The Final Storm

20. Rescuing another Damsel?

Oh my God... They're going to kill him! They're going to hang him! I have to save him!

That was the first thought that flashed through Adaira's mind when she saw the noose. But...how could she be sure he was actually one of the prisoners about to be executed? That man on the roof had just mentioned British officers. That could mean anybody, right?

"Come on, boys!" One of the men in the crowd of rebels roared. He was a big brute with a scar across his face and brass knuckles on his fist. His appearance screamed not so much "freedom fighter" as "sadistic street thug". "Let's visit those British kutrē a nice sample of Indian hospitality!"

And he stormed towards the palatial fort where the Britons were imprisoned. With a cheer, the crowd started chasing after him.

On second thought, to hell with not knowing for sure if James is one of the prisoners in there. I'm going to get them out of there no matter what!

"Calm down, everyone!" the man who had announced the Britons' capture shouted over the din of the crowd, both hands raised. "We cannot waste time on stupid things like that. There might be more of those redcoats lurking around. Do you want to let them escape, so they can inform the EIC of what happened here and lead an army to the city?"

That made everyone quiet down pretty fast, even the bloodthirsty thug.

"You, you, and you." The man on the rooftop pointed at three people in succession. "Form teams and make sure all the city gates are guarded. The rest, help me search the streets. The imprisoned in the fort will still be there when we get back."

Will they? I wouldn't be so sure about that.

From the shadows of her alleyway, Adaira watched as the rebels dispersed, leaving only a single guard at the gate of the fort. It shouldn't be too difficult to sneak in there, right?

Half an hour later, she was cursing her earlier self for her naiveté. This place might not be a prison, but it certainly was secure enough for one. Walls over twenty-five yards high, hidden guards and regular patrols everywhere... With how well-ordered and disciplined all of this looked, one might think this city hadn't been conquered just a few hours ago.

Well, in a way it wasn't. After all, the city rebelled. There was no siege, no massive chaos, no invaders trying to get control of the city. All the people here had to do was to go back to their guard duty after chucking their former superiors into the dungeons.

Wait a moment...former superiors...

Adaira's eyes flicked to the men patrolling up on the wall of the Red Fort. The uniformed men.

She glanced down at herself. Her fake beard. Her fake tan. Her Indian clothes. Then she looked over at a nearby establishment, where several uniformed rebels were feasting and celebrating.

Well, well...seems like I have a plan.

Whistling innocently, Adaira made her way into the alley behind the establishment. She didn't have to wait long before one of the rebel soldiers emerged from the back door and approached a rather smelly corner of the alley. For a moment, he fiddled with his trousers, and with a relaxed sigh, he—

Wham!

The man froze. Then, slowly, he toppled over and smashed face-first into the ground. Something which, considering the smelly puddle right in front of his nose, he probably wouldn't appreciate when he woke up. Behind him, Adaira stepped out of the shadows, a broken table leg clutched tightly in her hand.

"Sorry. I might need your uniform, but that doesn't mean I intend to watch you take off your trousers.

The unconscious, slightly drooling man on the ground did not see fit to reply.