by Katy Baker
They were approaching a narrow cut through two peaks. High cliffs on either side made the cut more like a ravine and it was towards this pass that the trail climbed in a zig-zag pattern. Finally, the trees pulled back and were replaced by scraggly bushes not much taller than Firefly’s knees. There was little cover now and the temperature was markedly colder, the breeze tugging at Beth’s hair and sending icy drafts down her neck.
Cam grew tenser as they rode. His tattoo was a stark, brilliant black, more noticeable than it had been for the last few days. Beth could sense the rage of his curse building in him again, from the harsh set of his shoulders to the intense look in his eyes as he scanned the terrain.
“What is it?” she asked. She looked around, trying to figure out what had him on edge but all she could see was the empty vista of the scrubby landscape and the towering peaks of the mountains.
“Nothing,” he replied, his voice low and gruff. “But I feel...something.”
Cam took back Firefly’s reins and they rode in silence. The layer of soil covering the ground became thinner and thinner until it peeled back entirely and they rode over bare slate. The clopping of Firefly’s hooves on the hard stone sounded as loud as gunshots in the still mountain air.
They reached the cut, little more than a narrow defile through rock probably left here by the passing of some ancient river millennia ago. The walls on either side were higher than their heads so the whole thing formed a dank, dark tunnel.
Cam pulled Firefly to a halt, his icy blue eyes narrowed as he took in their path. Slowly, he reached over his shoulder and drew his sword, the slither of steel loud in the stillness.
“Something doesnae feel right,” he whispered. “We’ll go another route.” He pulled on the reins, guiding Firefly back a few steps but at that moment a voice suddenly rang out above them.
“I knew ye would come back to me, Cam!”
Men suddenly materialized from gaps in the rock that Beth would have sworn weren’t big enough to hide them, a band of ten, twenty, armed men. They spilled across the trail in front and behind, blocking escape. A moment later a man stepped out onto a ledge above the defile. He was tall with black hair tied at his neck and wore a brace of knives strapped around his waist.
“Welcome home, Cam!” the man shouted, opening his arms wide.
Cam’s lip pulled back in a snarl. “MacGregor,” he growled. “What, by all that’s holy, are ye doing up here?”
The man jumped lightly down from the ledge. He wore leather gloves that reached all the way up to his elbows and walked with a slight limp. Even so, he was an imposing figure. Taller even than Cam, he was broad-shouldered and had a thick, bull neck. He looked them over appraisingly and Beth suspected a shrewd intelligence behind that calculating gaze.
“Is that any way to greet an old friend?” the man asked.
“Ye are no friend of mine, MacGregor,” Cam replied.
MacGregor walked towards them and Cam’s sword hissed out, coming to rest mere inches from the man’s throat. “Take another step and I’ll skewer ye.”
MacGregor’s men drew weapons, the whoosh of steel sounding loud in the cold air.
MacGregor smiled. “There isnae need for that, lads. Put up yer swords. Our Camdan has returned to us. I think I can forgive a little fit of temper.”
The men followed his orders and sheathed their blades but didn’t step back. Glancing around, Beth found twenty pairs of hostile eyes glaring at her. The men were rough and unkempt, obviously outlaws. She swallowed against the sudden fear that tightened her throat.
“Stand aside, MacGregor,” Cam said. “And let us be on our way.”
“Us?” His eyes flicked to Beth and a leer split his face. “My, my, Cam, ye’ve got yerself a mighty pretty one this time.” He gave Beth a flourishing bow. “Robert MacGregor at yer service, my lady.” He spread his arms wide. “Welcome to my kingdom.”
“What are ye doing here?” Cam demanded. “Last I heard ye were plying yer trade far to the west and making a tidy profit by all accounts.”
MacGregor’s eyes snapped back to Cam and his easy smile vanished. “Aye, was making a tidy profit. Until the damned MacAuley laird took it into his head to clean up his borders. He and his vaunted MacAuley warriors attacked my stronghold, arrested those they captured, killed those who fought back, and drove the rest of us out.” His voice was bitter and angry. “If I ever get my hands on Logan MacAuley, I will make him watch while I kill all of his loved ones!”
Cam said nothing but at mention of his brother his grip on his sword tightened so much that his knuckles turned white. Beth guessed that this band of ruffians didn’t know of Cam’s relationship with Laird MacAuley and it was best that it stayed that way.
“Stand aside,” Cam said again.
MacGregor smiled faintly. “Fight for me. There hasnae been anyone near as good as ye. I will make ye a rich man.”
“Are ye deaf?” Cam growled through gritted teeth. “Let us pass.”
MacGregor stared hard at Cam, a muscle twitching in his jaw. Cam held his gaze, barely breathing, every muscle in his body coiled like a spring. The threat of violence hung in the air between them. Beth’s pulse hammered in her throat. Making a run for it was impossible—the outlaws had blocked every avenue of escape. She bit her lip. Oh hell, how were they going to get out of this?
Then suddenly MacGregor grinned. “Very well. As ye wish. Ye canna blame a man for trying. Pay the toll for passage through my kingdom and ye can be on yer way.”
Without taking his eyes off MacGregor Cam reached into the saddlebag and pulled out a bag of coins. “Take it. Then get out of my way.”
MacGregor shook his head. “I’m nay interested in yer coin. I’ll take another form of payment.” He pointed at Beth. “I’ll take her.”
A twang sounded and an arrow suddenly embedded itself in the meat of Cam’s leg. With a grunt, he slumped forward.
“Cam!” Beth screamed.
She tried to turn in the saddle to help him but two of the outlaws darted forward and grabbed Firefly’s reins. The warhorse lashed out, rearing and flailing his hooves. The unexpected movement sent Beth slamming back into Cam, her weight sending them both toppling off the back of the horse to smack into the hard ground with enough impact to knock the breath from her lungs.
Sucking in a ragged breath, Beth scrambled onto her knees and crawled over to Cam. The black-feathered arrow shaft was sticking out of his thigh with blood pooling around the wound. With a grimace of pain, he was trying to stand.
“Are you all right?” he asked her.
She nodded, unable to speak as she grabbed his arm and helped him to his feet.
“Get behind me,” he instructed.
But two men suddenly grabbed her. Kicking and screaming, they pulled her away from Cam.
“Let her go!” Cam bellowed.
He launched himself after her but the rest of the outlaws converged on him, aiming kicks and punches in his direction. Despite his injured leg, Cam dodged them all. He was faster, more agile than any of them, and each of their blows was answered with a riposte of his own. He ducked under a swinging blow to land a fist into a man’s chin. He caught the foot of a man trying to kick him and twisted savagely. The man howled as his knee popped and he crashed to the ground.
Cam’s tattoo was glowing white-hot and Beth realized that the rage was on him again. His lips were pulled back in a snarl and there was an animal-like savagery in his eyes as he fought, unarmed, against a seemingly never ending tide of attackers.
The two men held her arms in a tight grip and no matter how hard she struggled she couldn’t break it.
“Let me go, damn you!” she yelled.
MacGregor came sidling over. His thumbs were hooked in his belt and he was watching Cam fight his men with a look of satisfaction on his face.
“Quite something isnae he?” he said to Beth. “I’ve never seen the like.” Then he drew one of the daggers strapped around his waist and pressed the point
against Beth’s throat. She froze, the razor-sharp metal feeling like ice against her skin.
“Stop!” MacGregor shouted to Cam. “Or I will slit yer woman’s throat.”
Cam froze when he saw the blade and dropped his arms to his sides. The wild look in his eyes retreated and was replaced by something else: fear.
“Let her go,” he said in a breathy whisper. “This is between ye and I. It has naught to do with her.”
“I think not,” MacGregor said. “I think mayhap she will come with us. Call her collateral. Or the spoils of victory.”
He nodded to one of his men who swung the flat of his blade against the backs of Cam’s legs. With a cry, he collapsed onto his knees, flesh blood running from the arrow wound. The man stepped forward and clubbed Cam across the head with the hilt of his sword. Cam collapsed bonelessly to the ground.
“Cam!” Beth whispered. “Oh my god, Cam!”
“Tie her up,” MacGregor ordered. “And somebody bring the horse.”
“What about him?” said the one who’d hit Cam.
“Leave him here,” MacGregor replied. “When he comes around maybe he’ll have thought better of crossing me.”
With that the outlaws bound Beth’s hands tightly in front of her and dragged her through the defile. She looked over her shoulder, hoping desperately that Cam would suddenly climb to his feet and come after her. But he didn’t and his still form was soon lost in the gloom behind them.
“TRY THAT AGAIN AND I’ll gag ye,” the man growled.
Beth glared at him. It was her third attempt to bite him as he tightened the ropes around her wrists.
“Go to hell!”
The man, a great fat bear of a man with a greasy black beard, scowled at her. “Ye need to learn some manners, woman. Mayhap I’ll be the one to teach ye!” He raised his fist but MacGregor barked an order.
“Dinna touch her!” The outlaw leader stalked over, grabbed Beth’s bindings and yanked her towards him. “Anyone who harms the wench will answer to me. She remains untouched and unmolested. Clear?”
He glowered around at his men, staring them into submission. Beth took the opportunity to take a breather and look at her surroundings. She remembered little of the journey. She’d fought and kicked all the way until eventually they’d blindfolded her and one of them had carried her slung over his shoulder like a sack of onions. It was only in the last few moments that she’d heard someone mention that they were home then they’d set her on her feet and removed the blindfold.
Beth blinked in surprise. A castle stood in front of them, its battlements and crenulations looking like grinning teeth against the gray sky. But on closer inspection Beth amended that the building used to be a castle. It looked ancient and many of its walls and turrets were little more than broken ruins. Fresh thatch covering some of the lower buildings attested to hastily made repairs. Torches burned to either side of the gate and light glowed in some of the windows.
Beth gulped. She couldn’t have dreamt up a more forbidding place if she tried.
“Let me go,” she said to MacGregor. “I have to go back and help Cam.”
MacGregor gave a low, throaty laugh. “I can see why he likes ye. Ye have some spirit, woman, I’ll give ye that. What’s yer name?”
Beth merely glared at him. MacGregor yanked savagely on the ropes until they dug into her wrists, making her gasp in pain.
“It will go easier for ye if ye do as I say. Ye are hardly in a position to be defiant, are ye? There are over fifty men in that fortress, all of whom would take their sport with ye before slitting yer throat. I am the only thing that stands in their way. I suggest ye do as I say.”
Beth’s stomach tightened in fear. “Beth. My name is Beth.”
“See, that wasnae so hard was it? Well, Beth, ye are going to be visiting with us for a while so I suggest ye stop yammering and behave yerself. “
They began moving again, hurrying down a rocky trail, under the archway of the main gate, and into the fortress proper. Beth guessed that the castle had once guarded the high pass that led through the mountains. From here she could see the landscape spreading out for miles and miles, all the way to the lowlands where lochs glimmered and chimney smoke marked out settlements. It looked a very long way away.
Perhaps in earlier times the castle had rung to the sound of life and laughter but now it was as gloomy and forbidding as a graveyard. As they passed into the repaired interior Beth saw grimy floors covered by reed mats, damp walls that smelled of mildew and fires burning in braziers that gave off oily smoke.
MacGregor had not been exaggerating when he said he had fifty men in this fortress. There was that number at least, all hard-looking outlaws in ragged plaid who squatted around guttering fires or played dice in the drafty, echoing rooms.
MacGregor led Beth through a ruined doorway and she found herself stepping into a large courtyard. She came to a halt, staring. A large wooden cage filled the courtyard around which were rows of wooden benches, all empty.
“What’s that?” Beth asked.
“Ye’ll see,” MacGregor replied. “This way.”
He yanked on her bonds, forcing her to follow him.
“How do you know Cam?” she asked.
He glanced at her. “We’re old friends.”
“Friends?” she asked incredulously. “If that’s how you treat your friends I’d hate to be an enemy.”
He spun suddenly and she almost walked right into him. He grabbed her under the chin, forced her to look up at him. This close his breath stank of sour wine.
“I’ll wager ye think ye know Camdan MacAuley,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll wager ye think ye are special to him. Let me tell ye a truth, woman: ye aren’t. He has fooled ye, as he fools so many. If ye truly knew him ye wouldnae be riding through the mountains alone with such a man.”
Beth yanked her chin from his grip and stepped back a pace. “What do you know about it? Nothing!”
He raised an eyebrow. “Ye reckon? Let me ask ye this: did he tell ye that he and I used to be partners? That together we terrorized the northern Highlands? That he was the most feared brigand of them all? Travelers would pay priests to pray for them the night before they set out, hoping that God would spare them the wrath of the Demon Blade. Did he tell ye that?”
“You’re lying,” Beth said.
“Am I?” he stalked closer. “Maybe I am. Maybe I’m not. But know this: Camdan MacAuley canna be trusted. I learned that to my detriment when that bastard double-crossed me. Giving him a beating was only the beginning of the payment he owes me. Enough talking. Come.”
He yanked on the ropes again, pulling her after him. They passed through the courtyard and down a set of spiral steps into some sort of cellar. She was pushed unceremoniously into a damp room full of empty barrels. MacGregor sliced the ropes from her wrists then exited the room, slamming the door shut behind him. Beth pressed herself to the tiny grille in the door.
“He’ll come for me you know!” she yelled. “Cam will come.”
MacGregor paused and looked back over his shoulder. A wicked smile crossed his face. “Oh, I’m counting on it, lass. I’m counting on it.”
With that, the outlaw leader left, his footsteps receding into the distance.
Beth massaged her aching wrists, working some feeling back into them and then tried the door. It was locked, of course. Next, she explored every inch of the room, searching for a way out. There was a boarded up chute in one corner which suggested this was the cellar where the castles victuals were once kept but try as she might, she couldn’t get the boards loose. There was no other exit.
With an exasperated growl, she gave up and perched atop one of the empty barrels. They were tall enough that her feet dangled off the ground and she was grateful to be out of the damp muck that covered the floor and away from the rats that no doubt inhabited the place. Her stomach knotted with dread. How the hell was she going to get out of here?
She fumbled in the poc
ket of her dress and pulled out her cell phone. The battery was almost dead but she flicked it on anyway in the irrational hope that there might be a cell signal. Of course, there wasn’t. Oh, what she wouldn’t give to be able to call the police right now! Flicking to the camera app, she scrolled through some of the photos stored on it. Her heart twisted as one she’d taken of Cam flashed up. He hadn’t known she’d taken it. He was seated on a log by their campfire, blue eyes staring into the distance.
Her heart skipped at the sight. Fear for him made her insides churn. But mixed in with the worry was something else: unease. Had MacGregor been telling the truth?
He has fooled ye as he fools so many.
Cam had never mentioned MacGregor and from his reaction when they first met him on the road, it was obvious the two men knew each other.
Travelers would pay priests to pray for them the night before they set out, hoping that God would spare them the wrath of the Demon Blade. Cam was the most feared brigand of them all.
Could it be true? Surely not? She’d seen first hand how dangerous Cam could be, but that was in the heat of a fight, when he was battling for his life. He would never pray on innocent people.
Would he?
She pressed her hands against her face and took a deep breath as despair welled up and threatened to choke her. Did she know Cam at all?
Chapter 13
Some time later the sound of a key in the lock jolted Beth out of a doze. She was curled into an awkward position atop the barrel but came awake instantly as the door opened. Her cramped muscles screamed as she jerked upright and then jumped down from the barrel, putting her back against it as she faced the door.
A man she didn’t recognize stepped inside. Short and nondescript, he had a thatch of greasy, thinning hair hanging around his face. The man looked her over and leered before spitting onto the floor.