Captive Heart

by Erin O'Quinn

  After a long time, I heard a signal-like whistle from far below. It was probably Flann, I thought, calling us to a meeting of minds. Liam rose first, then helped me to my feet. We made our steady way down the incline until we were sitting comfortably around a crackling fire, ready to talk about the taking of Tory Island.

  Chapter 24:

  Of Crakes and Currachs

  My companions were all leaning toward the fire in anticipation, as though hearing in the tongues of flame a resolution of all conflicts. It crackled and danced, caught now and again by a whirl of wind. But in this place, we seemed indeed to be sheltered by mothering arms.

  Thom, Black Knife, and Silver Weaver were sitting cross-legged together. As soon as Thom spoke, all eyes turned to his intense, fierce face. “My friends, we leave at the first touch of dawn tomorrow, as soon as we can see well enough to dip our paddles in the sea. In spite of the wanton currents, we should be able to make landfall on Tory in about three hours.”

  He looked around as though inviting comment. No one spoke, and he continued. “Falcon has well spoken of our need to combine our ideas. And so as I talk, I want—and expect—that you will stop me and challenge me. Let our plan be sharp as one of Luke’s fine swords.”

  I saw the color rise in Luke’s cheeks, and I was glad to hear Thom’s well-spoken compliment. If Luke was to remain behind, let it be as a maker of weapons, not as a whimpering civilian. Quince was looking at him with a little smile, her eyes seeming to feast on his boyishly handsome face.

  “On our scouting trip,” Thom continued, “we crawled for nearly an hour until we reached the opposite cliff face. My notion now is that we may be able to walk, even if stealthily. The hour will be early, and the slugabeds will be too heavy with sleep to climb the cliff face to seek a morning meal. I think they will not see us, and walking will save us at least half an hour.”

  I knew that Brindl was loath to contradict her husband, even at the best of times. Now that she had been consigned with me and the civilians to staying behind, she would be especially reluctant to gainsay his words. And yet what she had to say was the conclusion she and I had reached yesterday, and it needed to be said right away.

  “Danger Walker,” she said, and she raised her brindled eyes to his handsome face. No one could fail to see the rush of love in her expression. “I remember back to my early training as a marine. One of the first lessons has stayed with me always, and I think we all need to wear it as a battle cry. Respect your enemy.”

  Then she lowered her eyes, reluctant to say more. And her husband saw her meaning immediately.

  As if to save Thom from embarrassment, the diffident Silver Weaver actually stood up, drawing attention away from the two of them. “I catch your point, Brindl, and a good point it is. Shall we lower our guard by thinking that these raiders are dull witted as milk cows? Let us assume that they are our equal and form plans on that basis.”

  “Yes,” agreed Black Knife. “In that vein, let us suppose that they have set at least one sentry. Let us also assume that they have formed some plan of resistance.”

  “I like the thinking of this brain.” Thom grinned, and I was relieved to see that he had not taken his companions’ words as criticism.

  “Then, if I may say something?” asked Bunny. We all silently looked at her, and she blushed but spoke clearly. “I say we need to cut off their most obvious means of escape, even before we begin the attack.”

  “An’ that is—?” prompted her kinsman Flann.

  “Their currachs,” I cried out, unable to hold back my words. I had thought of it yesterday, and it made even more sense now.

  “Yes,” agreed Bunny. “If not their boats, then their paddles. Can they guide themselves through the sea without a paddle? Can a hound give chase without a nose?”

  Everyone laughed, and Bunny grinned with pleasure.

  “Then let us start again,” said Thom. “Let us put ourselves back at the place where we moor our currachs. We have to assume that their own vessels are moored on the other side of the island, close to their little huddle of clay houses, where it is easy to drag supplies and, um—other goods—back and forth.”

  “Then let one of us who was there before take a few companions and seek their currachs,” said Black Knife. “I will happily be that person.”

  “And I would join you,” said Akantha, raising her proud nose and chin. “I can crawl as well as any Forest Warden, no matter the terrain.”

  “And I can, too,” Archer said. “Whoever of us find their currachs, let us be the second set of teeth in a grinding jaw. We can attack from two positions at once.”

  “Excellent!” Thom cried, obviously feeling the excitement of the hunt. “Let us agree beforehand on a signal. When you have located the currachs and hidden the paddles, you will be on the side opposite our own descent down the cliffs. How will we know when you have completed your mission?”

  “I have an idea,” said Falcon. He stood, as if knowing that his small stature was not enough to make a bold point as long as he was sitting down. “I am a caller of birds. Indeed, you might say that birds and I are one of a feather.” He paused, and the expected laughter arose at his modest play on words.

  “I have been observing the birds that fly on this coast. We have already learned that many thousands of them nest on Tory Island. If I were one of the paddle stealers, I could send all of you a clear signal. It would be the voice of a Corn Crake—very distinctive.”

  Suddenly we heard an almost raucous squawk—“Krk! Krek!”—and I recognized it immediately, for the cry was one I had been hearing ever since we had encamped in the sheltering cove. The smallish birds, gray streaked with brown and black, seemed to be everywhere, nesting and flying, seeking small tidbits washed up by the waves and even the seed of the floss grass that had found purchase here and there in the damp spots of ground.

  I felt the same rush of admiration for Falcon as I already felt for his kinsman Jay Feather. The language of the birds would once more come to the rescue of the rescuers!

  “That sound is around us constantly,” said Mari. “Perhaps you sound a bit too natural, Falc. How will we know it is you, and not a lonely male seeking his lady love?”

  Falcon grinned at her words. “You are right. My crake shall sound three times, in groups of two squawks. ‘Krk krek! Krk krek! Krk krek!’”

  Falcon’s display set us all in a merry mood, and it seemed that in no time at all we had come up with a workable plan. Those of us who stayed behind would be treated with a footfall-for-footfall account of the rescue soon enough.

  After eating our evening meal, Flann began to pace up and down by the fire in the dwindling daylight. “Tomorrow morning, I think we need to eat as we sail. Let us gather the food now. That will save an hour…b’fhéidir…an’ every hour saved is an hour of extra daylight for our mission.”

  “Well spoken,” said Bunny. “And what do you all think of wearing a few lengths of rope around our middle, like an extra weapons belt?’

  “Yes, yes!” I heard a few marines cry out. They, as well as the Glaed Keepers, would be charged with trussing the freebooters as soon as they were subdued, and we could not rely on their having rope lying around, just waiting for us to tie them with. I thought that, considering all the details we could be missing, we had thought of almost every important facet of the rescue mission.

  And yet something, some small detail, was scratching at my mind. I knew that if I freed the thought, like a graceful butterfly, it would come back to me soon enough. Liam and I sat close together, our heaviest blanket beneath us, leaning into the comforting fire. Even now toward the end of July, the air here was almost cold and very damp. Flann had suggested that all of us keep the tarred cloth close by, in case of overnight rain, and one of the queen chair cloths lay near us as we settled back to sleep.

  Liam lay on his back, looking up at the darkly clouded sky devoid of stars. I curled next to him, taking my weight off my stomach, my head in the hollow of his undera
rm. In spite of our not enjoying many baths so far on our journey, I thought that Liam had a particularly sensual, virile smell, and I buried my head even a little deeper into his warm skin.

  His other arm enveloped me, pulling me as close as possible. I felt his lips moving on my ear, not trying to form words but nuzzling my ear as though I were a bit of fodder, and he a hungry animal. I wrapped my legs around one of his as he chewed and licked, slowly and deliberately. One of his fingers tipped my chin up, and his mouth found mine.

  Ever since our time together this afternoon on the bluff overlooking the bay, every move of Liam’s, and every word, took on a new and deeper meaning. Now he explored very slowly, not seizing my tongue with hot desire as he usually did. And I, not trying to speak or move, let his tongue continue in its quest, feeling every movement all the way from my toes and up, between my legs and into my bum. It was a slow fire, and I found myself finally answering his mouth with my own deep sucking movements on his mouth, down his chin, and onto his throat.

  We both knew that our slightest move and sound would be detected by our sleeping companions, and so we moved as slowly and deliberately as we could, silently and with sure purpose. With one hand, Liam reached out and brought one of the tarred cloths up over the two of us, as though the rain had already begun, and we lay there sucking and kissing each other until I could feel him trembling in anticipation, and I was sure he could feel my own tremors of delight.

  As though my swollen body were light as any child, he lifted me partly by my buttocks onto his groin, and he entered me with a sudden stab, like lightning shuddering the earth around it. It was strangely different, making love like this without a sound, without a signal of one partner to the next, only our ragged breath and hungry mouths telling each other how we felt.

  In and out he moved, so slowly that I almost cried out, “Faster!” in my frenzy to feel him more and more deeply. But I let him set the rhythm, and it built slowly until he was so deep I thought surely I would shriek in combined pain and pleasure. Then I was coming, coming, like the inexorable waves I had watched and breathed with earlier today. It had never felt so intense, and afterwards I collapsed onto his chest, exhausted and fully satisfied. His large hand rubbed my back, there where the pain had already begun to throb. And then I fell asleep, never once saying a word to my amazing lover.

  * * * *

  I sat bolt upright. No, it was not yet dawn. But I could hear dawn in the call of the birds. In a very short time, Liam would be gone, off on a dangerous mission, and I would be forced to sit like a crane on a cliff waiting for his return.

  I could feel the emotion welling again in my throat. Perhaps this is how he felt months ago when I was off confronting a deadly foe and he lay helpless with a grievous head wound. I never once thought of Lim’s inner turmoil as I rode off on a high adventure. And yet now I knew that he understood my deep fear and grief, and he felt it so strongly that he had willed himself to be my own heart, my own avenging arm.

  “How I love you, Liam,” I said, not realizing that I had spoken aloud until I heard his dear voice answer me.

  “A Cháit, is tú mo ghrá.”

  “Get up, you slugabed,” I told him affectionately, not wanting to linger on my sudden fears. “The sooner there—”

  “Aye, Cat. The sooner back.” He sat up and rubbed the last of sleep from his eyes. He stood and helped me to my feet, and he leaned down and gave me a light kiss. “Meet me at the currach,” he murmured, and he walked away to find a private spot.

  Now everyone was awake, moving around, gathering last-minute supplies. I sought out Brindl, who also stood alone. “Brindie, let us go down to the shore and wait at the currachs.”

  I could barely see her in the light of the dying fire, but I saw that she nodded her bright head. We walked carefully through the rocks, keeping the dim light of dawn on our right hands. We stood by the moored currachs, seeing the light crafts rising and falling with the movement of the water, their sails still furled.

  Then powerful memories flooded my mind. Me standing at the high-water mark of the Newport Shipyards, waiting by the saffron-sailed currach that would take me and my small crew to Éire. The morning had been early, like now, and my heart had been divided between leaving the man Kevan and finding my true purpose in life.

  What lay ahead for Liam was, in a way, much more fraught with danger than what I had faced on that long-ago day—had it already been two years? I cursed my own yearning for adventure, for this time it had brought my treasure trove, my Liam, to the brink of possible death.

  “Brindie, my thirst for peril may cause grief. I pray they will not be hurt.”

  “Nonsense, Cay,” she said, much more matter-of-factly than I thought she really felt. “Our husbands are warriors, much better equipped right now than we are. After all, have we not taught them our best survival skills?”

  I laughed obligingly, but still I felt the guilt of bringing all of us to this place of lightning and angry ocean.

  Then, not just Liam and Thom, but all our companions gathered at the currachs just as the first breath of dawn stirred the eastern sky. I saw that the Glaed Keepers were eating and quaffing wine from their large wineskins. I noticed at the same time that Klaus and Konrad were standing apart from their fellows as if observers and not sailors.

  Liam was standing at my shoulder, and I turned and asked him, “Are Klaus and Konrad—na Cnoic—not going with you?”

  He repeated my name for the Keepers. “Na Cnoic. That is funny, Cat. Ye have made a joke in Gaelige.”

  I thought that the words na cnoic sounded like “knock-knick,” and the words themselves meant the mountains in Gaelic. So yes, I supposed it was my very first joke in the complex language of the clansmen and probably my last.

  Thom looked at me, then away. “Knock-Knick have asked to be assigned here, as—ah, as—”

  “As bodyguards,” Brindl said drily.

  “Um, not quite,” said Thom. “It would be foolish of us not to leave warriors to guard our rear flank.”

  “Tá go maith,” I said again, resigned to the fact that Brindie and I were warriors no longer, until after our babies were born. “And yet wait and see, Brin. You and I will be warriors yet, in spite of everything.”

  Thom addressed our small group of stay-behinds. “Expect us back in the late afternoon. I have run it through my mind, and I think we should be back here with the women before nightfall. You may wish to be ready with food, clothing, healing potions, and so on.”

  “And what of the prisoners?” asked Luke.

  Flann stepped forward then. “They will stay behind until tomorrow. Our highest duty is to bring back the women. The filthy, stinking ruffians may find a bed in the rocks until we are ready to move them.”

  “Ho! Yes!” sounded a chorus of former Harborton marines, and I grinned at their enthusiasm. We needed their fresh spirit, and I felt better already as I turned to Liam for our farewell kiss.

  “Darling—”

  “Shush, Cat. I will be careful. Try not…not confuse na Cnoic too much. I will see ye later today.” And with those words he bent and kissed me, not quite a public kiss but not a lingering one, either.

  “Is tú mo ghrá, a mo chuisle,” I whispered.

  “A chuisle mo chroí,” he answered, and he turned. With one deft leap, he stood in the lead currach, and two Glaed Keepers seized the ropes at the bow of the little craft. Several others jumped in behind him, and the Keepers ran with the vessel until the waves caught it, and then they, too, leaped aboard and seized their paddles.

  All six currachs were bobbing and turning like corks, and I saw the marines and Keepers alike straining at the paddles, trying to seize control, running against the waves and wind. These were the same men who had guided all the pilgrims on a six-day trip across the Sea of Éire, and I had complete faith in their ability.

  Our little group of eight souls—Brindl and I, Luke and the twins, Brother Jericho, and the blue-eyed Glaed Keepers—stood and watched
the small craft until we saw white sails begin to unfurl and billow as the wind changed. Soon we could see them no more.

  “Wiedersehen,” said one of the mountainous warriors, and the other raised his wineskin high.

  “Ja, auf Wiedersehen.” He drank long and deeply, and then he passed it on to me.

  “Why not?” I reasoned with myself, and soon I felt a delicate stream of hearty red wine warm my throat and trickle down both sides of my mouth. “Until I see you again,” I told the invisible currachs, and I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.

  Chapter 25:

  Naked before Strangers

  Even after I could no longer see the little white sails, I stood rooted to the wet rocks, watching the horizon. All this danger could be laid in my lap. I had created the peril, and yet I stood safe, watching others complete what I had set out to do. Finally, scowling and biting my lip, I turned back to relight the fire and help prepare our morning meal.

  When I reached our fire haven, I saw that someone else had already started it. Brindl told me that Klaus and Konrad had already left to find a morning meal. Yesterday, they had sat apart making nets from rolls of flax they carried behind their saddles. Their cast nets had brought in a bountiful supper last night, and even enough extra for the rescuers to take with them this morning. I looked out to the coastline and saw them already standing waist deep in the ocean, dragging their makeshift line for breakfast.

  A scant hour later we had eaten our fill, some kind of flatfish that Klaus called “breet,” a smallish, odd-looking creature that resembled a trencher more than a fish. But its flesh was white and flaky, delicate and filling. I had brought my store of herbs, all wrapped in a thin coverlet, and after eating, I spread the cover with some trepidation. This fire haven was largely safe from the wind, but if my herbs were to blow away in a wanton gust, we would have no healing potions for the returning women.

  I set out my array of metal cups and cauldrons that had been bouncing and rattling behind me on the saddle as though I were an itinerant vendor. Now I squatted, measuring precise amounts of one herb, then another, until I was sure I had a flavorful and potent brew. My own aching back would put it to the test, I thought as I sipped a cupful of the brown liquid.