Chapter 17
It hadn’t been all that easy for Gareth to lead Urich and the others across the damp and mud-slicked moors to Wallace Keep, and the journey took almost twice as long as it should have.
When they came within viewing distance of the keep, though, and Gareth saw plumes of smoke rising from the village next to it, he ordered them to charge ahead at full speed so they could investigate and lend aid if required.
His entire body was tense, every nerve tingled, and every hair stood on end as he rode hard for the castle. What could have transpired? he wondered. And in such a short span of time?
Most of all, he hoped that Pelna was all right.
Somehow, he seriously doubted that in the event of such a massive blaze, she would have clung to the safety of the keep and let others do the hard work without her.
Rather, he had every certainty that the woman who had traveled such a long and dangerous road to confront him personally about the death of Bran would feel the need to oversee the firefighting efforts personally.
So he spurred his horse onward at top speed, trying to prepare himself for the worst.
When the Wallace soldiers and villagers saw a horde of McDaugh warriors riding toward them with Gareth at the forefront, they started to yell and scatter, thinking that they were under attack.
Gareth did his best to raise his voice above the din: “It’s all right, I swear tae ye!
We have come in peace and are here tae help however we can! ”
Stefan Wallace ran up to Gareth’s horse, peering up at him suspiciously. His face was smudged with soot, and he was coughing from the smoke. It looked as though he had a thousand questions on his mind, but knowing there was no time for that now, he cast them all aside.
“If ye truly are here tae aid us, then have yer men join ours in totin’ the water from the wells. We need every pair of hands we can find.”
Gareth ordered his warriors to join in these efforts, and so they did, taking up positions shoulder to shoulder with the Wallace clansmen.
Each gave the other distrustful looks, and there could be little doubt that many grudges were harbored between them, but they still labored as a single unit, drawing and passing along the buckets of water steadily.
“How did ye ken about the fire?” Stefan asked. His eyes were narrowed—whether from smoke or suspicion, Gareth couldn’t say for sure. He supposed, under the circumstances, it was a reasonable question.
“We didn’t ken about it,” he replied. “I was comin’ here tae negotiate a treaty with yer clan so that we may fight against the Sinclairs together. However, it appears as though I’ve showed up just in time.”
“Aye, so ye have,” Stefan conceded. “Our own people were becomin’ weakened from their efforts, and several have been overcome by smoke. Without yer intervention, surely the whole village would have burned tae the ground.”
“Then this seems an auspicious beginnin’ tae our talks, at least,” Gareth said. “Where is Pelna?”
Stefan looked around anxiously. “She was helpin’ tae organize the men, but now I do not see her…”
Gareth’s heart twitched and flapped with panic like a wounded bird, and he began to go from house to house, calling Pelna’s name.
He listened for a response, but he could scarcely hear anything over the sounds of the firefighters yelling instructions to each other and the roaring of the flames that had yet to be put out.
There were still a few scattered cries for help from people trapped inside the structures, though it seemed as though most of them had already been carried to safety.
The few who remained imperiled were being seen to by the Wallace soldiers, and Urich was heroically pulling several of them away from the flames as well.
With every moment that passed, Gareth became more frightened of what he might find.
Would he come upon her dead body amid the blackened ruins of these homes?
Would she be covered in ash, claimed by the smoke?
Would her gorgeous pale skin be seared and blistered?
Or would he find himself so late to save her that she would be charred all the way to the bone, her bright red hair consumed by the flames so that he would never see its waves ripple in the moonlight ever again?
These thoughts were more than he could bear, and he cried out for her with greater urgency, throwing open the doors of those remaining houses that were still standing.
Then he noticed something strange.
One of the huts had a door that was not only closed but held shut with a heavy barrel—as though someone had been trying to prevent whoever was inside from escaping.
But why should that be? he wondered. Unless…
Gareth ran over to the hut, shouting: “Pelna! Are ye in there?!”
“Aye!” Her voice was a barely-audible croak. “Please! Help me!”
He put his uninjured shoulder to the barrel and pushed it aside, but the effort caused pain to shoot through his entire body like jagged branches of lightning.
The barrel fell over and rolled away, and he threw the door open, finding Pelna tied to a chair.
Her eyes were red and weeping, and she was struggling against her bonds frantically.
She looked surprised to see him but grateful nonetheless.
Gareth stepped forward and drew his dagger, crouching next to her.
“I’ll have ye out of here in no time,” he promised, but the ropes were thick, their strands coarse and unyielding.
It took a great deal of effort to saw through enough of them, and the flames were steadily closing in on both of them.
A minute more, and Gareth would be on fire himself.
The smoke was already making him dizzy and light-headed.
Sweat poured down his face as he continued to move the blade back and forth, back and forth, hacking at the stubborn bonds. He’d never endured such intense heat before. It was like being in a blacksmith’s furnace, and he feared he might melt as surely as metal smelted in a forge.
Just a few more moments, he gauged, and enough of the rope would be severed that he’d be able to pull the rest of it away in coils.
“Ye can do it,” Pelna coughed. “I believe in ye.”
Gareth didn’t answer, but he was grateful for her words nonetheless. They gave him that final boost of determination he needed to hack through the remaining cords, and then Pelna was free. He grabbed her hand and turned toward the door just to find it completely covered in rippling fire.
The way was blocked and the hut around them was groaning, ready to collapse upon their heads.
He turned to her, wiping the sweat from his eyes. “Ye trust me, aye?”
She nodded.
Gareth enfolded her in his arms, covering as much of her as possible so that he might bear the brunt of the flames.
Together, they raced for the door. Gareth slammed against it with his right shoulder as hard as he could, trusting in the fire damage to have done most of the hard work for him already—and praying that he was right.
The good news was that he was right about the door. It gave way, allowing him to tumble out of the hut, still holding Pelna tightly.
The bad news was that his already-aching body now felt as though he had an arrow sticking out of every major muscle group. The impact was devastating, and he had a difficult time picking himself up off the ground, even with Pelna’s aid.
As soon as he was standing, though, she threw herself into his arms again, hugging him tightly. This did not help with the pain in his body, but he didn’t care. He was delighted to know that she was safe and to have her body pressed against his. Her hair smelled like smoke and embers.
“What are ye doing here?” she asked.
“I came so that we could speak more about a treaty between our clans,” he told her. “My father said that I should make haste, the better tae ensure that our combined forces topple the Sinclairs and end these conflicts fer good and all. But what happened tae ye? Why were ye bound tae a chair?”
“A man with a hood!” She started to cough, and it took a few moments for her to get ahold of herself. “He came up from behind and grabbed me, then pulled me into that hut and tied me tae the chair!”
“Do ye have any idea who he might have been? Did he speak?”
“He did, but I did not recognize the voice,” she admitted. “I managed tae injure his ankle along the way, though, so if we keep a lookout for a limpin’ man, he might be easy enough tae spot.”
“That might be easier said than done,” Gareth observed, “since there are many men here who may have injured themselves while rescuin’ others from the fire.”
“Well, at least we can rule out yer men, I suppose,” she pointed out, “since they only just arrived with ye.” She kissed him on the cheek, leaving a smudge of soot there. “Thank ye, Gareth. Fer savin’ me.”
His face was so red from the heat that he hoped she wouldn’t be able to see him blushing.
“It was my pleasure, my lady. Does anyone ken how the fire started?”
She began to shake her head, then stopped herself, her eyes widening. She turned to look at the keep, and her gaze went up to the window of her father’s room.
“A distraction,” she said breathlessly, running for the keep.
Gareth followed, drawing his sword.