Fergus blinked. It was true. Alasdair Sinclair and Faing Douglas stared back at their friends in mute astonishment. No one was more surprised than Hazel.
Gravity caught Alasdair’s weight. He slumped, and the daggers ripped his shirt so he hit the ground. He staggered to get his feet under him. “Ye boke geggit! What’d ye do that fer?”
Athol and Fergus looked back and forth between each other and Hazel. They hadn’t done it. She did it. Did she mean to, or was it another unconscious reaction? Fergus studied her. She stared down at the men the same way he did, but he saw the truth in her face. She was as surprised to see them as he was, but she wasn’t surprised that she shot those daggers at them. She wanted to fight them, and she did.
Fergus put his sword away and took Sinclair’s hand to help him up. Athol freed Faing. Athol hefted one of the daggers in his hand and cast a sidelong glance at Hazel. “Where’d ye radges come from?”
Sinclair dusted himself off. He kept throwing dark looks at Hazel. “We both o’ us came through that fud bawhooky, and now we’ll ne’er get back.”
“Take it easy, all o’ ye,” Fergus interrupted. “Keep it clean, will ye?”
Sinclair exploded. “How do ye expect us tae keep it clean when we’re out the windae on the boaby end o’ the diddy scunner?”
“Weel, what d’ye expect tae do aboot it?” Fergus returned. “We’re ’ere, and so are ye, from the looks o’t. Do ye wish tae sling yer boke aboot, or do ye think ye can pull it out o’ yer boggin pus laing enough tae warm yerselves and come tae a plan tae get us back?”
Sinclair glared at him but said nothing. Douglas let out a sigh. “Dinnae mind if I do.” Without further ado, he sat down by the fire and spread out his hands to warm them. “We’ve been wanderin’ this forest fer three days withoot fire nor food nor shelter. We thought we’d ne’er see living faces again.”
“Three days!” Fergus gasped. “We’ve been here half a day at the most. Just last night, we were all taegether at the mound in Urlu.”
Douglas shook his head. “We disappeared at the same time, but we’ve been ’ere three days. Ask Alasdair.”
Sinclair frowned even deeper. No wonder he was surly. Fergus squatted down next to Douglas. The others didn’t move. He had to diffuse the tension somehow. He took hold of Hazel’s hand and drew her down to the ground. Athol followed until only Alasdair Sinclair remained standing.
“Ha’e ye seen ought in these woods in all that time?” Fergus asked Faing.
“Naught but the Burgees.”
“What are Burgees?” Hazel asked.
“They’re summat like skeletons. They ride around in the air, but instead o’ killin’ ye, if they touch ye wi’ their sword, ye turn tae stone.”
Hazel stared at him. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Aye,” he replied. “They defend the witch’s castle. If she has them around this forest, we’ll ne’er get near her.”
“Can’t you fight them and destroy them?” she asked. “You’re…. I mean, you’re a dragon. She would have to have some kind of huge thing to stop you getting in there.”
“I cinnae fight ’em,” he replied. “Neither dragon nor Faery can fight ’em.”
“Then how did these two men survive three days in the forest with them?” she asked. “There must be a way.”
“We didnae fight ’em,” Douglas told her. “We ainly survived by movin’ away from the castle each time they appeared. That’s all they care aboot. If ye move away from the castle, they retreat. If ye advance, more spring out o’ the ground tae destroy ye. We cinnae get intae the castle by force. We can ainly get in if the witch invites us.”
“That makes no sense,” Hazel replied. “We can’t get in if she doesn’t invite us, and she won’t invite us if we don’t go in. What are we supposed to do?”
Through this whole conversation, Alasdair Sinclair stood aside watching and listening. Now he threw up his hands and gasp. “Aw, what’re ye even discussin’ it fer? Ye dinnae want tae go tae see the witch anyhow. She’ll no help ye, and she sure as the devil winnae tell ye where the Stone is laid—if she kens at all. We’re wastin’ our time out ’ere.”
“What do ye suggest?” Fergus asked. “Ye dinnae suggest we walk back tae Urlu, I’m guessin’.”
“Walk back to Urlu? Are ye a jobby scunner?” Sinclair thundered.
Hazel burst out laughing in spite of herself. All four men turned to stare at her, but she couldn’t wipe the silly grin off her face. “What does that mean? No, wait. I don’t want to know.”
“We dinnae ha’e tae walk back tae Urlu, e’en if we wanted tae go there—which we dinnae,” Sinclair stated. “We can get there through Faery much quicker.”
“You want tae leave?” Athol exclaimed. “How can ye leave withoot seein’ the witch?”
“I’ve seen enough o’ her wee minions runnin’ aboot this wood tae choke me stomach fer years,” Sinclair spat out. “I’ll no go no nearer her castle, no fer all the gold in Scotland. I can tell ye that right now.”
Fergus murmured low under his breath. “Would ye go fer the Stone? Would ye go near her castle if ye kenned the Stone was inside?”
Sinclair glared at him one more time. Then he whirled away on his heel and stormed off into the woods. Hazel fidgeted with her fingernails. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have laughed at him like that.”
“Ne’er ye mind,” Douglas replied. “It was the best thing fer him. He needed it.”
“Why does he curse like that?” she asked. “I’m surprised the King keeps him around.”
“The King ha’e no choice in the matter,” Athol told her. “Sinclair is Laird o’ his own Clan. He has as much right tae the Royal Presence as the King himself.”
Chapter 7
A firm hand clamped over Hazel’s mouth and startled her out of a sound sleep. She jolted upright, but the hands holding her lifted her off the ground and stood her on her feet. Fergus hissed in her ear. “Wheesht, lass! The Burgees are comin’!”
The words struck terror into her heart. Pitch dark night surrounded her on all sides under the forest trees. The faintest moonlight peeked through the canopy. The fire lay cold and dead at her feet, and she saw no sign of the other men.
Fergus let go of her mouth, and she gasped for breath. She made sure to do it silently, though. Her heart pounded, and she couldn’t see a thing in the darkness. The Burgees!
Fergus took her hand. “We mun’ get away o’ ’ere. We mun’ move away from the castle.”
Hazel hurried after him into the forest. She only prayed his Faery sight would show him where to go. “How can we move away from it when we don’t know where it is?”
“The Burgees’ll show us,” he replied. “All we mun’ do is move away. They’ll come from the castle.”
Hazel stopped in her tracks. “That’s the solution. Don’t you see. If they come from the castle, we can used them to find out where it is.”
“We cinnae go tae the castle wi’ the Burgees around.” He tugged her forward one more time. “We mun’ get out o’ ‘ere if we mean tae survive the night.”
Hazel followed him, but she didn’t want to. She wanted to find the castle instead of running away from it. This witch of Loch Nagar sounded like the only person alive who could give her a clue about the curse.
Fergus bashed his way through the undergrowth for a while before Hazel dared to speak again. “Where are we going?”
“The other three spread out tae find out where the Burgees were comin’ from,” he replied. “We’ll find ’em in these woods, and wi’ any luck, they’ll gi’e us enough advanced warnin’ we’ll be able tae get away in time.”
“So if we’re not going to the witch’s castle, where are we going? Will they use Faery to get back to Urlu?”
He stopped on a dime and spun around to face her. “We cinnae go back tae Urlu, lass. Do ye ken it? The three o’ ’em can go back by way o’ Faery, but ye and I—we cinnae go back. We’d bring the curse down around their
heads. We mun’ find a way tae break the curse from ’ere.”
Hazel opened her mouth and closed it again with a click. “I would bring the curse down around their heads. Isn’t that what you mean? You could go back to Urlu with the others, but I would have to stay behind. It’s okay. You can say it. I understand perfectly.”
He stepped closer and murmured in the night. “Ye’ll no stay alone, lass. What becomes o’ ye’ll become o’ me. When will ye understand that?”
Hazel’s heart fluttered. He never said it in so many words, but now, at last, she couldn’t deny the truth any longer. He wasn’t just being nice to her for something to do. He wasn’t trying to give her what he never had when he helped her understand her power. He felt…that way about her.
“Fergus…” she breathed.
He laid a finger on her lips. “Wheesht, lass! Dinnae say it, no now when we dinnae ken if we’ll live or die.”
“We’ll die,” she whispered. “We’ll die, and I don’t care. I just want to….”
A piercing scream interrupted her. Fergus didn’t wait to answer. He seized her hand and raced toward the sound. Hazel tore through the woods at his heels. All thought of what she’d been about to say vanished out of her mind.
Fergus stumbled over branches and stumps. He tripped on rocks. He held one arm in front of his face to protect his eyes, but he never slowed his pace one inch on his headlong charge through the night.
Another scream echoed out of the dark from somewhere off to the left. Fergus faltered for a moment, undecided where to go. Then he veered off toward the sound. He yanked Hazel’s arm so hard it hurt, but she would never protest. She pushed herself to her utmost to keep up with him. She had to find out what was going on and do something about it.
Five minutes of running passed before loud yelling voices broke out nearby. Fergus put on speed. Hazel’s lungs burst. Somewhere inside her she found the strength to run faster.
Just then, they burst out of the trees onto the rocky shore of another mountain lake. In the moonlight, Hazel beheld a massive black castle perched on a mountain opposite. Lights shone in its windows, and the welcoming bright arch of its open drawbridge glistened across the rippling water.
A dozen black horses plunged and reared in all directions. A fleshless skeleton sat astride each steed. Their skulls glared out from under black hooded capes at the poor sinners before them.
Athol, Sinclair, and Faing Douglas bunched in a tight knot with these mounted skeletons circling around them. The men fought the monsters off as best they could. A horse reared. Its rider brandished a gleaming silver sword above its head and brought it down full force on Alasdair Sinclair. The Highlander barely raised his weapon in time to deflect the blow before the horse plunged away to join its fellows.
For half a second, Hazel quailed before the sight. The next instant, she lunged forward to join the fight. She had to help those men. They couldn’t stand against the Burgees, three against twelve.
Fergus caught her and held her back. “Ye cinnae go out there, lass. We mun’ get away while we can. They’re buyin’ us our ainly chance.”
“We can’t leave them here to die,” Hazel insisted. “We have to help them.”
“We cinnae help them. No one can help them now. They’d tell ye the same if they could. Come on.”
Hazel yanked her hand out of his grip. “You can go, but I’m not running away. The witch is our only lead to break the curse, and we have to get through the Burgees to get to her. There must be a way to defeat them so we can get to the castle.”
She darted forward across the gravel to intercept the men. She got halfway there when one of the Burgees spotted her. He wheeled his horse around to face her. She halted, but he only spurred his mount to attack her.
Hazel’s heart leapt into her mouth when she realized what she was doing. She ran toward the castle. As long as she moved away from it, she was safe. If she moved one step forward, the Burgees would all attack her at once.
The rider barreled at her full speed. He swung his sword over his head, and his wicked empty eye sockets burned out of his bleached skull. His grinning toothless mouth howled in hellish fury.
The horse never stopped galloping. The Burgee rider charged straight past her and brought his sword down to crack her head in half. Hazel never thought to use her power. She raised her arms in a pathetic attempt to save herself. The sword came down, and she closed her eyes.
A deafening clang of metal against metal snapped her eyes open. She looked up to find Fergus standing over her. He struggled to hold back the skeleton’s sword with his own blade. Sweat stood out on his forehead, and his lips curled back from his teeth. His hair fell into his eyes, and his arms trembled with the effort. “Run, lass!” he bellowed.
Hazel darted under his arm, but at that moment, the demon knocked Fergus’s sword away. The horse reared back on its hind legs and pawed the air with both hooves. It screeched its hellish voice to split the heavens. It came down hard, and one of its sharp hooves hit Fergus on the shoulder.
Fergus dropped down on one knee, but he kept his saber raised to block the Burgee’s next blow. Sparks flew off their blades, and the Burgee moved in for the kill.
Hazel whirled around to turn back. “Fergus!” she screamed, but it was too late. The Burgee smashed Fergus’s weapon aside and plunged his sword point into Fergus’s shoulder. The force of the blow pushed Fergus onto his back on the ground.
The reaction took a fraction of a second. One instant, Fergus lay wriggling on the end of a sword. The next moment, Fergus Cameron ceased to be. A solid grey granite form in the shape of a Highlander lay on the ground, the flinching expression still plastered across his face.
Hazel couldn’t watch anymore. She spun away to run for her life from these monsters from Hell when her eyes met Faing Douglas. He just happened to face her in the little circle of desperate fighters. The look of abject hopeless terror in his eyes changed Hazel’s mind.
Behind Faing, Athol fought sword on sword with two Burgees at once. His saber flashed so fast Hazel couldn’t see it. He batted his enemies’ weapons away in rapid succession. As she watched, a third rider joined the attackers, and the tide turned. Athol couldn’t keep up with them now.
While he deflected the other two swords, the third assailant snuck under his arm. The Burgee’s sword stabbed into Athol’s guts. He flinched, but his arm kept up its unstoppable swing. It hefted a skull away from the rest of its skeleton body before Athol froze to a granite statue with his saber still upraised at his enemies.
The remaining eleven Burgees converged on Douglas and Sinclair. Hazel’s mind shut down. She knew only one thing. She wouldn’t run away. Fergus was gone. If these men died on this forgotten lake in the middle of ancient Scotland, she would die here, too. She rushed into their midst and took her place next to Faing. She had no idea what she would do or if she could do anything at all. She only knew she belonged there, with them.
She hadn’t placed her feet on solid ground when one of the Burgee riders plowed through the ring. The horse butted its head into Sinclair’s chest and knocked him staggering. He bumped into Hazel. They would have both gone down if Hazel hadn’t thrown her arms around the big Highlander to steady him.
For one eternal moment, they clung to each other with the Burgees pressing all around them. Swords flew thick and fast. Hazel couldn’t keep up with them. Sinclair tried to catch his balance and lost it. He collapsed at her feet.
Behind her, Faing held his saber in both hands above his head. Four swords rested against its blade, and he worked every ounce of muscle in his body to hold them back. The Burgee that knocked Sinclair over hovered over Hazel’s head. He pulled back his weapon to deliver the killing stroke. Another Burgee charged in next to him and aimed a murderous sword point at Sinclair lying helpless on the ground.
Hazel bent down to take Sinclair’s arm. She tried to help him up, but she ran out of time. The two Burgees brought their swords down at the same time. With one hand s
till resting on Sinclair’s shoulder, Hazel raised her other hand. A human hand against those swords wouldn’t do any good, but she possessed no other weapon with which to defend herself and Sinclair.
At that moment, something changed. The scene slowed down to a crawl. Hazel stepped outside herself and saw everything unfold in slow motion replay. Droplets of sweat flew off Faing’s forehead. Sinclair’s voice calling up to her shifted to a droning rumble.
In that long pause, Hazel realized she could do something after all. She could use her power—whatever that was. She used it enough times without intending to, she understood somewhat how to do it on purpose now.
A force akin to gravity moved outward from her center. It gathered momentum through her legs, swirled and cooked and bubbled to its deepest strength in her guts, and eventually exploded out of her hand.
The Burgees’ swords struck her hand. They slashed straight down her arm. Piercing fire stabbed through her insides. A blinding flash of light pulsed into her eyes.
The next thing she knew, the scene vanished and she found herself standing alone on the wooden drawbridge of the castle she saw across the lake.
Chapter 8
Hazel gazed back across the lake. Some motionless figures stood on the opposite shore, but she herself stood unharmed a mile away up a mountain.
While she stood there wondering at it all, a bunch of people crossed the courtyard inside the caste gate. Golden lamplight lit the place, and chattering, laughing voices rippled out into the night. Dogs and chickens and children and a few cows passed going both ways at once. People called back and forth, and faint strains of music rose and fell somewhere in the distance.
Hazel stared, first at the inviting courtyard and then back out across the lake in the direction from which she’d come. What just happened, she couldn’t say, but here she was, alone.
Before she could get her mind working, a tall woman in tight breeches and a loose-fitting shirt belted around her waist strode out of the courtyard onto the drawbridge. She wore a long sword on her left hip and a dagger jammed into her belt. A golden pendant hung around her neck. An emblem in the shape of a star hung at her throat. Other than that, she looked like any woman Hazel might have met on the street.
Destiny Stone (Phoenix Throne Book 3): A Scottish Highlander Time Travel Romance Page 5
