by B. J. Scott
“I told you he was not who he pretends to be,” Cailleach said, grinning.
“You’ve deceived me and mock our beliefs, yet want me to trust you?” Ciara frowned and backed away. “Are you telling me that everything Cailleach has been saying is true? Who are you really, and where are you from?”
“That is exactly what he is confessing,” Cailleach said before Alex could answer. “Now you know the truth, I order you to come with me. The hour grows late. And while you may never be able to return to your family without shame, there is but a few hours left to complete the ritual and put an end to winter.”
The strength slowly returning to his legs, Alex rose. He had to make Ciara understand and confront Cailleach on her own level, face-to-face. “Don’t listen to her, Ciara. If the legend is true, the amulet was offered in exchange for the life of the maiden, not in addition to it.” He stared at the hag. “If I get you the gem, will you spare Ciara’s life?”
“Enough! I will have both.” Cailleach raised her hands again, this time the gesture was accompanied by a blinding flash of light.
Pain lanced through his head, ricocheting around his skull. Alex grabbed his forehead and collapsed to the ground, darkness enveloping him.
~ * ~
Alex moaned, his arm thrown across his forehead, shielding his eyes from the rays of sunlight sneaking past the shutters. He wasn’t sure which hurt more, his head or his chest. “This trip to Scotland has taken a hell of a toll on my body. If I ever manage to find the way back to my own time period, I’m booking a long vacation to somewhere hot and exotic,” he mumbled aloud, then rolled to his side.
“My time period,” he muttered. “Shit. Ciara.” Alex used the side of the bed to haul himself to an upright position, but momentarily lost his balance. His head spinning, he sat on the edge of the mattress, waiting for the brain fog to clear. When he could finally see straight, he scanned the room, looking for Ciara and the hag. But he was very much alone. Not that he was surprised.
Panic pierced his gut as he picked up his tunic and tugged it over his head. He fastened the sword at his side and donned his boots. There was no telling how long he’d been passed out on the floor, but he guessed it had been a while. The hag would make sure she had long enough to abscond with Ciara and get to the well.
Time being of the essence, Alex hurried across the room and threw open the door, a blast of cold air stealing his breath. The storm was over and the sun was shining, but the celestial orb also hung low in the sky.
It was much later in the day than Alex had hoped. If he was to make his way back to the castle, retrieve the amulet, and save Ciara before the stroke of midnight he’d have to make haste. Getting into the keep and out again unnoticed was not going to be easy, if it was even possible. But he had to try. Ciara’s life depended on it. If he failed, she would perish. Something he was not prepare to consider.
Alex sprinted off, running as fast as his legs would carry him and the drifts of snow would allow. As he neared the castle, he slowed his pace. Certain that after he’d escaped with Ciara, Laird Innes would have everyone looking for them, he needed to plan his moves carefully if he hoped to pull this off.
After scanning the parapets for sentries and seeing no one, Alex dashed for the postern gate. He entered the bailey, then crouched in some bushes, hoping to remain out of sight. Since there was no telling when the guards might pass by again, he waited and watched.
Minutes seemed like hours, but he could not be too careful. If found and turned over the laird, his quest to save Ciara would be over. After making another quick search of the grounds and praying it was safe to do so, Alex bolted for the storage room door at the rear of the keep.
While he had not been at the castle long enough to know his way around, Alex had examined sketches and speculative blueprints of how it was constructed when he had visited the University archives. Having a personal interest in the Clan Innes history and anything else he could get his hands on, he’d studied the drawings at great length before leaving on his trip, and was glad he had. This knowledge would prove most useful.
If he recalled correctly, a series of tunnels and hidden passageways were built into the structure, a means of escape for the laird and his family in the event of an attack. Now, if he could just locate the secret door leading into and out of the kitchen storage room, he’d be happy.
He scratched his head and studied each wall in turn, pausing when he spotted what he was searching for. Unlike the rest of the irregular shaped fieldstones used to fashion the foundation, he noticed a series of square cut stones, arranged in the shape of a cross, and partially hidden from view by a stack of wine barrels. If the plans for the keep were accurate, Alex was certain if he moved the barrels, he’d find a small wooden door located near the floor—large enough for a man to crawl through.
Confident he’d located the entrance to the passageway, he started across the room, but ducked behind a crock of pickled turnips when he heard someone coming. Unfortunately, as he dove for cover his foot caught a broom and sent it crashing to the floor.
The servant raised his torch. “Is someone in here?” he called out, then moved in Alex’s direction.
Afraid he’d be seen, Alex fingered the hilt of his sword, prepared to pounce if necessary. He didn’t want to harm the man, or anyone, as far as that went, but nothing short of death would stand in the way of rescuing Ciara. Holding his breath, he watched as the servant got closer. Alex might have been found had not a rat, the size of an alley cat, scurried over the toe of his boot, then crossed the servant’s path.
“Damned rodents.” The servant picked up the broom and pummeled the animal until it lay lifeless on the floor. “That’ll teach you,” he grumbled. Obviously satisfied he’d caught the intruder, the man kicked it aside, grabbed a side of mutton from a hook hanging from the ceiling, and left the storeroom.
Alex rocked back on his heels, releasing the breath he’d been holding. He waited until he was certain the man did not return and prayed no one else came along to hinder his mission. Confident the coast was clear, he crawled on hands and knees to the wine barrels and quickly rolled two of the oak containers away from the wall.
Chapter Nine
Relieved to find the entrance to the secret passageway, Alex used the dirk he’d stashed in his boot to pry open the wooden door and entered the dark damp space. Spider webs brushed his face and shivers ran down his spine. He was never fond of arachnids, but knowing the place was likely infested with rats and other disgusting vermin was even worse. The smell of mold, dust, and rodent dropping assaulted his nostrils, but he kept crawling until he saw a bit of light filtering through some cracks in the chinking a few feet ahead of him.
When he reached the lit area, he noticed the ceiling of the tunnel was high enough for him to stand. Feeling his way along the stone wall, he headed for another spot a little farther away, one that he assumed was a doorway, given the size of the square rim of light surrounding it. As he got closer, he bumped his head on the roof of the tunnel, the height of which apparently decreased as he neared the exit. Dropping to his knees again, he crawled the rest of the way.
Alex reached the end of the passageway and paused to listen for the sound of voices. He wasn’t certain, but if memory served him, this tunnel came out near the stairs leading to the above floor. He rested on his heels, hoping it was safe to leave, when he noticed a set of stone steps to his right. Upon further investigation, he deduced they lead to the above floor and likely came out in or near the laird’s chamber.
Alex took the stairs two at a time, then followed a short passageway that ended with another door. After a quick survey of his surroundings, he concluded this was the only way out and pushed until the small wooden slab moved an inch—enough for him to see it was blocked by a wooden chest, and as he suspected, it opened into the laird’s chamber.
Given the time of day, Alex figured his father would be in the great hall, preparing for the evening meal. He mumbled a prayer that he
was right, and using his shoulder, leaned into the door with all the strength he could muster.
The barrier gave way, and Alex toppled out, landing on his back and staring at the ceiling. After getting his bearings, he leapt to his feet and padded to the door. Opening it a crack, he peered into the hallway. Once the coast was clear, he left his father’s room, entered his own chamber, and headed straight for the bed in search of the talisman.
“What in damnation are you doing here?”
Alex stiffened and spun around to face his cousin Blair. “I wish you would stop sneaking up from behind and scaring the shit out of me.”
“I wish you would stop taking chances and putting your life in danger,” Blair countered. “You dinna answer my question. What the hell are you doing here and where is the lass? I went to great lengths to cover for you, but I think your da is suspicious. It was foolish of you to return right now.”
“I don’t have time to explain everything,” Alex said as he lifted the mattress and snatched up his leather jacket. He searched the breast pocket, retrieving the stone. “Cailleach has Ciara and I had to come back for this.” He loosened the drawstring and tipped the sack, the gem tumbling onto his palm. “It’s her only hope. I just pray I can get there before it’s too late.”
“Make time to explain,” Blair snapped. “And what have you got there?” He peered over Alex’s shoulder at the gem in his hand. “Shite, man, that is the missing Talisman of Light. Where did you get it?”
“I told you I don’t have time to explain,” Alex repeated. He stared at the talisman. If removing it from Scotland had such a dramatic influence on history, would turning the gem over to Cailleach and rescuing Ciara set things to right or make things worse? He returned the gem to the pouch, and after fastening it to his sash, tucked it into the waist of his trews for safekeeping “Now that I’ve gotten what I came for, I can go back to the well and hopefully save Ciara.”
Alex spun around, fully intending to leave the same way he entered, but ran smack into his father and the two guards who’d been standing sentry at the well.
“Not so fast,” the laird growled. “You are na going anywhere. Especially na to the well to save the Dunmore lass.”
“Is she there? Have you seen her?” Alex asked. “The hag is going to kill her if I don’t help her.”
“What interest do you have in this woman? Why does it matter if she lives or dies?” the laird asked. “This must be done and you have no right to question it, or to interfere. Who do you think you are?”
Damn it, Alex knew that wasn’t right. Human sacrifice in the old world had not survived into the twelfth century. He had to try to stop this. “I am nobody, my laird. But she’s done naught to deserve this. Even the Druids sought to prevent the ritual by making a ruby talisman to appease the hag in her quest for youth and save a lass’s life.” Alex bit his lower lip to keep from saying any more. If he’d learned anything since his arrival in the twelfth century, challenging the laird’s authority or beliefs would not help his cause. But there had to be a way to reason with him, to get the laird to at least consider the reason for his actions.
“Nay,” the laird growled. “I’ve had enough of your interference. I will not risk eternal winter. This must be done.”
It wasn’t done. It can’t be done, was on the tip of Alex’s tongue, but he couldn’t say it. “The talisman was stolen,” Alex replied. He considered showing the gem to his father, but if his plan failed and the amulet was confiscated, it might not get to the well in time to save Ciara. “I wish I could make you understand.”
“Silence.” The laird raised his hand in the air. “I understand fully what you are saying. But the hag demands payment, and the ritual must take place. That is why I am ordering my men to throw you in the dungeon until after Imbolc has passed,” his father said. “Hopefully, you will have time to think about what you’ve done and how close you came to sentencing the people of this clan to eternal winter.”
“You’re a smart and sensible man, Father. Perhaps the most cunning and clever laird I know.” Alex didn’t think some flattery to boost his father’s ego would hurt. “And I mean no disrespect to your or your beliefs by questioning your judgment. But isn’t it possible that spring will still come anyway, regardless if the lass is sacrificed or not?”
“Watch it, cousin,” Blair whispered. “You will only make things worse if you challenge your da’s beliefs again.”
“I’m not contradicting what he believes, just offering him some other options to consider,” Alex said through clenched teeth. “There’s nothing wrong with a laird who is open to new ideas.”
Laird Innes glowered at Blair. “And what about you, nephew? Did you have anything to do with my son’s foolish attempt to save the lass? Fergus and Donald claimed they were attacked by at least two men, perhaps more.”
“That’s a lie to save face.” Since he was telling the truth, Alex had no problem looking the laird directly in the eye. It did only take one man to get the jump on them. Blair. “I acted alone. My cousin had no knowledge of my actions. As far as he knew, I was going hunting and nothing more.”
The laird balled his fists and took a menacing step forward. “Lucky for him, or you would both wind up in irons. There is no good excuse for defying my orders. For that reason, son or na, you will be taken to the dungeon.” He glanced at Fergus and motioned with a sweep of his hand. “Take him now, see that he doesn’t escape. He is to have no visitors. And that includes my nephew. Do I make myself clear?”
Fergus offered a curt nod. “Aye, m’lord.” Your orders will be followed to the letter.”
“See that they are this time,” the laird growled. “While it pains me to do this, son, it is for your own good and that of the clan. If you are to be chief someday, I canna have you questioning me or going behind my back.” He turned on his heel and left the chamber.
While Donald stood watch, Fergus relieved Alex of his sword. Fortunately he did not check his boot, nor did he notice the pouch containing the amulet. Not that it would do Alex any good. If locked in the dungeon, there was no way he could rescue Ciara. Fergus grabbed Alex by the upper arm. “Let’s go, and dinna try anything. You’ll na get the better of us twice. If you were na the laird’s son, I’d beat you senseless first, then haul your sorry arse to the dungeon.” He glared at Blair. “Best you be on your way. I’m na convinced Lord Alex acted on his own.”
“Unhand me, you buffoon.” Alex twisted free of Fergus’s grasp. “If you were not following my father’s instructions and I was still armed, I’d like to see you try to best me. Also keep in mind that what my da said is true. I’ll someday be laird and you will find yourself cleaning garderobes for the rest of your sorry life if you don’t learn to counsel your tongue.”
Blair chuckled. “Well put, cousin.”
Alex had to admit, the longer he kept the ruse going and let everyone think he was the laird’s real son, the more natural it felt. But that didn’t change the fact that he was destined for the dungeon and he was currently in no position to do anything about it. Ciara came to mind again. He had to figure out a way to escape and rescue her. If he could somehow convince Blair to go in his stead and offer Cailleach the talisman, there might still be hope. But given his father’s ban on visitors, that was not going to happen. Besides, Cailleach seemed to want both Ciara and the talisman and Alex hadn’t had time to explain that.
“Move. The dungeons await,” Fergus couldn’t conceal a sly grin as he gave Alex a shove. Clearly, he took great pleasure in seeing Alex punished.
“Best you do as he says, cousin,” Blair said and winked when Fergus and Donald were not looking. “I’ll see you after.” He faced the guards. “See that he gets there in one piece and unharmed, or you will have me to answer to.” He patted the hilt of his sword and trotted down the hall ahead of them.
~ * ~
Alex sat on the floor of the dungeon for what seemed like hours, staring up at the only window in the hellhole. Daylight was al
l but gone and evening was upon them. He guessed Ciara had only a couple of hours before midnight, if that, and her life would be ended. A lump formed in his throat and raw emotion knotted his gut, his chest so tight he could hardly draw a breath.
He’d never been lucky in the romance department, despite his mother’s undying efforts to set him up with every eligible, single young lady under the age of thirty at the country club she and his father belonged to. She wanted grandchildren in the worst way, but he was not about to marry a woman to satisfy his mother’s whims. Nor had anyone ever sparked enough interest to tempt him to stray from his career or goals, until now.
At thirty-one, he’d certainly dated, but he had been too busy following in his father’s footsteps, trying to become a world famous archeologist, so finding a wife took a back seat. He’d always thought he had plenty of time to find a woman and settle down. Perhaps get a house in the burbs and raise a couple of kids. But after meeting Ciara, he doubted he’d ever be satisfied again. Not to mention he seemed to be stuck in the twelfth century.
By now, his mother thought him dead, all hopes of having grandbabies to carry on the family name, dashed. He wondered how she was coping with the news of his death and prayed she was okay. But there was no way of knowing what was going on in the future. Perhaps by changing the past, he’d changed the future as well. For all he knew, maybe his parents had not met and he was never born. He once read somewhere that if you alter the past, the future is profoundly effected as well.