Page 79 of The Sea Witch
Harsh laughter sounded from atop the wall.
“Can’t even fire your guns proper,” one of the guards jeered.
A rushing sound filled the air. The cannon ball, painted with its own lightning bolt, veered in its path and flew over Alys and her crew’s heads. It now charged directly toward the symbol painted on the door.
The ground shook again and another explosion shook the night as the magically-charged cannon ball slammed into the door, flinging rocks and splintered wood high in the air and across the sand. Alys and her crew threw their arms over themselves, burrowing into the sand
When the debris stopped falling, Alys lifted her head.
A massive hole now stood where the door used to be. Part of the wall was gone, too, the guard tower collapsed, and two sentries’ motionless bodies splayed in the sand.
Nearly a score of women poured out of the compound. Some wore panicked, fearful expressions. Others looked fiercely determined.
Alys and her crew leapt to their feet. Thérèse and Jane ran toward the fleeing women, ushering them down the beach and toward the waiting cutters.
As her crew tended to the escapees, Alys and Stasia plunged through the smoldering remains of the door, into the compound.
People were everywhere, running in confusion. Flames engulfed numerous buildings that squatted inside the fortress walls. The sky was lit with a reddish glow from livid fires. Smoke poured dark and thick into the sky. Coughing, Alys pulled the kerchief from her hair and wrapped it around her nose and mouth.
A bulky man charged at her, his blunt sword raised. She whirled and fired her pistol. The man fell to the dirt.
Women in ragged clothing dropped torches as they fled toward the huge hole in the wall.
“Boats wait for you at the beach,” Alys shouted at the women.
The escapees moved in a group out of the stronghold and down the sand.
Frightened neighing echoed around the compound when over a dozen horses ran from the burning stables. Alys and Stasia dodged the panicked animals, and slapped their haunches to urge them toward the beach. The horses galloped through the hole and disappeared into the night.
Huge flames danced atop the disintegrating roof of a large two-story building, built in a more elaborate style than the rest of the structures in the compound. A smaller squat building also blazed. A section of its wooden wall collapsed, revealing rows of cots crammed side by side.
An African woman stood outlined against the flames. Richly woven, brightly patterned cloth hung in tatters around her. Her posture tall and regal, she threw a torch into the open doorway of another dormitory. She wore her mass of loosening braids like a crown as she watched the destruction. Above her, Anwuli dove and swooped, as if guarding her mistress.
Alys and Stasia ran to her.
“Olachi?” Alys asked.
“I am she. And you must be Captain Tanner.” Olachi spoke with the accent of the Igbo people.
“I am. And my quartermaster, Stasia Angelidis.”
Stasia and Olachi exchanged quick nods.
Alys handed Olachi the long dagger that had been tucked in her belt, and a primed pistol. “I bring you a present. Two presents, actually, if you count theSea Witch.”
“I will count her amongst my gifts,” Olachi answered. “I sprang the locks with magic, but we could not flee without a ship to carry us away. You see what I did with our captor.”
Richard Kinnear lay in the dirt, staring without sight at the sky.
“We have a boat,” Stasia explained, “and there is an empty one tied to a pier just up the beach. Everyone is out?”
“My friends are accounted for,” Olachi said, looking around the compound.
“What about him?” Alys nodded toward a cage that stood within the yard. A man was locked within it, his clothing filthy and ragged, his hair a dark lank curtain around his face. He gripped the bars and watched the fighting intently. “He with you?”
“That man was here when we were brought in. I heard one of the guards call him...” Olachi searched her memory “...Pasquale.”
In disbelief, Stasia demanded, “Luca Pasquale?”
