Fate of a Highlander

by Baker, Katy

  Chapter 3

  Eleanor hadn't known what to expect as she stepped through the archway but this sudden sensation of falling as though she was on a fairground ride wasn't high on the list. Her stomach rose into her chest and for a moment she was certain she would faint. Then the sensation faded as quickly as it had come and she found herself stumbling out into bright sunlight.

  She blinked rapidly and looked around. Behind her rose the oak tree with its hollow trunk but it was smaller and appeared, much, much younger. The stream still meandered by, gurgling happily, but everything else had changed. Gone was the woodland she’d passed through. Instead, she was standing on an expanse of open ground covered in hummocky tufts of rye grass that felt slightly spongy under her boots. A few other oak trees were dotted around, widely spaced, and beyond them Eleanor could see an open expanse of green and purple moorland stretching to the horizon.

  Her eyes widened in shock. Where was Achfarn? Where were the farmer's fields and the Highland cattle? She spun around to face Irene MacAskill.

  "Irene, what the hell just happened? You better have a damn good explanation—"

  Her words trailed off as she realized there was no sign of the old woman. Panic flared. Her stomach knotted, sending her pulse racing. Eleanor turned back to the tree trunk and walked around it quickly, certain the old woman must be hiding and this was some sort of joke on the new girl in town.

  But she found nothing. No footprints in the boggy ground, nothing to indicate the old woman had ever been there. Eleanor turned around, scanning the landscape, sure Irene must be around here somewhere. But there was not another soul in sight. There was only Eleanor, the oak trees, and the empty expanse of the Highlands.

  Cupping her hands to her mouth she shouted, "Irene! Where are you? Come out, this is not funny! Irene!"

  Her shout echoed off the hills before fading into silence.

  Okay, Eleanor said to herself, trying to think rationally. You've had some kind of episode. Maybe you hit your head and you blacked out or you've fallen asleep and gone sleepwalking and dreamt the whole episode with Irene. There are a hundred rational explanations for this, you just have to figure out where you’ve wandered to and then find your way back.

  Calmed a little by her logic, Eleanor took a deep breath. She’d followed the stream on the way out here so, logically, if she followed it back, it would lead her to Achfarn.

  Right, she thought. When I get back, I'll go straight to the surgery and ask Alice to check me over. Maybe I'm more tired than I realized and I hallucinated the whole thing.

  She began walking, keeping the stream on her left, striding purposefully across the boggy, uneven ground. Any minute she would spot a house in the distance or a stone wall that marked the boundary of the village or hear the sound of a car engine. But she didn't. She walked for around thirty minutes, seeing nothing and nobody. Gradually the landscape began to change into a series of craggy hills. Realizing she'd somehow missed Achfarn, Eleanor stopped.

  Damn it! This was most annoying! Getting lost on her first day? What an idiot this would make her look! She could just imagine the conversations down the pub tonight when the locals discovered that the foreign doctor had to be rescued on her first day in town!

  She pursed her lips. There was nothing for it. She'd have to look stupid and put up with the gossip. She dug her cell out of her pocket and dialed 999 for the emergency services. After a moment's silence the phone let out a shrill beep. Glancing at the display, Eleanor realized there was no signal. Oh, wonderful. Just absolutely perfect! Wasn't that just her rotten luck?

  She growled in annoyance, let out a string of curses, and resisted the urge to hurl the phone away in frustration. She dropped it back into her pocket and forced herself to take a calming breath. She checked her watch, wondering how much time might have passed. But as she raised her wrist, she realized her watch wasn’t there anymore. She must have lost it when she stumbled through the arch. Great! Could this day get any worse? She was lost, had no cell signal and now she’d lost her damned watch!

  Schooling herself to calmness, she took in her surroundings. Ahead, the ground began to slope down into a wooded valley. A dark column rose into the air above the trees.

  Smoke! That meant a campfire and people!

  She sagged in relief. Hopefully they'd be able to tell her the way to Achfarn and, if she was really lucky, maybe she'd be able to beg a lift. At worst she'd be able to use their cell phone and call a cab to come pick her up. Maybe nobody back at the village had to know about this little episode after all!

  Feeling infinitely more optimistic, Eleanor started down the hill. The trail down into the valley was muddy and Eleanor slipped more than once, cursing loud enough to startle a flock of grouse into the air. But finally she reached the spot where she'd seen the smoke and saw the flames of a campfire glimmering through the trees.

  She breathed out, relieved. Finally! Surely anyone camping out here would know the route back to Achfarn?

  As she wove her way through the trees, approaching the campfire, she got her first look at the people around the fire and realized her first assumption might have been wrong. This didn’t look like some family camping expedition after all.

  Four grizzled men were sitting on logs around the fire. They wore traditional Scottish dress of a tartan plaid over linen shirts and four horses were tethered nearby.

  Eleanor paused, suddenly uneasy.

  One of the men glanced up and spotted her. He surged to his feet.

  "Who's there? Come out where we can see ye!"

  Well, no helping it now. Eleanor walked forward. "Sorry to disturb you," she said. "But I'm a little lost and I was hoping you could tell me how to get back to Achfarn. Could you direct me to the road? Or do you have a cell phone I could borrow so I can call a cab?"

  The men looked at each other. The one who'd stood moved forward cautiously, peering behind Eleanor as if expecting others.

  "Who are ye?" he demanded.

  "I'm the new doctor in Achfarn," she replied, a little startled by his unfriendly tone. "I went out walking and got lost. Look, if you could just point me in the direction of the nearest road, I'll find my way from there."

  "Ye are alone?" the man asked.

  Eleanor hesitated. Now that she was closer she noticed the men were all unkempt, with dirty clothes and ragged beards. They were staring at her with hard eyes and she saw that they sported cuts and bruises, as though they’d been fighting.

  Her unease intensified.

  "You know what?" she said, backing away. "It's fine. I'll be on my way."

  She turned and hurried back the way she’d come, fighting the urge to run.

  "Nay so fast!" the man cried. He ran after her and grabbed her elbow. "Ye think we'll let a spy just go wandering off?"

  "Let go!" Eleanor cried in outrage. "You're hurting me!"

  His grip was hard and unyielding. "Come with me quietly and ye willnae get hurt," he growled.

  He yanked her unceremoniously back to the clearing. The other men had risen to their feet and were holding swords in their hands. Swords! Where the hell had they gotten those?

  "Is she alone, Angus?" one of them asked anxiously.

  "I reckon so," Angus replied. "I didnae see any other tracks.”

  One of the men spat on the ground. "Those damned MacAuleys. They must be desperate if they're sending women to do their dirty work for them."

  Eleanor glanced from one man to the other. She had no idea what they were talking about.

  "Let me go!” she cried. “I don't know what the hell is going on here but you'll take your hands off me, right now!"

  Angus, who she assumed was the leader, narrowed his eyes at her. He was a big man with a large, bushy beard. "Ye are in nay position to be giving orders, my lady. Answer my questions. Are ye alone? Are there others following behind ye? Have ye been leading them onto us?"

  Eleanor stared at him, bewildered. "I've no idea what you're talking about. Like I told you,
I'm just trying to get back to Achfarn. If you let me go, I'll get out of your hair and we can forget this ever happened."

  "Trying to get back to MacAuley's camp more like," one of the other men said. "So she can report back on Lord Stewart's deployment or else lead that bastard patrol back so they can finish us off!"

  "Nah," a third man said. "She doesnae look like a spy to me. I reckon she's a runaway. Probably a whore after better pay. Mayhap she's come to the right place, eh, lads?" He grinned around at his fellows.

  "Shut yer mouth, Balloch!" Angus snarled. "Spies come in all guises, ye fool."

  Eleanor blinked. They thought she was a spy? What the hell?

  "Look," she said, trying to keep her voice calm. "There's been some sort of misunderstanding. I don't know who you think I am but you're mistaken. I'm a doctor for god's sake, that's all. Let me go before I have the police down on you!"

  Angus stared at her. "Ye aren't going anywhere, lass, other than back to Lord Stewart." He pushed her towards Balloch, a broad-shouldered man with red hair falling onto his shoulders. "Tie her up and get her on one of the horses. It's time we were out of here. If she was leading that patrol back here, I suggest we make ourselves scarce."

  Balloch winked at her and then gave a cocky grin. "Aye, sir. It will be a pleasure." He grabbed Eleanor's hands and quickly tied her wrists with a piece of rope.

  "Get your hands off me!" Eleanor cried, twisting and trying to yank herself from his grip.

  Balloch merely pulled her tighter. Eleanor aimed some savage kicks in his direction but he barely seemed to feel the blows. In fact, he seemed to enjoy them.

  "My," he said, grinning at her. "Are all MacAuley women as feisty as ye?"

  "I'm not a MacAuley woman, you asshole!" Eleanor growled. "My name is Eleanor Stevenson, and boy, are you going to pay for this!"

  The threat only made Balloch grin wider.

  "Balloch! Stop arsing around and get her mounted up," Angus snapped. He and the other men sat astride their horses, scanning the woods nervously. Somebody had doused the campfire.

  Balloch dragged Eleanor to his horse and unceremoniously grabbed her around the waist, ignored her kicking, and tossed her into the saddle. Then he climbed up behind her.

  "Keep fighting me," he growled. "Just keep fighting me. Then ye will see just how much of an 'asshole' I can be."

  His tone was full of menace and the look in his eyes sent a chill down Eleanor's spine.

  "Where are you taking me?"

  "Are ye deaf? To Lord Stewart of course. Where else would we take a MacAuley spy? Ye just better hope that the lord is in a good mood otherwise it willnae go well for ye."

  Then the men kicked their horses into motion and Eleanor was forced to cling to the saddle horn to keep from being tossed to the ground. Fear fluttered in her belly. Who were these men? There were ragged and travel-stained and the fact that they carried swords—swords! —obviously meant they were not averse to violence. From the looks of them they’d been involved in some recently. Had she somehow stumbled on a criminal gang hiding out in the Highlands? And why the hell did they think she was some sort of spy?

  Her heart thundered in her ears and the fear coursing through her veins made it difficult to think. Her cell phone was in her pocket. If she could reach it, maybe there would be signal enough to call the police, but with her hands tied there was little hope of that.

  They thundered along a muddy trail through the woods, Angus in the lead, the two other men bringing up the rear. All were tense, wary, their eyes continually scanning the terrain. They'd put their swords away but even so Eleanor could see they were ready for trouble.

  She sucked in a deep breath, trying unsuccessfully to calm her thumping heart. Oh god. What in God’s name had she stumbled into?

  She tried to keep a track of their journey as they rode but in the unchanging green expanse of trees, it was difficult to know in which direction they were travelling. They followed a narrow trail through the woods and she saw signs of other traffic: more hoof prints and the tracks of some sort of wheeled vehicle, too narrow to be a car. A cart perhaps?

  The men didn't speak. Their faces were grim, their shoulders tense. What did they expect to happen? That they would all suddenly get jumped by a band of muggers? All the way out here in the middle of nowhere?

  They rode for what felt an age before Angus called a halt next to a stream.

  "Water the horses quickly," he instructed.

  Balloch dismounted and reached up to drag Eleanor from the saddle.

  "Dinna try anything, woman,” he said, setting her on her feet. “I'll be watching ye."

  He took his horse's reins and led the animal over to the stream to drink.

  "Aren't you going to untie my hands?" she called after him.

  He glanced over his shoulder. "Why would I do that?"

  "I...I...need to use the bathroom."

  "The what?"

  "I need to pee."

  "Ah!" Balloch said, his leering grin returning. "Why didnae ye say so? Yer wish is my command, my lady."

  He pulled a dagger from his belt and strode over. Setting the sharp blade against the bonds, he sliced through them.

  "This way," he said, taking her arm.

  "What are you doing?"

  "Escorting ye. Ye didnae think we would let ye go wandering off alone now did ye?"

  Balloch dragged Eleanor into a clump of bushes a few metres from the camp. The men had not taken off their horse's saddles and so could be ready to ride in an instant. Her only option was to flee deeper into the woods where the horses would find it difficult to manoeuvre through the thick undergrowth. If she could get free of Balloch, that is.

  She yanked her arm from his grip angrily. "Do you have no manners at all?" she demanded. "You could at least turn your back and give a lady some privacy!"

  Balloch's grin was so infuriating she wanted to slap him. But after a moment he crossed his arms and turned his back. "Be quick."

  Eleanor waited until his back was completely turned then grabbed a branch that lay in the dirt by her feet and swung it with all her strength. It connected with the back of his knee with a loud ‘thwack’ and Balloch yowled in pain, crashing onto his knees.

  Eleanor seized her chance. She took off into the trees, sprinting for all she was worth. Shouts of alarm rang out behind but she didn't dare look back. She pelted between the trees, flinging up mud, doing her best to keep to where the undergrowth was thickest.

  As she ran, she dug into her pocket and pulled out her cell phone – or tried to. With a flare of panic she realized it was no longer in her pocket. Oh hell! She must have dropped it when Balloch grabbed her by the campfire! She couldn’t call for help.

  She was on her own.

  Chapter 4

  Finlay knelt and examined the ground. He’d found the trail of Stewart’s patrol around an hour ago, following it steadily east before it became confused and muddy. Four sets of hoof prints were clearly visible in the thick leaf-litter. It was not unusual for a patrol to consist of four riders but what made Finlay pause was that one set of hoof prints was deeper than the others as though carrying something heavy, perhaps more than one passenger. Had Stewart’s patrol captured a MacAuley scout? But if so, surely the man would have his own horse rather than having to ride double?

  Finlay frowned. What was going on here? Eyes scanning the ground, he followed the tracks and soon came upon a stream. Here there were footprints as well as hoof prints which showed the riders had dismounted, probably to water the horses. There were five sets of footprints. Hmm. Five people to four horses which meant he’d been right – one of the horses was carrying two riders.

  He followed as two of the sets of footprints led away from the clearing to a spot where the leaf-litter had been disturbed by some sort of scuffle. One set led off into the woods, spaced far enough apart to indicate that whoever made them had been running. The footprints were small, although not small enough to indicate a child. A woman?

/>   Finlay pulled his dagger from its sheath and set off, following the footprints. They meandered everywhere; sometimes re-crossing their path and then circling back round to where they started. Whoever had made them was clearly in a panic. The prints were fresh and he could not be more than a few minutes behind.

  Finlay paused in a clearing and went very still, listening. At first he heard nothing but the sounds of the woods: the call of birds, the rustle of squirrels in the leaf-litter. But then he detected something else: movement in the trees and the distant sound of men’s voices.

  Then, as he cocked his head to listen, a woman came hurtling through the trees. She was looking over her shoulder and didn’t see him standing there. She slammed straight into him, her momentum strong enough to send them both crashing to the ground.

  He gasped, all the wind knocked out of him as her elbow landed firmly in his stomach. She let out a shrill scream and scrambled up, her feet slipping on the slick grass. Finlay scrambled up and, as she was about to run, managed to get his hand around her wrist.

  “Wait!”

  Her other hand came swinging at him and he only just managed to turn his head in time to avoid getting a fist in the face for his troubles. He caught her arms before she could swing for him again and the woman shrieked, struggling and kicking like a wildcat.

  “Easy!” Finlay cried. “Easy, woman! I willnae hurt ye!”

  “Let me go!” she shouted. “They’re coming!”

  “Who’s coming?”

  Instead of answering, she aimed a kick squarely at his nether regions. Finlay didn’t have time for this. Deftly avoiding her kick, he yanked her towards him, spun her around and grabbed her tight, holding her against him and pinning her own arms at her sides. She struggled, desperately trying to break free but Finlay held her fast.

  “Calm down, lass,” he said by her ear. “I willnae harm ye. Nor will I let anyone else harm ye. Stop struggling!”