Her brows trembled as if holding back tears. “I knew he’d keep you safe, Johnny.”

  “No, lass.” Declan’s cracked and weathered hand settled on John’s shoulder. The old merchant captain regarded his son for a moment, his watery eyes unwavering. Then he looked at his daughter. Between snarls of red and gray hair, John could see a measure of his father’s old confidence. The scarred flesh on Declan’s cheek crinkled as he smiled. “The Red Hart kept us safe.”

  “Aye,” John smiled.

  “Aye,” said Ethan.

  “Damn right,” said Melisande.

  Kaitlin’s eyes brightened. “We’re not out of here yet. Everyone, follow me!” She pocketed the coin and skipped off the steps, and the others followed her.

  It was slow going through the dungeon passages. Melisande handed John a ditty bag along the way—inside were his tobacco pouch, compass, and his mother’s silver watch, among other possessions. Kaitlin had stolen back Ace and Spade, Ethan’s violin and surgical bag, Melisande’s knives and war club—even her driftwood lacrosse stick. Everything the Djedid had taken. John smiled as he sheathed his two blades at his belt, prizes won in that fateful game of brag at the Piping Plover.

  With Declan only able to hobble, Kaitlin set a modest pace. Melisande lent the old sea captain an arm. Ethan lit the way with a torch. John brought up the rear, his sore foot slowing his pace. After the walk from the tower, most of the numbness had gone. Still, John’s muscles were tight as knots.

  When he’d brought up behind Ethan, John whispered, “About what I said in the tower…”

  Ethan didn’t turn around. “Forget it John. Now isn’t the time.”

  “Ethan, I need you to know, mate—”

  “Just drop it!” Ethan hissed. The others turned concerned looks in their direction but said nothing. “I know what you want to say. And how badly you want to apologize and feel better. But I just don’t give a damn. Right now, all that matters is escape. I don’t want to think about anything else.”

  “Ethan, please…” John touched a hand to Ethan’s shoulder.

  The young surgeon’s mate rounded on his friend. His eyes flared in the torchlight. “Remove your hand.”

  John took a step back, hands raised in surrender. More words could only worsen matters, so he nodded.

  “Fiddles…” whispered Melisande.

  “Stay out of this, Melly.” Ethan resumed his pace behind Kaitlin.

  They passed through a chamber with four Greek statues—glowering gods and goddesses carved in marble. A wise musician, a woman warrior, a powerful general, a cunning sorceress.

  “So, what’s the plan, Sully?” whispered Melisande.

  “Plan?” John whispered back. Their voices were low enough the others didn’t notice. “You’re talking to the wrong Sullivan.”

  “C’mon, Sully.” Melisande poked John’s side with her elbow. “Don’t spin me a yarn. After the others are safe, you’re going to need my help to give ole Scruffy Hell. So, what’s the plan?”

  John winked. “You know me too well, Melly.”

  Melisande gave a sly grin.

  “Considering we’re outnumbered and I’m limping, I’m open to ideas. For starters, where can we find more weapons?”

  “Oh, boy!” Melisande rubbed her hands together. “You ought to see that armory up there. Powder kegs stacked five high. Ball and shot by the bushel. More sharp ends than enemies to stick.”

  “I think I caught a glimpse,” said John. “When the Djedid were escorting me, we passed an open door not ten paces from the dungeon entrance. I’m certain I saw munitions.”

  “Aye, that’s it. I say we get your papa, Lil Red, and Fiddles into the boat, then double back and arm ourselves to the teeth. We can take Scruffy, the bey’s poncy minister, and every bastard in this place.”

  “It’ll be the hardest fight of our lives. There’s a good chance it’ll be our last.”

  “My favorite kind of odds,” grinned Melisande. “Draw for the ace…”

  “…Win with the deuce.” John patted her shoulder. “Be ready.”

  Their secret pact thus sealed, John and Melisande walked the rest of the corridor in silence.

  Kaitlin came to a stop before a dilapidated cell in the farthest corner of the dungeons. “This is the place. The hole in the wall leads to the sewers and all the way to my boat on the beach.”

  “What if the Djedid discover their tied-up brethren and try to follow?” John asked as he ushered Declan and Ethan into the cell.

  “Leave that to me.” Kaitlin raised a confident eyebrow. A key gleamed into existence between her fingers. “I re-keyed the lock. This is the only copy. A locked door should slow them down.”

  “Go
od thinking, Rabbit.” John ushered Melisande into the cell. “Show us the tunnel.”

  “Right.” Kaitlin let John slip the key from her fingers and dashed over to the crumbled mound of rock in the corner. “You’ve to crawl through—”

  The screech of hinges cut her off. Kaitlin, Ethan, Melisande, and Declan all looked toward the door. Kaitlin reacted first, darting across the cell. By the time her hands landed on the rusting iron knob, her special key was already clinking home. The thief tried to tug the door open, but to no avail. John had locked them inside the prison cell.

  “Wait!” Kaitlin cried. “What are you doing? Johnny, open the door!”

  John looked through the window of iron bars. “I’m sorry, Katie. I can’t do that.”

  “What the hell, Sully!” Melisande joined Kaitlin by the door. “This isn’t funny.”

  “Son, open the door,” Declan said.

  Ethan was the only one who reacted without surprise. “He won’t. It comes down to freedom or revenge. He’s made his choice.”

  “What?” Kaitlin looked from Ethan to John. “No! You have to come with us. This is the only way off the island. If you stay, Naim will kill you.”

  “I’m a deserter from the Navy, Kaitlin,” said John. “I can’t go back. And even if I could, I won’t let Naim and the bey get away with what they’ve done to us. They have to pay.”

  “Johnny, no!” pleaded Kaitlin.

  “Sully, don’t be stupid,” protested Melisande. “At least open the door and let me help. We had a deal!”

  John shook his head. “Not this time, Melly. I made a promise to Dominique to keep you safe, and this time I aim to keep it. When I kill Naim, I’ll be kicking over the hornet’s nest and there won’t be any more escapes.”

  “Damnit, Sully!” Melisande punched the door.