“I know I don’t have to tell you how hard it is to sleep when you’re afraid,” she said. “And when I did sleep, I had nightmares, and not of Coyote.”
Callum’s hands tightened into fists. “I wish you hadn’t gotten caught up in this. For me to be here is one thing. For you ....”
“Bad things happen sometimes.” Cassie curved onto her side, rubbing her cheek against her cloak.
“I’m sorry.” He didn’t know what else to say.
Now she shook her head. “I would go home if I could, but even if Meg were to take me back to our time, it wouldn’t be the same as when I left. I’m not the same person I was then.” She paused. “But you probably already understand that, too, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
Her breathing became soft and even. Callum took the risk of sweeping a stray hair out of her face without touching her cheek. She didn’t move so he didn’t add to his answer. He’d gone to Afghanistan with what he thought were realistic expectations. He hadn’t joined the military because he loved war or shooting people. He had wanted to make a difference, and by the end, had become good at what he did. But he’d come home bruised on the inside. What made his return so much harder was the fact that except for the one scar on his chest, he looked much the same on the outside as when he’d left, and therefore people expected him to be the same.
Listening to Cassie talk, he’d had another thought: that she was the loneliest person he’d ever met other than himself. Like him, she’d lost everyone she’d ever loved. Like him, she struggled for control and had created a world for herself that kept her safe, and that included keeping everyone at arm’s length—literally. She was as traumatized by her past as he was by his. He just hoped he wasn’t about to make it worse.
Callum woke Cassie at sunset as he’d promised, both having slept solidly. “Are you ready for this?” he said.
“I don’t know,” she said. “We’re risking our lives for something neither of us believes in. Do I care who takes the Scottish throne?”
“We believe in justice, both of us,” Callum said, “and in doing what is right.”
Cassie rested her chin in the palm of her hand. “Sadly, I still do, despite the fact that so few people around us seem to.”
“Besides, this is about rescuing friends, not about Scotland.”
“Okay.” Cassie sat up straight. “If I’m going to risk my life to save a Guardian of Scotland, we might as well get started.” She shot Callum a laughing look. “This James Stewart had better be worth it.”
“They may have Samuel too,” Callum said.
“And he’s a true friend, I know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t joke about something like that.”
They stood and shared a moment’s hesitation. Callum looked at Cassie, she looked at him, and just as Callum was telling himself to hell with it, she stepped towards him and wrapped her arms around his waist, squeezing him tightly. “You take care.”
Callum clutched her to him, his lips to her temple. He wanted to hold her all night, but instead he said, “You need to do exactly as we planned.”
“I will.”
They released each other and stepped back. “Let’s go,” Callum said.
Cassie nodded, turned on her heel, and walked off, heading up the hill to the lookout post they’d designated. Callum watched her go, still feeling the warmth of her body against his. God—not only had she touched him, she’d hugged him. He swallowed hard, shook himself, and resolved not to presume to know what she meant by it.
For now, he needed to put away his emotions and focus on what lay before him. He had to trust Cassie to do her job just as he would do his. Callum circled around the hill that she’d climbed. He briefly crossed the trail that led to the fort, scuttling across it as quickly as he could, and then moved into the woods on the other side.
The canoe was where they’d left it—he hadn’t allowed himself to consider what he’d do if it wasn’t—and he got into it. He pushed off from the bank and used the paddle without any real expertise—though Cassie had tried to instruct him earlier—first on one side of the boat and then the other. He tried not to make even a single splash that could call attention to his progress.
Darkness had fallen at last, bringing a night as clear as the day had been. Stars peppered the sky and the starry band of the Milky Way hung above Callum’s head. He hugged the shoreline, barely putting his oar in the water at all, just enough to keep the boat away from the tree roots, branches, and debris that lined the shore. Several rivers fed the eastward flowing loch. Thus, the natural movement of the water carried him towards the fort even though his overall progress was slow.
It wasn’t a dark night, so what most worried Callum was the moment he came around the bend in the shoreline that had kept him hidden from any watchers at the fort. If someone was keeping an eye on the water, looking for movement, he would see Callum. For once, Callum wished for cloud cover and rain, even if it would have made it hard for him to see until he reached the fort. His only consolation was that the torches that lit the fort would hamper the guards’ night vision.
Callum eased closer to the shore, hardly daring to breathe, and suddenly had to fight against the current which was making the boat go faster than he wanted. Soon he reached the point on the shoreline where the trees ended. The Earl of Lennox had cleared the vegetation around the lodge, leaving fifty yards of no man’s land between the trees and the palisade. Since no trees grew down to the shore either, Callum would be exposed the whole of that distance.
He hesitated in the darkness, waiting and watching. Men patrolled the wall-walk, though like the men he and Cassie had seen on the trail earlier that afternoon, they seemed half-hearted about it. Callum was all in favor of bored men when they were his adversaries. He and Cassie had agreed that she should give him half an hour to get into position before she lit the first bonfire. Neither of them wore watches, of course, and Callum’s internal clock told him that it had been a bit longer than they’d planned.
But then Cassie got to work: a flare of light went up from the first bonfire and they were in business.
They didn’t actually want to burn the forest down, just distract the defenders of the fort long enough for Callum to get inside. A second fire started, a hundred yards from the first one. Even at this distance, Callum could smell the smoke, but the alarm coming from the fort drowned out all other sounds including the slap of water against the boat. Only two men had patrolled the palisade before Cassie lit the first bonfire, but a shout from them had brought other men running. A dozen now stood above the gatehouse, pointing at the fires.
It was time to go. Callum put his head down and paddled as fast as he could for the end of the western wall of the palisade. The lodge had been built on an almost flat, grassy expanse that ended with a three-foot drop to where the water lapped at eroded rock and dirt. With the fort essentially open to the loch, the Earl of Lennox had given lip service to defense. He’d built a fence to keep animals and raiders out but never thought about a determined man like Callum.
Callum pulled the boat next to a relatively flat rock and climbed onto it without even getting his feet wet. Lifting his head above the level of the grass, he could see into the interior of the fort. Three boats rested side by side a foot from his nose. All to the good. He could leave his boat where it was, partially pulled onto the rock so it wouldn’t float away, and no one would be the wiser. Perhaps Callum could escape with the prisoners this way after all.
He crouched between the boats, still keeping his head down. He’d put his cloak back on before he left Cassie, hoping its dark color and hood would disguise him long enough to confuse any MacDougall who gave Callum a second look. What Callum really wanted was for everyone to be distracted by the fire arrows—
Thwtt!
Cassie’s first arrow hit the steep roof of the lodge. It had been built primarily in stone, mortared and two stories high, but had a thatched roof like most medieval houses in Scotland. Her assault came almost t
oo soon. Callum barely had time to reach the back wall of the building before four men raced past him heading for the loch, buckets swinging from their hands. Before they wondered why Callum wasn’t helping, he ducked through the rear door.
Just inside, he stopped short. He was in a large room that ran unbroken by walls all the way to the front of the house. The door opposite him was open, and he could see into the courtyard beyond it and to the front gate. The room itself was empty of people, though from the remains of a meal on the long table by the hearth, men had been eating here before Cassie had lit her fires. To Callum’s left, a stairway ran up the interior wall of the building to a second floor loft that took up the front half of the lodge. It was open at the back, without even a railing to prevent a wayward sleeper from falling to the floor below.
Callum peered upwards into the darkness of the loft. “Stewart!” Nothing. And then, “Is anyone there?”
Still nothing. Unless the prisoners were gagged or unconscious, they weren’t there. Given that nobody guarded this building, Callum thought his conclusion likely. He backed out of the door he’d come in. The men fighting the fires had formed a line that curved around to the front of the lodge. They passed water buckets from hand to hand.
Callum flipped up the hood of his cloak and dashed to his right towards the smaller building that he and Cassie had seen from the hill. It was attached to the wooden palisade and made of loosely fitted wooden planks. It also had a thatched roof that the fire hadn’t reached, which explained the lack of attention currently being paid to it. Callum held his knife in his fist, ready to slash at anyone he met coming through the door. During hand-to-hand combat in tight quarters like the hut, his sword would only get in the way.
Unsure if it would be better to sneak in or burst in, Callum opted for a combination of the two. He quietly lifted the latch to release the lock and then put his shoulder into the door with a quick thrust. Whether those inside had been alerted by the shouts and simply wanted to check on their companions’ progress, or if Callum hadn’t been as quiet as he intended, the door slammed into the forehead of a man coming to open it. He fell against the northern wall of the hut, momentarily stunned.
A second man had been standing to the right of the first, waiting for the door to open. He reached for the hilt of his sword as Callum pushed through the door. Callum took a step and jammed the palm of his left hand underneath the man’s chin. His teeth snapped together, his head fell back, and he collapsed to the floor. The back of his head hit the ground with a nauseating thud, but because the floor of the hut was made of dirt not stone, Callum didn’t think he’d killed him, even if he’d knocked him out.
Callum turned to look at the first man, who was struggling to his feet. Callum recognized him as one of the men who’d dropped out of a tree at the ambush on the road. Even with that knowledge, Callum didn’t want to kill him if he didn’t have too. He took one step and then directed a kick at the man’s jaw with such force that the man fell back and lay still.
Callum spun on his heel, looking for someone else to fight. James and Samuel gaped at him from the floor by the south wall. A third man Callum didn’t recognize lay beside them. His friends were bound at their wrists and ankles and tied to iron stakes that had been driven into the ground. Both James and Samuel strained against their bonds, but the third man—more of a boy, really—remained slumped on the floor.
“Praise be to God,” said James as Callum took the fighting axe of one of the downed soldiers and tried to hack through the links that attached James to his stake. “The dead one has the key to our shackles.”
Callum found the keys and freed his friends. Then he clasped Samuel’s forearm and helped him to his feet. “I am glad to find you here.” That was the understatement of the year.
“I’m glad to be found,” Samuel said.
Callum glanced at Samuel’s face. Despite what had to have been a desperate few days, Samuel’s eyes remained bright, and at the moment, full of humor.
“Who is he?” Callum put his hand to the boy’s neck, feeling for a pulse.
“We don’t know,” Samuel said. “He hasn’t woken since they brought him in.”
Callum frowned. “He wasn’t a member our company?”
“No,” Samuel said.
James went to the entrance and peered through the crack between the frame and the door. “How many men do you have?”
“Ah … it’s just me and a woman friend.”
James turned to look at him. “You’re jesting.”
“No,” Callum said. “You’ll see.”
Callum picked up the axe again. His experience at Mugdock had given him an idea. “I don’t think we can risk leaving by boat as I’d hoped.”
“Then how—” said James, just as Callum took a huge swing with the axe, directing the blow at the side wall of the hut. The boards splintered.
“Looks like freedom to me.” Callum swung the axe again. Three more blows and he could put his boot through the remaining boards to create a hole in the palisade.
After his initial open-mouthed astonishment, James helped Callum clear away the last of the splinters. Then Samuel lifted the mystery boy onto his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. James went through the opening first, followed by Samuel, who needed Callum’s help to maneuver his burden through the three foot wide opening. Callum was taking a last look back, one foot already on the ground outside the palisade, when the door to the hut opened. The man in the doorway hadn’t been expecting anything untoward. He stared at Callum for half a second, and then opened his mouth to shout: “The prisoners—!”
“I’ve got this, Callum.” Cassie thrust her bow past Callum’s shoulder and loosed an arrow.
The man fell backwards, the arrow through his throat.
Chapter Twelve
Cassie
Cassie closed her mind. She’d gotten good at it over the years, and really, what was there to think about? The man was dead and she’d had no choice but to shoot him if they were going to get away.
When that axe head had come through the side of the palisade with the force of an oncoming train, Cassie hadn’t been looking for it. She’d been staying to the woods on the eastern side of the fort, waiting for Callum to come around the wall, either by slogging through the water on foot or in his little boat. She’d been too busy lighting fires to follow his progress initially, but from brief glances through her scope when she’d had the chance, she’d seen the line of men with buckets start near the western palisade wall. She’d known then that if Callum found the prisoners, there was no way he was leaving in that direction.
The fires she’d lit in the hills around the fort had been designed to keep the defenders guessing and afraid of the army that had been brought up to attack them. Overall, Callum’s plan had worked better than Cassie had hoped or imagined it could. While a half-dozen men fought the fire in the main building, the rest watched the perimeter from the wall-walk. Earlier, a group of four had charged out of the gate and … well … Cassie had been waiting for that. She’d put arrows in two of them without killing them and narrowly missed a third before all of them scrambled back inside.
Personally, if she had to choose between going down in flames in a lodge that didn’t belong to her and charging out of it to do battle, she would have chosen the latter too. Too bad for them that she’d been waiting.
“It would have been smarter for the defenders to evacuate into the water,” Callum said as they raced for the trees. “They have the boats for it.”
Cassie figured that Callum was just making conversation to distract her, but she was grateful to him nonetheless. She feared an arrow would strike her in the middle of the back at any second in repayment for what she’d done. “Maybe they view it as a path of last resort,” Cassie said.
Callum sniffed. “Likely, none of them can swim and they fear the deep waters of the loch.”
As they reached the trees, Cassie whipped out her last arrow, set it into her bow, and looked back. A man stan
ding above the eastern palisade shouted and pointed towards her. Cassie hesitated, gauging the distance and the angle of the shot. She didn’t want to waste her last arrow on someone she could barely see, when more men might be coming any second.
“Leave him, Cassie,” Callum said. “We need to go.”
Cassie nodded. She turned and ran after Callum, deeper into the trees. “Where are the other prisoners?” Cassie said. The two able-bodied former prisoners loped ahead of them, holding a steady place despite the burden one of them carried. Cassie checked behind her. She couldn’t see the lodge anymore, but she could smell the smoke.
“I didn’t have time to ask.” Callum said.
“I moved the horses back to the first spot, just off the trail,” Cassie said. “They may be a bit spooked from all the smoke.”
“You’re amazing.”
Cassie blinked away a vision of Callum wrapping an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close, and kissing her. He did none of those things and it was probably just as well.
Instead, Callum added, “I’m going to thank God every day for the rest of my life for putting me in your path.”
Callum kept on going through the trees, leaving Cassie shaken. He’d done nothing but tell her how great she was. He probably had no idea that he was the first person she’d hugged in five years. It was as if she hadn’t known she was starving until presented with food.
The two men Callum had rescued finally came to a halt. One of them bent over, his hands on his knees, breathing hard, while the larger of the two rested his shoulder against a tree. Cassie couldn’t believe he’d managed to carry his burden that far. Callum took a moment to wave a hand. “James, Samuel, this is Cassie.”
Exiles in Time (The After Cilmeri Series) Page 15