Chapter 7
And so a bizarre new chapter of Bethany’s life began. She spent the rest of the afternoon with Delilah, who wanted to show her around the castle in more detail — it was surprisingly spacious, with more floors than she’d estimated from the outside, and a huge number of winding passageways and hidden nooks and crannies. It will be a wonderful place for my niece to grow up, she thought with a fond smile, already feeling quite protective of the little baby… such a fun place to run and play, so many hiding places … and, from what she’d learned of the other women, Emily would have no shortage of kids her own age to play with. Most, if not all of the women had children.
“I guess it makes sense,” she said thoughtfully over dinner — again, all six of the other women had insisted on sitting with her, and conversation was flying. “If we’re all the descendants of ourselves, I suppose it’s mandatory that we have children, right?”
“I don’t think anything’s mandatory,” Fiona said, waving her hand dismissively. “I mean, technically it’s the fifteenth century and we shouldn’t have running water, but that didn’t stop me from making it happen. You’re all welcome, by the way.”
“We also shouldn’t have healthcare at the level we do,” Karin pointed out. The quiet woman didn’t pipe up much, but when she did she usually had something valuable to say. “If we’re talking about time paradoxes, changing history, all that kind of stuff… well, we’ve saved lives that shouldn’t have been saved just by virtue of knowing to wash our hands. That’s got to have more of an impact than refusing to have children.”
“I’m not exactly against having kids,” Bethany said, frowning a little. It wasn’t exactly a subject she’d thought much about — she was still so young. It had always been a subject she’d put off thinking about too closely — she had her career to focus on, after all, and she had always worried that talking about the idea of having babies would discourage people from promoting her or taking her seriously as a soldier. After all, she’d seen careers destroyed by starting a family. Would that be a problem here? Probably not, she thought gloomily. To have a career destroyed you’d need a career first… and from what she could tell, none of her skills were transferrable to the fifteenth century.
“Well, to have kids you need someone to have kids with,” Marianne pointed out, her eyes bright. “And not to be that guy, but we’re all dying to ask… have you been recognized yet?”
“Recognized? You mean by my fated husband, or whatever?”
“I was wondering about that actually,” Cora said, grinning ruefully. “I didn’t want to bring it up right away, but… aren’t most of the MacClaran men married already?”
“Aye, or younger than ten,” Audrina said, chuckling. “But love finds a way. Perhaps there are family members further afield…”
Bethany frowned. “Not sure I like the idea of some guy out there being destined to fall in love with me.”
“When’s the next clan gathering?” Karin asked brightly. “Maybe we can ask around then.”
“Not for months.” Audrina shrugged. “We just had one, and the kitchens need time to recover. I’d advise you to focus on settling in, Bethany,” she said, smiling. “Find a place here, find a way to spend your days… and we’ll worry about whether or not some fated suitor is waiting for you later.”
Bethany appreciated that deeply. Romance had never been high on her list of priorities. Sure, she’d dated a little… back in high school, when there was nothing better to do. But once she’d finished high school and gone straight into the military (something she’d been planning on since she was ten-years-old) there was simply no spare time to spend with boys. None of her high school boyfriends had been particularly interesting, either… always droning on about themselves, barely showing any interest in her or what she liked, but expecting her to follow along with all their boring interests? No thanks. Her longest relationship had been a few months long, with a boy who’d managed to beat her at chess a few times. That had intrigued her enough to get her to hang around… at least until she figured out the rather simple trick he was using to beat her and started beating him every time they played. Somehow, she lost interest after that.
Well, maybe she’d have time to date, now that there were no computers for her to spend her time on. She sighed heavily as she headed up the stairs toward her room, feeling a little out of sorts. She’d done her best to settle in, to remember all the new names and faces (the afternoon had involved meeting several of the MacClaran men, who all had a familial resemblance that made them difficult to keep track of.) But there was still the nagging issue that she was trapped here… she had her sister, that was true, but everything else familiar had been ripped away. And while she was doing her best to put on a brave face and find a way to survive, deep inside, she was mourning the loss of everything she knew.
Maybe that was why she slept so poorly. It wasn’t like her to have trouble sleeping… she was usually out like a light whenever she lay down, a hangover from basic training, when any brief seconds of rest had to be clung to and used as efficiently as possible. But tonight, she lay awake for a long time. It wasn’t that it was cold — a fire had been laid in the little hearth in her room, and its cheery light kept the whole room cozy. Even without the fire, she had more than enough blankets to keep her warm. No, it was something else that had her tossing and turning long into the night. Could it be guilt? She felt a little ashamed of herself for deserting… especially now she knew that her sister had been safe and sound the whole time. Was all this some kind of punishment for deserting her post? After all, if she’d done what she was told, if she’d refused to leave her post even though it chafed at her, she’d never have wound up here in Scotland…
Or would she? From what Marianne and the others had told her about their own abductions from their own times, it wasn’t necessary to be in Scotland to be pulled back through time. That had been unique to Delilah, actually. All of the other women had been pulled from their own homes. So it was entirely likely she’d have ‘deserted’ anyway. Still, it gnawed at her conscience as she tossed and turned, and when she got up the next morning, she wasn’t as rested as she could have been.
The first week was a time of heavy adjustment. The accents alone were difficult to get a handle on… plus the food, the clothing, the way of life. Everything was slower here — no laundry machines, no taps (for all that Fiona was doing her best to get indoor plumbing sorted for the castle) no hot water, no microwaves… the conveniences of modern life were sorely missed here. And she hated wearing dresses — hated it with every fiber of her being.
They rode down to the village once or twice — she’d been interested in seeing it — and thankfully, her old horse riding skills still served her well. She went with a few of the women — Delilah was busy with Emily, but Fiona and Karin were able to accompany her. It felt nice being out of the castle, but she couldn’t help but recoil when they reached the village. It was just so … medieval. What she wouldn’t give for a proper, modern building… just a quick glimpse of steel or concrete… but no, everything was wood and stone, cobblestone or dirt roads, horses and wagons. She missed cars with everything in her.
And she just couldn’t get any decent sleep, no matter how hard she tried. It had been a week since she’d arrived when she sat bolt upright in bed, breathing hard after a particularly distressing dream. This one was new, though. Her previous dreams had all been on the theme of desertion… a lot of running down long streets with unnamed but familiar pursuers on her heels, trying to go faster but only getting her feet stuck to the dirt beneath them… but this one was different. It felt more real, somehow, more concrete. More like a memory than a dream. Usually, her dreams blurred and shifted, with multiple perspectives, constantly shifting narratives, characters who swapped faces and names quick as blinking. But this dream was strangely coherent.
There wasn’t much to it. It was only a few seconds long, but still, the coherence of it was deeply unsettling. In it, she foun
d herself submerged in icy-cold water. It was dark, even though it was daylight — the glimpses she caught of the sky revealed a stormy sky, split across occasionally with lightning, thunder rolling in the background even as everything around her was absolutely pelted with rain. She could feel fear, real, bone-deep terror in her body, clouding her senses, making it hard to think… all she knew was that her body was surrounded by water, that she was being born down some kind of rushing stream or river, the rain splashing all around her. She kicked her legs furiously, swung her arms, tried to swim for the shore of the river, where she could see rocks that she might be able to hang onto… but it was impossible to move her legs, they were so tangled in some kind of thick, heavy fabric… the kind of fabric, she realized with a horrible jolt, that her dresses were made of.
She was floating, at least, catching gasps of air between the waves of water that slapped her in the face, but she was moving at such a terrifying pace… she turned, full of fear and trepidation at what might await her at the other end of the river, and a scream ripped itself loose from her as she saw a maze of rocks coming up, terrifyingly fast. She redoubled her efforts to swim to shore, screaming, but it was too late… there was no way she was going to make it… and just as her body was about to be dashed against the rocks, the dream cut out like a television losing power, and she was awake, gasping and shuddering in her bed, almost feeling the touch of the water on her skin, still. Her hands flew to her hair, and it felt strange to discover that it was dry, not dripping wet like it had been in the dream…
“What the hell?” she whispered aloud. That had been… strange. It was just a dream, she told her pounding heart, irritated by how terrified her body and mind still were… but it had been unlike any dream she’d ever had. All of her dreams came from her life, in some way — she could always trace the features of her dreams back to her real life, to something she’d been worrying about or giving a lot of thought… like desertion, for example. But this… why would she dream about being swept downstream in a river? She hadn’t been thinking about rivers, hadn’t been worried about drowning… true, she’d been irritated by the dresses, but the skirt around her legs in the dream had felt like an incidental detail, not the whole point of the dream.
And her adrenaline was raging too much to make going back to sleep an easy option. Sighing, she sat up in bed, shivering a little in the cold night air… the fire was out, which meant it must be getting toward dawn, but the sky was still completely dark. She shifted along the bed to peer out of the window, hoping to distract herself with a bit of stargazing… but unfortunately, it was a cloudy night. Not stormy, like her dream had been… she shivered a little, remembering the vivid way the raindrops had struck at her exposed skin... but definitely no stars to be seen. Just a dark sky. And … that was odd. She frowned, peering down over the wall toward where the village was usually visible. The whole place would be asleep by now, and she didn’t expect to see any lights… but nevertheless, there they were. A whole host of bobbing lights. It took her a moment to recognize them as the lights of torches… and there, a couple of bigger points of light. But they weren’t in the village. They were just outside it, south of the village, for all the world as though an army was camped out…
But that couldn’t be the case. There were no armies around here. Castle MacClaran had their guards, of course, but the lands were at peace.. there’d be no need for a group like that to be riding around. Unless… could this be some kind of surprise attack? An attack on the village? They were certainly camping very close… she frowned, unfamiliar with medieval combat, but resolving to find out what she could about this. It wasn’t as though she was going to get much sleep, anyway. Not after such a frightening dream.
So Bethany swung her legs out of bed, shivering at the feeling of her feet on the cold stones before grabbing her boots and pulling them on. She was wearing the undershirt and pants from her uniform — she’d given them a wash earlier in the week, and though she was still playing the ladylike game and wearing dresses outside of her room, she’d be damned if she was going to sleep in the weird sack-like nightclothes that Delilah had left for her. She padded down the hallways in her boots, trying to move quietly. The wall was always staffed with guards — that was where she was headed, to give them a heads-up about what was happening. Delilah had showed her where the staircases were that lead up onto the top of the wall, which was wide enough for several guards to stand on.
It was freezing outside, and she shivered as she trotted across the courtyard, regretting not stopping to dig a sweater or something out of the collection of clothes Delilah had left for her. Still, she wouldn’t be long — just passing on some information. Intelligence, even. She suppressed a laugh — still trying to do her old job. You could take the soldier out of the Army…
She trotted up the stairs and headed along the wall until she ran into a guard. To her surprise, she recognized the man as he turned around — it was Gavin, Delilah’s husband. His green eyes crinkled in a friendly smile, though there was a look of concern in his eyes, too. She supposed that was reasonable enough — what on earth would he think she was doing out here on the walls in the middle of the night?
“Good evening, Bethany.”
“Hi, Gavin.” She felt a little embarrassed around Gavin — the last time she’d seen him, she’d been rather dismissive of him, if not outright suspicious that he’d kidnapped and brainwashed her sister. Still, that was all behind them now. “I just woke up and happened to look out my window, and I could have sworn I saw some kind of army camped out south of the village.”
He frowned. “An army?”
“I’m no expert on what torchlight looks like, but there were a few dozen points of light, and a few bigger ones that could have been campfires. Thought I’d better let you know. I know you’re at peace with the English… how likely would a stealth attack be?”
“Extremely unlikely… at least from the English,” Gavin frowned, his eyes distant. “I’ll send some men to investigate. Thanks for bringing it to my attention.”
Before she could stop herself, she snapped a salute — Gavin blinked at her, clearly taken aback by the gesture. She chuckled to herself as she headed down the steps. It felt good to have noticed something that might be useful.
Maybe there was a future here for her after all.
Chapter 8
But by morning, her hopes had been dashed. She tried to find Gavin after breakfast, but he was nowhere to be seen… he was either still on guard duty, or up in his quarters getting some well-deserved rest. It couldn’t be easy, being a new father and working overnight guard shifts… especially out on those freezing cold walls. All that being said, though, Bethany wouldn’t mind taking on that job. It would be something to do with her time, at least. Though she’d only been here for a week, she was already feeling a familiar kind of stir-craziness… it was the exact feeling she tended to get when she’d been forced to take rest leave for some reason or another. Resting didn’t come easy to Bethany. She much preferred to try to get things done.
So when she headed out to the walls after breakfast to find someone to ask about the camp she’d spotted the night before, it was with a fresh sense of enthusiasm. Something was actually happening — something that involved security, something that involved intelligence, something that was at least peripherally related to what she did best in the world. Sure, her real talents involved computers, and the analysis of a huge quantity of information… but for now, seeing some torches and campfires through the window would have to do.
There was no sign of Gavin on the walls, but she did run into Eamon, who was gazing out toward the village with a thoughtful look on his face. He looked down at her, a pleasant smile spreading across his face as he recognized her.
“How are you settling in, Bethany?”
“Oh, as well as can be expected,” she said dismissively, not really wanting to get into the restlessness and the bad dreams. “Hey, I was wondering if anyone had been to investig
ate the camp by the village yet.”
“Aye, Gavin did pass on that particular sighting. We sent some men down just after dawn, but they came back with nothing to report.”
She frowned. “Nothing? There were dozens of torches… campfires… they really found nothing at all?”
“Nothing remarkable, they said.”
“No signs of a group camping out? Flattened ground, holes from tent pegs… nothing?”
“That was the report,” Eamon said, and there was a warning note in his voice that she recognized all too well from her years in the military. That was the ‘none of your business’ tone — the tone her superiors used when she was chasing something that was above her pay grade… or something that they didn’t want to be dealing with right now. Her rebellious streak flared… but it wouldn’t do to aggravate the Captain of the Guard her first week here, not if she wanted a future with the closest thing to a military she’d found yet…
So she gave him a wave and headed off back down the steps, brooding. So whoever had been camping out there overnight had disappeared once dawn broke. Interesting. She was a little annoyed that Gavin hadn’t gone straight away to investigate, if she was honest. That’s what she would have done — the longer you waited, the higher the chances of the army finding a way to hide from you. If it even was an army… from the look of the torches, it was a reasonably small group of men. But that didn’t mean there wasn’t a larger group coming — this was potentially the vanguard. Had anyone in the village seen anything? The men probably hadn’t even bothered to ask, she thought irritably. Too interested in getting back up to the castle for breakfast? Not interested in following up a tip that had come from a woman — and a newcomer to the castle besides? It would make sense.
Highlander Avenged: A Scottish Time Travel Romance Page 6