“Is that true?” Shaw asks Rob.
“Aye,” Rob says. “She’s trained with our Alesoun.”
The three men murmur in surprise then acceptance. Apparently Alesoun has a reputation in the Highlands. Good to know.
“Fine, then you’ll be off. We’ve little in the way of supplies, but I’ll give you all we can spare,” Shaw says.
The chief turns and walks aways. Gair and Drever ask us to wait a few moments while they get their things, leaving Rob and I on the edges of the camp. We don’t speak because there’s nothing to say and both of us are lost in our own thoughts.
I watch the Changeling as he rushes about playing with the children. It doesn’t take long for me to realize he’s the instigator. There are four children off with their parents who aren’t engaged with him, and they look sullen and morose. The six playing with him are laughing and energetic.
He catches me looking and gives a knowing wink before returning his full attention to the children. I wrack my brain for lore on Changelings. I remember them as being bad, but that would be from the perspective of the humans who told the stories.
This one isn’t doing anything bad. If anything, he’s helping the kids to deal. The trauma they’ve been through is the kind of thing that would land them in therapy for life in my world. There is no such luxury in this time. Here they either deal or they won’t survive. What better way to handle it then to find some happiness, no matter how fleeting?
By the time I come to my conclusion the other two men return. They each have a pack on their backs as well as sword and guns. There are no long goodbyes to be had. Gair takes the lead, and we leave the camp behind.
We don’t use torches, depending on the moon and stars to light the way. Gair is sure-footed and confident, striding ahead as if the path before him is bright as day. The rest of us follow slower but still, it’s progress.
We don’t make small talk and all of us are trying to move as quietly as possible. Any travel right now carries with it risk. There’s no telling when we might stumble across a group out hunting MacGregors.
The longer we walk the more my thoughts focus on taking the next step. Then the next. And the next. I’m so tired I’m not even thinking of Duncan, Fae, or anything. I don’t have the energy for it. My entire body aches, my stomach growls, and I’m thirsty, but we don’t stop. No one asks for a break, and I don’t think anyone will. All of us know we don’t have time to waste.
At some point I realize I can see my foot as it comes down on the path. It’s novel and entertains my thoughts for much longer than it ever should. Thinking is hard, sluggish. So much effort that it’s not worth it. The only thought that matters is taking the next step, but when it processes that I’m seeing my foot clearly, without the barrier of night, I force myself to look up.
The sun shines through the thin canopy, warming my face. I accept the warmth like an offering, drinking in the energy and using it to refuel my body. Metaphorically or mentally, either way it works. I don’t have a spring in my step, but the blank exhaustion recedes, and as it does I smell salt on the air and then hear the crash of waves.
Rob and I exchange a look, both of us knowing that something happened during that walk to get us here this fast. Surprisingly, I didn’t feel any magic to it, but there must have been. I probably missed it because I’m so tired. We reach the edge of the scattered trees and Gair holds up a hand. He crouches and moves forward. His head swivels around, then he returns.
“It looks clear, but we best move quick.”
No one makes any disagreement. We follow him out from the edge of the trees across an open, emerald plain of rich moss mixed with patches of grass. Off to our left grazes a herd of cattle, probably twenty or so. I scan the horizon in that direction. Cattle are the Highlands gold and they’re not often left unattended.
We come to a cliff edge that drops a dozen feet to a sandy beach. The ocean waves wash across the thin shoreline. It must be low tide because they don’t reach the white stone of the cliff. Gair leads the way along the ridge to a path that lets us down onto the sand.
Staying close to the cliff wall we march along the beach to a large, deep crack in the wall. It’s big enough for Gair to slip in, where he removes brush and a leather looking canvas to reveal a small boat. Rob and Drever move in and help drag it to the edge of the water.
As they drag the boat, I stare across the glistening turquoise blue with white-capped waves rushing to shore. In the distance, which doesn’t seem very far from here, is the Isle of Skye. The craggy mountains rise, brown fading to gray with white accents.
My heart skips a beat seeing the beauty, which is contrasted knowing that my Duncan is over there being tortured.I’m coming, Duncan. Hang on.
Drever and Gair slide the boat onto the water until it is floating, then hold it steady with the rear edge still on the beach. Rob climbs aboard, then holds out his hand to me. I hitch up my skirts without a thought until I notice Gair’s eyes widening when he sees my bare calves. I keep myself from rolling my eyes but can’t help but wonder if seeing me in modern dress wouldn’t give him heart failure.
I take Rob’s hand and step onto the boat. I haven’t been on a boat in years, and it rocks and feels unsteady as I put my weight onto it. Rob grips my hand tight and helps me to a seat and then sits beside me. The other two men push the boat out further until the water is almost to their chests before they climb aboard. Once they’re on, they take their seats and take up the oars.
We’re on our way. I’m going to meet fate head-on. I’ll save Duncan or I’ll die trying.
ChapterFourteen
The castle is litby the red-orange glow of braziers and bonfires that are strategically placed around it. The main building is a rectangular shape that rises four or five stories high. The exterior is stone. There are windows on the second floor we can see from our viewpoint on a slight rise fifty yards from the front gate. A six-foot-tall stone fence demarcates the immediate grounds.
The four of us lie on our bellies in thick grass staring at our target. Once we were on the boat, I knew how Drever can travel fast. I’m surprised I missed it before, but he is Fae touched. Not a Fae himself, but he has magic. Adrenaline woke me up as we approached our target, and when the boat was moving, I felt the swirl of magic. It was subtle, and watching him I don’t think he knows how or what he was doing either.
We landed on the Isle and made our way to within sight of the castle and so far, at least, we’ve managed to avoid any patrols, though more than once we had to wait for them to pass, and now, we’re here. Hiding and watching as nobles arrive in fancy carriages pulled by beautiful horses. The pageantry on display stands in direct contrast to the disgusting horror they are coming to witness.
Six guards, three to a side, line the road outside the gate. They stop and inspect every arriving carriage. They even look underneath each one, making sure there are no uninvited guests. Music fills the air from inside the compound. Bagpipes, strings, and a steady thrumming of drums accenting the buzz of conversation.
A hard knot forms in my stomach. There’s no way the four of us can take the castle. An entire army would be hard-pressed to take it, though it’s not an extremely defensive looking place. I’m no expert in warfare but the thick stone walls, the limited passages, and the sheer number of guards on display don’t require a military genius to know a direct assault will be suicide.