* * *
Coughing as smoke filtered into their cells, Alenna, Clandon, and Johanna stayed low to the ground.
A loud boom overhead shook the building, and Johanna screamed. A part of the wall of Clandon’s cell collapsed.
"Clandon!" Alenna ran to the hole between their cells and peered through.
"I am fit, mistress. If they keep goin’ I will soon be out of here." Grinning at her through the hole, his voice relayed the cheerful refrain of a boy heady with the desire for battle.
Night had descended on the castle many hours ago, and the constant assault battered Alenna’s ears and nerves. Even with the coming early hours of the morning, the attack hadn’t lessened. A red glow, no doubt from the flicker of flames consuming various parts of the castle, cast a strange light inside the dungeon. Hell had come to MacAulay Castle.
Alenna shivered with a chill deep in her bones. Her despair increased by the hour, as all their discussing and planning came to nothing. They could form no ideas on how to escape the formidable prison.
"If we leave here," Johanna said softly, "I willna disobey me mathair again."
The girl’s solemn vow filled Alenna’s heart with a sense of relief for the girl. At least, Johanna had regained hope that Elizabet might be alive. "I’m sure she will just be glad to see you."
Several moments later, footsteps echoed down the stairway leading to the dungeon.
Johanna gasped and seized Alenna’s arm.
A soldier emerged from the darkness carrying a torch, and behind him stood the baron. Alenna straightened, lifting her chin in a gesture of defiance.
"Most delighted to see you my dear Johanna. And you, Alenna, of course," the baron said, an inane smile plastered on his face. He turned to the guard. "Unlock the door."
"What have ye done with my mathair?" Johanna asked.
"Never you mind."
The baron reached in and snatched Alenna by the arm, dragging her from the cell. Then he slammed the door. Johanna grabbed the bars.
"Where do ye take her?" Clandon called out. "Leave her be!"
Not deigning to answer, the baron dragged her upstairs. Fear surged through Alenna’s veins like fire.
"Ruthven has come for you, hasn’t he?" Alenna asked.
The baron stopped immediately, glaring down at her. Smeared with soot from head to toe, he laughed and tightened his grip on her arm. "And your traitor lover shows him the way."
Was Tynan truly all right? Perhaps Tynan had convinced Ruthven to be on his side. But her joy dissipated like a whiff of smoke at the baron’s next words.
"If he wants you, he will have to come and get you. And I will be waiting for him."
"You’ve lost," she said. "Surrender. Maybe Ruthven will show you mercy."
She yanked her arm from the baron’s excruciating grip.
The guard cuffed her on the back of the head, and she fell to her knees on the stone steps. The pain in her knees far outweighed the pain in her head, but dizziness kept her from rising.
The baron rounded on the guard. "You simpleton! ‘Tis I who will punish her!"
The baron pulled her up again, and she swayed. Relentlessly he drew her up the steps two at a time. Alenna’s heart pounded in her chest, fright making her mouth dry and her legs weak. She knew she would die unless she thought of some way to save herself.
Tears filled her eyes for all the people she had failed.
She’d failed herself, her friends, and most of all Tynan.
Once outside the stuffy dungeon, acrid smoke filled her lungs, and she coughed and covered her mouth and nose with her hand. All around her, shouting and screaming echoed about the castle like the tormented souls of hell. Hearing cries from the battlements above, she saw men pouring over the top of the walls nearest the gate house and barbican.
A flaming arrow came over the wall nearest them and landed directly in front of the baron. He stepped back, bumping into her. He turned swiftly and grabbed her arm to pull her along.
Alenna glanced at the guard. Shorter than she, but heavily muscled, he looked capable of inflicting significant damage if he so chose. A wild notion snapped into her mind. Though it was unlikely she could overpower two men, what choice did she have but to fight?
It was now or never.
She yanked her arm out of the baron’s grip, stopped and turned, wedging a knee in to the groin of the unsuspecting guard. Luckily he hadn’t worn a protective codpiece. As the guard doubled over in pain, she took off at the fastest run she could manage among the free-for-all.
"Get her, you fool!" the baron’s rasping cry filled the air.
As she ran, Alenna realized she might be in as much danger from the chaos going on around her as she had been in the baron’s clutches. If she could hole up somewhere—
She remembered the alcove Tynan had pulled her into that day, and headed for it. At least it would be out of the direct fire, and she would have time to think about what to do next. All around her, men engaged in hand-to-hand combat. She dashed around clusters of fallen bodies.
An arrow sailed by her head and slammed into a soldier wrestling with another man. He crumpled and fell dead at her feet. The other man turned on her and pulled out a dagger. Alenna backed away and stumbled straight into a solid body.
Two powerful arms came about her. "Bitch!"
The baron had her.
She struggled, kicking her heels back, but his arms crushed hers to her side. "Let me go!"
Before she could scream a blow to the back of her head turned her world into piercing pain and blackness.
* * *
CHAPTER 22
Meat locker cold shook Alenna’s frame, her body quaking as she woke.
So cold.
Sharp pain lanced her head and she gasped, reaching up to press her hand to her forehead.
Dragging. She felt her feet trailing against the ground. Dazed, she couldn’t recall anything. Shivering, she opened her eyes and realized the baron had her under the arms and was pulling her along the ground like a sack of potatoes. All around them, the noises of battle continued, mixed with a horrid stench she’d never smelled before.
Did fear have a scent?
More tremors wracked her frame. Dizziness swamped her again, and she felt something trickle down the back of her neck. For a second, the idea she might be dying ran through her mind. No! She didn’t want to die. She wanted more than anything to tell Tynan she loved him and would stay with him in this century. No matter what, she couldn’t leave him … now or ever.
Allowing her eyes to open, Alenna noted the baron moved in the direction of the donjon. Gathering her scattered thoughts and ignoring the throbbing pain in her head, she decided she had to get away from him now or be killed. It was as simple as that.
"Bitch," she heard the baron mutter. "Wretched whore. You are like all the rest. All the rest."
A fresh spate of energy came to her, and with every bit of strength she had left, she shifted, throwing him off balance as she struggled against the painful grip of his arms.
He dropped her, and she rolled away from him, coming up against another body. She hopped up, dodging the baron as he rushed for her. He slipped in mud and tripped. Stepping back, she almost fell over another body.
As she looked down, Alenna saw the man lying at her feet clutched a knife in his dead hands. She snatched it as the baron leaped to his feet. An animal roar left the baron’s throat as he charged her. Everything seemed to slow down, like congealing honey dripping from a spoon. She had time to see the feral grin of triumph on his face, obviously sure of his victory. Madness stamped its brand on his hate-distorted face, a clear testimony to his insanity.
"I’ll kill you!" he screamed, dashing toward her.
Lashing out with the knife, her own screech of fright and anger tearing from her throat, Alenna caught him across his right cheek.
Howling, he lurched back, blood streaming down his face. Expletives split his lips as he held a hand to his damaged skin and stagge
red toward her.
Run.
Run.
She turned, certain it might be her only chance for survival.
She felt a burning pain lance her arm a second later, and the fresh agony jolted through her. Clamping her hand to her arm, she used the last of her strength to face her attacker.
The baron laughed, the insane sound chilling Alenna’s veins like an ice water bath, his bloodied face a grimace of mingled pain and depravity.
Suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, she saw a man.
She’d recognize him anywhere. A surge of joy so powerful she could barely think melded through her and strengthened her will.
"Tynan!" Alenna cried out, half in warning and half in welcome.
Tynan was truly alive. Tears threatened her eyes, blinking rapidly she tried to stop them from coming. Now was not the time to weep, but to survive.
She had seconds to take in the sight of his handsome face. Blood ran from a cut on his forehead, and his eyes burned with battle lust. Then the baron leapt upon her, jerking her in front of him and holding the knife to her throat. Her heart pounded heavy in her chest, and she felt as if she couldn’t get her breath.
I’m dead.
She expected to feel the knife split her throat.
She would never kiss Tynan again.
God, please keep him safe.
"Alenna!" Tynan came to a halt several yards away, his breath coming hard, his feet spread apart, his claymore secured in one hand and a knife in the other.
"You wouldn’t dare," the baron said, a stream of blood coming from his mouth and splashing on her shoulder. "The wench is mine. I will have the pleasure of seeing the pain in your eyes as I kill her, Tynan of MacBrahin."
She saw hatred for the baron in Tynan’s eyes. She caught his glance and held it for a split second, willing all her heart into one gaze. Did he know how much she loved him? Could she convey all she felt, other than stark fear, into her eyes?
"Nay," Tynan said, still breathing hard. "Ye have done enough killin’ and rapin’ in yer time. Ye will be executed for the murder of William of Ruthven’s daughter, Mirabella. Release her." Tynan gritted each word through his teeth. "Or I swear I shall gut ye like a fish."
The baron laughed. An evil, putrid sound which made her flesh crawl with disgust. "Nay. It shall be I that guts you."
The baron nuzzled her neck, then brought his dagger closer to her throat. "Come closer and she dies."
Alenna saw everything as if it were in slow motion, as another soldier came from behind Tynan and started for him. "Tynan. Behind you!"
Tynan swung about with his claymore as the man charged. Tynan welded the claymore with such power he sliced the man’s head clean from his body.
She felt the baron’s grip slacken and instinct drove her. She shoved back, stomping on the baron’s foot with all her strength. He howled in pain and loosened his hold. As she wrenched from him, Alenna felt the knife slice through her arm again, and she gasped at the pain. Stumbling out of his way, she tripped and fell on her back.
Tynan raced toward the baron, a cry issuing from his throat as he attacked. The baron growled as he pulled his sword from the scabbard, and parried Tynan’s first thrust with the claymore. Tynan drove the baron back with one thrust and then another.
Alenna sat up and clutched at her wounded arm. Light-headed, she used all her will to remain conscious, watching as the two men fought.
Tynan quickly took the advantage as he drove the baron back.
Like a strange ballet the two men thrust, sidestepped, thrust, rebuffed. Tynan’s superior size and strength quickly gained the upper hand. Moments later, Tynan dealt the baron a fierce blow to the shoulder, driving the man to his knees.
With blinding speed Tynan swung his claymore, a battle growl issuing from his throat as he gripped the sword in both hands.
He lopped the baron’s head from his shoulders.
The baron’s headless body dropped to the ground like a sack of flour.
Alenna watched in shock and relief as Tynan stood over the dead man. His breath rasped hard in his chest. Then, with a heavy sigh, he turned and saw her sitting on the ground clutching her arm. His fierce battle expression faded, the hardness leaving his eyes, replaced by weariness and unmistakable relief.
Alenna sobbed as he strode toward her. Sinking onto his knees beside her, he pulled her against him and kissed her forehead, her face, her lips. His breath came harsh and labored.
"Thank God. Thank God," he whispered, his voice deep and strained.
She let the sobs escape, bursting through her throat in great heaves that made her cough and choke.
"Sweet," he murmured, looking down at her. "Ye are safe now. No one will ever hurt ye again. Ye are safe." He saw her injured arm and cursed. "Oh, God, sweet, ye are wounded."
Alenna tried to answer but could only gasp in pain, the croak coming from her throat like a plea.
He ripped part of her dress away and used it to bind her wound. Gently he picked her up in his arms and strode with her toward the Black Tower. In a daze, she realized the fighting had ceased. Smoldering ashes, the sounds of the wounded and dying, the cheers of the victorious heralded the end.
"It’s over," she whispered as he held her tightly in his arms.
She looked into those brown eyes she thought she’d never see again. For a moment he stopped and stared down at her. A tentative smile barely touched his hard lips.
"Aye. ‘Tis over." Tynan kissed her with a hot, sweet taste of passion remembered and yet to come.
"I … I thought I might never see you again," she murmured.
"God’s blood, sweet," he rasped, his voice husky with fatigue. "Ye will be the death of me yet."
"Not today." She smiled through a rain of tears as she clutched him close. "Not today." When he managed a weak smile she asked, "Have you seen the others? Are they safe?"
"Aye. Dougald has taken Caithleen and Clandon outside the castle walls. When I first fought my way into the castle, I went to the donjon. Elizabet was there with Caithleen. Caithleen said ye had been taken to the dungeon. Dougald and I freed Clandon and Johanna and then I came for ye."
As they went toward the Black Tower, she realized they walked in the same spot where she’d been hurled through time. As they continued, she knew going back to her time didn’t matter. She had all she needed right here, right this moment.
Once inside the tower, Tynan placed her gently on the big bed and sat beside her. Among the smudges of dirt and blood on his face, she saw the glitter of tears in his eyes. The sight melted her heart with tenderness. She reached up to touch his dear face.
Crushing her to him, he whispered into her hair. "Sweet, I love ye. I love ye more than life itself. When I saw the baron holdin’ a knife to yer throat … I thought—"
She touched her lips to his gently. "Shhh … I’m here with you now."
"Alenna," he whispered, "I wad do anythin’ for ye, I love ye so much. Dinna ever leave me."
Happiness swelled within Alenna, reaching a height that only hours ago she never could have dreamed. She kissed him over and over and whispered the words she knew he wanted to hear.
"And I love you, Tynan of MacBrahin. I’ll never leave you."
* * *
As Alenna walked in the fresh, crisp morning air, she realized her heart was free from worry.
All around her signs of the castle’s devastation loomed, but Ruthven had ordered repairs and for a month steady progress had been made. Once again the walls of MacAulay Castle, under the protection of Baron Ruthven, bloomed into a place of commerce. Alenna had never seen the people look happier and more industrious as they went about their daily business. They’d discovered the new lord of the castle could be a generous and kind man. Soon Baron MacAulay’s cruel shadow would be erased from the castle.
But there were some things that couldn’t be erased.
She pressed her hand to her stomach and smiled tenderly. Elizabet’s prophecy had come true in
more ways than one.
Alenna had been overjoyed by the last month’s events. Through all the death and destruction, many good things happened. Among them was Elizabet’s quick recovery from her head wound. Johanna had weathered her horrible experiences, seemed to be the stronger for them, and had entered into a better relationship with her mother. And just that morning Caithleen and Dougald had married in the chapel.
Alenna quickened her steps back to the Black Tower, eager to be with Tynan. Last night, as he’d held her in his arms, he’d said he had something to ask her. Anticipation ran straight through her blood. Could he be ready to propose? If not, she planned to propose to him. It might not be the done thing in the fourteenth century, but she didn’t care.
Although content to stay in the fourteenth century, she hadn’t given up her independent ideas. In fact, she’d managed to teach Caithleen a thing or two. Caithleen had proposed to Dougald.
Smiling, Alenna instinctively felt for the ring on her finger. As she turned the ring around so the garnet faced out for all the world to see, the answer struck her like a bolt of lightning from the cloudless sky.
The ring.
She’d been almost in this same spot, close to the Black Tower when she’d discovered the ring and been hurled through time. Now, as she looked at the gem on her finger a soft mist enveloped her, appearing as if by magic.
No. Oh, no.
While she’d known the ring was the catalyst for her return to the twentieth century, she’d never been sure exactly how. Now she knew, and the reality of the mist clouding the world around her with its cold breath set a pattern of fear and sadness into her heart. She knew the mist would take her back to the twentieth century and she would never see Tynan again.
And he would never know she carried his child.
So this explained the legend of Tynan losing his love. She had entered his life in a swirling mist and would leave just the same.
She heard the sound of horse’s hooves clopping and looked through the gathering thick fog. Tynan sat upon Dragon. She saw his mouth open as if to speak, and he reached out to her.
She held her hand out to him, desperate for one last touch. "Tynan!"
A Bridge Through The Mist Page 27
