Chapter 18
Warnock’s Keep was a place of nightmares.
The sky darkened as they approached this forbidden part of the world. They passed through narrow streams, forests of spindly, spiky trees below looming mountains with jagged rocks that looked sharp enough to tear the world apart.
The air was thin and cold, stinging her lungs. But Beitris burned inside because she could think of nothing but Logan’s betrayal.
Brody was with her, being carried back in just the same undignified manner, although he was unconscious.
She wondered what he made of all this. Logan had betrayed him as well.
Were there no depths to which that man would not sink?
There was still something she didn’t quite understand… this link between Logan and Warnock.
Perhaps it was too frightening to confront.
The Keep was built atop a tor. Dark clouds roiled above.
The Keep was cast in shadow. There were no colorful banners flapping from the tower, and the village below looked deserted.
Even the ground was as black as death. There was a stale smell in the air and Beitris almost gagged at the thick malevolence.
They hauled her off the horse and dragged her around the side of the Keep.
She assumed that she would be taken to Warnock, but instead they took her to a great pit.
Wooden boards were placed around the pit, and a rope ladder was tangled on one side, looking like a thick spider web that had fallen to the ground.
Beitris didn’t need it.
There was a hard shove and suddenly she was plummeting down.
Fingers reached out, scrambling against dirt and stone, but she was unable to break her fall.
The bottom of the pit crashed through her and shook her bones.
She groaned as she lay staring at the stars.
Stones poked into her and the mud seeped around her feet and hands.
She wiggled her fingers and toes, then tilted her neck to either side; thankfully, nothing was broken.
She pushed herself up into a sitting position and then looked up at the bleak sky overhead.
Beitris gathered her breath and what little strength she had, for she hadn’t been given any food on the journey, and formed handholds in the muddy walls.
Her fingers sank into the thick mud, and she pulled herself up.
She managed to get a few feet off the ground, but then her hands became too slick and she lost her grip.
She slid down, crying out in dismay, and realized there would be no escape.
Laughter spiked the air, like cackling birds. Heads peered over the edge.
“Ye can try all ye like, but naebody hae ever climbed out of the pit like that,” one of the men called.
Beitris glared up at them.
“Come down here and I’ll make ye choke on mud,” she called up, her words thumping the air. The men just laughed.
“I’ll kill you all,” she muttered under her breath. “Ye hae nae idea of the hell I will unleash upon this place.”
Time passed. The day shifted to night. The men had grown tired of her and moved away some time ago.
She had tried to climb out a few more times but had never made it very far.
Now, she stared up at the stars, trying to find beauty in them, although it was impossible.
She wondered about her father and Logan.
Had he succeeded in killing Ryan?
She felt sick.
She should have raised her concerns with Allan or Elliot, or even Ryan himself.
Why had she kept it to herself? Why had she tried to protect Logan when he hadn’t done anything to deserve it?
She’d been a fool, falling into his trap like a mouse that happily ambled towards some cheese, ignoring the metal contraption around it.
As she duelled on all her failures, the rope ladder was thrown down.
“Warnock demands yer presence,” a voice cried out.
“Then he can come down here and see me. I’m sure this place befits him,” she fired back.
“If ye dinnae climb now, we hae ways of making ye.”
“Are ye gaeing tae piss on me?”
“We’ll fill the pit with oil and then throw a flame down.
Ye can either climb, or ye can burn. Saw a man who chose the latter once.
The screams were unholy. I hae never heard anything like it.
Watched the skin peel away from his flesh, showing the bone underneath.
There’s probably still some of it down there. ”
Beitris shuddered as she cast her gaze around her feet, not liking the sound of that at all. Her stomach churned with nausea and if there had been anything to throw up then it might well have spumed out of her. Reluctantly, grimly, she took hold of the rope and pulled herself up.
It wasn’t easy. Her arms were on fire and she was light-headed. When she made her way to the top she collapsed, her feet teetering over the pit again. There were three men waiting for her, all of them with their swords drawn. Warnock wasn’t taking any chances.
They grabbed her arms roughly, pulling her to her feet and dragging her into the Keep. Beitris didn’t try to resist, not this time, for she would need her strength to strangle Warnock.
The stones that built the Keep were dark.
Her feet scraped against the surface. There was a ghostly wind that whispered through the place, cold and chilling.
Beitris wasn’t sure where it came from. It might have been born from the cries of the dead, the spirits that were so anguished they could not rest. For all she knew, her sorrow would be added to them, and while her soul was defiant, she knew how ruthless Warnock could be.
If she did not die swiftly, then her suffering would be immense.
She intended to bear it all, at least until she saw Logan again, but even she had her limits.
Her throat was already dry, feeling as though sand had been poured into it. Knives were in her stomach. There were dark corridors all around her. In the distance, she heard a scream, although it might just have been a trick of the mind.
Beitris was taken to the Great Hall, although that name was a misnomer.
It was a hollow thing, a room of stone and bitterness and shadows.
One of the walls looked as though it was about to crumble, and barely any light crept through the windows.
A dark figure was sitting on a stone chair, shrouded in a cloak.
He moved slowly, and from the abyss of the hood came a dark, mocking laugh.
Two guards stood at the door, near enough to rush and strike her if she tried to kill the man.
Warnock came creeping towards her like an insect, his eyes hidden from her.
He used a thick wooden cudgel as a cane.
His legs wobbled. She wondered how old he was.
He might well have been as ancient as the stones around them.
“Ach… sae I finally meet Beitris Knox.”
The words came out in a wheezing breath.
The sound of his voice turned Beitris’ blood to ice.
His right hand gripped the cudgel. His left hand rose.
Skeletal fingers, pale and spotted, reached for her.
The nails were long, like talons, and yellow in shade.
His fingertip touched her chin and she trembled all over with a mixture of fear and revulsion.
“Ye are lovelier than I would expect a Knox tae be.”
“Get yer hands off me,” she snapped.
Her spine was straight, her head tilted up, while her eyes blazed with the strength that she had inherited from her parents. She batted his hand away and then dark eyes flashed beneath the hood.
“Ye will nae be insolent with me, girl,” he rasped, and then struck her across the face with the back of his hand.
There was a black ring on his finger, and this slammed into her cheek, nearly tearing her skin apart.
Her head twisted to the side. Pain prickled over her skin and stars danced before her vision.
Spittle flew from her mouth and the pain lingered. Tears stung her eyes.
She did not give him the satisfaction of crying out in dismay.
“Kneel before me,” he said.
“Never,” Beitris replied, and this time she spat at him.
He grunted in frustration. Beitris knew this was her chance.
She didn’t care about the guards. She didn’t care about anything.
This man had terrorized the Highlands for too long and she could bring an end to his schemes and machinations.
Her hands twitched and she started to move, ready to clamp them around his throat and drain the life from him.
He moved with surprising swiftness. He shifted back and brought the cudgel around, slamming the heavy end against her elbow. This time she did cry out in pain, for the surprise was just as shocking as the impact itself.
“I said kneel!” he yelled as the hood flew back from his head and she gazed upon his terrible features for the first time.
His nose was crooked, his lips thin and pale.
His cheekbones were high and one of them was marked with a scar.
His hair had thinned and the oval dome of his scalp was visible, spotted and marked with blue veins running beneath the skin.
But it was his eyes that transfixed her the most, however, for they were filled with evil and malice.
Never before had she seen such a terrifying sight.
He brought the cudgel around again, this time it crashed into her thigh.
She buckled, falling to one knee, but that wasn’t going to be enough for him.
He hit her other leg, this time at the back of the knee.
She crumbled, falling forward, having to steady herself by placing her hands on the ground.
The impact stung her palms. She was about to push herself back when a third blow struck her, this time at the small of her back.
Her body arched as she sprawled across the floor.
Warnock paced around her.
“I will nae tolerate any defiance, lass, nae from anyone, especially nae a Knox.”
The words poured out of him, trickling like dark blood.