by E. E. Holmes
“Can… Can a helicopter even get all the way to the Isle of Skye from here?” I asked in a high, trembling voice. “I thought helicopters were just for short trips.”
Catriona glanced at me, and her expression softened when she saw whatever was on my face. I watched the sarcasm drain out of her reply as she said, “This helicopter can. Based on the military design. It’s less than five hundred miles to Skye, and this darling can do close to six. We’ve made the trip many times, I promise you.”
I nodded my head for an abnormally long time, as though I were trying to shake the reassurance from Catriona’s words into my brain. It refused to stick.
“Here,” Catriona said, and plunked a huge pair of noise-canceling headphones over my ears. Instantly, the deafening sounds of the helicopter were reduced to a gentle hum. I looked over at her and mouthed my thanks before putting my head back against my seat again and closing my eyes. I didn’t open them again for several long, terrifying hours, feeling oddly grateful for the current fear that was so successfully distracting me from the fear of what I would face when we arrived at our destination.
I didn’t know how long the journey was supposed to last, and I didn’t ask. There was no clock visible from where I was sitting, even if I had decided to open my eyes and mark the passage of time. Logically, I knew that it was probably only a few hours or so, but sitting there aloft in a helicopter with my back pressed to the seat, my eyes squeezed shut, and my fingers white-knuckled upon my knees, those several hours felt roughly like eternity. I breathed in slowly through my nose and expelled the air out through my mouth over and over again until I felt quite dizzy from the regularity of it, as though my brain were not used to getting flooded with this much oxygen. I thought breathing was supposed to be good for you, but my body’s reaction was suggesting otherwise.
Casting around for a distraction, I became aware again of the connection that I had snapped shut when we were leaving Fairhaven. I hadn’t wanted to be distracted then, but now, I was desperate for someone else’s thoughts inside my head. I gave up on the breathing bullshit and focused instead on that place in my brain where I could feel the steady pulsing of energy trying to get through the barrier. Hannah and Milo were both clamoring to communicate with me. I glanced first at Catriona, absorbed in her paperwork, and then toward the cockpit, where Elin and the pilot were focused on the sky in front of us. With everyone else in the helicopter otherwise engaged, it seemed like it was finally a safe time to open the connection and update them.
The voices and emotions gushed into my head like water tumbling down over a waterfall, and I actually gasped out loud from the sensation of it. Luckily, nobody could hear me over the steady droning roar of the helicopter.
“Jess!”
“Oh, thank God!”
“Why the hell did you close that off for so long? We’ve been worried out of our minds!”
“Oh God, what’s wrong? There’s so much fear in here, it’s making me nauseous!”
“What’s going on? What are they doing to you? Are you okay?”
“Calm down, both of you, before I close this connection right back up again!” I replied. “Seriously, I’m freaking out badly enough as it is. Can you please take it down a notch before we’re all drowned in a sea of our collective neuroses? I know you’re both nervous,” I said, in my best impersonation of a Zen master. “But I’m not going to be able to keep this connection open if you’re going to compound things, okay?”
“Sorry, Jess,” Hannah mumbled at once.
“Ugh. Okay, you’re right. Sorry. Attempting to locate my chill,” Milo added.
A tangible calmness began to smooth the choppy emotional waters as both of them made a concerted effort to rein in their emotions, continuing all the while to mumble apologies back to me. I took another deep breath, and then remembered how too much breathing seemed to be making things worse rather than better.
“Good,” I said at last. “Let’s try to keep it this way, okay? For all our sakes.”
“Okay,” came both of their replies.
“But… can you just… are you okay?” Hannah added.
“I’m fine,” I assured them both in the expectant silence that followed. “We’re not there yet, obviously. But we are in a helicopter, so hence, the crippling levels of fear you were just feeling from my end.”
Hannah groaned. “Oh, shit. I thought they’d probably be flying you there, but didn’t want to say anything, because I didn’t want to make it worse.”
“That was a good call, and I appreciate it,” I said grudgingly. “The anticipation of the flying definitely would’ve made it worse.”
“Helicopter?” I could feel the longing in Milo’s voice. “That’s… I mean, come on, that’s pretty cool. The views must be incredible!”
“I wouldn’t know, I’ve got my eyes closed. But you can ask Catriona all about it,” I told him.
“Oh, right,” Milo said sheepishly.
“So, you’re on your way, then,” Hannah said firmly, as though forcing herself to accept the fact. “We were watching from the window. I can’t believe Seamus let you go without a Caomhnóir.”
“Yup. He wasn’t happy about it, but Catriona prevailed in the end, like she usually does.”
“You didn’t run into any other problems?” Milo asked. “No other awkward questions? No one suspicious about what was going on?”
“Nope, not yet at least,” I told them. “We’ve only seen Elin and the pilot since we left, and Elin’s in on it. The real test will be when we arrive at the príosún, I guess. If anyone is going to get suspicious, it will be the Caomhnóir there.”
“So, you and Catriona had a chance to talk a little bit more?” Hannah asked. “Do you… do you know what you’re going to do, once you get in there?”
“Yes and no,” I said truthfully. “Obviously, we don’t know the state of things inside, so we’re going to have to wait and see. But it’s going to be really, really important for Catriona to have access to you guys while I’m inside. The connection is the only way I’m going to be able to communicate with her, and the only way she’s going to be able to give me instructions.”
“No problem,” Hannah said at once. “We’ll make sure she always knows where we are. And obviously, we won’t be leaving the castle until you’re back here, safe and sound.”
“You don’t have to stay under house arrest or anything,” I said. “Just make sure Catriona can get in touch with you, that’s all.”
“Of course,” Hannah said.
“Look, I know you want to figure this out, but don’t think you have to turn into some kind of action hero, okay?” Milo said, and although he was attempting to keep his voice light and sardonic, I could feel the current of fear that was humming beneath it. “You don’t have to do everything that Catriona tells you to do. She’s a lot… I mean, she’s been a Tracker a lot longer than you, and she’s got skills that you don’t have. Just… don’t put yourself in harm’s way just because she tells you to, okay? Be smart about it. None of this risk will be worth it if you don’t come out of there alive.”
Hannah made a sound like a strangled sob, and Milo sighed contritely. “Look, I’m sorry if that was a little too much realness, but somebody had to say it. We’re not doing Jess or ourselves any favors by pretending this whole plan isn’t stupidly dangerous. So, in the interest of getting her back here safely, I think she should go by the rule of Finn.”
Finn’s name sent a jolt of messy emotions coursing through me, which I knew the others would feel. “What’s the rule of Finn?” I asked him quickly, in a totally transparent attempt to mask my vulnerability.
“Just ask yourself, would Finn think this was a good idea? If he would, then go for it. If he wouldn’t, then find another way to do what you need to do,” Milo explained.
I nearly laughed out loud, but managed to stifle the sound. “If I went by the rule of Finn I wouldn’t even be on this helicopter right now,” I reminded him. “I’m pretty su
re Finn would rather burn the príosún to the ground than let me set so much as a foot inside it.”
“I know,” Milo said. “But Finn hasn’t seen what you’ve seen. If he knew what was in that prophecy, he might change his mind.”
“No, he wouldn’t,” Hannah and I said together.
Milo sighed impatiently. “Whatever. My point is that Finn always makes the choice that keeps you safest. So just… ask yourself, WWFD—what would Finn do, and then do that, okay?
“Fine,” I said. “I promise to abide by the rule of Finn, but you have to make me a promise in return, Milo.”
“What’s that?” Milo asked.
“Don’t ever tell Finn about the rule of Finn, okay?”
It was Milo’s turn to laugh. “Yeah, okay. I see your point. That would undoubtedly go straight to his head.”
“Exactly. So, speaking of what’s going to happen when I get in there, remember that I’ll have to shut you both out for a bit right when I arrive, just so I can focus on what’s going on. But once I get settled in my…” I stopped myself, not wanting to think the word “cell,” “… wherever it is that I’m staying, then I’ll reach out again when I’m alone, when it’s safe. Then we’ll go from there.”
Hannah was having trouble keeping her panic under control again. “Okay,” she said, bravely nonetheless. “Yeah, just… just let us know when you’re in.”
“It’ll be a piece of cake,” Milo said with an almost defiant surety. “Catriona books prisoners in and out of the príosún all the time. She knows exactly what to do. Just keep your head down.”
“I will,” I said. “And you two take care of each other, and try to stay out of trouble while I’m gone.”
They didn’t laugh at my feeble attempt at humor. I couldn’t say I blamed them.
“Try to get some sleep, Hannah, okay?” I told her. “Milo, make sure she at least lies down.”
“Cross my heart,” Milo said solemnly.
“I have about as much chance of falling asleep tonight as you have of taking a nap on that helicopter,” Hannah said acidly.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said. “I’m about ready to doze off right now. So relaxing, this whole hovering thousands of feet above the earth, one brisk gust of wind away from plunging to our deaths. Gotta go, my eyes are closing.”
“Remember!” Milo reminded me one last time. “The rule of Finn!”
“I promise,” I said. “I’ll talk to you both later. Don’t forget to keep up the charade about my arrest at Fairhaven. Make a big stink about it. Make sure everyone knows what happened—it will provide us with better cover and keep the Caomhnóir from getting suspicious. I will now return to my regularly scheduled panic attack.”
And with that, I closed the connection again, feeling their absence expanding inside my head once more, making room again for all the fear to filter back in. With a gasp and a lurch, I felt the helicopter take off, leaving the last of my courage on the ground far below us.
15
Solitary
A FEW MINUTES LATER, or maybe several hours, or maybe an entire lifetime, Catriona put her hand on my shoulder and shook it gently. When I didn’t open my eyes, or acknowledge her in any way, she lifted one side of my headphones and said into my ear, “Look, I know heights really aren’t your cup of tea, but you’re going to regret it for the rest of your life if you don’t take in this view that we’re about to fly over.”
To my very great surprise, a surge of curiosity triumphed over my fear, and I pried one eyelid partially open, taking in, for the first time, the view through the front of the helicopter. As I registered the magnificence of the sight, both eyes sprang wide open, and I strained forward against my harness, my whole body aching to get closer to the expansive beauty that stretched out before us.
The sun was rising over the jagged, rocky cliffs of the Isle of Skye. And the island was waking up, inch by newly sunlit inch, revealing something out of a Celtic dream. Far below us, a rough and white-crested sea was aglow with flecks of gold and rose and diamond. The waves flung themselves against the base of the towering rocky cliffs, as though they longed, too, to take flight, desperate to splash upward for a glimpse of that same view that I had now. The cliff tops were capped in the purest, deepest of greens I had ever seen, blanketing the rugged, mountainous landscape. There was not a single man-made structure as far as the eye could see. Only an untarnished, unfettered landscape, regal in its solitude, wearing its remoteness like a wild, thorny crown. The victor in a great battle against the encroachment of the outside world, it commanded its place by the sea with the pride of a monarch.
I could barely breathe as something ancient and ineffable and akin to magic shivered through me like a discovery. The enchantment of it settled over me, sunk right down into my bones, and seeped into the rushing current of my blood. I had felt this once before—this connection to something deep within my past—an almost mystic connection to the generations of women of the Clan Sassanaigh that had come before me, and with it, a deep and abiding knowledge that here was a place where my roots had taken hold.
Beside me, Catriona was watching me carefully. “There now,” she said quietly. “Whatever happens next, that was worth it, wasn’t it?”
“Yes,” I breathed.
The helicopter continued to follow the shoreline, and as it rounded the great crest of the highest point of the cliff, I gasped involuntarily yet again. The príosún came into view at last, perched upon a lethal-looking outcropping, surrounded on three sides by violently thrashing waves, and the sheer, unscalable cliff face. Weeks of regular premonitions had prepared me for what it would look like, and yet the sight of it in reality still snatched the air straight out of my lungs and replaced it with a strange feeling of déjà vu that was the fulfillment of a dream… or, more specifically, a nightmare.
The walls of the príosún were high and rounded, worn to an unnatural smoothness by age and the erosive power of wind and salty spray. Set impossibly high up in their face were thin slits of windows that could scarcely be expected to let in much light but from which weapons could surely be launched with maximum cover. The crenellated ramparts were topped with fluttering flags: deep purple triskeles on fields of purest white. The sight of that symbol ought to have left me feeling fortified, even proud, but in that moment, it only filled me with dread. For I was one of the few who knew now that the flying of that flag over that fortress was mere artifice, and that the inner workings within the walls beneath it were threatening to supplant those flags even as they stood proudly flapping in the cold, salty dawn.
I threw a nervous glance at Catriona, but she was either purposely avoiding looking at me, or too distracted by the long-awaited sight of the príosún to notice my attempts to get her attention. Her eyes seemed fixed, like mine, on those flags, and wondering whether the people in the fortress below them would still defend them as they had once sworn to do.
The helicopter took a wide, arcing turn as it made its approach to the field that had been marked out for its landing. The pilot was saying something about the wind speed and its direction in relation to the shoreline, but I was no longer listening. My stomach had given a nasty, nervous lurch as we buffeted against the breeze, and I had shut my eyes again in a vain attempt to pretend that it wasn’t happening. I didn’t open them again, or even take a breath, until Catriona shook my shoulder to let me know that we had landed at last. The pilot killed the engine, and the deafening roars died away.
Despite the knowledge that we were finally on the ground, my body still felt frozen against the back of my seat, my fingers clenched tight, and my legs locked in place. My ankles felt numb where Catriona had fastened them into the restraints, and they were slow to regain sensation as she released them at last. It was only with both Catriona’s and Elin’s help that I was able to coax my joints into moving and successfully exit the helicopter. Once I found myself standing in the grass, my limbs, which had felt like they were made of steel only mo
ments before, suddenly seemed to be composed of Jell-O. I barely managed to stop myself from sinking to my knees before Elin and Catriona took hold of both of my arms and marched me forward. I leaned my weight gratefully into the two of them and let them guide me toward the imposing façade of the príosún.
I could not shake the feeling, as we approached the great hulking front doors, that I was being led to a medieval gallows, or perhaps the stocks, where instead of taking a goofy tourist photo, I would actually be pelted with stones for some outdated crime, like gossiping in the street, or exposing an ankle to the general view.
As we moved into the deep shadow that the príosún cast like a dark, forbidding net over the ground before it, a deafening creaking and grinding sound began to reverberate in the air around us. It sounded like mountains moving, or the very cliffs under our feet shifting against each other, but a few moments later I saw that the massive front doors were being lowered open on chains, like a drawbridge with no moat.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I muttered weakly. Entering your standard, modern-day prison would have been frightening enough, but this? I found myself half-wishing to dive back into the helicopter.
The ancient timbers protested loudly, and the links of the great chains now visible on either side groaned and shrieked with each turn of the great wooden wheels on the far side of the walls. Catriona placed a hand upon my shoulder, an unspoken order to stop and wait until the doors had at last reached the ground. I assumed we were waiting for some kind of signal to be allowed to enter the building—a trumpet fanfare, or a processional drumbeat, or something equally old-timey—but Catriona and Elin seemed to be waiting for nothing of the kind. We had not seen a single person in our approach to the príosún, and still not a single Caomhnóir was visible from where we stood, and yet Elin and Catriona seemed sure that we now had permission to enter the príosún by virtue of the lowered doors. They marched confidently forward, taking care to help me as I stepped up onto the battered and time-worn timbers, and began to walk across them and over the threshold into the inner sanctum of the príosún.