“Me? But I’m no one.”
“You are not no one. You are the one.”
“I’m not who you think I am, I’m just-”
Deirdre held up a hand to silence her. Then she turned and glanced out of the window. “Time runs short. Take this.” She got up and reached behind her bed, pulling out a dagger, the blade black as night. “If you are the one, you will know when to use this. Now go.”
Wallace got to his feet, seeing the look in Deirdre’s eyes. “What’s out there?”
“The captain is waiting for you by his ship. All you have to do is get to it.” She grabbed Wallace’s hands. “Whatever you do, do not let any harm come to her. If we meet again, I shall have something very important to tell you. I wish I could tell you now but it would be too dangerous. Take care.”
He glanced past her through the window. Several boats were growing near the shore. “An army,” he said. “What are they doing here?”
“Looking for you,” she replied. “You must go. Take the goat track to the north.” She hurried them both out the door, calling after them, “Good luck.”
Wallace began running. He glanced over his shoulder. Already Natalie was falling back, struggling up the steep path that led along the rising cliff edge.
Swearing under his breath and seeing the boats less than a minute from the shore he turned back. “What are you doing?” she asked.
“This,” he replied, hoisting her over his shoulder. He began to run, the weight of her doing nothing to slow him down. As he ran he kept glancing at the dagger she held in her hand. Why had she been given that?
More thoughts crossed his mind. Deirdre had not mentioned his deal with the barefoot man but he had the strangest feeling she knew about it, nonetheless. Was that the secret she referred to? And why had he the feeling he knew her from somewhere?
While he’d been sitting inside her shack he was sure she was reading his innermost thoughts. He shook off the feeling. That was not possible.
He knew he would have to make a choice at some point. Let that point be far off. For now what mattered was getting away from the people chasing them.
If they were working for the barefoot man, they would snatch the key from him and his chance at being reunited with his father would vanish. Only by keeping her and the key safe did he still have a chance at getting his deal honored. For now, it was the two of them against the world.
The goat track vanished a little further on. For a moment he was unsure which way to go but then he saw a narrow track leading into the undergrowth, dipping below the boughs of a giant hazel tree.
Once out the other side, he was gratified to see a ship down by the shore. He put on a fresh burst of speed, ignoring the crashing sounds of men following behind, their shouts fading as he put some distance between himself and his pursuers.
A minute later he was were down on the shoreline with Natalie back on her feet. A man in a battered old leather hat was climbing out of a rowing boat, dragging it up onto the sand. “Captain,” Wallace shouted. “We set sail.”
“I am not your captain,” the man replied. “Nor am I going anywhere. I am going hunting for gull eggs.”
“We must get to the mainland at once. Deirdre sent us.”
“That old witch. She just wants me gone because of what I called her last time I was here. You tell her from me, there is nothing that will get me sailing off here until I am good and ready. I’m staying put.”
At that point, the pursuing army reached the clifftop above. With a cry they began to sprint down toward the sand.
“On second thought,” the man said, pushing his rowboat back into the water. “It might be time to get going after all. Well, are you coming or not?”
Wallace dropped Natalie into the stern of the rowboat before climbing in next to the captain, taking the oar he offered. Together they began to row out to the waiting ship as their pursuers reached the shore and ran out into the water, trying to swim after them.
“They’re coming,” Natalie said in a panicky voice. “They’ll kill us.”
“They’ll drown,” the captain said. “There are currents in this bay that would overpower the strongest swimmer.”
Wallace watched as the men began to struggle. Some went under almost at once, pushing and fighting each other as they battled the current. The others returned to the shore, a few drawing bows and firing arrows out at them.
“What if they get to their boats?” Natalie asked. “How can we take on that many ships?”
“This is the Merry Jane,” the captain said, nodding toward his ship. “Fastest ship in the highlands. They will never catch us.”
More arrows flew out toward them, landing harmlessly in the water and vanishing from sight.
“What’s the matter with you?” Wallace asked as Natalie ducked down as low as she could.
“I’m scared,” she replied. “I’ve never had arrows fired at me before.”
“Dinnae worry. They cannot reach us this far out. You will not get hurt under my protection.”
He grunted as an arrow pierced his side a moment later.
“I thought you said we would not get hurt,” she said as they finally left the range of the bows behind them.
“I promised you, not me,” he replied.
“Dinnae worry,” the captain said with a grin. “If you die, I will take good care of her for you.”
“That’s very kind of you,” Wallace said. “I’ll bear it in mind.”
9
The barefoot man had been summoned.
She wanted to talk to him.
Around him the nocturnal animals shied away. Rabbits darted into the undergrowth as he passed, bats sensed his presence and shifted their flight path.
The wind was the only thing willing to draw near, cutting through him though he did not feel the cold. The only thing he felt was anger.
He was supposed to be supervising his army. His men were spread across the highlands. They entered the bleakest of valleys, the most dangerous taverns, the towns and the country.
They listened to all the rumors and then fed the information directly back to him. They were waiting for his signal. When it came they would finally get to slake their bloodthirst, go on the rampage and slaughter all those who opposed him.
First, he needed the key. No doubt that was why she had summoned him. To remind him of what he already knew. He touched the dagger under his cowl, wondering whether he should just kill her and have done with it.
He laughed at the idea. If he could have done that, he’d have done it years ago. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t tried to murder her. She’d survived wounds that would kill the strongest men, barely stopping to draw breath before continuing to berate him.
He walked through the heather, passing into the dark wood behind the castle, the one place where no one ever went.
The rumors were that the place was filled with dark magic, that none who entered ever came out alive. He did not pause before pushing through the undergrowth, burying himself in the darkness of the wood he knew like the back of his hand.
The cave was in the middle of the wood, hidden from all but the most skilled eye behind huge growths of stinking plants that seemed to move against the wind, not with it.
He shoved his way past them and into the cave, having to duck to fit through the narrow passage that opened out into a large unnatural chamber in the middle of the network of tunnels.
At the far end of the chamber were the rough-hewn steps that descended into the darkness. He went down them quickly, wanting to get this over with.
A minute later he stepped out into another chamber. The stairs continued down but there was no point going down there yet, not until he had the key.
“You’re late,” a voice said from the shadows.
“And you’re keeping me from getting the key.”
“Dinnae talk to your mother like that. Show some respect.”
“What do you want?”
“Drop that tone. I’m not the
one who let three keys slip through his fingers. Need I remind you that time is of the essence?”
She emerged from the darkness, a spark flashing from her finger toward a candle which spluttered and then glowed into life, smoke curling upward toward the ceiling of the chamber.
The light was enough to illuminate her last sacrifice, the entrails still dripping from the blood table onto the floor. “Now you lose another key and time is running out to get this done. He will not last much longer.”
“If you hadn’t called for me, I’d have the fourth key in my hand right now. Any minute someone will spot the two of them.”
“They’re on Knife Island.”
He frowned. “How did they get there?”
“Because he’s trying to help them.”
The barefoot man spat on the floor. “Still interfering. It’s too late. I have my entire army out looking for them. They won’t get far.”
“Send a fleet across the island. We must get that key.”
The ground shook under their feet. “I will have it before the end of the day.”
“And when you get it, dinnae try swanning off to the future like a fool who can go his own way. You have a destiny, like it or not.”
“Listen to me old crone-”
The ground shook again, this time strongly enough to send him off balance. He fell to the floor as his mother stood over him, pointing a bony finger toward his chest.
She coughed, spitting onto his face as she did so. “Dinnae let your heart rule your head. Once your father is free, we will have all the time in the world to take over. You’ll be able to unlock any door you wish and go to any time. First we must have one of the six keys.”
“I know that,” he said, climbing back to his feet.
“And yet you’ve already lost three.”
“I didn’t lose them. I merely…misplaced them.”
“You were bested by three generations of MacGregors. Think with your head. To think I sired such a fool, it shames me to my core.”
“Don’t you trouble yourself, I will get the key.”
“You sound very sure and yet here you are empty handed yet again.”
He swore under his breath. “Anything else?”
“Do you even care about doing this or do you just want to go through time seducing pathetic little harlots?”
“Of course I care. Why do you think I’ve spent so long tracking down the keys? For the sake of my health?”
“All I know is you tried using that Tabitha woman to get hold of the key and you let your guard down and here we are, still living in a cave, your father still trapped.” She prodded him in the chest.
He shoved her backward, smiling as she fell to the floor. “I’ll get the key,” he snapped. “I’ll free him and together we will burn the world. Perhaps I’ll even get to burn you. If swords and poison can’t kill you, maybe his fire can.”
“Your father loves me. Unlike you.”
“Love? What do you know of love?”
“I know it’s nothing like they say out there. It’s dark and miserable and it hurts and I miss its caresses. We vowed to free your father. Did we not?”
He nodded, trying to resist punching her smiling face. “We did.”
“It was an ancestor of the MacGregors who made the key that holds your father to this day.”
“I know that. Why are you telling me that?”
“Because you seem to have forgotten what the MacGregors are capable of. You underestimate them every time you set forth into the highlands.”
“How could I forget? I watched them bind him and lock him away a thousand years ago, those druids mouthing their obscene verse all the while. I saw them melt the key, leaving him trapped with no way out. I watched with my own eyes as they melted the key down and made six more.”
“Six keys into the hands of the druids.” She was muttering to herself. “Six keys. Six chances to free him.” She looked up, her watery eyes fixing on him, some of the old power flashing outward, sending sparks into the air. The effort drained her and she slumped downward. “You threw away three chances for him to come back.”
“You should be more grateful. I helped the MacCallisters, like you said. I scattered the MacGregor Clan like you desired. Within a generation they’ll be wiped out.”
“They’re like cockroaches. They’ll hide and multiply and they have him on their side. What do we have? An incompetent son who can’t get hold of one small silver key no matter how many chances he’s given.”
He’d heard enough. His fist flew through the air in a blur. She was already gone, vanished back into the shadows. He was alone in the cave. Far below him, he felt more than heard a deep growl. The floor shook once again.
“You will soon be free,” he said, placing a hand on the cave floor. “It was their bloodline that did this to you. It will be with spilled MacGregor blood that you are freed. Either the fleet will catch him or he will bring me the key willingly I have made a deal with him to give him back his father. He knows not that I have no intention of honoring it.”
He laughed and though the only sound was his own voice, as he left the cave, he could have sworn he heard someone else laughing. The laughter came from deep underground. It was a sound to chill the blood of the bravest man.
It made the barefoot man smile.
10
Natalie went looking for Wallace. He was somewhere on the ship. Injured. But alive.
He had climbed onboard first, disappearing through a door while the captain readied the sails. “Anything I can do?” she asked.
“Can you sail?” the captain replied.
“Nope.”
“Then go make sure he’s not bleeding to death. I’ll get us to the mainland.”
“I’m Natalie by the way.”
“Captain.”
“Captain what?”
“That’s my name. Captain. Confusing, isn’t it?” He turned and began slackening off the sail.
Natalie left him to it, heading to the closed door and pulling it open. It took her eyes a moment to adjust to the gloom inside. Wallace was in there with his back to her, trying to reach around his back to the head of the arrow.
She watched him for a moment. He had removed his top and he seemed more muscle than man. There was a splash of dried blood around where the arrow had emerged but already she could tell it wasn’t as serious as it looked.
“Can I help?” she asked.
“I can handle this fine,” he replied.
“You’re sure? Only you look as if you’re flailing about like a beetle on its back.”
He turned his head to scowl at her. “I dinnae need help from a MacCallister.”
“Yes, you do.” She took a step toward him. “Hold still. It’s only just inside the skin.” She picked up the tunic he’d removed and tore a strip from it. “Wait there.” Sticking her head back out of the door she shouted, “Any alcohol on board?”
“Dinnae be getting drunk,” the captain called back. “The journey isnae long enough.”
“Good advice. Where is it?”
“There’s some whisky in the bottle by the bed.”
She ducked back inside, rummaging until she found it.
“What are you doing?” Wallace asked, pulling the feathers from the end of the arrow.
“Making sure you survive long enough to get me home.”
“By drinking?”
“By keeping your wound clean.” She doused the strip of fabric in whisky before handing it to him. “When I say so, press that to the wound. Ready?”
“Ready.”
She dipped a second strip and placed it nearby. “Here goes,” she said more to herself than to him. Then she pulled hard and fast. The arrow came out and immediately blood began to flow. She pressed the cloth to the wound, holding it fast while Wallace did the same at the other end. Throughout it all, he didn’t make a sound.
“Didn’t that hurt?” she asked, feeling the blood starting to soak through.
“A
ye.”
“Yet you remain silent as the grave.”
“What would be the point of screaming? The pain would remain.”
“Fair enough.” She looked at his back, noticing the scars that covered it. “You’ve had a hard life,” she said, tracing the line of one of the marks with her free hand. “Who did this to you?”
“I was beaten in the dungeon.” He paused for a moment. “Many times.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, almost able to feel his pain. She could only imagine what had caused so much damage to his skin.
Stretching her hand out, she was able to fetch a length of twine from under the bed. Wrapping it around his waist, she tied the two ends of cloth in place before finally letting go, stepping back gratified to see no fresh blood had escaped the coverings. “You can relax now.”
He looked down and then nodded. “I thank you.”
“So much for not needing a MacCallister’s help.”
“Perhaps you helped a little.”
“Tell me something.”
“What?”
“Why do you hate me?”
“What? I dinnae hate you.”
“Yes you do. I can hear it in your voice, in the way you look at me. You hate the MacCallisters and I’m a MacCallister. What have I done to you?”
“It’s not you, it’s those that came before you.”
“What? You mean my ancestors, don’t you.”
“Aye, they took my parents from me, locked up my father, took away my childhood.” He paused, sounding emotional for the first time. “They killed my father.”
“I’m not like them.”
“You have MacCallister blood coursing through you.”
“And I freed you from your chains. Does that sound like something a mortal enemy of yours would do?”
He sighed. “It is not so simple. My father was bound in chains by a MacCallister curse. He was cursed and so was I.”
The Key to Her Past Page 7
