A Bridge Through The Mist

by Denise A. Agnew

  As she moved along, her suspicious streak and Tynan’s advice to be wary kept her alert. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness. Moonlight slanted along the ground, unnerving her with shadows against the castle walls.

  The guards standing at the entrance to the castle barely glanced her way as she rushed by them.

  "Mistress," someone whispered from an alcove in the curtain wall. Alenna jumped as she turned about, startled.

  Nestled in the alcove, Clandon grinned at her, beckoning her toward him. In the gloom he looked like a little ghost from a Dicken’s tale. A forlorn, flea-bitten, hungry child.

  "Clandon, what are you doing here? It’s late," she asked, stepping close to the ragged boy and keeping her voice low. His thin shirt and hole-ridden trousers couldn’t conceal the trembling in his limbs. "It’s freezing out here."

  Clandon’s eyes widened, a clear sense of urgency in the way he clutched her arm. "Mistress, what are ye doin’? Ye could be set upon by ruffians—"

  "Enough, Clandon." Thoroughly tired of being told she couldn’t make a move without a man by her side, she continued, "I can take care of myself, no matter what Tynan says. I don’t see him worrying about your protection."

  His face screwed up in confusion. Despite the high pitch of his voice, the boy managed to sound vaguely authoritative. He’d been watching Tynan’s tactics for too long. "But I’m almost a man, Mistress, while you are only a—"

  "Woman. I know." Alenna heaved a sigh. "Have you seen Tynan?"

  "Nay."

  Annoyance and apprehension sharpened her tone. "When did you last see him?"

  "With Dougald, Mistress. He’s been there most all the night."

  "Dougald. Not with Caithleen?"

  Once again his slim face registered mystification. "Nay. Though he did say he was meetin’ her tonight."

  "Where?"

  "They have a secret hidin’ place not far from here."

  Secret hiding place.

  She tried unsuccessfully to jam back a torrent of irritation. She took two deep breaths. Maybe it would be better if she turned away now and went back to the Black Tower. What Tynan did in his spare time wasn’t her business.

  Clandon took the decision away from her. "Come with me, Mistress. I bet ye a half-penny I can find him."

  He held out his grubby little hand.

  Alenna smiled. Little beggar. "After you find him, you’ll get the half-penny."

  With a sense of urgency, she followed the boy. Immediately she thought of Caithleen and Tynan in an embrace, and it made her angry. She didn’t think she could stand the sight of them together as a couple. Secondary to that irritation was her concern about what would happen if the baron discovered Caithleen had a lover. Would he hurt Caithleen and Tynan? Visions of Caithleen being executed and Tynan thrown in the dungeon or hanged hurried her forward. Either scenario made her stomach tumble, and fear raced like tiny bursts of energy over her body.

  Clandon led her past a square tower dominating the west wall. They’d barely gone past when three men stepped out of an alcove right in front of Clandon. With a gasp Clandon stepped back and into Alenna. She grabbed his shoulders.

  "Well, now, what have we here?" one of the men asked, his voice a viper’s hiss.

  All three men wore dark hoods with holes for their eyes, noses and mouths. Ghosts in a motley parade, they immediately surrounded her and Clandon. Like the alarm in a fire station, her mind blared for her to get the hell out, before the real blaze started. Her feet remained rooted to the ground.

  "Let us pass," Clandon said, stepping out of her grip to face the tallest, biggest man.

  "I dinna think so, lad," the man said, reaching out and shoving him violently to the side.

  Clandon fell onto his side. "Ow! Bluidy swine!"

  Alenna gasped. "How dare you touch him—"

  "Shut up," he snarled as she reached for Clandon.

  One of the men grabbed her from behind before she could assist the boy. "Where ye goin’, bonnie lass?"

  She struggled against the man’s hard grip, yanking forward. Pain sheered through her arms as his fingers tightened cruelly.

  "Let me go you—"

  The man who had pushed Clandon down lashed out, his palm landing squarely on her cheek. Sharp, stinging pain spread across her skin as she fell back into the other man’s arms. Instinct sent adrenaline straight into her blood and she kicked back, landing a solid blow on her captor’s shins.

  All hell broke loose.

  Clandon, quickly recovered, launched himself at the man who had hit Alenna, landing on the brute’s back.

  As the third man reached for her, she ducked under his arm. With a twist and a kick she booted him in the butt and sent him flailing. He stumbled but didn’t fall.

  "Clandon, get out of here!" Alenna yelled.

  The boy beat at the man’s back, ignoring her.

  "Get off me, ye bluidy fool. I’ll rip ye to pieces and feed ye to the hounds!" the man hissed.

  She would have run if she’d been alone. Ready to cry out for help, she backed up and ran straight into the big man she’d just booted in the behind.

  Before she could let out more than a squeak, the man spun her to face him, bringing her flush against him. She gagged on his heavy stench of liquor, sweat and urine.

  "I’ve got somethin’ for ye, little bitch," the man growled. "Wanna taste?"

  Nausea pitched her stomach as if she were in a ship tossed on a sea. "You make me sick!"

  Violently Alenna twisted and stamped on his foot. He cuffed her across the face again, and the pain rocketed through her head, dizziness weakening her knees. She sagged against him.

  Suddenly, the man’s arms released her and she fell to her side. She heard the angry roar of a man’s voice and saw her captor being yanked backwards and thrown to the ground. Shaking her head to clear away the fog hovering over her vision, she saw a figure looming over her attacker.

  "Tynan," she whispered.

  If he heard her he made no indication. Instead he held his claymore high and glared down at the man, as if ready to slice him to pieces.

  "Ye stinkin’ piece of filth." Tynan lifted his sword higher. "How dare ye touch her?"

  Instead of raising his voice, Tynan spoke each word slowly and precisely. Each assertion made the man at his feet sink lower, as if he sensed the deadly power Tynan could unleash.

  The quiet lasted for all of thirty seconds.

  The man who originally had gripped Alenna from behind launched himself at Tynan.

  "Look out!" Alenna screamed.

  Tynan turned with a lightning move, his claymore catching the man across the throat. Alenna winced as the blade cut through flesh, and in the moonlight she saw the dark stain of the man’s life force blotch his neck and spread down the front of his shirt. He staggered and fell dead, an expression of utter surprise on his face.

  The momentary distraction gave the man on the ground time to kick Tynan in the midsection.

  "No!" Alenna cried out and ran forward.

  Clandon grabbed her arm. "Nay, ye’ll be killed."

  The man who had slapped her grabbed for a piece of wood and swung it at Tynan’s head. He missed as Tynan ducked and landed a blow to the man’s belly with the claymore. The man moved quickly enough and the blade barely split his flesh. Surging forward, he rushed at Tynan again.

  The man who had hit Tynan in the stomach lifted the huge piece of wood and aimed for Tynan’s head. Alenna’s cry of warning came too late. The wood came down on Tynan’s head with a sickening thud. He fell flat on his face in the dirt.

  "No!" Alenna ran toward Tynan, dropping down next to him and reaching for his claymore. She lifted the heavy sword with both hands, grunting. As she stood, she staggered under the weight.

  "Don’t come any closer," she said, panting for breath.

  The big man laughed, and the man who bled from his stomach gave her a gap-toothed smile, even as he grimaced in pain.

  "And what do ye plan to d
o with that, wench?" the big man asked.

  "Kill you," she said, not even taking a chance to look down at Tynan and see if he might be alive.

  Oh, God. Tynan. Please, please be all right.

  Alenna fought back the fright turning her legs to mush, her head spinning with dizziness. Her arms weakened as the heavy metal of the claymore dragged at her arms.

  The big man stepped forward, but she held the claymore in front of her. "Don’t touch him. I swear I’ll kill you."

  "Now, little lass, why dinna ye drop the blade and we will let ye go. All we want is this here—"

  In her peripheral vision, she saw the second man lunge at her. As her heart leapt into her mouth, she turned the claymore to the left and lifted it toward the oncoming man. He barely had time to hold himself back and prevent himself from being impaled.

  Anger gave her strength. "Get back! I swear, if you don’t I’ll kill you."

  "Back away, ye stinkin’ curs," a voice said from the darkness. Dougald marched out of the shadows with four other soldiers, his claymore at the ready. "Back away. If she doesna kill ye, I will."

  The men moved away, and Dougald signaled two of the four soldiers to take care of the brigands. Within moments, the bloodied men were hauled to the dungeon.

  Trembling, Alenna felt her arms give way, and she dropped the claymore and fell to her knees beside Tynan.

  Dougald put his arm around her as he knelt beside her. "Are ye all right, Mistress?"

  She nodded. "I’m fine. Oh, God, Tynan," she whispered searching for a pulse in his neck. Anxiety hammered in her throbbing head and throughout her sore body. "Dougald, help me."

  Dougald rolled him over as she found a pulse. She sighed in relief and tears ran from her eyes like rain. "He’s alive." In the semi-darkness she couldn’t see the wound to his head. "We have to help him."

  Dougald gestured for the remaining two soldiers to assist. "We’ll take him to the west tower."

  As the two soldiers lifted Tynan and started away, Alenna began to follow.

  Dougald put a hand out and stopped her. "I’m sorry, but women are no allowed in that tower."

  "Why?" she asked, incredulous.

  "‘Tis the weaponry inside and lodgin’ for soldiers."

  "I don’t care."

  His hand remained firm on her shoulder. "‘Tis Tynan’s own rule. He wad skin me alive if he kenned ye had been inside."

  "I can’t believe this. That’s ridiculous." She clenched her hands into fists at her sides.

  Dougald ignored her and nodded at Clandon. "Take her home."

  Clandon latched onto her arm.

  "But how will I know whether he’s all right?" Alenna asked as Dougald started to walk away.

  "He’ll be all right, Mistress. His head is as hard as stone, take my word for it."

  "But—"

  "I’ll have Clandon bring word to ye."

  Dougald left, and Alenna allowed Clandon to guide her to the Black Tower. All the way back, Clandon endured her mutterings about men and stupid rules, and stupid men and rules.

  * * *

  Morning light streamed into the Black Tower, and Alenna paced, the sound of her feet over the stone chafing her already taut nerves.

  Exactly two hours had passed since Clandon had gone to see how Tynan fared. Just enough time for every imaginable horrible scenario to play out in her mind.

  Tynan’s life was slipping away at that very moment.

  Tynan had already died.

  "No," she whispered, putting her hands to her bruised face.

  Tynan had to be all right.

  Stupid fool! The man was nothing more than a savage Highlander, with the brute strength of an elephant. Why should she worry about his tough hide?

  "Worthless rules anyway," Alenna muttered to the empty room and continued to pace. "Leave it to a man—"

  A solid knock on the door made her heart jump. She’d been as twitchy as a skittish colt since she’d returned to the tower. She opened the door and Clandon stood at the threshold.

  "Mistress, I have good news of Tynan."

  A ripple of relief softened the tight knots in her stomach. "How is he?"

  A smile lit his pale face. "He is well. "Twould hardly ken he was in a fight. He’s askin’ for ye."

  "Asking for me?" she said in surprise. "But I thought I couldn’t go into that tower—"

  "Dougald told him to loosen the rules for ye," Clandon said as he started away.

  Ignoring the need for a cloak, Alenna rushed with him through the castle, bumping into several people as she trotted to keep up with Clandon’s pace.

  As they arrived at the tower, Clandon solicited permission to enter from the guard lounging indolently against the wall near the entrance. As she glanced in the first room next to the stairs, she noted a large, poorly lit room that held armor and weapons of battle.

  The spiral stairs were slimy with dampness, and more than once she almost slipped. At the top of the stairs, Clandon entered a bright room, Alenna following close behind.

  "Here she is, sir. I found her pacin’ the floor, just as ye said," Clandon said to Dougald.

  "Good work, lad. Now be gone with ye," Dougald said.

  Clandon left as she entered the austere room. A large table at the center of the room sported chain mail and a helm. A pallet and one chair graced the other side of the room, and a frayed tapestry hung from one wall. A smoky fire and stale ale gave the room the lingering reek of a pool hall.

  Tynan sat in a chair, a bandage wrapped around his right forearm, a large bruise rising on his forehead over his scar. He held a goblet in his left hand.

  "Good day, Mistress," Dougald said, beaming a smile in her direction as if he hadn’t spoken with her only two hours ago. "‘Tis a fine day out."

  "Fine?" she asked, ignoring his grin and pinning them both with a glare. "I’ve been wondering for two hours if Tynan was all right, or if he’d died and no one was going to tell me." She gestured to Tynan, anger wiping her worry for him straight out of her system. "And you! Making an absurd rule about women not being allowed into this tower."

  Tynan glared right back. "What are ye bleatin’ about, woman?"

  His condescending tone lit her like a match. Heat rose in her face, and she couldn’t stop the words spewing forth. "Bleating? I am not a sheep, and stop calling me woman."

  Tynan gave Dougald a bemused look, and Dougald shrugged.

  "Well, ye are a woman, make no mistake," Dougald said, his smile a gleam of masculine assurance.

  "You stay out of this," she said sharply.

  Dougald’s eyebrows speared upwards, practically disappearing in the shaggy bangs across his forehead.

  When she said nothing more, Tynan gave her a hard, lingering stare. "She’s no happy to see me, Dougald, that much is for certain."

  Dougald cleared his throat and started for the door.

  "I’ll be in the arms room," he said. He paused at the doorway and gave Tynan a long-suffering look. "Tell me Caithleen doesna have a temper like this wench does, Tynan?"

  "Nay, Dougald. I think this one is the hottest of them all. ‘Tis a great wonder I have if she’s as hot to bed."

  Throwing back his head, Dougald gave a bark of laughter.

  She gasped, and the implication of Tynan’s words made her entire body flair with heat. Inhaling another indignant breath, she watched as Dougald beat a hasty retreat, the echo of his continuing laughter lingering in the room. Alenna felt her temper rise another notch.

  "How dare you?" she said as she turned on Tynan, placing her hands on her hips. "I have half a mind to smack that smirk off your ugly face."

  Instead of growling at her as she expected, he laughed. Liquid sloshed out of his goblet. As he put the cup down on the table, she stepped up to his chair within easy reach. She might decide to belt him one.

  "Aye. I’m ugly at that. Are ye just now takin’ notice of it, lass?" he asked.

  "No," she ground out. "I noticed it the first time I laid eye
s on you."

  Tynan laughed again, and then gasped, a flicker of pain darting over his features.

  She knelt beside him and put her hand on his broad shoulder, then gently turned his face toward her. She inspected the wound on his forehead. "Elizabet should look at this. Have you cleaned it?"

  "Aye. Dougald took care of me. He was about to put a wrap on it." He twitched an eyebrow. "Would ye like to wrap it for me, sweet?"

  If he hadn’t let a soft, almost sexy smile cross his lips, she might really have taken a swing at him. The man had obviously consumed too much wine. Spouting endearments. Humph.

  "Don’t call me sweet. Where else are you hurt?"

  "I’ve naught but some small cuts and such. The rotten, carrion eatin’ swine barely put a dent in me." He passed a hand over his chin.

  "A dent! They practically killed you!"

  Anger deepened his eyes to onyx. "The other one’s lucky I took mercy on him and cut him in a way that he still lives." His face went grim and tight, and the bloodlust of battle clearly etched on his features.

  "You could have been killed," she whispered, her voice almost strangling.

  "Nay. I am well nigh invincible." He cupped her cheek gently in his big palm. "Yer poor, wee face. Does it hurt ye much?"

  "No."

  Tynan traced a finger gently along her jaw. "Now ye see why ye must never go out alone."

  She sighed, half from the sensation of his callused, warm hand on her face, and half over the continuing lecture about her safety. When his hand dropped from her face, she wished he wouldn’t have moved.

  "You hadn’t come back to the tower. When I woke up it was late and I thought …"

  "What did ye think?" His fingers gently touched the bruise on her cheek.

  Alenna shook her head and didn’t answer. She couldn’t tell him she’d gone in search of him and Caithleen, intent on nosing into his personal life.

  "The two that attacked me are in the dungeon, waitin’ out whatever punishment the baron sees fit to give." He shifted in his seat, a flicker of pain crossing his face again.

  Curiosity still moved her to discover where Tynan had been most of the night. "I suppose you were coming back to the Black Tower after seeing Caithleen safely home?"