“Let’s tie the horses here and continue without them,” he said.
Cassie didn’t like to leave them, but Callum was right. They were hunting men today rather than game. In such thick trees, the horses would get in the way, or worse, give Cassie and Callum away with an untimely whicker. Leaving the leading reins long, they picketed the horses near a brook that gurgled as it ran into the loch. Immediately, the beasts began to crop the patches of grass growing in the cleared spaces between the trees. Both would need a real rest and more and better food soon, but they would be all right for now.
Cassie let Callum lead, not because he was a man but because he seemed to know what he was doing. Cassie had brought them to the loch, but he was the soldier. Although she’d spent many days alone in the woods, she’d never fought in a battle or scouted an enemy camp. He had experience with both from Afghanistan, even if the ambush had been his first battle here.
Callum took Cassie up a hill to the south, still tree-covered but more sparsely so. It rose fifty feet above the path on which they’d been walking. Cassie kept looking back, hoping to see something that would clarify what they faced, but she couldn’t see anything until Callum found an open space that allowed them to directly overlook the loch.
Callum let out a whuf of air. “I don’t like the look of that.”
“What is it exactly?” Cassie stood on her tiptoes and tried to see what he saw.
He glanced at her. “Come on. That rock should give us a better view.”
A flat piece of granite jutted out from the hill further down the slope. They crawled up onto it and peered over the edge. A palisaded hunting lodge, built on the edge of the loch, lay below them a quarter of a mile to the north of their position.
“Can you see how many men defend it?” Callum squinted ahead. “Maybe it belongs to the local lord and has nothing to do with the MacDougalls.”
“I bet it belongs to the Earl of Lennox,” Cassie said. “I remember hearing that he’d built a hunting lodge up here.”
“It’s a fine day for a hunt,” Callum said.
“Yup.” Cassie reached for the pack on her back, pulled out her scope, and peered through it. “I see—” She paused as she counted, “—a dozen soldiers, some on the wall-walk on the palisade, some in the courtyard of the fort.”
Callum had been looking down at the fort, his hands shading his eyes from the bright sunlight. Now he glanced over at Cassie. “My God! How many more gadgets do you have? First the torch and now this?”
Cassie smiled at his appreciation and handed him the scope. “Do you want to see?”
“Yes, I want to see.” He took the scope, checking the location of the lodge and then the sun, which by now was almost directly overhead. Callum studied the lodge for a full minute while Cassie studied him. She looked away just as he put down the scope so he wouldn’t catch her looking. “The sun’s pretty bright. I’m worried they’ll see the flash from the sun’s reflection and come to investigate.”
Cassie’s hands were itching to take back the scope, but she let him keep it for a bit longer. “Can you see any sign of the prisoners?”
“No.”
“There wouldn’t be, though, would there?” Cassie said. “If they’re in the lodge, they’re nicely locked up, maybe in that smaller building against the eastern fence.”
“I’m sure you’re right,” Callum said. “I’m worried that one or more of them are badly injured. If that’s the case, their chance of escaping would be pretty slim.”
“What chance do we have of getting them out?” Cassie said. “For sure, a direct assault isn’t going to work.”
Callum continued examining the lodge through the scope. “I think I remember seeing several of these men at the fight on the road. It’s hard to tell since they’re not wearing helmets today.” He handed the scope back to Cassie. “How about you? Do you recognize anyone?”
Cassie put the scope to her eye. “Maybe. I would say at least one. And … I think one of them is a MacDougall cousin.”
“Brilliant.” Callum rolled onto his back and threw his hand across his eyes. “We need to talk through this.”
“Talk through what?”
“I’m just trying to get straight what we think is happening here.” Callum shaded his eyes as Cassie took off her backpack and scooted down to lie beside him, with her bow resting on her stomach. Their closeness wasn’t wise—she was way more attracted to him than she wanted to be—but the rock wasn’t big enough for her to put more than an inch between them. “It makes no sense for the MacDougalls to hide their captives in a lodge belonging to the Earl of Lennox, who is loyal to Grampa Bruce.”
“The Earl is rabidly anti-English,” Cassie said.
“Up until now, clan loyalties have trumped national ones every time,” Callum said.
“What I want to know,” Cassie said, “is why Alexander MacDougall took captives at all once he realized that King David wasn’t part of your company?”
“As leverage, like Robbie said,” Callum said.
“No.” Cassie shook her head. “MacDougall has to know that Balliol can’t win the crown through blackmail. It can’t happen.”
“Okay,” Callum said. “Let’s start at the beginning: our company was making its way from Glasgow to Stirling, to help adjudicate the succession for the crown of Scotland. First of all, who knew about that journey and when did they know it?”
“Everyone knew about it,” Cassie said, “except they all thought King David was leading the embassage, not Kirby.”
“Second, Kirby disguised one of his underlings in his own robes and set him on the carriage,” Callum said. “How cold must his blood be to sacrifice not only his nephew, but his own man, an entire company of the king’s men, and James Stewart and Robbie Bruce for this cause.”
“Bad luck for him that Robbie escaped and could tell us the truth,” Cassie said. “So that leads us to a third question: Why?”
Callum’s eyes narrowed as he thought. “Kirby gets MacDougall to attack my company, but intends for him to leave no survivors, no proof left behind of what they’ve done.”
“Then Kirby goes to Daddy Bruce and gets him to attack the Comyns followed by the MacDougalls, and—” Cassie stopped. “I’ve got nothing.”
“Um … all of Scotland rises up against both Bruce and Balliol when the atrocities committed on both sides exceed their tolerance,” Callum said. “How about that?”
“What does Kirby get out of it?” Cassie said.
“I have no idea,” Callum said.
“What if Kirby is up to his old tricks again?” Cassie sat up straight. “Isn’t this what you said Kirby tried to do for England? Clear David’s way to the throne? What if Kirby wants a similar outcome here?”
“Cassie!” Callum reached for Cassie’s arm to pull her down beside him again, but she evaded his hand and lay back on her own. She’d forgotten where she was for a second in her enthusiasm for her theory.
“If that hypothesis is true, then if David had come north as he’d initially planned, none of this would have happened,” Callum said.
“If I’m right,” Cassie said, “then Kirby may have thought he had a good chance of manipulating him into taking the throne without bloodshed.”
“As it is, if David doesn’t take the throne, how many possible outcomes of this dispute are there?” Callum said. “I see war, war, and more war.”
“How much better would it be if David became the King of Scotland as the compromise choice,” Cassie said. “I’d vote for that.”
“Kirby is taking a huge risk. He might find himself in the Tower of London,” Callum said. “Not that he doesn’t deserve it. So many men died ...”
“Regardless of the details, he has to fear that we’ll tell King David what we know,” Cassie said.
“He should fear it,” Callum said, “because we will tell him.”
“Now I’m really glad we came up here,” Cassie said.
Callum shook himself. “We’re g
etting ahead of ourselves thinking about Kirby. Let’s deal with today and let tomorrow take care of itself.”
“Right,” Cassie said. “Prisoners who need rescue.”
“Prisoners Alexander MacDougall took without clearing it with Kirby,” Callum said. “Good for him.”
Cassie flipped onto her stomach again and looked through her scope. “How do we get them out?”
“What are our assets?” Callum said.
“I have a bow; you have a sword,” Cassie said. “That’s it.”
“No wheelbarrow?” Callum said.
Cassie laughed. “The Princess Bride. A quote for every occasion, even this one.”
“Especially this one.” Callum smirked and pointed towards the trees. Cassie scooted off the rock and they ran back to the woods at a crouch.
Cassie pulled up. “What about going for help?”
“I’ve been thinking the same thing,” Callum said. “But to whom? We don’t know who we can trust. Grampa Bruce has allies in this area but so do the MacDougalls and the Balliols for that matter. Nobody is neutral but us. We’d have to go all the way to Stirling and by the time we returned with an army, they might have moved the prisoners again. Or killed them.”
“I don’t suppose you have a plan?” Cassie said.
Callum eyed her. “Have you ever killed a man?”
Cassie almost didn’t want to answer him because it was a way in which they couldn’t be equals. “No.”
Callum nodded. “Let’s not have you start now if we can help it.”
“How are we going to get the captives out without killing anyone?” Cassie said.
“How about we at least try. I’m working on some ideas.” Callum touched Cassie’s quiver. “Those arrows are precious, but could you stand losing a few for a good cause?”
“The arrows I brought with me from our world are long gone.” Cassie pulled out a shaft and held it up. “One of the first things I learned was how to fill my quiver.”
Callum fingered the fletching on the arrow. “How many do you have with you now?”
“Twenty.”
“Then twenty will have to do.” Callum let out a quick breath. “Here’s my plan: you’re going to create a series of diversions and while the men inside that lodge are worrying about the havoc you’re wreaking out here, I’m going to get inside and see what’s what.”
“How are you going to do that?” Cassie said.
Callum pointed at the fort. “The palisade was built to protect a hunting lodge from wild animals, not humans. It’s not a fortress. Did you see how the fence protects the front and sides but ends at the water’s edge?”
Cassie nodded. She had noticed that.
“We need to find me a boat.”
“Where are we going to find a boat big enough to fit a dozen men?” Cassie said. “You don’t want that. They’ll spot you coming in. You’ll never even reach the shore.”
“I just need a boat big enough for me,” Callum said. “On the way out, we’ll probably just have to get wet.”
Chapter Eleven
Callum
Cassie and Callum spent the next hour hiking along the loch, looking for a boat Callum could borrow. They found one that would suit him, finally, a mile along the shore to the west. It had been pulled up among the trees and looked very much like a Native American canoe, complete with two paddles. Cassie eyed it, her mouth working in amusement. “Great minds think alike, I guess,” she said.
They carried it back along the shore in preference to getting in it and paddling right away. They both agreed that the sound of their movements on the water would carry to the fort more easily than if they traveled most of the way there on land. Eventually, however, they reached a patch of thicker undergrowth and were forced to get into the canoe.
Hugging the shore, they paddled to a point a few hundred yards shy of the fort, though around a point of land so that anyone standing on the shore within the palisade would have no chance of seeing them. There, they left the canoe. Next, they checked on the horses, moving them deeper into the woods to a spot where they hoped they’d be safe. They’d forsaken the trail from the start, thinking it too open, and on the return journey reached a point fifty yards above it. It was only then, near the overlooking piece of granite, that they encountered a patrol from the fort.
Cassie spotted them first. “Get down!” She tugged on the back of his surcoat. Since the day had remained hot, he’d left his cloak with the horses. He wished it made sense to take off his armor too, since it was like wearing a personal sauna. At times, Callum wondered why it hadn’t fused to his skin yet since he wore it constantly. The water in the loch had looked inviting, but despite his offhand comment to Cassie about swimming, the last thing he wanted was another fully-clothed soaking in a medieval body of water.
Cassie and Callum hustled behind some bracken. Three men strolled below them, one in front, hacking at the underbrush desultorily with a stick, and two behind. They chatted with one another, apparently unconcerned about being spotted. If this was a patrol, they weren’t doing a very professional job of it. They seemed to be headed back to the fort.
“The MacDougall is not going to be happy when he hears of this,” the man in the lead said.
“How is he going to hear of it unless you tell him?” one of other men said. “You’re the one who saw the flash. We aren’t going to say anything if you don’t.”
Cassie looked at Callum and nodded. She didn’t need to say—the scope—for both of them to know what flash the man had seen. The patrol moved on, their footsteps plodding away down the hill towards the fort. Cassie and Callum let the sound of their movements fade completely before they moved again.
“We’re going to have to be more careful,” she said. “Right now, they have nothing. If they get another hint of something not quite right, they’ll be on alert.”
“So we take it slow,” Callum said.
More wary than they’d been before, and more glad than Callum could say that nobody on the fort’s ramparts had their own scope, they set to work fabricating the diversions. Callum’s grand plan was a matter of building a half-dozen piles of brush and debris for Cassie to light, one after another, before she directed her attention to the fort itself. They decided that she should start her attack on the fort with ten fire arrows. Ideally, between the bonfires and the arrows, the men inside would be so busy putting out the fires and worrying about how many men were coming at them, that they wouldn’t leave the fort.
What Callum was asking Cassie to do would require as much effort as what his job entailed, but hopefully it would be less dangerous. When she’d told him that she’d never killed a man—and why would she have? She wasn’t a soldier—he’d gone a bit cold. He needed a soldier today and was sorry if she was going to have to become one because of him.
Cassie checked the sky. “The afternoon is moving on. It won’t get dark until nearly nine o’clock. We should eat something and maybe get some sleep.”
Right away, Callum wished she hadn’t mentioned sleep. He’d been holding his exhaustion at bay the whole day. Granted, he’d slept a long time in her hut, but he’d awoken nearly twenty-four hours ago and they’d come a long way since then. They both needed to sleep.
They returned to where they’d left the horses, and Callum settled into a hollow at the base of a tree with the sack that Robbie had given him. They’d eaten during the journey and refilled the water skins along the way, but now was the time to fill up while they could. Callum had learned to close his mind to whatever contaminants might be in the water he drank: not chemicals or heavy metals like in the modern world, but if an animal had died upstream and polluted the water, they could be in trouble. Callum took a long drink anyway and held out the water skin to Cassie.
She gave him an assessing look.
“After all we’ve been through together, you still think I bite?” Callum said.
“Of course not.” She walked to him and took the water. “I could sleep, except f
or the fact that we’re so exposed out here.”
Callum scooted over so she could sit beside him in a cradle created by the tree roots. She sat stiffly at first, and then scrunched down so she reclined against the tree and their shoulders were only a few inches apart, rather than the two feet Cassie usually kept between them. Except when she tended his wound, Cassie hadn’t ever touched him. Not even once. Because of it, he was trying not to touch her either, though he really wanted to. She maintained a cushion of space around her that he didn’t feel he could violate. As an Englishman—and a veteran of the military at that—he had a reputation for being reserved and undemonstrative, but his coolness had nothing on Cassie’s.
“In Afghanistan, I learned to sleep with one eye open. I haven’t lost the skill.” Callum reclined a bit more and Cassie followed suit, using her cloak as a pillow rather than his chest, which he certainly would have preferred. They both closed their eyes.
“My grandfather used to tell me stories to get me to go to sleep,” Cassie said. “I had a teddy bear the same size I was; I would rest my head on its belly and fall asleep while my grandfather talked.”
Callum smiled. “Neither of my parents went in much for bedtime stories.”
“Maybe that was a good thing—Coyote stories can sometimes keep you awake,” Cassie said. “He’s the trickster in our legends.”
“Like Loki in the Norse tales?” Callum said.
“Uh … sort of … but not really.” Cassie gave a low chuckle deep in her belly. “I was really looking forward to Thor II. I miss movies.”
“I miss stories in general,” Callum said. “Many nights in Afghanistan, I would read myself to sleep.”
Cassie glanced at him. “Me too! When I first came to Scotland, I didn’t sleep except in bits and snatches, if at all. I’d tell myself stories like my grandfather used to as the only way to lull myself to sleep.”
“I don’t like to think of you surviving by yourself,” Callum said. “I can’t imagine what you went through.” Already, his muscles were relaxing, listening to Cassie talk. This was the most open she’d been with him since they’d met. He set an internal alarm for sunset; they had fewer than six hours.
Exiles in Time (The After Cilmeri Series) Page 14