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Elena’s temper had cooled by the time she reached the main level of the fort. She had been harsh on Tomas, but it was necessary. His intentions were honorable, but was carrying that barrel worth it to undo all the healing that arm may have had?

Reaching the outer stairs, she stopped. Carefully, she tested the rusty handle on the door, only to find it locked. Maldito! She could not pick the lock, nor did she bring the necessary tools to try, so she would have to go around. Doing so was more likely to make her seen if, indeed, anyone remained, but she had little choice.

Elena wrinkled her nose at the acrid smell of burned furniture and rugs. Slowly, her ears straining for any sound, she made her way around the eastern side. With her skirt hitched into the waistband of her breeches, she climbed over a small half wall and found a door half off its hinges, and she meticulously searched for trip wires, as Tomas had told her. Assessing it was safe, she climbed through the door. The small, empty room led to an internal stairwell. If caught in the stairwell, she would have no defenses she could hide behind, so she grabbed up a piece of discarded rusty metal.

As she ascended the stairwell, she avoided the temptation to use the walls as support, as they were thick with black soot. It took several minutes before she reached the next door. She tested the handle and found the door unlocked, so she slowly turned the handle and, holding her breath, she gently pushed it in a little. Listened again. Still nothing. Could they have truly left?

She took measured steps, ensuring nothing was in her way. She even tiptoed around the edge of the room so as not to leave footsteps in the soot. Eventually, she came to the main area that the French had taken as their headquarters. Everything was burned or charred, like they had thrown a lamp or torch into the middle of the room. Once the fire made it to the outer reaches of the room, it must have burned itself out. Only a pile of burned wood and metal sticking out at odd angles was left. Some were still smoking slightly.

The large table sat awkwardly against the wall at a forty-five-degree angle with two of the legs burned away. Only the edges of the tabletop were scorched. She nearly didn’t see it but on the ground was a roll of paper. She took her time and looked for anything that might be some sort of trap. Touching the ash-covered paper with the tip of her index finger, she lifted it off the floor. Looking down at it and blowing away some of the soot, she realized it was a map. A map of where she was unsure, as the names were in French. Could it be important?

Beneath it were other graphs and notes, all in French. She could speak the language passably, but not enough to read it successfully. Picking up the papers and folding them, she put them in the pocket of her skirt. They would be handy to start a fire on their travels, if nothing else.

Investigating the other rooms, she came upon a small square storage room untouched by the fire. Dread wafted towards her as she stood in the doorway. The metallic smell of blood filled her nostrils as if it had soaked into every surface in the room. She forced herself to step inside, saw a solitary chair of plain varnished wood with ropes attached to the legs and arms. As she got closer, she saw that the chair was splattered with brown dried blood. There were more splatters on the floor surrounding it and a set of chains on the wall. A small table lay on its side on the floor, and when she inspected it, she saw even more blood. Lord have mercy, this was Tomas’s torture chamber!

Elena hugged herself at the thought of all that Tomas had suffered in this room. Images flashed through her mind of Tomas being punched and kicked by those horrible men. She took a few steps back in distress. Tears burned in her eyes, and her stomach churned as she noticed more blood. Everywhere she looked, there was more and more evidence of what had happened in this room. Happened to Tomas. Cold horror seeped into her very bones and churned her stomach. Gagging, she ran out into the hallway, sucking in huge gulps of air, trying desperately to get rid of the stench from her nose. Her reaction shocked her. She was used to the sight of blood, but somehow, knowing it was his and how it ended up all over the room filled her with overwhelming disgust.

Instinctively, she wanted to run from this horrid place, but she was here for a reason, and she had to make sure the bastardos were gone. She compelled herself to search room after room until satisfied the occupants were gone. If nothing else, she now knew she and Tomas were safe.

As she reached the outer part of the fort, she stopped and surveyed the clouds above. They were the dark gray-green of an impending thunderstorm, so she quickened her pace. Sucking in a breath, and crossing herself, she made her way back down the stairwell and over the small wall in record time. The distant rumble of thunder made her heart beat madly, panic surging as she ran.

Tomas was waiting for her. His expression was one of concern, but then he took a visible breath and smiled. She came to a halt before him. Just the sight of him was reassuring, but she could not get the picture of that room out of her head. Her admiration of him had grown considerably. It took a great deal of mental fortitude not to give in to his torturers.

“Is everything all right?” he asked, his lips now in a grim straight line. “Have they gone?”

She nodded, as for some reason she could not form a word as she studied him. As the bruising was fading, she was starting to see his true features emerging. It was like discovering who he was one day at a time. And she wanted to know more about this man.

Time would tell her the whole story when it was ready.

“I was starting to get worried. I hope that wasn’t your good dress. You have soot everywhere.” He wiped a smudge off her cheek.

She looked up at him in shock. Her heart stalled in her chest as his hand hovered in the air for a few moments as they analyzed each other.

Tomas cleared his throat, stepped back, and said, “Sorry. We had better get in; that storm looks ugly.”

The shock kept her immobile for a few moments. When he looked away, she blinked several times before hurrying up the steps behind him. How long had it been since someone had touched her with such softness, such care? At the door, she turned and saw that he had water on to boil, and she raised a brow at him in question.

He smiled sheepishly. “I promise I did not lift anything heavy, just the jug.”

“And I did not touch anything either,” she said, which was a lie. She did not want to get into an argument with him about the papers. Later, she would show him, as she was sure they were good for nothing but kindling.

“I’ll leave you to wash. The water should be nice and warm by now.”

Elena stopped for a moment to look out towards the sea and saw fat raindrops begin to fall. Quickly, she gathered some clean clothes, hoping the storm would go out to sea.

Tomas sat on his pallet, playing with a bit of straw. She stopped in the doorway and turned. “I should have packed a book or some cards. I’m sorry.”

“It is not your responsibility to keep me entertained.” Holding up the piece of straw that he had put two knots in. “I am simply not used to being idle. What would you prescribe for such an illness, doctor?”

Elena tilted her head. “My medical advice is…get used to it.”

Tomas laughed. “Used to being bored or idle?”

“Both. You could always try praying? Perhaps a mental plan of how we will get you to a place of safety, where you can find help to get you home?” Turning on her heel, she left the room.

*

Elena couldn’t have been more attractive to him than covered in soot. Thomas stared after her, his mouth slightly open. He had always thought that once he was well enough, she would be happy to be rid of him, but she distinctly said, how we will get you to a place of safety. He would be quicker on his own, but he had no money, and he could do no work for it, damaged as he was. It would be easier if she were with him, as people would be less suspicious.