“I only stay on a week or so at a time, then another takes me place,” Morag clarified. “’Tis nice to be alone wi’ your thoughts from time to time. And, the castle can be quite romantic. From what I saw up there, I gleaned that you and your husband have already learned as much,” she added with a sly glance toward Robert.
“He’s not my husband,” I protested.
“Soon enough, then.” With that, Morag raised her red umbrella, as if our massive group of two might lose sight of her, and herded us out to the enclosed yard. As we followed the energetic little woman, Robert gripped my hand even harder.
“’Tis no’ right,” he whispered in my ear.
“What is no’ right?” I mimicked.
“Morag.” Robert dragged us to a halt while he stared at the back of the woman’s head. “In the space of a few moments, she has told us three lies.”
“What did she lie about?”
“Her name, that she only spends some o’ her time here at the castle,” Robert ticked off. “And that she is alone here.”
I gaped at Robert; in addition to being able to see fairies and having a sword that appeared at will, he was a human lie detector as well? “How do you know?” I whispered.
“By their very nature, the Good People do no’ lie,” Robert replied as he grasped my hand. “When they make the attempt, they tend to do it badly.”
I grabbed Robert’s other hand and looked toward the car park. “Should we leave?”
Robert squeezed all ten of my fingers. “I think it’s best we go along with her ruse, for the time being at least. We do no’ wish to anger her.”
“No, we certainly do no’ wish to do that.” What I really wished was to turn tail and run, but Robert’s grip on my hands was firm. Just as I decided to bribe him so we could leave—not that I had any idea of what I could bribe him with—Morag planted herself in the center of the courtyard and beckoned us closer. With no other apparent options, we went.
“Now, before I begin my tale of Tantallon Castle’s most illustrious history, do the two o’ ye have any questions for me?” Morag asked brightly.
“Who is the white lady?” I blurted out.
“Heard o’ her, have ye now?” Morag countered. “There, ye can see the window she oft appears in.” Robert and I followed Morag’ outstretched arm toward a second floor window, the opening secured with a black wire fence.
“Does she appear according to any sort of schedule, like on Friday afternoons?” I asked.
“No’ at all,” Morag replied. “Many believe her to be a lost soul, one what became trapped here in the centuries following her death.” She gave us a pointed look. “But, as is the way wi’ such things, that is no’ quite the whole o’ the matter.”
“What is the whole o’ it, then?” Robert demanded.
“One wi’ a collar such as yours should be able to divine as much,” Morag replied smoothly. Robert bristled, but remained silent. “But, since ye be so distracted by the bonnie lass here, I shall inform ye o’ what happens to be goin’ on right under ye very nose.” Morag fell silent for a moment, her gaze flickering between Robert and me.
“Our lady is trapped here, ye ken,” Morag continued at last. “Once, long, long ago, she was invited to one o’ their revels, invited by the Seelie King hi’ self, but the poor lass could no’ manage to find her way back home. She ha’ been trapped between our world and theirs e’er since.”
“Trapped?” I echoed. “Can’t anyone help her?”
Morag shrugged. “Perhaps a body could, but if no one has stepped forward after all this time, ‘tis likely that no one e’er will.”
I stared at Morag, aghast but not surprised by her indifference toward the White Lady’s plight; in my brief experience with them, I’d learned that the Good People cared little to nothing for the fates of their mortal playthings. I turned to Robert, my wide eyes pleading my case before I uttered a single word.
“Lass,” Robert began, shaking his head, “if she’s been trapped here like as no, ‘tis for a good reason. Ye should no’ involve yourself.”
“But you were trapped,” I pointed out. “And, it wasn’t with good reason, only on a crazy woman’s whim. What if the same thing happened to the White Lady?”
Robert sighed, and rubbed the back of his neck. “Have ye told us all ye know of her?” he asked Morag.
“That I most surely have,” she replied with a smile.
“Try again,” Robert demanded. When Morag began to protest, he added, “Lie to me once more, ye meddlin’ imp, and I shall demand your true name. And, I will get it.”
Morag blanched; apparently her lies usually went undetected. “Calm yourself now, gallowglass,” she hissed, “I will no’ betray ye.” After a short staring contest between the two of them, she continued, “As for the White Lady, when she appeared at the Good People’s revel on the arm o’ Fionnlagh hi’self, his wife was no verra pleased.”
“Who is his wife?” I asked.
“Nicnevin,” Robert replied. “Nicnevin is the Seelie King’s consort, and his wife.”
I opened my mouth to ask what Nicnevin had wanted with Robert when she had already been married herself, but closed it. I understood exactly why a heartless creature like Nicnevin took men other than her husband to her bed, and after hearing of her husband’s affair I couldn’t say I blamed her. “Did he—the Seelie King—send the White Lady away?” I asked.
“No’ as far as I ken,” Morag replied. “In fact, the two o’ them were quite cozy, nearly as cozy as the two o’ ye atop the tower, there.”
My neck and cheeks heated, but I ignored it. “Then how did she become trapped?” I demanded of the tour guide/beastie.
Morag grinned, revealing rows and rows of pearly teeth. “That, I canna reveal. Been bound, ye see,” she added, with a nod toward Robert. “Ye ken how inconvenient these bindings can be.”
Robert grunted. “Where is the door?”
“Beneath, o’ course,” Morag replied. “Now, if ye have no further need of me services…”
Morag’s voice trailed off as she faded from view, much like the Cheshire Cat. Her creepy teeth were even the last visible portion of her. Once she had fully disappeared, I asked, “Beneath?”
Robert sighed. “She means that the door to their world is beneath the castle, like as no carved into the earth and leading straight to hell.” Robert scrubbed his face with his hands, then rested them on my shoulders. “No matter what I say, ye are goin’ to want a look at this White Lady, aye?”
“Aye,” I affirmed. “If she needs help, we should help her.”
“And if she’s a foul thing who has been rightly removed from this world, we shall let her alone.” When I didn’t respond Robert drew me closer. “Promise me, Karina. If I say we must leave, we leave. No discussion.”
“Can we discuss afterward?” I asked.
Robert’s mouth twitched, but he suppressed his smile. Mostly. “Aye, that we can.”
***
Just as Morag—or whatever her true name was—had told us, the doorway ended up being beneath the castle. Specifically, it was in a cave far, far beneath, almost at sea level. It had taken Robert and I the better part of an hour to make our way down the rocky cliffs of the promontory, slippery as they were, though Robert would have made much better time if he’d gone on without me. He was like a mountain goat, hopping around from rock to rock and never once losing his footing. Me, I just concentrated on not falling off the cliff and landing on the beach below.
“Here,” Robert called at last. “’Tis a cave.”
Robert disappeared into the cliff face; a moment later, I stumbled into the cave, bumping into Robert’s back in the process. The entrance had been neatly concealed, thanks to the arrangement of the spiky rocks.
“Sorry for the collision,” I murmured. Robert remained silent, with his back as straight as a board. I peeked around him, and saw her.
The White Lady.
She was in the exact center of the cave,
kneeling with her forehead pressed against her knees and her arms extended before her, reminiscent of the yoga position called Child’s Pose. Her immaculate white gown was pooled around her, her long dark hair a stark contrast against the colorless fabric, and a golden belt hugged her hips. Beyond her was a well of sorts situated in the center of the cave floor, and I could hear the waves crashing within. Was that the way to Fairy, or hell itself? I didn’t think those angry sounds boded well for any of us.
“Is she asleep?” I whispered. “Does she know we’re here?”
“I do no’ ken, and most likely,” Robert replied. “Karina, stay behind me, love.”
I nodded, even though he wasn’t looking at me. I was fully content to let Robert take the lead on this expedition. “Should we approach her?”
“No.”
Well, that was firm. Robert and I stared at the White Lady for what seemed like an hour; the only sounds I heard was the sea crashing against the cliff, and my heart thudding away in my ears. The regular beats had lulled me into a sort of half-sleep; after a time, I caught myself drowsing, leaning against Robert’s back. He hadn’t moved a muscle.
“Maybe we should go,” I said as I straightened. “I don’t think she wants to be disturbed.”
“You have already disturbed me.” The White Lady stood in one fluid motion, rising bonelessly like a marionette. Now that she was upright I saw that she was beautiful, a near-perfect example of womanhood, from her piercing green eyes to her lush curves. No wonder Fionnlagh had been interested. “Take care that I do not disturb you.”
“We mean ye no harm,” Robert said. “The one called Morag told us o’ ye, and o’ your plight.”
“And?” she asked archly.
“And we wanted to know if you needed any help,” I said.
“Help?” The White Lady threw back her head and laughed. “I fail to see how a few mortals could help me. Have you ever loved? Has your passion ever been used to make another jealous? Once you had filled your purpose, were you cast aside like so much garbage? Has your very existence ever caused the one you love embarrassment?”
Her voice caught on the last word, and my heart went out to her. I was all too familiar with unrequited love. I stepped around Robert, but he caught me and dragged me against his side.
“It’s terrible, isn’t it?” I said, for all that Robert was trying to muffle me. “Loving someone that doesn’t love you back. But you don’t have to be a prisoner any longer. We can help you.”
She cocked her head to the side. “Help…me?” Her gaze moved between Robert and me, just like Morag’s had, then it settled on Robert’s silver collar and her eyes widened.
“You’re him, aren’t you?” the White Lady asked as she took a step forward. “You are the assassin, the foolish man that refused Nicnevin, then forsook her for a mortal girl.” She placed her hands on her hips. “Tsk, tsk. All of Elphame has been tasked with searching for the queen’s rogue gallowglass. Your head will fetch me a mighty price.”
“What?” I looked up at Robert, but his face was like stone. He’d known all along that Nicnevin would come after him, he just hadn’t been sure of how long it would take her to pinpoint his location. What the White Lady said next answered that question beyond a shadow of a doubt.
“With your traitorous hide in my grasp, I will at last be able to bargain for my freedom!”
The White Lady lunged toward us, her green eyes burning red and her fingers elongating into curved claws. Robert’s sword materialized in his hands and he lunged at her, slicing off her arms below her elbows. Black, stinking blood sprayed around the cave, soaking her white gown and making the ground iridescent and slick.
“I thought she was human,” I shrieked.
“As I said to ye above, that Morag is no but a liar.” Robert planted his feet and squared his shoulders, gripping his claymore with both hands.
The White Lady laughed. “A lack of hands? Think you that will stop me, gallowglass? Think you that will even slow me?” she taunted as she moved before the mouth of the cave, blocking our retreat. Pulpy pink hands were already growing from the stumps of her arms, and her body was morphing into some sort of winged abomination. “Did you learn nothing whilst you were amongst my kind?”
Robert moved so fast I couldn’t track him, then the White Lady’s head was rolling away for her body.
“Karina!” Robert grabbed my arm, rousing me from my fascinated staring; never had I thought I’d see two bodiless heads in one week. “Can ye swim, lass?”
I looked up, and nodded. The next thing I knew Robert had an arm around my waist, and we were running toward the caverns’ well.
“Love, now we jump!”
Chapter Twenty One
Karina
“Jump? We can’t jump,” I shrieked.
“We have to,” Robert shouted.
“We don’t know how deep the water is,” I said. “We don’t even know if there’s a way out!”
“There’s a monster behind us,” Robert said.
“But her head,” I began, then I looked beyond Robert to the White Lady. The bloody stump of her neck was already regenerating some kind of gross mushy lump.
“Her head’s re-growing.” I covered my mouth with my hand, resisting the urge to vomit. “It’s growing back.”
Robert stashed his sword, then he pulled me against him and we leapt into the well. The water was deep, so deep that my feet didn’t touch the bottom. When I surfaced I felt along the sides for a crack or crevice, something to steady myself, but the walls were smooth as glass.
I was wet, I was terrified, and damn it all but if I lost the rental’s keys I had no idea how I’d open the trunk and get to my fossils from Dob’s Lin. Since I couldn’t do much about any of those things down there in the well, I screamed all of them at Robert.
“The water comes from somewhere,” he said, grabbing my shoulders. “There must be a connection between this well and the Firth.”
I stared at him, momentarily forgetting to tread water and slipping under. After I’d come back up, I asked, “And you expect us to swim out to sea?”
“Aye, I do expect us to survive,” he replied. “Wait here, love.”
“As if I can go anywhere,” I muttered, but Robert didn’t hear me, having already sunk beneath the waterline. He reappeared less than a minute later.
“A tunnel,” he gasped. “Wide enough that we may pass through.”
“How long is it?” I asked, trying to remember how far the cliff was from the water’s edge. “What if we can’t make it?”
“Lass, we do no’ have a choice,” Robert said. “Deep breaths now.”
I nodded, and took in several gulps of air. I remembered reading about endurance swimmers taking deep breaths to saturate their bodies with oxygen. I’d always wondered if you really could saturate your body in such a way, or if it was just a widely-held superstition that made people strive for Olympic greatness. Right then, I would take any advantage I could get.
Deep breathing accomplished, Robert grabbed my hand. “Stay close. Grab a hold o’ me if ye need to.”
“How can you swim with me holding on to you?”
“I will manage.” Robert released my hand and placed his on the back of my neck, pushing his fingers into my hair. “Karina love, I will see ye to safety.”
I nodded, then cringed; the White Lady had roared, the sound echoing off the rock walls. So, now we knew how long it took to regenerate a head, or at least a set of vocal chords and a mouth. Robert pressed his lips against my forehead, then he took a final deep breath and slipped below the water; a moment and a deep breath of my own later, I followed.
The tunnel wasn’t very long, and there was an air pocket against the ceiling about thirty seconds in, which meant that it was probably low tide. Low tide meant that we had a chance. Low tide meant that we might not die.
Robert and I didn’t speak as we stole a few moments breathing against the tunnel’s ceiling, our faces pressed against the rock as
we gulped the precious air. He nodded, then as one we ducked beneath the water and pushed off the tunnel wall.
The rest of the tunnel was dark, so dark I’d assumed we’d signed our death warrants. Suddenly I saw light overhead, and the tunnel opened out into the Firth of Forth. I grinned as I swam upward and broke the water’s surface, twisting my body around to get a look at the shore. Then a wave smashed into the back of my head, and I saw stars.
I hadn’t been properly prepared for the impact, and ended up with a mouthful of seawater. Then the second wave hit, and it pushed me under. My clothes and boots were soaked, heavy as concrete, and I couldn’t get break the surface. I did the worst possible thing one can do in open water: I panicked.
Despite my flailing arms and legs, I managed to break the water’s surface and steal a lungful of air. Then another wave crashed into my face, forcing me back under. That third wave was stronger than the last, and pushed me farther down than the last two had. Like a corpse, I drifted toward the sea floor.
I’m going to drown. I’m really going to drown.
No! Kick off your boots! Swim!
I kicked weakly as I struggled out of my coat, and got tangled in my own arms. My mouth opened of its own accord and letting more seawater into my lungs. I coughed and my chest burned, desperate for air I’d never get.
At least I’d get to see my mom again.
Strong hands grabbed my shoulders, and something firm pressed against my cheek. I opened my eyes, and saw Robert’s face against mine. His fingers forced my mouth open, seawater rushing in before he sealed his lips over my mouth. I struggled against him at first, my half-drowned brain not understanding that he was sharing his breath with me, easing the burning pressure in my lungs the only way he could. Then our feet had made contact with the sea floor, and we rested for a moment, our limbs and mouths tangled together. I wondered if this was how mermaids kissed.
We couldn’t remain under water for long. Robert poked my cheek; I opened my eyes, and saw him pointing toward the surface. I nodded as I drew back from him, then we pushed off the sea floor. A few moments later (had I really been that close to air the entire time?) we broke the surface and swam toward the beach. I crawled onto the shore and flopped onto my back. That was a bad idea, and I started hacking up seawater.
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