Chapter 8 #3
He took the stairs to the middle level two at a time.
The two soldiers on gate duty drew their swords as he reached the bottom of the stairs.
Having been in the winch house numerous times, Aiden knew the layout well.
He leapt from the stairs to the huge rope roll that fed the portcullis and kicked the weapon from the hand of soldier number one.
Then he pivoted to parry a thrust from soldier number two.
That’s when Aiden’s luck ran out.
The first soldier had the sense to raise the alarm before retrieving his weapon, and the man he was dueling turned out to be a highly skilled swordsman.
Aiden blocked a skillful slash. He had but moments to dispatch his opponent before the guards bunking in the first-floor garrison came thundering up the steps.
* * *
Isabail stared at the open entrance to the tunnel and breathed a huge sigh of relief. Her exit was unimpeded. The ancient winch had not sealed the door. Her heartbeat slowed and her panic receded. Should she give up the search and return to her bed, or go back into the tunnel?
It was very tempting to call an end to her adventure. But this was a rare opportunity—who knew when she would enjoy this much freedom again? And the winch had moved something.
Something important, her gut told her.
She took a deep breath. Back into the tunnel, then.
Returning to the cave, she began a thorough examination of the walls.
She traced every crack in the stone and pushed every protruding bump in hopes of finding a hidden passage.
Nothing. She stepped back into the tunnel and studied the mouth of the cave.
A series of glyphs were carved in the archway, but none seemed to stand out more than any other.
Turning slowly, she eyed the flat wall that announced the end of the tunnel some twenty paces farther along. Although the torch light barely reached that far, she could see that it, too, was covered with symbols. Strange. None of the other walls of the tunnel were marked in a similar fashion.
She walked toward the wall, studying the symbols. Unlike other Pictish stones she’d seen, all of the markings on this slab of granite were depictions of animals: a boar, a bull, a wolf, a goose, a fish, and a snake. Nary an enigmatic circle or bent arrow to be seen.
Curious.
John had been fascinated by the symbols left behind by the Painted Ones and had amassed a collection of smaller stones, which he had kept in the stables. He enjoyed knowing that the land he owned had once been walked upon by an ancient people.
Isabail traced the etched shape of a goose with her finger. Some barbaric warrior of old had painstakingly chiseled this symbol into the rock.
Why?
She peered through the half-light at the rock wall.
The shadows in the corners were deep, and she could not make out where one wall ended and the next began.
Sliding her hands along the rock, she felt for the corner .
. . and found the faintest of grooves—a groove that ran all the way to the floor and was echoed on the other side.
A thrill ran down Isabail’s spine.
It was a door.
Flattening both hands on the slab, she pushed with all her might, but the rock did not budge. Perhaps it required more strength than she possessed to open it.
She stood back, hands on her hips. Or perhaps the animals were trying to tell her something. Putting her weight behind her, she pushed the salmon and then the snake. Nothing. Not willing to give up, she shoved the goose and the bull. Still nothing.
“Open, you bloody wretched thing,” she snapped. With two hands on the boar, she vented her frustration. And it swiveled open. Not enough to let her pass, but enough to coax a euphoric shout from her throat. “Aye!”
Isabail put all her weight behind another push on the boar. The giant slab opened farther, with an accompanying groan of stone, and Isabail stepped inside. The corridor on the other side of the slab was pitch-black, so she ran back and retrieved a torch from the cave.
Much better.
She could now see the floor in front of her, including a decorated pathway of stones leading around a curve in the corridor. Isabail stepped forward.
The harsh rasp of rubbing stones immediately told her something was amiss, and she pivoted . . . just in time to see the great stone slab swivel back into place and another stone drop from the ceiling to seal it shut.
* * *
Aiden swung his sword with power and precision.
He had only one chance to fell this soldier.
He could not afford to miss. His blade collided with his opponent’s with bone-rattling force, sending a shower of sparks into the air.
The soldier stumbled under the brute power of the attack and took a step back.
It was exactly the opening Aiden had hoped for.
Vaulting from his position on the rope roll, he gave the soldier’s exposed knee a ruthless kick. The man screamed and collapsed. His weapon dropped from his hands as he grabbed his leg. Without pausing, Aiden whipped around and stabbed the other guard in the sword arm.