The Battle for Duncragglin

by Andrew H. Vanderwal

  A heavy door blocked the end of the corridor. Two shriveled, mummified corpses stood propped up next to it, one on either side. For one horrific moment, it looked as if they were moving … but it was only shadows cast by Alex's lantern.

  As he feared, the door was locked. Alex set the lantern down, placed his foot on the door frame, and pulled, but the door would not budge.

  “What you need is this.”

  Alex spun. Hesselrigge was holding up a large key, grinning.

  “I see you've met my friends, the mason and the carpenter. I had them install this door so I could be sure no one ever blundered into these caves – or came out of them, for that matter. Now no one knows about this place except you and me … and you will most certainly not be telling anyone.”

  Hesselrigge unwrapped the chain from around his wrist. Dangling from the end was the eyebolt that once fastened it to the wall. “Give me your cord.”

  Alex untied the short rope that held his coat about him and handed it over.

  Hesselrigge tied one end to the eyebolt, the other he noosed and knotted around Alex's neck. Then he swung open the heavy door. Past it was the familiar large chamber with arching stone columns.

  Hesselrigge sighed. “It's a shame. It took me years to work my way into a position of power here. Now, thanks in no small measure to you, it's over. I will have to start again in some earlier time. Still, it shouldn't take long. People are such idiots. Pretend to be their friend or their ally and the next thing ye know, they are genuinely surprised when ye stab them in the back and take over their power.

  “Already, I am renowned in history. It was me who killed Wallace's wife; aye, ye didn't know that, did ye? Months ago, I had her throat cut for aiding Wallace's escape. People came from miles around to watch. I'll be known for that deed for the rest of living history. Every time someone thinks of Wallace, they'll think of the man who killed his wife – and that was me! Ha! What remains to be seen is in what further manner I will be known throughout history. Perhaps I will go back to the time of Jesus and become Judas. That would be a good one! I'll be Julius Caesar's Brutus and Abel's Cain. I will live … to destroy!”

  Laughing insanely, Hesselrigge dragged Alex toward the ornately carved inner wall, with its ugly snake-haired monster-head that blocked the time chamber.

  “Here's why I haven't killed ye before now.” He gave the chain a sharp jerk to make Alex stumble. “Ye can climb high up on the wall and turn the controls that make the head move. Who better to bring with me for this task than the boy who's done it before, the boy who's the cause of all this….”

  Hesselrigge was working himself into a rage. Foaming spittle flew from his mouth. His hands were rising up, fingers curled into claws. With effort, he regained some control and lowered his arms.

  “Climb up that wall, and pull on that bird carving.”

  The chain was not long enough for Alex to climb that high. Hesselrigge tore strips from Alex's coat, wound them tightly into a rope, and used it to extend the rope from Alex's neck to the end of the chain. Panting from exertion, he knotted the ropes. “I'm no letting ye loose, that's certain. I didn't get to where I am today by being stupid.”

  Alex knew better than to say anything. He climbed, using the carvings as hand-and-foot holds.

  “Higher! To your left … yes! That one! Pull down on that bird's head.”

  There it was – the bird with its piercing eye – staring back at him. Alex covered its head with his hand and tugged.

  “Come on, put some muscle into it!”

  Alex pulled until the bird's beak poked into the worm-hole. For a few seconds, nothing happened. Then a vibration emanated from somewhere deep in the wall, a low rumbling that could hardly be heard, but was building in volume.

  “Yes! Yes! Yes!” Hesselrigge laughed demonically as the great snake-haired head lowered into the ground. It came to a heavy thudding halt.

  He yanked Alex onto the top of the head and up the ramp. Alex grabbed the rope, dug in his heels, and pulled back, but it was no use. Hesselrigge was far bigger and heavier. Hesselrigge unwound the chain from his other wrist. He swung it over his head, slowly at first, then faster and faster. The chain made a rhythmic whirling sound.

  “Have it your way, boy!” Hesselrigge pulled Alex ever closer to the whirling chain and the heavy jagged eyebolt at its end. Alex waited until the chain was on its backswing and made a quick lunge. The sudden lack of resistance made Hesselrigge stumble.

  Alex heard a light pinging sound of metal striking stone. A dagger skittered across the ramp and came to rest near the wall. Another dagger clattered against the stones, then another. Alex did not take the time to find out where they were coming from. Instead, he took advantage of Hesselrigge's momentary distraction and dove under the swinging chain. He grabbed a dagger and scrambled back.

  There was a yelp of surprise. Hesselrigge stared dumbfounded at a knife that protruded from his shoulder. Then he turned and ran up the ramp, pulling Alex along behind him.

  The ramp began to rise under his feet. Soon he would be trapped. Someone grabbed him from behind and pulled. There were shouts, a familiar voice. Malcolm! Alex frantically sawed the rope with the dagger. The last strands snapped and he was flung back down the ramp. He tumbled out above the chamber floor seconds before the huge head groaned back into its full upright position.

  He felt a terrible pain at the back of his head, where it hit the floor. He knew he should get up and run, but lifting himself was such an effort. The chamber spun round and round while black spots floated past in the opposite direction. Alex felt as if he were falling backwards into a blackness that was rising up to meet him.

  26

  SMALL MARKERS

  “Relax, take it easy.”

  Whoever said that sounded far away. The voice was vaguely familiar.

  Alex blinked. Faces were peering down at him: Reagan and Hugh … and there was big George too, an anxious look on his face, and now Craig…. Am I dreaming? What are they doing here? He struggled to rise, his head throbbing. “How, how did you get here?” he stammered.

  “We're to find a way into the castle,” Reagan replied. “Remember? We're to open the castle gates to let Wallace in. Craig showed us a way into these caves at low tide. Now, how about you tell us how you got here. Is there an easier way than we came?”

  “Yes, through the front gates – Wallace tricked his way in. The castle has been taken.”

  Reagan's jaw dropped. “You mean, we've come all this way for nothing?”

  Alex gave a short chuckle before the pain in his head cut it short. He put his hand on Craig's beaming face and gave it a gentle shove. “Yes, but I'm very, very glad to see you guys,” he said.

  Careful not to move his head too quickly, he craned to see if the portal was still open. Dismayed, he noticed the hideous snake-haired monster-head staring back, its bottom fangs protruding up defiantly from its lower jaw. There was no sign of Hesselrigge nor of Malcolm.

  “Where's Malcolm?”

  Reagan shrugged.

  “No!” Alex scrambled to his feet. Head pounding, he climbed the wall and pulled down on the bird's head. Nothing happened. He shouted for the others to help, to seek other carvings to twist and turn. Confused, they humored him and tried, but nothing worked.

  Alex felt sure that Malcolm – the man who had befriended him, looked after him, and saved his life – was never coming back. Even were Malcolm to make it back into the caves, he did not know the combinations that made the monster-head lower. And even if he did stumble across a working combination, chances are it wouldn't be the one to bring him back to this time. No, he was gone for good. Alex covered his eyes with his arm.

  Hugh shifted his weight impatiently. “So how do we get out of here?”

  Alex gestured to the door. “We're locked in,” he said miserably.

  “Don't ye fret about no door.” Reagan mustered a small smile. “We didn't come all this way to be stopped by a lock. Ye see my friend Hugh h
ere? Well, before all this messy war business, Hugh was a player who traveled the land with his troupe. They amazed folk with their incredible shows. Ye would be correct if ye thought that Hugh's most popular stunt was dagger-throwing. He would have a pretty maiden stand tied up against a wall and throw daggers to sever her bonds. Ye never missed, did ye, Hugh?”

  “Almost never.” Hugh gave Alex a big wink.

  “Now, Hugh had another stunt to draw oohs and aahs from the crowd,” Reagan continued. “He would have himself locked up in impossible ways and have to escape before something awful happened. What's the worst one ye've been in, Hugh?”

  “Oh, that would be when I was locked in some caves under a castle with a bunch of half-wits –”

  “Alright, alright, enough! Now, Hugh is talented at escape. Mere locks don't stand in his way.”

  Hugh had the door open faster than most could have done with a key.

  Climbing the shaft was no challenge for Reagan. He removed the flagstone cover and lowered a rope for the others.

  The rack room was as Alex had left it. The men paused at the sight of Stephan's body, still sprawled on the pile of corpses.

  “We can't leave him like this,” George said – the first words Alex ever heard George speak.

  Gently George lifted Stephan off the pile and laid him out on the rack table, hands folded on his chest. Reagan raised the top of Stephan's tunic to cover the purple neck wounds and closed Stephan's eyes. The men lowered their heads and had a moment of silence.

  Before going in search of Sir Ellerslie, Nielson, and the professor, the men took the time to escort Alex and Craig to the stairs exiting the dungeons. Wearily, Alex led Craig over to the inner keep, where the royal chambers were housed and where he would find the McRaes and Katie. He wanted to lie down and go to sleep. It was hard to tell how late it was; the castle was ablaze with celebrations. Alex knew he could sleep through it all.

  As they walked, he listened to Craig: “The tide wasnae completely out, but Reagan swam into the tunnel underwater. He was gone for the longest time, and I was sure he was dead – and so he would've been if he didnae find air at the other end. He kept on swimming underwater, holding his breath, right past the point of no return, all 'cause we said there was a way in. Can ye believe anyone doing that? I was sure he was dead, but then Malcolm felt these tugs on the rope….”

  “What rope?”

  “Reagan was pulling a rope in with him, d'ye ken? He was letting it out a bit at a time while he swam. Three quick tugs meant pull me out, I'm drowning, but this wasnae three quick tugs; it was one tug. That meant he made it! When it was my turn, they tied a rope to one of my hands to pull me through more quickly. I was holding my breath and kicking my legs, but still I didnae think I would make it. My lungs were screaming.”

  “Your accent's getting stronger.” Alex smiled. “You've been hanging about with these guys too long.”

  “So have ye,” Craig retorted. “Ye're beginning t' sound a bit Sco'ish y'rself.”

  They climbed broad stairs into a royal paneled chamber and came to a heavy oak door. Alex raised his hand and paused. “Oh, Craig, there's something else….”

  “What?” Craig asked eagerly.

  “It's something good, mostly,” Alex began awkwardly. “But she's getting better, really, she is.”

  Craig looked at Alex blankly.

  “You'll see.”

  Alex knocked. The door unlatched and opened a crack.

  “Craig!” Annie shrieked. She gave the embarrassed boy a big kiss on the cheek. “At last, we're all together again….”

  “Annie? Who's there, dear?” came a voice from within the room.

  Annie put her arm around Craig's shoulder and steered him through the door. He looked bewildered.

  “MUM!” Craig ran into the room.

  “Craig, oh my little boy, Craig!” Mrs. McRae wrapped her arms around him.

  “See,” Annie said quietly, so only Alex could hear, “Mum's much better now. She'll be back to her old self in no time.”

  Annie turned to Alex, her eyes glistening. “You need to come with me.” She took his hand.

  “What is it?”

  “It's Katie.” Annie's voice quavered. “Oh, Alex, she's dying! I didn't want to tell you like this, but I don't know how else to say it.”

  “Dying?” Alex said weakly.

  “The dungeons … the healer said her fever came from being in the dungeons … he's seen it before and there's nothing he can do.” Annie's voice broke.

  “Katie die? That can't be….”

  “I'm sorry.” Annie lifted her tearful face to look at him. “Come, I'll take you to her.” She led him to an adjoining room. Opposite a flickering fireplace was an ornate bed-cabinet, with tall sides, a roof, and curtains. Looking lost inside was a tiny form tucked up under a mound of blankets.

  “Katie?”

  She stirred. Slowly, Katie opened her eyes and smiled faintly. Sweat glistened on her face; her hair was pasted flat to her head. Annie rinsed a cloth in a washbasin and tenderly wiped Katie's forehead.

  Alex gently held her hand in both of his. She looked at Alex with a calm far-away look. There was simply nothing to say. Alex felt tears on his cheeks.

  Katie's eyes slowly closed.

  Annie rose quietly. “Let her sleep. I'll show you where there's a bed for you too.”

  They passed into an adjoining room complete with washbasin, commode, and large comfortable bed. Annie gave him a tight hug. “Get some sleep. You look like you need it.” The door closed behind her.

  Alex looked about the room. Without removing any clothes or washing his face and hands, he flopped face-first onto the bed. He clenched the pillow with fists so tight, his hands shook.

  Lying fully dressed on top of the covers, he finally fell into a deep sleep. It was interrupted by a dream. A hand clamped onto his arm – a manacled hand with a chain. Not so fast. Hesselrigge laughed. You're coming with me!

  Alex flailed, gradually realizing that it was but a bad dream. Then he remembered Katie, and the wrenching feeling of despair returned.

  The room was lit by an eerie, silvery light from a half-moon. Nothing seemed real; everything was ghostly, hovering shadows.

  Slowly, he got out of bed. He splashed cold water over his face and watched the basin return a shimmering pale reflection. He wondered if he was still dreaming, or if perhaps staring back at him from the other side of the reflection was his real, nondreaming self at the washstand at the McRae farm.

  Alex crept through the passageway. Katie's door creaked as he opened it. She was awake. He sat gently on the edge of the bed. “How are you, Katie?”

  “Oh, I'm fine.” Katie's eyes sparkled. “I've been having such a good time playing with my wee brother, Tim, and my sisters, Agnes and Susan. My mother was there too, and she was so happy – she couldnae stop giving us hugs and kisses. My father was sitting in his favorite chair near the fire, and he was playing that game with us where we would sit on his foot and hold his hands and he would swing us up and down with his leg. Sometimes, we'd fly right into the air! He said to us, Och, ye're gittin' so big and heavy,’ and I said, ‘I'm no heavy, don't ye call me big and heavy,’ and my father laughed and grabbed my leg and said, ‘What's that? Where did all that come from? Is it full of oatmeal? I need to stop feedin' ye ye're gittin' too big. Where did my wee lassie go?'”

  Alex smiled and held her hand. She looked so happy. He did no more than nod and offer the odd word. He was afraid he would begin to cry and destroy this moment.

  “I've had such bad dreams, Alex.” She scrunched her brow. “I'm so glad they're over now.” Her face brightened again as she looked at Alex. “Mind when we went crab-hunting and the hermit crab nipped your finger?”

  Alex thought his heart would break. “I thought the shell was empty. How was I to know the little nipper was in there?”

  “When you screamed and tried to drop the shell, it was so funny….”

  “Well, he wou
ldn't let go, would he? He hung on with those sharp little pincer claws of his … and it hurt!”

  “Ye were jumping up and down and shaking the shell and shouting, ‘Help, help, somebody help.’ I laughed so hard, I fell down and scraped my knee!”

  “Serves you right for laughing at me. I thought it was going to snip my finger off!”

  Delighted that Katie seemed better, Alex lay beside her. They fell into a peaceful sleep, Alex still holding her hand.

  A cold blustery wind whipped Alex's hair as he stood, hands folded before him, high up on the cliff-tops. Around him were neat symmetrical rows of small markers that protruded from the rocky soil. Don-Dun's cart stood empty, its shrouded cargo having been lowered into the ground.

  A priest called for a moment of silence, but there was none. The wind moaned and howled its way through the crags and crannies of the cliff-tops. Gulls shrieked. From below came the sound of crashing waves. And then there was the rushing noise coming from inside Alex's head.

  Be quiet! Be quiet! Hands to his ears, eyes shut tight, Alex demanded a silence that was not to be.

  Everyone began their walk back to the castle – everyone, that is, except two gaunt men who casually leaned on their long-handled shovels beside a mound of freshly dug earth. Alex followed the others along the cliff for several minutes before venturing a look back. The men were hard at work, swinging dirt from the mound into Katie's grave, over and over. Alex watched them, remembering how he had woken and reached over to touch Katie's cheek. It was cold. Mrs. McRae said she was gone, that she was back with her family now, that she was in a happier place…. No, Alex thought angrily. Do not give me this happy place stuff. She's dead and there's nothing happy about it.

  He forced himself to turn away.

  27

  THE WAY BACK

  Alex followed the others along the cliff toward the castle. Up ahead, Don-Dun's hefty ox, Rhua, plodded along in his usual unhurried gait, chewing non chalantly as he pulled the empty cart. Alex skipped into a brief jog to catch up.