Chapter 38
Second Dawn
Day Two
“Cluaran?” She heard the familiar summons, but Aonghus’s voice was strained. His finger brushed her cheek, the knuckles roughened from warfare…warfare. Northmen!
Her eyes popped open. No. No Northmen, but Aonghus; ohh, his handsome features were creased fiercely from worry. At the sight awakening before him, his mouth broke into a wide grin before her face was covered by rain of a different sort when he began placing kisses.
“Keirah,” he gushed, “you have returned to me!” Always, dearest lad.
Her fingers tightened on his tunic. What…
what was the final memory? Aye, the golden dragon’s bowsprit at the front of the king’s ship.
After H?konsson’s crew had cut loose the last line, the creature sprang to life then flew above the waves, crashing directly into the side of the bark supply ship before breaking off, then the gold dragonhead vanished beneath the waves.
The dark brows drew together above her when he asked, “Cluaran, are you well?”
Her head pounded like a demon was stomping her skull. Aonghus looked so fearful. Go with another question to divert his. “Aonghus, how is it we have come to be below deck?”
“Well,” Aonghus began, “after the dragonhead crashed, we struck the shore in the darkness then were all tossed into the passageway, falling down the stairs to wake this mornin’ here. Sir Brayden is checkin’ above deck.”
Her eyes darted about the surrounding area.
The casks were tossed like leaves after an autumn gust around the floor harboring ankle-deep water.
Her nose wrinkled at the scent from salted rotten meat having broken free from some of the casks crashing – the rats were having a feast over at the far corner.
She tried to sit up. “Mornin’?” Oh, raging hell, her head! She groaned. He pressed her down, cradling her scalp on his lap.
“Keirah, steady, rest a moment,” he warned. “You hit your head. Do not think I have not taken heed you did not answer my query. Are you well?”
She met his eyes with her head cradled in his lap.
Try one more diversion – she truly didn’t want to worry him any further nor lie.
“Are we safe?” As soon as the question left her lips she inwardly rolled her eyes.
Could she be more foolish? No, even if she stood in the bowels of hell she would feel safe with this Scotsman by her side.
Answer the query. “My skull pounds in a terrible way near my temples,” she said.
“’Tis to be expected for the cost of measure after all the shadow-glances. ”
For such a large knight, his touch could be soft as a dove’s wing; it was at that moment.
Gently he raised her up to stand, cupping her face in his hands, his brows now one.
“Aonghus,” she whispered, her breath brushing his lips, “we are together and still of this realm.” Perhaps a hint of jest will ease his fears.
She cocked her eyebrow at him. “Do not be too greedy, my lad.”
A low rumble echoed in his chest before he captured her lips. Salt, but never sweeter! As she wrapped her arms about his neck, a heavy ahem sounded behind them.
Sir Brayden stood and gave his words on a long breath.
“Providence be praised – if anything were to happen to you, Lady Maise would have taken my balls before we were wed.” Most likely; she is a feisty one.
The stout knight’s grin faded as he finished, “Aonghus, the next dark horizon for us lies with a fleet belonging to Northmen headed directly for this ship. I barricaded the doors, but we must have another means to escape.”
She watched his eyes dart over the landscape. “Fetch the axe there used on the cask,” he said, and he leaned down to retrieve Vengeance off the watery floorboards.
“Plan?” she asked.
“Cut our way out from the hull, place a few casks to cover the opening once we are through,” he replied quickly then grasped her hand, tugging her along toward the farthest wall lit by a lone oil lamp.
“With a wee bit of luck, we may return to raid the hull with our countrymen this eve.” Ohh, I like that idea!
She pulled her hand free; he looked at her curiously. Leaning over to the closest cask, which appeared to be filled with an ale concoction, she pulled the plug. Aye, beer. Excellent!
“You cut the opening, I will see about commencing on starving the enemy from our shores,” she declared. He nodded, leaned down to bruise her lips with a brisk hard press from his, and charged for the hull.
Just then, a loud bang sounded at the hull’s doors along with a Northman’s voice: “Get more men and release this door!”
Move it, pull the plug on that cask there!
***
Bang! BANG!
Her eyes glimpsed up at the doors. They were getting close to breaking through. Too damn close. A race against mighty oak. The axes cracked the boards at the far end of the hull within a discreet corner. Daylight peeped onto the salted herring cask she toppled over as the knights labored fiercely.
“AGAIN!” a Northern-laced accent demanded, then BANG!
Through yet? No, still more time to work on destroying supplies!
It truly was a shame to lay waste to such richness.
She blinked; the portrait of Kollungr’s face appeared, twisted in a grotesque grin every time he gave a direct order toward her countrymen’s demise.
Pop! There went another cask’s liquid treasure into the seawater.
“Keirah!” Aonghus puffed her name after she charged for them at the next bang on the doors.
Jagged light showed stronger through the forged opening.
Lady Maise had her own bull; the pair of them were heavy with the strength they commanded to break through the meticulous ship she had once seen proudly anchored off Bj?rgvin.
“Brayden, take the cask there,” Aonghus said after he finished creating a hole just large enough to squeeze them through one at a time; with any luck, once the barricade of casks was in place it would be unseen to any casual look. Stacking the casks higher, Sir Brayden wiped his brow.
She glimpsed up at the hull’s shape; the ship had settled severely on its side on the beach, so most Northmen would likely be over near the deck, which, according to Sir Brayden, faced the ocean.
If their luck held, the side they planned to leave from would be less favored.
She didn’t breathe as Aonghus took a lone look outside through the drizzle.
Darting his eyes at them, he issued a nod. All clear.
Stepping up, she peeked out the hole too.
Long overcast beach. She gasped. How different it was observing the effect in the night-glance.
Had she ever witnessed such sheer destruction?
No. Ships were tossed as far as she could see, like a giant had punched the mighty wooded vessels right off the waves then stomped them in a rage onto the shore. Astonishing.
The stretch of sand and rock leading onto the dunes was barren; it seemed clear of enemies, but what about those swarming on the deck above like a seagull flock? Would the Northmen there spot them when they began running toward freedom?
Sir Brayden handed Aonghus a shield and held the other he had scavenged earlier when scouring the ship.
Her knight strapped it onto his back with a rope across his chest. He means to carry me.
If arrows took to the sky, their hope was to make it behind those first dunes.
She glanced out the rough opening; if only the key to safety didn’t seem like they were reaching for the sky. Ugh!
She took a hard breath once they were outside the hull after the casks concealed the hole.
The Northmen could be heard cursing when discovering the demised state of the provisions before a voice bellowed, “Send word to our lord king at Cumbrae; those raids upon Loch Lomond are now of an even greater importance!”
Keirah locked eyes with Aonghus. Neither spoke; there was no need.
Alec. Had the warrior made it in time to Deidre?
To the clan? Their attention was snapped back to the present dangers when Sir Brayden poked Aonghus in the side before pointing above them.
The waves were crashing, but did they dare speak?
Feet stomping above. Nope! Her lips slammed closed.
She looked up. Raging hell! She fell back into the shadows under the hull’s curve when Aonghus grasped her close to him before dragging her away from prying eyes. Wretched Northmen directly above! They might as well put up a sign that read “Fresh warm Scottish morsels right here”!
So many heads were peering over the side; more than this, there was an archer with bows in hands resting on the deck’s rail!
Reaching for the sky just got a lot farther.
Her eyes looked up toward the dunes, but her heart sank to the sand under her toes.
They would never make it even if they had wings.
Movement at the horizon caught her attention.
Knights on horseback and footmen and archers – they were all…
SCOTS! Aonghus’s grip relaxed slightly when he spied what she saw.
The archer at the front atop Laoch was Callum!
The eldest MacCade leaned forward a wisp as if adjusting his weight in the saddle, but it had to be at what he saw, for it happened as soon as his eyes spotted them trapped. Aye, help!
“Scots on the horizon!” “Grab the bow there!” “Hold the fuking line here!” Yells from the deck above began cursing the air along with a heavier rain after Northmen spotted the enemy forces.
The eldest MacCade made no sudden movements to give away their presence; he only gave the tiniest nod as if silently saying to them, Be ready to move, cover is coming.
Callum set the row of archers while he took the reins from a knight holding another Spanish armored steed with no rider.
He means to reach us. Aonghus lifted her up in his arms. Sir Brayden readied his shield so it would cover his back’s upper torso, similar to how Aonghus had fashioned his.
Both had axe in hand then lowered their stances, preparing for the race toward survival.
The wind ripping at their soaked garments, alongside the roar from the ocean, Callum made certain they heard his orders over both elements with a bold yell.
“Nock!” Callum ordered.
The flawless row aimed high as the frenzied Northmen sounded like a herd of cattle which clamored above them, trying to prepare.
She met her knight’s eyes, and he gave her a tiny nudge with his brow against hers as if saying, I’ve got you, my lady.
She pressed her lips to his before tucking her head under his chin, securing her arms about his neck to pull as much as her muscles would allow. We must move like one.
“LOOSE!” Callum demanded. Whistle. Over the call of seagulls, another high shrill belonging to the arrows soared the air. Now! Aonghus bolted with Sir Brayden directly beside him.
A surprised voice yelled above, “Scots below!”
Hell! They had been spotted, quickly. Too quickly. At the announcement Aonghus’s stride took a wider gap like he had grown wings. For a lumbering frame, her eyes widened at the speed he commanded on two haunches at the pace the sand flew by underfoot.
“NOCK!” another commanding Scot ordered, most likely seeing the dire state they held and trying to provide the next round of protective cover.
A heavier thumping sound grew closer – Callum – but another whizz took the air from the Northern archers. Arrows joined the rain striking the ground about them.
“Aaaeee!” she screamed when a fire poker struck her calf dangling over Aonghus’s arms.
No, no fire poker. Her eyes doubled at the sight of an arrow dancing in the wind straight through her skirt and calf! She had been shot!
“Keirah!” Aonghus roared with equal parts fear and rage.
“LOOSE!” The Scots released the next line, darkening the skies further above them like the fingers on a demon’s hand.
“Callum – she is hurt!” Aonghus shouted when the oldest MacCade tore the horses alongside them.
She blinked heavily; if she had been given a sleeping draught she couldn’t have grown more tired.
How did she land onto Laoch? Wait…how had Aonghus grown such a long beard in one day?
No, this was Callum looking down on her with a worried look; but how was Callum running at a speed which rivaled the waves crashing the shores?
Horse, they were on a horse – it was Laoch.
Where was her Aonghus? Shock ebbed her mind, filling it with clouds thick as those above them.
“Aonghus?”
The Scotsman she cried for shouted from some foggy place: “Keirah!” There he is.
Darkness crashed over her.