How long would Galen wait before launching an attack? She and Donal had discussed it, but it was hard to know without having more information. On the one hand, he had been furiously angry to have been insulted when he’d visited the castle earlier. He’d clearly had every intention of attacking right there and then, and this would have been a very different story if not for that turn in the weather that had sent their troops back across the water. So, there was a chance he’d come soon — early tomorrow, perhaps, or even under cover of darkness. But there was also a tactical advantage to waiting a little while. Give the castle a week or two to stew, to get frustrated, for tensions to rise between friends and for the guards to get tired of round-the-clock duty. It was possible they were in for a very long siege. Would Galen try to wait out their food stores? That was a traditional move… but Anna knew from Blair that there were plenty of supplies to keep them going, and Galen couldn’t prevail upon the hospitality of the village for long. Something told Anna that the attack was coming sooner rather than later. And sooner was better, for everyone concerned. Though she’d agreed not to fight, she was itching for action.
“I’d like a sword,” she informed Donal, remembering belatedly that she’d been meaning to bring this up. “A proper one. Steel,” she added, thinking of Maggie, who’d recoiled with such distaste from her iron dirk. “Can I borrow one from the armory?”
“Of course,” Donal said blankly, looking at her. Her heart swelled. “Any woman who can almost beat me in combat is more than deserving of a blade of her own. We’ll get you one made at the blacksmith later,” he said, then frowned. “If we’re ever on good terms with the villagers again… in the meantime, take your pick from the armory.”
She grinned, thanking him. No need to mention that she’d already picked one out, that night that she’d snuck out of her room to burgle the armory to keep herself safe. Should she mention that to Donal? They were getting closer… she was tempted to come clean. She wanted to be as honest as possible with him. Later, she decided, watching his face in the candlelight as he enjoyed his meal. She’d tell him after all of this blew over and he didn’t have quite so much on his mind. Maybe he’d even find her antics amusing, instead of insubordinate and disrespectful, as they really were.
After dinner, they returned to bed, and stayed up a little longer, talking about the fight. She could tell it was helpful for him to have someone to talk to — could tell by the way his eyes brightened and his breathing calmed the longer they spoke. He’d been alone too long, the poor man — trying to run this strange castle by himself, protect the ungrateful villagers, keep the place together. Well, he has me now, she thought, smiling to herself. She’d do what she could to help. And if that meant overcoming a hostile invasion… well, she was the right woman for the job.
The Sidhe had some good ideas after all, she thought to herself, smiling muzzily as she drifted off to sleep in Donal’s powerful arms.
Chapter 57
Anna woke in the middle of the night, Donal’s arm around her, her soldier’s instinct twanging like a guitar string in her gut. Something was wrong — she knew it, could sense it low down in her stomach, irrefutable. Something was happening. They needed to get moving. She shook Donal, waking him after some protest, but one look at her face and he got to his feet without further protest. They dressed quickly, then headed for the hallway. It was late at night, or possibly early in the morning — without a clock to check, she didn’t know. But she did know she’d heard the distant sound of water, and she was pretty sure it wasn’t a dream.
Sure enough, just as they reached the ground floor of the castle, a guard came running in, torch in hand. He seemed shocked to run into Donal, but re-calibrated, trying to stand up straight as he made his report to his Laird. “Boats,” he said breathlessly, “we can make out their torches in the distance… at least four, perhaps more.”
“Mind the gate,” Donal said quickly, taking long strides toward the castle walls.
Anna hurried alongside him, taking quicker, shorter steps to keep up with his long legs. She was used to it, but it was still a little irritating.
“They’re likely to try to surround us,” he was saying to Anna as they walked.
She shivered a little — the night air was viciously cold, and there was a low mist across the lake when they looked out over the water. There was some cloud cover up above, but the gibbous moon peeped through in places, and the thick blanket of stars wasn’t completely obscured. Anna narrowed her eyes, staring out over the water… she thought she could make out the lights the guard had referred to, but it took a while for her eyes to accustom themselves to the dark after being in the comparative more brightly lit castle. But sure enough — there were some points of light out there, bobbing gently on the waves. Boats, they had to be. There was a sick feeling in Anna’s stomach. This was it — this was the attack. Galen had decided to approach by night. Despite her experience, Anna could feel her heart pounding… but when she looked up at Donal, he was surprisingly calm.
“Shouldn’t you be readying archers?” she whispered, keeping her voice low in case the sound carried across the water. He looked down at her with a faint smile.
“They’ll be needed on the other side,” he pointed out, nodding down the wall to where the majority of the stationed guards were beginning to gather over by the gate, bows in hand. More men were coming from the castle, too — she saw them heading across the courtyard toward the stairs up to the wall that stood by the gate. She frowned, not understanding. Why was Brendan concentrating all his men on just one part of the defense?
“How many boats did the guard say he’d seen out there?” Donal asked her, nodding out to the lake.
She squinted her eyes, trying to make out what was out there.
“He said four. I can only count three lights, though…”
“Hmm. Keep watching.”
The boats were getting closer by the minute — Anna could see their inhabitants rowing, smooth strokes carrying the little boats closer and closer through the mist. But as her eyes adjusted and she picked out more detail, she realized something was wrong. The men didn’t look determined — they looked terrified. They weren’t rowing in time — they were all rowing at their absolute top pace, regardless of what everyone else was doing, and the boats were foundering in the water as a result. And as she watched, there was a chorus of frightened yelling… and one of the boats simply disappeared, as though it had been yanked down and swallowed up by the lake itself.
Anna stared, not understanding. There were now only two lamps left, two boats, frantically trying to make it to shore. What was going on?
“She’s not especially clever,” Donal said in a soft voice, seeming almost eerily calm as the screams of frightened men echoed over the water of the lake. “But she knows friend from foe.”
As Anna watched, another boat sank — and this time, it was close enough for her to hear the splintering of the wood, the screaming of the men as they jumped clear of whatever frightening force it was that was destroying the little ships. A few of them were clinging desperately to splintered pieces of wood in the water… but less than there should have been, Anna realized with a sick lurch of horror in her stomach. The men were screaming, trying to climb up onto the fragments of wood to no avail… as she looked at one man, he simply disappeared, as though yanked below the water by some terrible force.
Then the final boat went down, too, and without even a single torch to light what was going on out there, Anna realized she couldn’t see anymore. In a way, she was grateful for that. She thought of the smooth, cool body that had borne her up, up, faster than she’d believed possible from the bottom of the lake… the unbelievable power in the creature… and she thought of an old picture from the twentieth century, of a dinosaur-like head jutting out from the surface of the lake.
Well, she always had wondered what a Loch Ness Monster ate.
“Let’s deal with the rest of Galen’s men, shall we?” Donal said calmly, s
triding off along the wall. Anna hardened her heart against the deaths of the men out in the lake. True, it was a particularly horrible way to go and no mistake — but she wasn’t going to bleed for them. They’d thrown in their lot with a torturer, a mercenary, a man who deliberately took women prisoner to torment and abuse them for the manipulation of their men. They’d deserved what they got. It was probably a swifter and more merciful death than what they had in store for their so-called witches, at any rate.
Sure enough, they reached the other side of the wall to discover the rest of the castle’s guard standing by, bows at the ready. There were torches, visible in the woods — a force of perhaps thirty men if not more, clearly waiting on some signal. Anna scanned the woods but couldn’t make out any individuals from this distance — she frowned a little, impatient. She supposed it would be too much to hope that Galen or Cam had been among the men snapped up by Nessie in the lake — and sure enough, to her dismay, the two men came out of the forest, bows in hand. They seemed surprised to see the full complement of guards ready and waiting for them. It seemed that they’d been expecting their water-borne men to get into the castle ahead of time and cause chaos, leaving them to take the gate unchallenged. Well, they hadn’t counted on the denizen of the lake rising to the protection of her friends. Then again, who would have expected that?
Galen gave the order, his voice loud in the night, and his thirty or so men charged the castle. Brendan gave the order to fire once the gang of mercenaries grew close — the arrows rained down, striking a handful of men where they stood and clearly frightening the others deeply. They kept charging when Galen shouted at them, but Anna could see the looks on their faces — this wasn’t a fight they thought they could win. What had been their plan for the gate, she wondered, disgusted by the transparency of their plan. Perhaps they’d intended for the men in the boats to simply unlock the castle for them.
It wasn’t long before Galen’s forces were broken — with a dozen men dead, they fled for the woods, and not on Galen’s command, either. The man was among them, running like a coward — Anna saw Brendan raise his bow and take careful aim, but the shot went wide. He hissed, frustrated, and Donal raised his arm to stop him from nocking another arrow.
“We want them alive,” he said, voice low and deadly. “Send riders.”
Within minutes, a dozen men on horses were riding across the land bridge, swords in hand and the sigil of the Sept gleaming on their armor. Anna watched from up high, impatient — she wished she could join them, ride with them to bring in the enemies of the Sept, but she knew that without armor (and, for that matter, particularly good horseback skills) she’d be more of a liability than an asset. So, she waited, impatiently, as night wore on. Donal waited with her, stiff-backed, staring into the woods as they waited for the riders to return.
It wasn’t long before dawn when there was a commotion in the woods. Anna had been discretely dozing, standing up — a huge great cloak around her shoulders. Donal was similarly attired, a warm jacket tucked around him where he stood. Maeve, it seemed, didn’t sleep through this kind of excitement — she’d come up with hot drinks and warming clothes an hour or so into their vigil, and looked with some pity at the bodies of the men who hadn’t survived the initial assault by the Keep’s archers.
“Foolish men,” she sighed. “They gave themselves over to the wrong cause. May their souls find a way, regardless.”
But now, riders were emerging from the woods — all of the riders who had gone had returned, Anna noted, automatically counting them. No injuries, at least none visible, and looks of triumph on the faces of the men. Blood on their blades, too. Idly, she wondered how many of Galen’s mercenaries had survived the night. Not many, it seemed. And behind the riders, their hands bound, shuffled a hapless-looking group of about half a dozen men. Galen was among them, she saw, as was Cam — and was that Father Caleb, his face covered in blood? Even from this distance, he looked horrified — she could see his whole body shaking. She knew he was the enemy… but still, she couldn’t help but feel pity for him. It felt like he didn’t belong there, somehow.
“Bring them to me in the Hall,” Donal instructed Brendan, then swept away. Anna hesitated before following him — but he turned back to her, his grey eyes keen. “Anna? I won’t do this without my right hand.”
She grinned at that and moved after him as fast as she could. God, it felt good to be trusted again, to be treated as the warrior she was. Thank God he’d come to his senses — and thank God, she thought, I had the patience to wait for him to do so. Thank God I trusted him to come around. Together — why, they were unstoppable, as far as she was concerned. What did that mean? Was she considering something more serious with this man than sharing his bed and his counsel? Firmly, Anna put those thoughts aside. There were prisoners to be dealt with first. This conflict wasn’t over.
The men were all standing in a miserable huddle in the center of the hall when Anna and Donal entered, Donal looking imperious and cold as he stood over them. Galen glared up at him, unapologetic, unbowed — but Cam, beside him, had clearly seen the worst of the battle. There was a huge bruise swelling on the side of his head, and his nose looked broken. The other three men looked woozy, but belligerent — perhaps the more loyal of his hired mercenaries, Anna thought with a roll of her eyes. Even more stupid than their fellows, then. And poor Father Caleb, white as a sheet with blood running down his face. She squinted at the top of his head, trying to find the wound — he looked like he was convinced that he was dying, but she knew from experience that even minor head wounds bled a lot more than you’d expect.
“Well,” Donal said finally, his voice booming. “What do you have to say for yourselves?”
Chapter 58
Cam spat a mouthful of blood at the Laird’s feet — Anna thought she heard the clinking of a loose tooth against the stone. Galen just stared at him, mutinous. None of the other men behind them said a word, either. But the effect was somewhat ruined by the terrified voice of Father Caleb.
“Laird Donal, I am so sorry, I am so, so sorry. It was my fault, it was all my fault. I confess, I confess, I stirred the villagers up to riot yesterday, I told them terrible lies, none of it true, none of it! We found no evidence of witchcraft in the village, none at all, but then Galen told me that I had to make some up, and I was weak, and I did, but I’m so sorry, and I’ll never do it again — please, Laird Donal, have mercy on me.”
Donal let the man finish, and Anna could tell he was hiding a smile.
“What’s your story, Father?”
The young priest gasped for breath. Galen was staring at him like he very much wanted to murder him — but his hands were bound. “I trained as a priest in Ireland,” the young man started, and Anna nodded, finally placing the accent. “I wanted to hunt witches — I wanted to keep people safe from what’s in the darkness, and my supervisors agreed it would be good for me!”
Probably wanted to toughen him up, Anna thought with some amusement. It was a good theory… but something about the priest didn’t make her think that he was cut out for this kind of life. He was too gentle. She found herself hoping that Donal would spare him.
“I hired these men, but they…” He took a deep breath, clearly terrified to speak ill around Galen. Donal gestured him forwards, allowing him to shuffle away from the mercenary leader, who was glaring daggers at him the whole time. “They didn’t listen. They — I’ll admit it was my weakness that was at fault, but they took control. Decided we ought to cause trouble even in blameless villages. Started bullying and harassing locals, threatening town leaders into bribing them to get them to leave… the things they did. I kept wanting to run away, but I couldn’t face my supervisor, not having failed so terribly.” He shut his eyes hard and bowed his head. “He’s going to be so disappointed.”
“So, it was you that stirred the villagers up against us,” Donal said thoughtfully. “How did you do it? Threats?”
“Oh, no. I just — spoke to them,
” the priest said blankly. “Explained our position, explained that there were demons and such coming out of the lake… I can be fairly persuasive when I want to be. It’s one of my few strengths,” he added, sounding miserable.
“Interesting. I have a proposition for you, Father Caleb,” Donal said. “I won’t put you to the sword with these men, and I won’t make you go back to your supervisor, either.”
The priest’s face was full of shock — and dawning hope. Then suspicion claimed its place, too. “I won’t hurt any more people,” he said stridently. “You can’t make me. I’d rather you cut my head off with that sword than raid another village.”
“Good,” Donal said, nodding. “Then you can stay.”
“Stay?”
“Stay in the village. The villagers seem to like you — you can be their priest. From what my sources told me, you were doing some good work there, despite your terrible choice of company.”
Anna hid a smile — she knew full well that Donal’s so-called ‘sources’ were all a bright-eyed young woman called Kaitlyn. She hoped the girl was still tucked up safe in bed — she wouldn’t put it past the girl to come sneaking down to spy on a battle like this.
“On one condition,” Donal said forcefully.
“Anything,” Caleb whispered, his face alight with joy.
RESCUED BY THE HIGHLANDER Page 35