Chapter 20 #2
They were so close to escaping unharmed.
But just as Rory lifted his claymore on the final man, a lone arrow shot from the trees found its mark straight into Rory’s gut.
He slumped forward over the thick neck of his powerful warhorse.
His golden hair draped over the shiny black coat of his destrier.
Blood spread across his saffron-colored leine croich, staining it a horribly deep, dark, saturated red.
For one terrifying moment, Isabel’s heart stopped. Time stood still. He is dead. When a piercing, animalistic scream tore shrilly through the clear day, she didn’t realize that the sound had come from her.
“No!” Her guttural cry sounded no more than a whisper.
Rory lifted his head, and their eyes met. Wordlessly, he sought to comfort her. He was alive.
Slowly she exhaled.
When Rory spoke, he addressed Alex, his voice weak and raspy. “Another group must have followed. Use the old passage. Hurry.” Isabel noticed his knuckles were stark white as he clenched the reins, fighting to hold himself upright on his horse.
Isabel felt panic grip her chest, catching her breath in its tight hold. She felt smothered by an invisible cloak of horror. This couldn’t be happening.
Alex recognized her panic and brought her back to reality with the cold, calm voice of authority.
“Isabel, collect yourself. Do not fall apart on me. Move quickly now, we have to get Rory back to Dunvegan.” His words acted like a physical shake.
“Do you understand? If we do not get him back, he will die. It is our only chance. We must move now before they have time to surround us.”
She nodded. Her voice seemed stuck in her throat.
Alex grabbed the reins of Rory’s horse and raced through the cover of the woods.
Tears flew from the corners of Isabel’s eyes, aided by the force of the wind as her horse pounded through the underbrush.
Heedless of the branches scraping her cheeks, she followed Alex at a terrifying speed as he led them north toward Dunvegan through the woodlands, skirting the open coastline and shaggy moors where the Mackenzies had waited.
Even now she could hear the wild cries of their pursuers just behind them, excitedly closing in for the kill.
Rory’s head bounced awkwardly over the neck of his horse.
The thought of the pressure of the arrow on him with each rough stride of his horse acted like a knife twisting in her own stomach.
I can’t lose him. The pain must be excruciating.
He would never survive. She’d seen injuries like this before and knew it would be a miracle if he survived even the day.
“Not much farther, Isabel, don’t slow down. We’re almost there!” Alex yelled, his words almost lost, muffled by the crashing thunder of hooves.
Isabel forced her mount faster. Never very good with directions, she knew if she lost sight of Alex and Rory, she would never find her way out. If the Mackenzies didn’t find her first.
“They’re up ahead, we’ve almost got ’em.” The Mackenzies sounded close, too close. As if they were right behind her.
“Faster, Alex, they’re gaining on us. We’ll never be able to hold them off.”
“We’re almost there.”
He headed left toward the coast and led them along the edge of the woods, through more dense underbrush and down a well-covered path that led to the rocky shoreline.
They had reached the tiny inlet of the loch just south of the castle.
There was nowhere left to go. Above them, perched high on its rock of inaccessibility, Isabel could see the castle not one hundred feet in front of her.
So close to safety. But they might as well have been in Edinburgh.
To reach the castle, they would have to fly or swim.
The loch surrounded Dunvegan on one side, and on the other, the landward side, a cavernous rocky trench fronted it.
“Where are we going?” she shouted ahead to Alex.
“Just follow me.”
She could no longer see Rory. Alex had urged Rory’s horse ahead, and there was barely enough width on the rocky coastline for the horses to travel single file. Please let him live.
Alex led them around the inlet and headed straight for the rocky cliff where the edge of the steep crag met the edge of the trees.
Isabel cautiously raised her eyes to the ominous thirty-foot sheer wall of rock and the curtain wall of the castle that rose high above it.
There was no way in. Unless Alex planned to scale the wall with Rory on his back, they were cut off by water on one side and inaccessible terrain on the other.
Alex slowed his pace and headed straight for a large, jagged rock covered with dense foliage.
She could hear the battle cries of the Mackenzies behind her. They were hidden from view by the trees on their right, but she knew that any second her party would be visible. And vulnerable.
Her horse followed Rory and Alex as they dove right into the middle of a thicket, turned sharply left behind the jagged rock, and disappeared into nothingness.
A damp, dark chill enveloped her body. She could hear the snorting of Alex’s horse in front of her but could see nothing in the darkness.
Slowly, her horse followed Alex’s destrier as if by instinct.
Or scent. She blinked repeatedly, accustoming her eyes to the loss of light.
Finally, she could make out stone walls and a damp floor.
They’d apparently entered a wide tunnel in the cliff.
Alex stopped in front of her and turned, motioning with a finger to his lips for quiet, then continued into the bowels of the rocky cliff.
After a few minutes, they stopped completely and Alex slid from his horse.
“It’s safe now, Isabel. We must leave the horses here and walk the rest of the way. I’ll return for them later. But now I need your help with Rory.”
Rory. Isabel leapt off her horse before Alex could offer her assistance and flew to Rory, who was still slumped over his horse. She thought from his position he must have fainted, but at her touch, he opened his eyes and smiled weakly.
“Rory, oh God, Rory. Hold on, we’re almost there.
” Craving further reassurance that he truly lived, she grabbed him, clasping his arm desperately.
Conscious of his injury, she carefully leaned forward around the arrow protruding from his belly and placed her lips on his damp brow.
His skin felt so cold. She could smell the metallic scent of blood.
Fear unlike anything she had ever experienced strangled her soul.
Surely the capricious fates would not be so cruel when they’d only just found each other?
“Isabel, we must get him to the castle.”
Wordlessly, she helped Alex slide him from the saddle, trying not to cause him more pain than was necessary.
Alex slung an arm over his shoulder, and Isabel supported him as best she could on the other side.
Rory moved his feet, but Isabel could tell by the spasms of stiffness that racked his body that each step caused him new agony.
Huddled together, they struggled along the treacherously wet path of stone and sand.
“Where are we?”
“In an old passageway built long ago by our Norse ancestors. It is rarely used, and few even know of its existence. Only Rory and I know how to find it. And now you.”
She gulped, honored to have been entrusted with such a secret but all the same wishing she didn’t know. She still felt loyalty to her family and would rather not be forced to lie.
Exhaustion threatened to crumple her legs; the large physique that she so admired was definitely a detriment at a time like this.
Isabel knew by the way he tried to hold himself away from her that he was attempting not to crush her with his weight.
With the amount of blood soaking her gown, she feared he would soon lose consciousness—or worse.
Don’t fall apart, Isabel. He needs you.
Just when she thought she would not be able to take one more step, Alex stopped.
“We’re here.”
She nearly wept with relief. Even in the damp tunnel, sweat beaded on her brow. Wiping it away with her sleeve, she looked around blankly at solid rock.
“I don’t understand.”
“Look up.”
In the roof, perhaps a foot above Alex’s head, she noticed a door.
Alex answered her unspoken question. “I’ll go up first. You’ll need to hold him steady while I try to lift him through the trapdoor. We’ll be at the bottom of a hidden staircase that leads to the kitchens in the old keep.”
How could that be? She’d been over every inch of that tower. Isabel held her tongue, not wanting Alex to question why she’d felt the need to inspect the castle so closely.
“What is that smell?” She sniffed. “Almost like roasted meat.”
“It is roasted meat. A particularly cruel ancestor of mine decided to vent the kitchens into the dungeon to torment the prisoners.”
“Are we near the dungeon pit?” she asked.
The only entry to Dunvegan’s dungeon was located in a small room in the great hall above the kitchens.
She repressed a shudder. The dungeon was nothing more than a horrific thirteen-foot-deep hole in the rock where prisoners were tossed and left to die.
When she’d first arrived at Dunvegan, she’d had many nightmares about that pit.
“We are very close to the dungeon in an adjacent tunnel. The kitchens are part of the barrel vault that runs the length of the old keep.”
“What if we can’t lift him up through the door by ourselves?” she wondered aloud.
“Rory would not want me to bring anyone else down here, but if there is no other choice, I’ll find help.”
But somehow they managed. Rory stirred from semi-consciousness only once, when Alex pulled him up through the hidden door, but it provided them much needed timely assistance up the small staircase.
At the top, Alex peered through a small hole in the hidden door to make sure no one was about.
Carefully, he pushed open the door and pulled them to safety.