by Hazel Hunter
“Right. There are two of them. The man is named Hendry Greum, and he’s with a woman called Murdina Stroud.” She yanked on the lock and blew out a breath. “This is iron, too. Hendry and Murdina told us that they’re druids from this time, and immortal, which I’m beginning to believe is true. They’ve plotted to get revenge on a bloke named Bhaltair Flen. They took us from the future because somehow we can help them with that.”
Cadeyrn watched her climb back onto the bed, and controlled a flinch as she straddled his hips.
“What do you now, Lily?”
“I’m seeing if I can loosen your cuffs.” She bent over him, and the moment she tugged on his shackle it came free. “Oh, fabulous. This chain is–”
He unhooked his other wrist and flipped over, trapping her under his body. Clamping his hand over her open mouth, he leaned close.
“You’ll no’ make a fool of me again, my lady. I broke out of my chains to come after you. I heard everything you promised the facking druid.” Lily shook her head, her eyes wide. “Dinnae deny it. Now you’ll answer my questions. ’Tis all you’ll say. If you try to lie to me again, or scream for help, I’ll gag you. Understand me?” As soon as she nodded he released her mouth. “Where do they hold the other lasses?”
“In the granary. It’s west of the mill, behind the stables. There’s only one way in, and they keep two guards on the door.” She blinked a few times. “Please, Cade, let me explain.”
“Only answers, or a gag,” he reminded her. “Where lies the portal?”
“On the west side of the farm, in the woods.” Her voice sounded defeated. “Only we prisoners can open it, so they don’t bother guarding it. They have sentries surrounding the property, and Hendry sends out patrols at night.”
Cadeyrn saw a tear slide down the side of her face into her hair. “Dinnae you dare weep, wench, after what you’ve done.” He didn’t want to ask her more, but the next question burst out of him. “How could you do this?”
“I did it to convince Hendry and Murdina to trust me,” Lily said, averting her face. “I knew it was the only way they’d let me use the portal. So I lied to them, too.” She closed her eyes. “If you’re going to kill me have at it. Just promise me you’ll free the others and get them away from those ruddy monsters.”
Chapter Five
SITTING AND WATCHING Perrin gobbling up a jam-smeared oat cake should have pleased Rowan, but she could hardly look at her sister anymore. Nor had she been able to swallow anything since the guards had started bringing them real meals. She looked at the food and saw Lily being dragged out of the granary to be executed. Out there somewhere the Brit lay in pieces, torn apart by Coig or Dha or maybe even the great prissy Aon, who hardly ever seemed to dirty his hands with anything.
Coig would have taken his time, Rowan thought. For some reason the sadistic guard had had it in for Lily from their first day in the Ye Scotland of Auld. She could almost hear his scratchy, grating voice taunting her as he snapped bones and ripped flesh. He’d laugh as Lily wept, and screamed, and tried to crawl away—just as he had at the sheep farm.
Rowan didn’t know which was worse: imagining the British woman’s gruesome end, or knowing that her sister had made it happen. She still caught herself thinking up excuses for Perrin’s betrayal. Fear—only Perrin hadn’t been scared. Temporary insanity—but she’d sounded lucid and stable. Magic compulsion—yet Hendry hadn’t cast a spill-the-beans spell on her. No, her perfect sister, whom everyone loved, who never did anything wrong, had simply traded Lily’s life away to make things better for herself.
Perrin had calmly and deliberately sacrificed Lily on an altar of jam and oatcakes.
“They brought some cider today,” Emeline said as she sat down beside her, a mug of juice in her hand. They’d been allowed to wash, and her clean hair practically glowed blue-black. “Would you like some? It’s rather good.”
“So was Lily,” Rowan said tonelessly. “No thanks.”
The nurse eyed Perrin for a moment before she said, “We’ve all been through so much, Rowan. Cannae you forgive her? I think Lily would.”
“Lily can’t do anything. Lily’s dead. My sister killed her.” She clenched her hands, digging her nails into her palms as her temper spiked. “I’m really not in the mood for talk therapy, Florence Nightingale. Go and enjoy the feast.”
Emeline patted the swollen side of her face. “This has me on a cider-soaked bread diet, which I dinnae recommend at all. Nasty, mushy stuff.”
Oddly, the nurse’s Scottish accent seemed to be getting thicker by the day. She always tried to make light of their situation, too, which Rowan thought was utterly crass.
“Okay, I’ll play,” Rowan said. “What if Perrin had ratted you out? Would you forgive her for sending you to your death?”
“I hope I would. I was raised a Christian.” Emeline touched her arm. “Drink a little juice for me, and I’ll no’ nag for the rest of the day.”
Rowan took the mug, intending on pouring it out onto the floor. Her hand shook, something it never did, and her shrunken stomach made a feeble sound. A feeling came over her that reminded her of being on the beach, and soaking up the sun, two of Rowan’s favorite things to do. She noticed the glitter of determination in the nurse’s eyes, and thought of all the other times she’d felt good around Emeline. Basically, every time she stood within two feet of her. Everyone felt drawn to the nurse, Rowan realized. Even Perrin, who had always been notoriously shy around strangers.
“Stop using your mojo on me, Florence.”
Emeline leaned closer. “Then stop acting like a bairn, you stubborn Yank. We need your strength.”
She was acting like a brat, Rowan thought. Don’t hate me, Lily. She chugged down the cider like bad tequila before she handed back the empty mug.
“If I puke, you’re cleaning it up.”
The nurse’s expression turned rueful. “Sensible notion, as I’ve plenty of practice.” She hesitated before she added, “If you manage to keep it down, I’ve saved you bread and fruit, and some roast chicken.” She smiled before she left her.
Her belly calming, Rowan watched Perrin finish eating and brush the crumbs from the front of her new outfit. The medieval dress hung from her as if she were a clothesline, and one good breeze would blow it off. She still looked beautiful in it. Perrin didn’t know how to look ugly.
She doesn’t know how to be ugly, Rowan thought.
Time flashed backwards as she remembered the first time she’d seen her older sister on stage. Perrin had been sixteen, and already obsessed with dance. Her ballet teacher had decided to do a production of Snow White, but had cast her own daughter as the princess. Perrin had been given the completely unsuitable role of The Evil Queen.
Perrin hadn’t understood the character, or why she had hated her daughter’s beauty. The concept of envy simply made no sense to her. In rehearsals she had struggled so much to portray the queen’s murderous resentment that she’d nearly quit the production. Marion had finally sent her to take a crash course in acting with a former Broadway actress. The woman believed in big, overly-dramatic gestures that could be clearly seen by the audience even in the very back rows of the theater.
Acting gestures like the one she’d made to point out Lily.
Rowan didn’t know she had walked over to her sister until she saw Perrin looking up at her with her big indigo eyes.
“Ready to beat the crap out of me now, Ro?” she asked, her tone serene.
It felt marvelous to grab the front of her sister’s baggy new dress and use it to haul her to her feet.
“You conniving little sneak.”
Emeline tried to get between them. “Rowan, dinnae do this.”
“Shut up, Florence.” Rowan used her other hand to hold the nurse back. To Perrin she said, “I saw you and Lily huddled together the other night. When I asked her about it she said she was just bitching at you to eat. It doesn’t take an hour to do that. She wanted you to give her up. Why?”
“So she could get some help for us.” Perrin glanced at the door. “Someone’s coming. Don’t ask about Lily, either of you. We’re supposed to think she’s dead.”
Rowan released her as a middle-aged woman came in with two guards. Her still-sore back tensed at the sight of Murdina Stroud, who had whipped her unmercifully after their last escape attempt. The crazy half of the mad druid couple, the woman had the emotional stability of a rabid St. Bernard, and the heartfelt compassion of a serial killer. When Murdina wasn’t bouncing between lightning bouts of sickening sweetness and homicidal rage, she hung all over Hendry, who seemed oblivious to her lunacy. Everyone else knew just how dangerous the woman could be. When Murdina smiled at Emeline, the nurse’s face blanched.
“Fair morning to you, Healer.” The druidess surveyed the remains of their meal. “I see you’ve been well fed. As you ken, my Hendry doesnae break his word.” She turned to the biggest giant, and casually flapped her hand at Perrin. “Take that one to the mill.”
Rowan got between Dha and her sister. “I can do whatever work you need done.”
“Aye, and so you shall.” Murdina came to her, and gave her shoulder a gentle pat. “You’ll help Ochd repair our cart. ’Tis been overturned and broken.” She seized Rowan by the neck and cut off her air. “Take the sister to the mill, Dha.”
Rowan knew struggling would only earn her another punishment, but she didn’t care. The moment she gripped the druidess’s arm, however, her hands went numb and fell to her sides.
“Hendry cast a new body ward over me,” Murdina said, smirking. “Naught can touch me but him and our caraidean. You’ll do as I tell you, wee sister, or I’ll whip the skin from the dancer’s back.”
When Rowan nodded, Murdina released her crushing grip. Coughing and gasping for air, she felt the cider starting to come back up, and swallowed until the feeling passed. Emeline looked ready to lunge at the druidess. Rowan felt another surge of affection for the gentle Scotswoman, who forgot to be placid and sweet whenever anyone was at bodily risk.
Emeline met her gaze, and Rowan felt a strange warmth roll over and wrap around her like a hug. Whatever the nurse’s power was, it worked off emotions—and affected them, too.
“See you later,” she told Emeline, and walked out of the granary with Murdina and Ochd.
Being in the sunlight made Rowan squint until her eyes adjusted. Murdina walked away from her and disappeared into the mill, while Ochd stood at her side and waited. Wood smoke hung heavily on the chilly air, but so did the scent of fresh-cut pine. She heard the sound of saws coming from behind the mill, and her stomach knotted as she thought of her sister.
“What is she going to do to Perrin?” Rowan asked, keeping her voice low.
“Lock her away from you. Make you help us.” The guard gestured toward a heap of wood and wheels near the tree line. “Hendry needs cart.”
From what she’d seen, Hendry used the guards for all the heavy lifting and carrying, so the cart had some other purpose. Probably to transport her, Perrin and Emeline to a place that didn’t have a portal handy. Ochd might give her more details while she sabotaged the cart. Ochd liked to talk to her. But if she heard Perrin scream–
Rowan clenched her teeth until the urge to run into the mill passed. “Let’s take a look at the damage.”
Ochd accompanied her, even shortening his strides so their pace matched. Rowan noticed that unlike most of the other guards he’d worked on moving like a human being. His legs had hardly any puppet-like jerkiness now, and he even swung his arms as a man would, if the man were six and half feet tall and built like a front lineman with a steroids problem.
She eyed his profile and noticed something new. All of the guards had grids of tiny cracks all over their faces, as if their skin were made of clay that had been baked too long. When he turned his head to look at her she saw no cracks on the other side, either. His flesh tone had changed, too. Now he looked almost…human.
“Hendry make,” Ochd said as they reached the cart.
“Make what?” She frowned at the broken wood and skewed wheels. “This mess?”
“Ochd.” He lifted a huge hand and circled it in front of his nose. “Make me look human.”
None of the guards spoke with much emotion, but he sounded almost proud. Even with the skin repair job, he really had no idea how strange he appeared, Rowan thought. What was more disturbing was how easily he’d guessed what she was thinking, and the fact that he’d just confirmed that he wasn’t human.
“Okay.” She was starting to get creeped out, so she focused on the cart. “How did this happen, anyway? Did Hendry drive this off a cliff?”
“Lily try to drop cart on him.” Ochd tapped the side of his head. “Mind-mover.”
The sous-chef had tried to dump this on the druid’s head? Rowan glanced back at the granary.
“Really. What else did she do before he killed her?”
Ochd started to say something, and then scowled. “Murdina say fix cart. We fix.”
“Sure,” Rowan said.
She knew the guards were much smarter than they let on, and she didn’t want to blow whatever scheme Lily and Perrin had hatched.
With the practiced eye of a carpenter, Rowan walked around the vehicle. She leaned over to inspect the primitive revolving front axle and the heavy transom, both of which remained intact. Everything had been made from tough, high-grained ash, the only reason it hadn’t collapsed in a pile of splinters.
“This has four wheels, so technically it’s a wagon, not a cart.” She crouched down to look underneath the bed boards, and then stood. “Two of the wheel hubs have cracked, and all of the side ladders are snapped off. We need to shore up the wheels, turn it over, and then I’m going to need some– Wait.”
With a single heave Ochd turned over the wagon. A splintering groan came from beneath the bed as it landed, and the two damaged wheels collapsed.
“Great.” Rowan closed her eyes for a moment. “Thanks.”
“Wheels arenae sound.” Ochd kicked one, which cracked in two and fell apart.
“I appreciate that opinion, but I’m not a wheelwright.”
Even as she said that, Rowan could see how the spokes had been fitted to the rims, and the simplicity of the hubs. She hadn’t seen any ash trees yet, but there were some big elms that might serve. Her fingers always itched whenever she thought of wood-working, but she also felt the hair on the back of her neck prickle.
Turning around helped Rowan dodge a fist-sized stone whizzing toward her face. A second one bounced off her shoulder, and then something bigger rammed into her. With the wind knocked out of her, she went flying through the air to land at Ochd’s feet with a painful thud.
“Want her first,” Coig said. The worst of the guards, loomed over Rowan. “Teach her ken her place.”
Ochd hefted Rowan up from the ground, tucking her under his hard arm. “Murdina say she mend cart. You beat her, she cannae work.”
“Make healer work,” Coig said as he approached, his hands outstretched. “Give her to me.”
Rowan remained perfectly still as she stared up at the guard’s flat, hate-filled eyes. His face had cracked so badly that pieces of it were flaking off, revealing underneath an uneven, blackened grain like moldy wood. His big, yellowed teeth had split on all the edges as well, making him look as if he had a mouthful of huge splinters.
“You rot,” Ochd said as Coig reached for Rowan. “Go to Hendry. He fix you.”
The other guard stopped in his tracks, and peered at Ochd. “Fix me.” He made a grating sound as his jaw worked, grinding his broken teeth together. “Naught fix me.” With one last glare at Rowan he turned around and trudged back toward the mill.
Only when Coig was out of sight did Ochd put Rowan on her feet. This wasn’t the first time he’d protected her from that bastard.
“Why did you do that?”
“Hendry promise treat you well. Coig forget.” The guard gestured at the broken wagon. “What we need to f
ix?”
“Wood for the wheels and side ladders. Tools.” She glanced at the mill. “Somewhere to work away from Coig. Is Hendry the only reason you’re protecting me?”
“No.” He gave her a long look before he said, “We go mark trees. I cut later. Come.”
Hardly believing her luck, Rowan followed him to the forest trail and into the woods. They were heading straight toward the portal, Rowan realized, which Lily had probably run to when she’d dropped the cart. The portal which she herself could open with just a touch, jump in, and get the hell out of–
You can’t leave Perrin behind, Marion’s voice whispered in her head. You must protect your sister.
Rowan had always detested her adoptive mother, but never more so than in that moment. Here she had the perfect opportunity to escape, to go back to her time, go get help, or just whizz off to another place in Scotland. And still Perrin had to come first.
“Which trees do we cut?” Ochd asked, startling her out of her thoughts.
“For the straight pieces we’ll need elm.” Thinking of Perrin filled her with so much separation anxiety she asked, “You’re going to bring my sister back to the granary after I fix this, right?”
The guard shook his head. “Murdina keep her, to make you fear. To make you afraid,” he corrected himself.
“Can you get her out of the mill, and bring her to me?” Before he could reply she said, “You can tell them that we need more help with repairing the wagon.”
“I cannae lie to Wood Dream.” He took out a dagger and used it to gouge an X on the trunk of a large elm. “I willnae allow them or Coig harm…to harm you, Rowan.”
He was actively trying to sound human now. When he offered her the dagger she gripped it tightly.
“I can’t hurt you with this,” Rowan said, looking down at the short blade. “That’s why you’re giving it to me.”
“No. I give to you so you can mark trees,” he told her. “I find the ash wood.”
If she could get Ochd on their side, Rowan thought, they might actually have a chance of surviving.