Rob lies on my right, and he shakes his head. I glance over and see sweat beading on his forehead. Tension radiates off him and I have no doubt he’s reliving the tortures he endured in this place. How he escaped is beyond me. It must have been a pure stroke of luck.
A scream rises above all the other sounds, and I can’t stop a shudder. The scream is pure anguish but what gets me the most, more than the pain, is the note of despair. Rage explodes in my chest and head. I push up, rising to my knees, but Rob grabs my shoulder and squeezes. I glance down and he shakes his head.
“Quinn, no,” he says.
It’s not his words or even his touch; his eyes stop me. Seeing my own rage mirrored on his face cuts through the blindness of the emotion and returns control of myself.
“Ach, this will be a right problem,” Drever says.
No one answers. We’re all feeling the impossibility of our task. Rob crawls backwards. The rest of us follow as he leads us away from the front and around the back. We continue, crawling on our bellies to avoid detection, until we drop into a depression that hides us from the line of sight of the guards patrolling around the outside of the fence. It’s far enough away to serve as our temporary home base.
“We can’t take that,” Gair says.
“Aye,” Rob says. “Not head-on.”
He scratches the rough growth of his beard as he stares into space.
“We have to,” I insist. “The dinner is starting and soon they’ll start killing the prisoners.”
They’ll kill Duncan,remains unsaid, but Rob knows what I mean. No one bothers to answer because we all know it. I’m stating the more than obvious.
“Is there a tunnel? Anyway we could sneak in? How did you get away?” Drever asks.
“Not that I know of,” Rob answers. “I got lucky. When they came for me I surprised the guard, knocked him out and was able to climb over the wall. I’m sure they’ve increased the guards now.”
I close my eyes and visualize the castle and the grounds around it. We’re on the backside. The fence makes a large square. The castle sits, more or less, in the northeastern corner. There is a stand of trees catacorner to the castle on the front side but most of the area around it has been cleared. There are depressions in the land, such as we’re in now, but those are a few spots here and there.
“A distraction,” I say, opening my eyes.
“What distraction?” Drever asks.
I smile as the idea coalesces. “You two.”
“Ach, what would you have us do? Run up to the gate and cause a commotion? I want to save the lads as much as anything, but I’ll not be going into a battle with little more than my wee man in my hand to fight with,” Drever says.
“No,” I shake my head. “Fire.”
“How do we make a fire big enough for a distraction?” Rob asks, grasping onto my idea.
“He can do it,” I say, locking eyes on Drever. He may not know he’s magical, but he is, and if he focuses he can do what I’m thinking.
“Me?” Drever asks, shaking his head.
“Aye,” Gair agrees. “You can do it.”
“How? How am I supposed to build a fire big enough to distract them before a single patrol comes across us?” Drever asks.
“The same way you travel so fast,” Gair whispers, latching onto my unspoken idea.
Drever blanches. He snaps his mouth shut without saying a word. He stares at the ground, not meeting any of our gazes. I feel bad for him. I have more knowledge than probably anyone here of the fear of being labeled a witch in these times. Or warlock, I suppose. Whatever, I get it. I place my hand on his and squeeze. He looks up, and though I’m sure he’d never admit to it, the fear is clear in his eyes.
“You can do this,” I say, “for them.”
Another scream slices our eardrums and accents my intention. He grimaces, his eyes crinkle, and he nods.
“Aye,” he agrees. “I can do it.”
There isn’t much more to discuss. The plan is simple and relies entirely too much on pure luck. Our one advantage is that both Drever and I have magic. If that will be enough to tip the balance in our favor, who knows?