Lost in the Highlands, Volume Two

by Lorraine Beaumont

  ♦

  Broderick made his way off the battlements well after dark. A thick mist covered the ground and the surrounding area. As he walked across the courtyard and under the tree where he had the men hung before, a prickling of fear assailed him. He stopped dead in his tracks.

  “Who goes there?” he called. He could hear whispers, many whispers, nipping at him from every direction. They came, and went, in maddening variants of juxtapositions. He turned to the left, the right, but no matter which direction he turned, he could still see nothing. But he knew, he was not alone.

  ♦

  The corridors Gavin traversed split three ways. Left, right and straight ahead. He made a left and then another. It was strange, queer even. He did not remember the passageways leading to the dungeon to be so vast. Or for there to be so many unattended doors. When did so many doors get down here, he couldn’t help but wonder. He stopped to catch his breath and his bearings for a moment. A rat scampered by and then another. He chased after them down the hallway until he was in front of the door at the end of the hall.

  The rats disappeared underneath.

  Reaching out, his hand closed over the handle. It was cold to the touch, so cold in fact that he had to jerk his hand away. He felt as though he had just stuck his hand into the flames of a fire—it was that cold. Using his plaid, he covered his hand and jerked the handle.

  It was locked, just as he knew it would be.

  Using the keys, the ones he took from the lad, he used one key after the other trying to unlock the door.

  On the fifth try, he found the key he needed. Turning the key in the lock, he heard the distinct clicking of the lock releasing. The door opened with a groaning creak. He stepped inside and the rancid odor in the small room stole his breath.

  “Lass?”

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  LOCH MORAR, SCOTLAND

  The Past-Greystone Castle

  Callum thought he was dreaming. In fact, he knew he had to be for why else would someone be calling for a lass, down in this hellhole.

  “Laird?” Muir called out, his voice threadbare and weak.

  Gavin spun around, he knew that voice. Across the hall was another door. He ran to it and placed his hand on the metal handle. It too burned his hand from the cold. “Muir?”

  “Aye, it is me.”

  Gavin quickly used the keys; just like the other door, he used his plaid as a buffer against the frigid temperature and unlocked the door on the second try. He pushed the door open.

  Muir scrambled to his feet. “Praise the Saints above. Ye are here.” He launched himself at Gavin and wrapped his arms around his waist.

  “Muir, where is the lass?” He tried to disentangle Muir’s hands from his body.

  “Och, I do not know.”

  “What of Callum?”

  “He is in there.” Muir lifted a shaky finger and pointed at the room across the way from his.

  Gavin hooked Muir’s arm around his shoulders and helped him out of the cell. “Can ye stand here for a moment?”

  “Aye. I can do more than that.” He braced his hand on the wall and tried to stand up fully.

  “Good. Ye stay here while I get Callum.”

  “Aye.” Muir steadied himself against the bars of the cell, while Gavin crossed into the other cell.

  “Callum,” Gavin called.

  Almost afraid he was hearing things, Callum reluctantly lifted his head and said, “Laird, is that ye?”

  “Aye, Callum.” Gavin crossed the room to where Callum was shackled.

  He worked the cuffs and released them in a matter of seconds.

  Callum’s weak body slumped against him and Gavin had all he could do to keep him upright.

  Callum groaned in pain.

  Gavin froze. “Are ye hurt?”

  “Aye. I think my ribs are broken well and good.”

  “Not ta worry Callum,” Gavin said, trying to reassure his cousin. “I will get ye out of here.”

  “Where is Muir?”

  “He is right outside the door. Can ye walk?”

  “I can try.” Callum looked through the bars of his cell at Muir, relieved ta see he was still in one piece.

  Carefully, Gavin wrapped his arm around his cousins’ waist, using his body as support. Slowly, he carried Callum out of the cell and into the hall where Muir was leaning against the wall.

  Muir pressed himself upright. “See Callum, I told ye our Laird would come for us.”

  “Och, Muir, I told ye he would come for us.”

  “Och, Callum ye would think in a situation such as this that ye would no lie.”

  “I am no lying. I am sure I said it a time or two.”

  “Cease yer prattle both of ye,” Gavin snapped, losing what little restraint he had left.

  Both Muir and Callum immediately went silent.

  “Who put ye in here?” Gavin asked.

  “Broderick.” Muir limped forward.

  “But how did he get ye?”

  Muir looked at Callum.

  Callum dropped his head to his chest.

  “It makes no never mind how we got here, jes make sure we get back out, aye?”

  “I can try. I have been having a hard time getting from one place ta the next. When did all these doors get down here?”

  Muir looked at Callum and then back to his Laird. “What doors?”

  “Bloody hell, Muir, all the ones down the…” Gavin stopped talking. He shut his eyes and reopened them.

  Muir was right, there were no doors, only two open-barred cells. He looked back to where he had just come from, for the other passageways, the ones he spent so much time getting lost, but there was only one. The one he remembered from the last time he was down here.

  “What kind of witchery is this?”

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  LOCH MORAR, SCOTLAND

  The Past-Greystone Lands

  I had thought the worst thing that could happen to me while I was in the past was to be locked in a room full of dead people, however that was quickly becoming a preferable predicament to my current one.

  “Let me go you bastard!”

  Broderick bent down and got real close to my face, so close in fact that I could smell the rancid odor emanating from his mouth as he spoke.

  “Now, now, little witch. Ye can yell all ye like, it will only bring the creature of the Loch ta take ye sooner rather than later.”

  My temper flared. I gathered what little amount of saliva I had in my mouth and spit it directly into his ugly face.

  Broderick grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked her head back to the point her neck made cracking sounds. “Careful witch. I did no say ye had ta be alive ta be a sacrifice,” he growled.

  I immediately regretted letting my anger take control but what was I to do? Give up without some kind of fight? My mind said no, but my aching neck and head said otherwise.

  “Say yer sorry, witch,” Broderick scathed. His rancid spittle sprayed her face.

  Tears were forming in my eyes from the pain but I would be damned if I told that bastard I was sorry….

  Broderick jerked her head back even more.

  I cried out in pain. “I’m sorry.”

  “That’s more like it.” He released her head with a shove.

  Stars danced before my eyes. Everything was a blur. Broderick, the men standing back watching; even the red-head on the hill.

  Wait—what?

  Who was she?

  I tried to focus.

  Broderick took a step away and wiped the spit from his face. When he dropped his hand he noticed his men, the ones he hired were watching him with a cross between amusement and horror. He didn’t care about the men. There was only one face he sought in the crowd. His eyes met hers for a brief moment and then she turned away.

  Anger spiked through his veins. Turning back around, Broderick back-handed his prisoner with such force, her head snapped back.

  Everything turned black and I could see no more.
/>
  ♦

  It didn’t take nearly as long to get out of the dungeon as it did to get inside. And Gavin couldn’t help but wonder the cause. Was it really some kind of witchery or was he losing his mind? Strangely enough, he hoped it was the former and not the latter. Because he needed to keep his wits about him or else he would never be able to find his lass.

  “Where is everyone?” Muir asked, holding onto Callum as he skirted the perimeter of the courtyard to the secret door that led outside of the walls.

  “I do not know.” Gavin had a bad feeling. Honestly, it was more than that. He was having a premonition of sorts. Something bad was about to transpire, he felt it in his gut. Stopping for a moment, he helped Muir get Callum outside and slipped out behind them. The wall shut with a shuddering groan.

  The moon that was a sliver before was now full. It seemed as though a lot of time had passed since Gavin was last outside but he expected as much, what he didn’t expect was for there to be a full moon in the sky and not the sun.

  “Can ye go ta Shamus and ask him ta help Callum?” he asked Muir.

  “Och, Shamus is a traitor,” Muir grumbled.

  “He will help Callum, he owes me that much.”

  “Why can ye no ask him?” Muir shifted Callum’s limp body in his arms.

  “I can no do that. I have ta find the lass.”

  “Where is she?” Callum asked weakly.

  “I have an idea.”

  “Where?”

  “At the loch,” Gavin said. “Broderick will be wanting ta make a sacrifice ta the creature in exchange for the treasure.”

  “Laird, ye can no go alone. Broderick has too many men.”

  “Well neither of ye will be of much help,” Gavin rebuffed.

  Muir didn’t argue. “Aye, I can take him.”

  “Good.” Gavin placed his hand on Callum’s shoulder. “Ye get the help ye need.”

  Callum nodded mutely.

  “Muir, stay off the main thoroughfare, keep ta the woods like we used ta go, aye?”

  “Aye. I will.”

  “No get on with ye both.” Gavin gave them both a brief hug and then let go.

  “Can ye no wait for Graham and Alec? I am sure I can find them in a day or two?” Muir asked.

  “Nay.” Gavin shook his head and immediately regretted it because it made his vision blur. “I can no wait.”

  “But…”

  Gavin silenced Muir with a look.

  Muir sighed, knowing he would no be able to budge the Laird once he set his mind ta something. “Best of luck ta ye, Laird.”

  “Aye, I will need all the luck I can get.”

  After he watched Muir safely get Callum into the woods, Gavin took off running toward Loch Morar.

  ♦

  For some reason unbeknownst to him, Gavin felt like it was taking a very long time to get to the Loch. No matter how fast he ran up each hill, it seemed there was another in its place for him to run up. Something holy unnatural was afoot. He could feel it in his gut. Normally, Gavin didn’t give credence to the dark arts but in this instance, it would seem the like was in play trying to prevent him from reaching his destination.

  ♦

  The moon was full and pressing down on every person standing on the rocky shores of the Loch Morar, awaiting the arrival of the creature from beneath.

  “Where is he?” Broderick yelled, threading his fingers through his greasy black hair.

  All the men, the ones he hired, gave him a blank look.

  “Wake her up!” he yelled, pacing back and forth.

  A man walked over and gingerly patted her face. “Lass,” he said, trying to be gentle. The side of her face was swollen well and good. He looked warily back to Broderick. “She is no waking up.”

  “Then get some damn water from the Loch and dump it on her.”

  Reluctantly, the man walked over to the water’s edge, bent down, and put the water in a leather flask. Standing once more, he slowly made his way back to the lass.

  Broderick growled, “Do it!”

  The man, lifted the flask and dumped it on her head.

  I sputtered awake. I thought I was dreaming but when I opened my eyes I realized it was not a dream at all, but instead, a waking nightmare—one that I was the star of.

  “Are ye awake, witch?” Broderick scathed, inches from her face.

  I wished my hands were free. If they were I would have scratched his loathsome eyes out. “I already told you. I am not a witch!”

  Broderick scoffed. “We will see about that.” He turned and strode off towards the other men.

  I was glad for the momentary reprieve, although I almost wished oblivion would come and lay claim to me again. That way, when the creature showed up, I would not be conscious when the blasted thing decided to eat me.

  Lifting my sore face, and wincing from the pain, I scanned the faces of each man across the rocky shore- line. There were only ten that I could see, some old, some young and a few I had no idea about—those numbers didn’t seem that terrible, but there may have been others behind me. I doubted that though—I was too close to the water. The later it got, the men seemed to move farther away. I hoped they kept right on going too, but I knew I probably wouldn’t be that lucky.

  Broderick stepped in front of me so his back was to the Loch.

  “When the creature appears ye will all have ta be swift as ye go in the water ta retrieve the treasure.”

  I narrowed my eyes and mentally shot death daggers at his loathsome back. When that did nothing, not that I thought it would—I gave up and strained to hear what else he was saying. It was hard though with the wind picking up strength. On another occasion, I might have enjoyed the low hanging clouds and the howling wind—one of my favorite before the storm moments—but then I remembered—it did the same thing the last time I was here. “Oh Hell!”

  ♦

  “Bloody Hell!” Gavin swore, swiping his hands over his face in frustration and then letting them drop back to his sides. He looked up into the darkening sky at the fat bellied gray clouds that were roiling above and knew time was running out. It was always the same when the moon was full and soon the mist would come as well. He knew it like he knew the sun would rise on the morrow. He just didn’t know if he was going to be around to enjoy it. Or his lass, he thought disparagingly. A swooping sensation settled in his belly much like when he was riding in the metal beast from the future.

  He shook his head “Nay, it can no be this way.” With grim determination, he forced his unresponsive body along with his gruesome thoughts, onward up the crest of the next hill. When he reached the top, he paused once more. In the distance, he could finally see the Loch. He looked upward in relief, saying a silent bit of thanks and then he took off running again. Spurred with renewed resolve, his body moved agilely over clumps of grass and rocks. Once he reached the base of the hill, he moved slower so he was not detected.

  He still had no idea how he would free the lass, and or get the treasure from Broderick if he somehow got it from the creature but that was the least of his worries at the moment for when he reached the crest of the hill, there were five pairs of boots blocking his path. “Bloody Hell!”

  ♦

  I was trying to force myself into oblivion by holding my breath. Of course, that didn’t help me in the least save for becoming breathless and a bit light-headed. Hearing a commotion, I looked up at the crest of the hill. Elation shot through me at the sight of Gavin and just as quickly disappeared when I realized he was being dragged down said hill by Broderick’s men.

  Dirty stinking rotten lowlife scumbags, I thought angrily, using just about every adjective I could think of.

  Gavin didn’t bother to struggle—he knew it would be of no use. There were simply too many men to fight at the moment.

  Once they were down on the shore, he was shoved to his knees. He saw another pair of boots enter his line of vision and looked up into the black eyes of Broderick.

  “I see ye are not
so high and mighty now, are ye, Laird,” he scathed.

  Gavin spit on his boots.

  One of the men clouted him in the head and made his vision blur. Teary-eyed he looked back up into Broderick’s sneering face. “I will kill ye for that,” Gavin promised.

  Broderick obviously not liking the threat to his person or the shiver of fear that rushed through him from the threat, took a step back and although it lacked conviction, he laughed. “Ye and what army?”

  “Ye will see soon enough,” Gavin rebuffed.

  “We will see about that, Laird,” Broderick scathed and nodded his head in the direction of one of the men standing behind Gavin.

  “Gah!” Gavin groaned in pain as a boot landed between his shoulder blades and then pushed him into the dirt as his arms were stretched backward.

  “Leave him alone you...you…disgusting backwoods heathens!”

  “Och, lass…” Broderick turned towards her with a wicked gleam in his beady black eyes. “How much pain do ye ken he can bear?”

  “Gee, asshole,” I deadpanned. “How much pain could you bear?”

  Broderick narrowed his eyes. “Watch that vile tongue of yers, lass, or I may have a mind ta cut it out.”

  I tried not to let him see how his words affected me. “I’d wager that you would still be an asshole.”

  Broderick backhanded her in the face.

  A shot of white stole my sight as hot tears clouded my vision. “Bastard!” I screamed but the name calling didn’t seem to faze Broderick. After the pain subsided, I tried a different approach and started laughing. It was a small laugh at first—forced, but as time wore on, I laughed even harder, and louder,—even to my own ears I sounded a bit crazy.

  “What’s so amusing, lass?” Broderick asked finally.

  “You hit like a girl…” The taunt had the effect I wanted, for all the men who were close enough to hear my snappy retort, started to laugh.