His toes brushed the cold floor, but he was going to have to do better than that. He stretched again, and this time they connected. He pushed down, enough to raise the chair slightly. Breathing heavily, Jack did it again, only this time he tried his best to lean to the side as well, angling towards the furnace. Just when he thought it wasn't going to go, the chair tipped, pitching him on his side. It knocked the square furnace over, sending a slew of coals and ash across the floor. The nail in his shoulder was driven even further in by the fall, and he bit back a cry of anguish.
Ignore the pain. You're not done yet, and someone might have heard all the racket you've just made!
Jack looked down and found that a handful of coals had rolled near to his bound wrists. They were no longer as hot as they had been when Tanek made use of them, but they might be hot enough for his purposes. Now, if he could just inch a little closer…
Jack wrenched his body sideways, lifting the chair off the floor, then threw his weight in the other direction. The chair moved a fraction across the floor. Dismissing the pain as best he could, Jack lifted the chair again, bringing it down closer to the coals. He was centimetres away, so he did it again. This time he landed virtually on the coals, and he yelped, but kept still because the rope was also on them. Slowly, they were burning through it. It took a few minutes, but he at last began to smell the smoke, as the heat left in the coals bit at the hemp. Jack held on a little longer, then couldn't take it anymore. The ropes were now loose enough for him to break free.
Making a fist, he tugged on the bonds, and was surprised when they gave first time. Quickly, he reached over, untying his other hand — then he did the same with the ropes holding his ankles. Jack collapsed on the floor, and crawled away from the sea of coals and ash.
Before he had a chance to pull out the nails still sticking in him, a Russian soldier appeared at the arched entranceway, barking something in his native tongue. He raised his machinegun. Part of Jack just wanted to lay there, let him shoot and get it over with. But people were relying on him. "T-Take it easy, buddy," he said, his voice hoarse. "We can work this out."
Just when Jack thought he was going to open fire, the soldier shouted something else, motioning with his rifle for Jack to come out. Jack held up a hand, rising slowly and wincing. "All right, all right. I'm coming." The man shouted again, and it was now that Jack revealed his other hand — flinging coals at the soldier, hitting him in the centre of his forehead. Before the soldier could fire, Jack had reached him and followed through with a punch in the face, knocking him spark out.
"Yeah, you sleep it off, pal," Jack muttered as the man slid to the floor. He dragged him inside, and began pulling off the soldier's uniform, tugging at the jacket and trousers. Jack braced himself as he pulled out the nails, so he could slip on the clothes: biting on his bottom lip to keep from screaming again. There were half a dozen or so, positioned like acupuncture needles all over his body. When he eased them out, they didn't bleed as much as he'd thought they would, but even after they were gone it still felt like the nails were there.
The jacket was a tight fit, but at least it was long, and though the trouser legs didn't go all the way down anything was better than freezing his butt off. Grabbing the rifle, Jack poked his head out of the stables. He couldn't see any more soldiers, so he ventured out. But just as he did, a squadron of men came up through the sloping tunnel, where the horses usually made their way to the nearby stables. He ducked back inside, opting to hide until they'd gone past.
Too late he realised he'd left the bare foot of the Russian soldier sticking out near the entranceway. All it would take would be for one of them to look sideways and they'd see it. Jack listened as boots stomped by, and breathed a huge sigh of relief when he couldn't hear them anymore.
He stepped out from behind the wall where he was hiding…
Only to see several more rifles trained in his direction, another smattering of Russian coming from the soldier in charge.
"Hi fellas," said Jack. "Don't suppose we could talk about this, could we?"
They'd entered the city under cover of darkness.
It was obvious when they found the dead men at the look-out points that The Tsar's army had arrived ahead of them. But he hadn't left any of his own men on watch. Which meant he either hadn't had time yet, or he'd already taken the castle and was supremely confident his forces could defend it.
Dale was hoping for the former, but if it did turn out to be the other option… Well, they'd already fought and won one battle that day against those very same forces. Okay, that also meant the men who'd come with him — who'd made that tiring journey, with no rest and not even a pit stop for something to eat — were not exactly at their best. Robert had already asked a lot of them, and now they were expected to fight another army, this time entrenched behind the castle's walls.
Dale was no good at making speeches. That was Robert's forte. Could try singing to them, I suppose, he thought. In the end he managed to persuade the men to come with him and do a recce, scope out exactly what was happening. They left the horses behind and made their way up through the city, keeping to the shadows and conscious that The Tsar could well have posted armed men anywhere.
When they got close enough, they entered a building which offered a direct line-of-sight up Friar Lane, towards the castle. From one of the upstairs windows they observed through binoculars. Each one of them saw the devastation The Tsar's men had caused, illuminated by lights from the armoured vehicles parked both inside and outside the castle grounds. The castle itself had taken a hit, too, one top corner having been chipped away by a rocket or shell blast.
Once each member of the squad had taken a turn, Dale hadn't needed to give any speeches. This was their home — the only one a lot of them had known since virus times. They'd headed The Tsar's forces off because they'd been trying to prevent this. But the sneaky bastard had divided his troops and hit the castle anyway. Now, each and every one of the fighters with him wanted it back.
And they didn't care what it took.
"So Robert has somewhere to return to," Dale said to them, and they all agreed.
There had been no sign of any of those closest to The Hooded Man, though: Mark, Mary, Jack and Reverend Tate especially.
Or Sophie. Where was Sophie?
Dale had to assume they were being held somewhere inside the castle, because the alternative was just too horrifying.
All they needed now was a plan of action, and they were looking at him to provide one. He thought about what Robert would say if he were here.
"Okay, we'll divide into three teams," said Dale when they regrouped. "Hit them from the front and sides at the same time. We have our ropes, our arrows. We can scale the cliffside, the walls, and get inside. They haven't fixed up the mess they've made of the gate yet, so we don't even have to break in there. We've trained for this, guys. We know that place inside out. They don't." He split the numbers, giving the cliff job to Azhar and his band, detailing how he wanted covering fire laid down for the frontal assault, and explaining how he would lead the third team in through those busted gates. "None of us are gettin' any younger — so let's do this."
Dale had played some gigs in his time, but this one had to take the cake. One day, he said to himself, songs actually will be sung about what we've done… what we're going to do today.