12.

Trapped!

Nathanial braced himself, his back against the hut’s wall, his eyes tightly shut. He had never realised how thick and rough the soles of Annabelle’s boots were until they were pressed, hard, into the tops of his shoulders, one boot on either side and uncomfortably close to his neck.

“Can you move just a bit to the left, Nathanial?” she asked from far above his head.

Nathanial, one hand on either boot, shuffled carefully to the left about a foot.

“Sorry,” Annabelle said, sounding most irritatingly cheerful. “I meant my left.”

Nathanial sighed and shuffled, as far as he could judge, twice the distance he’d moved but in the opposite direction.

“Ah, just there.” Annabelle rose up on her toes and Nathanial was barely able to stifle a gasp of pain.

“All right, old man?” Jericho danced around anxiously in front of him, his hands raised. “Sorry I’m not taller. I’d be happy to take a turn.”

“I am…sorry…you are…not …too,” Nathanial grunted, his hand locked around Annabelle’s ankles.

They were—well, Annabelle was trying to see outside the hut where they were imprisoned. There was a four-inch gap all around the top of the hut, which provided her a narrow view in all directions.

“It seems to be deserted,” she reported. “Now, at least. That small airship I saw in the distance on that high rocky hill has gone. I wonder what it was here for? What a pity we were unable to signal it!”

Nathanial sneezed.

“Sorry,” she called down. “I’m sure my skirts are quite dusty.”

“You see no one, no one at all?” asked Jericho, sounding panicky, to Nathanial’s concern. He could hardly deal with an exuberant and combative Annabelle as well as a panicked Jericho.

“You don’t think that bounder O’Ryan or O’Rourke or whatever his bloody name is—excuse my French, Miss Somerset—has simply left us all here to die, do you?” Jericho’s voice quavered. “To starve, or perhaps to die of thirst? Why, we’ll be fighting like rats for the last scraps of food! We’ll be battering ourselves senseless against these massive wooden walls! We’ll be driven mad by hunger! Cannibalism! Torment! A grisly death!”

“Mister Jericho, get hold of yourself!” Annabelle ordered. “You have read far too many penny dreadfuls. I regret lending you my own favourite issues, I do indeed. Now, as we have quite encircled our hut, I would appreciate some assistance in getting down, preferably without embarrassing Nathanial any more than is quite unavoidable.”

“You are a model of bravery, Miss Somerset,” Jericho said stoutly, breathing in deeply as he quite clearly tried to calm himself. “Especially for a lady. I shall take you as my example and strive to be as brave as you.”

“I would…prefer,” Nathanial managed to gasp, opening one eye the merest crack, “that you would take her confounded weight off my shoulders, Jericho, if that would be at all possible.”

Jericho hurried forward and Nathanial could see through his squinted eyes, the man had his arms out.

“Ready, Miss Somerset,” Jericho said.

Suddenly, the weight on Nathanial’s shoulders was gone and, at the same time, he saw Annabelle land lightly in Jericho’s arms, her skirts aflutter. He set her down carefully.

“Well, now, I’m glad that’s over,” Annabelle said as she took out a grubby handkerchief and dusted her hands. “And I’m sure you’re even more glad, Nathanial my dear. It’s your own fault,” she grinned up at him. “You are so delightfully tall.” Then her smile disappeared. “Of course, dear Thymon is even taller. I just hope that monster didn’t murder him.”

“I fear you do not seem to be taking our situation seriously at all, Annabelle,” he said, as severely as he could manage. “If only your uncle had insisted you stay safely on Earth, where I indeed wished to leave you, you would not be stuck here with us now, in danger of our lives.”

“What you really mean is, if only I had not insisted on visiting the escarpment and accepting O’Rourke as a guide, none of us would be here, isn’t that correct, Nathanial?” Annabelle put her hands on her hips and stepped closer to him.

“Here now, here now,” Jericho bleated. “We must all hang together, don’t you know. Time for blame and recriminations later, once we’re out of here.”

Annabelle threw her head back and laughed. “Mister Jericho! What about your fears of cannibalism? Where are they now?”

Jericho looked somewhat sheepish. “Well, now, that was just a bit of panic talking. But I really should like to know what we’re going to do. After all, with only your penknife, we can hardly dig our way out or fight off—”

At that instant, they heard a rough scraping sound—a creaking with which they were most familiar, the sound of the bar at the door being moved.

At once, as if they’d planned it, they lined up facing the opening, Annabelle in the middle and slightly behind the two men.

The door opened slowly, creaking like the door of a tomb. Nathanial waved the uneasy thought away as he stood up straighter. He only wished he felt braver.

Simon O’Rourke stood in the doorway, his sturdy body limned in the dusky light behind him.

“Well, now, and how are my guests today? Ready to get out of these charming accommodations and stretch your legs a bit, I’m thinking? All in good time, my friends, all in good time. But until then, I’m sure you’d like to have a bit of a wash and brush-up, and a nice bit of luncheon. I’ve got quite a good bottle or two of wine here,” he winked roguishly, “guaranteed to be nothing but wine, I do assure you.”

The Irishman came into the room, followed at once by the same two burly men as before, both with rifles in hand and each with revolvers at their waists. They stepped smartly to either side of the door and stood at a sort of relaxed attention, not seeming to look at any one thing in particular but to be taking in the entire room with their roving glance. One was fair, with pale grey eyes; the other was darker, with black hair and a long scar down one cheek that had barely missed his left eye. Neither spoke, but both emanated a palpable sense of menace.

Nathanial looked at one, looked at the other, and recognised the cold ruthlessness that dwelt within both men. They didn’t speak; they simply stared.

Next, a pair of lizard-men entered the hut, both of whom looked, as far at Nathanial could tell from their alien aspects, as frightened as he felt. The one on O’Rourke’s left had several baskets, with the most glorious and delicious odours emanating from them. Nathanial’s mouth began to water as the lizard-man set the baskets down and then took a cloth, woven of rough native fibres, and spread it on the floor. He moved the baskets to the middle of it, then turned and scuttled out of the door as if he were being chased.

The other lizard-man crept forward, his head hanging down low as if he did not dare meet anyone’s eyes; he was burdened with two large wooden buckets, apparently quite heavy, hanging from a sort of yoke over his shoulders. He squatted and set them both down, then turned and followed his partner out.

“Nice hot water,” said O’Rourke, waving a negligent hand towards the buckets, both of which were steaming gently. “A good meal. Do clean yourselves up a bit after you’ve eaten. You’ll find some fresh clothes in that bundle there, which I’m sure you’ll appreciate.”

“Mister O’Rourke.” Annabelle stepped forward, and Nathanial could not help but put a restraining hand on her arm. She shook it off as if it were a pesky fly and continued, “I insist you tell us at once exactly how we got here, where we are and, most of all, why you’ve brought us here!”

“Insist, is it?” O’Rourke crossed his arms and smiled down at Annabelle. “I’m thinking you’re in no position to insist anything. But just so you won’t have any problems with your appetite, I’ll answer some of your questions. As to how, I brought you here in the same balloon we brought down from the plateau. Where? We’re deep in German territory, so don’t go thinking you could get back by yourselves, even if you did manage to get out of this hut. The why, now, I think will wait a bit. Enjoy your meal—especially you, Mister Jericho, me poor starvin’ boyo—and when I return, I will share a bit more as to the why.”

Before any of them could say another word, O’Rourke pivoted on his heel and was gone, the two bully boys following and the door shutting behind them.

They could all hear the heavy bar slam home.

Jericho rubbed his hands together. “Well, at least we shan’t starve,” he said as he began unpacking the baskets.

Nathanial was as ravenous as the others, and they all fell on the food as if—again, he shook away the uncomfortable image—it was their last meal. Some of the food was recognisable as part of their own supplies brought down from Fort David, some was native food wrapped in slick green leaves, and some was unfamiliar to all of them, but every morsel and crumb of it disappeared into three hungry mouths.

“Ah,” Annabelle said, sitting back. She eyed the two bottles of wine. “Do we dare trust O’Rourke? And even if we do take him at his word that the wine is not drugged, should we risk impairing our abilities when we make our escape? I’m perfectly happy with water, if you think it best, Nathanial.”

Nathanial picked up one of the bottles and examined the neck. “No,” he decided, “I do not think O’Rourke drugged this wine. The seal seems untouched. I think we all need a glass, even if it is Dutch courage.” He looked in the bottom of both baskets and his heart sank. “Naturally, our captor did not dare risk leaving us a corkscrew.”

“Here, let me see it,” said Annabelle, hiking up her skirt—Nathanial hastily closed his eyes—and removing her small knife from the top of her boot. “You may look now, Nathanial,” she said cheerfully, “I’m decent.”

Nathanial opened his eyes, to see Giles Jericho gazing in abject admiration as Annabelle gouged the cork from the bottle.

“Really, old man, have you no respect for a lady?” Nathanial snapped.

Jericho didn’t even glance his way. “I have all the respect in the world for Miss Somerset,” he breathed.

The cork came free and Annabelle said, “Since we have not been provided with wineglasses, forgive me.” She upturned the bottle and took several healthy swallows, then handed it to Jericho. “Ah,” she sighed. “Excellent decision, Nathanial. If only it were a better vintage. But I suppose O’Rourke didn’t wish to waste any good wine on those he intends to murder.”

Jericho choked on the wine and wiped his mouth. “Murder, Miss Somerset? Surely not! Even that bloody bounder would not dare to do such a thing. Why, we are British citizens! I am employed by Her Majesty’s government!”

“Oh, I think he would,” said Annabelle calmly. “Though I cannot for the life of me figure out why. But I, for one, shan’t go down without fighting. And considering our situation, do you think you might so far forget proprieties and call me Annabelle…dear Giles?”

Nathanial shook his head at Jericho’s reaction. Good gad, the fool looked as if Annabelle had knighted him and offered him a thousand pounds at the same time. How did she always manage to keep every single man of her acquaintance so, so…off balance?

“Now, drink some wine, Nathanial, and,” she lowered her voice to a whisper, “let’s make some plans. O’Rourke had brought us some clean clothes. Obviously he has some reason behind feeding us and allowing us to clean up a bit.” She looked down ruefully at her filthy skirt and torn shirt. “He wishes us to look, shall we say, unkidnapped, perhaps?”

“Ah, I see.” Nathanial took another drink of wine then nodded. “Excellently reasoned, Annabelle!”

“I have a mind, you know, Nathanial, for all that I’m only a woman,” she said severely.

“A most amazing woman…Annabelle,” Jericho put in, in a sort of bleating sigh.

“Yes, yes,” Nathanial went on hurriedly, “so since O’Rourke wishes us to look our best, shall we say, he obviously has plans on someone seeing us.”

“Or our bodies, of course,” Annabelle pointed out calmly.

“Please, my dear girl!” Nathanial said. “Perhaps he will take us back up in the small balloon which brought us here and show us to our compatriots when asking for a ransom, simply to prove we are indeed still alive and well.”

“Or perhaps,” Jericho said hesitantly, “he intends to offer us to the Germans. That small airship Miss—Annabelle saw earlier setting down near here must belong to the bloody old Kaiser’s men. I do not doubt they’d pay a pretty penny for the inventor of the aether propeller governor.”

“Co-inventor,” Annabelle said absently.

“Regardless,” Nathanial said, barely managing not to snap, “we shall soon be seen by someone. If we were assured that this ‘someone’ would be our fellows from the plateau, I would say let us simply follow O’Rourke’s directions and be done with it.”

“But you don’t trust him, do you?” Annabelle shook her head. “Of course, neither do I. As Giles has so cleverly pointed out, we shall doubtless be offered to the Germans. And I do not wish to be offered to anyone. I would greatly prefer to escape, capture O’Rourke, and take him back to Fort Collingwood, where he would be cast into the worst conceivable prison forever. That, at least, would be my preference. What a pity he didn’t bring dear Thymon with us. I’m so worried about the poor fellow, aren’t you?”

“I am not,” said Nathanial, “since he was probably in league with our captor from the beginning.”

“You are wrong about him,” Annabelle snapped, “and you will apologise this instant!”

“Very well, very well!” Nathanial threw his arms up. “I hope Thymon was not murdered; there, will that satisfy you? And while I agree wholeheartedly with your bellicose sentiments, I do not exactly see how we can manage to capture O’Rourke, armed as we are with only a small pocketknife.”

Annabelle’s glare lessened as she seized the empty wine bottle and stood up. She walked to the back of the hut, wrapped her skirt around the bottle and hit it sharply against one of the logs which made up the wall. The tinkle of broken glass was muffled by the fabric.

“There now,” said Annabelle when she returned. She handed the jagged neck of the bottle to Nathanial. “Let’s finish the other bottle so you’ll have a weapon too, Giles. And while you two are working on that, I’m opening these other packages. Clean clothes! If you will both kindly turn your backs, I’m going to have a wash up.”