Cottage in the Mist

by Dee Davis

  "I know. I'm just so worried."

  Jeff came up to give her a comfortable squeeze. "We're here. That's the best we can do for now. You just have to believe we'll be in time."

  Lily sighed and knelt beside the stream, cupping the cool water in her hands before lifting it to her lips. In her mind's eye she could see Bram sitting by the fire. But that had been last night. Today there'd been no contact. No matter how many times she'd reached out to him. Perhaps their clairvoyance, if that was the right name for it, was of no value when they occupied the same time.

  "I want to believe. But all of this is just so extraordinary." She drank deeply then sat back on her heels, watching Jeff and the others.

  "If you think this is hard for you, then imagine how we feel," Fergus said. "William and I. 'Tis not our first time, mind, but I ne'er expected to meet another lass from the future."

  "But you know Jeff. He was here before. Surely that makes it less of an anomaly."

  "I dinna know the word yer using. But if you mean odd, then nay, 'tis no more a part o' our world than it was the first time it happened." Fergus's frown would have been off-putting except for the soft understanding deep in his eyes.

  "But you've seen Katherine and Iain," Jeff said. "You know how important it is. Destiny and all that."

  "Aye, that I do. And even if I didn't, I would still have come, for Iain. And for Katherine."

  Lily struggled not to show her jealousy. She'd never inspired that kind of devotion in anyone. Her parents had loved her, but they'd loved each other more. And Justin. Well… he'd showed his true feelings when it had mattered most.

  But there was Bram, her heart whispered.

  And her mind was quick to remind that he'd left her. Walked away when there'd been everything between them.

  "I canna speak for Fergus, mind you," William was saying, "but I for one am happy to have an excuse for a bit of adventure."

  "Ach, lad, yer enthusiasm is guided only by yer love fer a pretty face. First Katherine and now Lily." Fergus slammed William on the shoulders with a beefy hand and the boy flushed bright red and coughed.

  "I ride for Iain. And for Bram. And I ride for their ladies, as should you, ye ald coot."

  Fergus laughed, his merriment including them all. "I find I canna fault with the lad, more's the pity."

  "And I would never admit it to Elaine, but I'm glad to be back in the thick of things," Jeff said.

  Lily hid another smile. Lord, they were all little boys when it came to battle. But then that's what got them killed. She sobered, wishing suddenly for the safe harbor of the cottage. There she and Bram had been sheltered from the fears that haunted them both. Bram, his father's death. And Lily, her parents' deaths and Justin's betrayal. In the cottage everything had seemed possible.

  But now…

  She blew out a long breath and met Jeff's gaze. "I need to find a private place. And then we can be on our way."

  He nodded, and turned back to Fergus and William, the three of them still engaged in the neverending game of male one-upmanship.

  Lily turned and walked back the way they'd come, watching the dappled light dance against the water as it streamed through the trees. Quiet descended, and she made her way upstream until she reached a copse of small trees. Weaving her way among the saplings, she found shelter behind an outcropping of rock and relieved herself.

  Score one for the future. Flush toilets couldn't be discounted. But there was more to life than modern conveniences. Laughing at her musings, she stood up again, tugging the linen shirt and plaid back into place.

  The quiet seemed to have deepened. As if the animals who lived in the woods had all paused—listening. Lily shivered. She was letting her imagination run wild. Fergus and William and Jeff were only a few yards downstream. There was nothing to fear. Yet somewhere, deep inside her, something called for her attention.

  She stopped, listening, waiting for some sound to validate her hesitation. Her fear. For a moment there was only silence. And then she heard it.

  A keening wail. The hair on the back of her neck rose and she strained to hear more as the sound died away. For a moment there was nothing but the wind and the trees and the rushing water. And then… and then the sound repeated itself. A hollow, echoing cry. Soft and yet penetrating. An animal—no, a human—in pain.

  Senses on alert now, Lily stood, heart pounding, waiting for the sound to come again, knowing with every fiber of her being that someone needed her help.

  Silence. One beat. Two. And then again the cry.

  She ran forward, heedless of the noise she was making, intent only on finding the source of the sound, of helping whomever might be in need. From behind her she heard footsteps crashing through the undergrowth. Fergus, Jeff and William, no doubt. They, too, must have heard the cries.

  But despite the knowledge that they were coming, she didn't stop. Her need to help superseded every other instinct—including caution. Someone was in trouble and she was the closest. Crashing through the undergrowth, she leapt across a fallen tree, marveling at her own agility. Adrenaline spurred her onward as a groan of pain filtered through the forest.

  Ahead, the stream curved into a horseshoe creating a small clearing filled with sunlight, the trees forming a ring of silent guardians on its edges.

  "Wait," Fergus gasped as he reached Lily, grabbing her elbow and pulling her to a jarring halt. "Ye canna ken if 'tis friend or foe."

  "Whoever it is, Fergus, he needs our help." Lily jerked her arm free, despite knowing that the older man was speaking the truth. All she could think was that someone was in need and that she was in a position to help. God knows she'd had her own pain of late and she'd been grateful for the people that had offered their support. Strangers all of them—Bram included. She knew she was being a fool, and yet the cry resonated deep inside her. Someone needed her. And she was damn well going to be there.

  "Lily." Jeff's voice reached her as she started creeping forward again. "Caution."

  She hesitated, her gaze sweeping across the clearing. Fergus and Jeff moved to flank her on either side, William just behind. All of them waited—listening.

  The wind rose, and then the keening began again. Rising and then dying as the breeze rushed across the waving grass.

  "Over here," Lily called as she moved forward.

  A large rock rose out of the ground on the far side of the little meadow. Lichen covered one side, silvery-gray stretching up like long fingers across the face of the boulder. At its foot, a dark shadow moved, then was still.

  "He's here." Lily dropped to her knees, her eyes assessing the man who lay at her feet. A thatch of chestnut hair matted with sweat and blood. Dark brown eyes staring up into hers. Pain dimming everything but the barest hint of humanity.

  "It's all right," she whispered as she searched his body for injury. "We've found you now."

  The man—not much older than she was—sighed, the exhale colored with pain and relief. Besides the blood on his head, his shirt was also stained with blood, the sheer size of the spot taking Lily's breath away.

  "Oh God," she whispered as she reached for the hem of his shirt, ripping away the bottom. Folding the linen, she made a bandage of sorts and pressed it to the wound, feeling the pulse of his heart beneath her hands.

  "What've ye found, lass?" Fergus asked as he joined her on his knees before the fallen man.

  "I don't know."

  The injured man's eyes met hers, his fear palpable. "We're here to help," she soothed, wishing for better words. "Can you tell me your name?"

  The man opened his mouth, a gurgle of God knows what escaped, and then he swallowed, his eyes taking on a glint of determination. "Robby."

  She could barely make out the sound. "Robby?" she asked, her heart pounding.

  The man nodded. "Corley."

  "Can ye tell us what happened then, lad?" Fergus asked as William and Jeff joined them.

  He opened his mouth but no words came, his gaze still locked with Lily's.
<
br />   "It's okay. It doesn't matter, Robby. What matters is that we're here. And we're going to help you."

  His name seemed familiar somehow, but remembering was nothing in the face of making sure that he lived. Obviously, he'd been there for some time. The crust of blood on his head and chest gave credence to her thoughts, but even so, the pulsing new blood was her main concern. If it could not be stopped then Robby could not be saved.

  Gritting her teeth, she tore the linen shirt, exposing the wound. It was a long gash, a sword wound, clearly. And while the edges were trying to heal, the center still oozed. "We need to clean this and maybe cauterize it." She wasn't sure where the knowledge was coming from. Girl Scouts or maybe some biology classes, but she knew she was right. "We've got to stop the bleeding."

  Fergus leaned over her shoulder. "She's right. And I think burning it is the only way. Although it will hurt beyond reckoning."

  Jeff nodded and motioned to William and the two of them set about starting a fire.

  Lily pressed the folded linen to Robby's chest. "I know this is frightening," she crooned, "but I'm not going to leave you. And in the end this will save your life. I'm certain of it." She wasn't certain of anything, but she needed him to believe her. Living was part believing, after all.

  Robby nodded, squinting his eyes as he bit his lip, trying to not to give in to the pain.

  "I'm here, Robby." She struggled to maintain her composure. Now wasn't the time to lose it. She concentrated instead on the young man's face. Somehow she couldn't shake the fact that she recognized his name.

  "Who are you?" he asked.

  "Lily." She smiled at him, then lifted her concerned gaze to Fergus. "Try to tell us what happened," she said, returning her attention to her patient.

  "Betrayed," he breathed.

  Lily nodded, not wanting him to stress himself further. "It's going to be okay."

  He frowned at her words.

  She focused and smiled. "All right. Robby, it's going to be all right."

  Behind her, Jeff was holding his sword, the tip red hot.

  She leaned down toward the injured man, shifting so that her arms encircled him. "I'm sorry, Robby, but this is going to hurt. It's the only way to stop the bleeding."

  He tightened his jaw and nodded, his eyes locked on hers. "Do it, then."

  Lily nodded to Jeff, while Fergus and William moved into place to secure Robby's arms and legs. Lily stroked his face, tears filling her eyes. Jeff crouched beside the injured man, the heated sword in his hand.

  "Ready?" he asked.

  Robby nodded, and Lily cupped his chin. "Think of something lovely." It wasn't enough, but it was all she had.

  Jeff dipped the tip of the sword against the wound. Robby bucked and screamed and then was quiet.

  "Jesus," Jeff whispered. "Bloody brave bastard."

  "Aye, a rare hero, that," Fergus added.

  "Shite" was all William had to say.

  Lily felt her stomach heave, but she fought against the wave. If Robby could stomach what had happened, so could she.

  "Will he be okay?" she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.

  "I canna say." Fergus shook his head. "Puir wee bastard. He shouldna have lasted as long as he did."

  "I feel like I should know him," Lily said, still trying to sort through her memories.

  "Well, considering that you've only been here a couple of times, I'd say that isn't likely." Jeff stared down at the still man, sympathy etched on his face. "But regardless, I'd say he's a man we should all take our hat off to. I mean, hell, who knows how long he's been out here like this? The fact that he survived is nothing short of a miracle."

  "And if he lives to see the morrow it will be yet another miracle," Fergus added.

  "So it's that bad?" Lily knew the answer, but somehow she needed to hear it put into words.

  "Aye, lass, that it is. I wish that it were different, but it's no'. That said, we've given the lad his best chance. We'll know on the morrow."

  "But we canna stay here," William protested. "If we do, we might not catch up to Iain and Bram in time."

  "We can't leave him." Even as Lily said the words she realized the conundrum they faced. If they stayed to help Robby, then Bram might be at risk, but if they left Robby, then Lily wouldn't be able to live with herself.

  A rock and a hard place if ever there was one—except that there wasn't a choice.

  "We have to stay," she declared, her eyes meeting Jeff's and Fergus's, daring them to argue.

  "I don't see that there's a choice," Jeff agreed, echoing her thoughts.

  Fergus gave a gruff nod. "William, we'll need to build up the fire. We've got to keep the lad warm. And we'll need water." For this he looked to Jeff. "And the rest we'll have to leave to God." His gaze met Lily's and, despite the pain in her heart, she relished his approval. Sometimes the difficult choices were the right ones.

  If only Bram could wait. Please God, let it not be too late.

  CHAPTER 23

  "THE CUT-THROUGH TO THE pass is just beyond those rocks," Frazier said. "'Tis very narrow, ye ken."

  "And you say it follows a burn?" Bram asked as they all pulled to a halt at the foot of the outcropping of rock.

  "Aye, a wee wash o' water. Although with the spring thaw it'll be running higher than usual, I suppose."

  "Any reason that would be a problem?" Ranald asked Frazier.

  "Nay. 'Tis too small a stream to bother the horses. And toward the bottom, where the burn falls from the rocks to form pools, the pathway widens so that we willna have to cross the water. The pass dumps us right in to Alec Comyn's backyard."

  "Is there anywhere to camp along the way?" asked Iain, his eyes moving from the rocky slope to the sky. "If not, then we'd best make camp here. We've only got a few hours of daylight left."

  Frazier scratched his beard. "There's a copse of birch about halfway along. 'Twould be as good a place as any to camp for the night."

  "And it would mean being closer to Comyn's holding at sunup." Bram couldn't keep the impatience out of his voice.

  "Well, as much as I want to make the man pay for what he did to your father, I've got to be equally sure that we're not rushing into this like angry fools," Iain said.

  Bram bit off his reply, clenching a fist as he tried to contain his frustration. He'd always been a man of action, and so was aching for a fight. Something to take the edge off his own guilt. About Lily, about his father, about everything. He felt as if he had no control, his life spiraling away from him without so much as a by your leave. It wasn't as if he couldn't handle the challenges, but to do so, he had to meet them head on. And all this prattle wasn't getting him any closer to his enemy.

  "You're sure about this passage?" Ranald was asking, his cousin eyeing Frazier speculatively. "When was the last time you were up here?"

  The older man shrugged. "'Twas last fall. Seamus and I went hunting."

  "For Comyn cattle?" Ranald asked, raising his brows.

  "Ach, no." Frazier shook his grizzled head. "No' to say that it wasn't tempting. But these old bones canna handle reiving. So we made do with smaller game. Pheasant and rabbits and such. Anyway, the point is the pass was clear then. As was the stand o' birch."

  Bram looked to Iain and his cousin nodded.

  "Best get to it then," Ranald said, urging his horse forward. "Time's a wastin'."

  An hour or so later they were climbing full out, single file, following the path of the rushing burn. Water from the spring thaw sprang through gaps in the rocks, creating tiny waterfalls cascading down the craggy cliffs and swelling the stream with the runoff. Clumps of gorse clung to the rocky scree. In another few weeks, the mountains would be abloom, but for now everything was on the cusp, the predominate colors grey and green, leafy boughs of alder and birch blending in with the darker needles of the pines.

  "We can make camp just around this bend," Frazier called out, swinging around to face Bram, who had been riding just behind him. And true to t
he old man's word, the trail widened, then disappeared as it was claimed by a grassy meadow ringed by a stand of birch.

  "The trail continues o'er there." Frazier pointed to the far side of the clearing as Ranald and Iain pulled abreast of the two of them.

  Bram turned his attention to the opening just beyond the trees, then urged his mare forward, crossing the meadow and pulling to a stop again just at the head of the narrowing canyon.

  "Bollocks," Ranald grumbled as he reined in his horse. "We'll no' be going through that."

  It looked as if half the mountain had come crashing down, the great piles of stones that now blocked the pass seeming to mock them with their impenetrability.

  Bram blew out a slow, frustrated breath. "I canna see any way around it either." Both sides of the rock slide were flanked with rocky cliffs. The one on the right was covered with scree and stunted pines. The one to the left sheared off sharply, as if a mighty blacksmith had cleaved it in two.

  "Looks as if it's been that way a while," Iain said as he and Frazier rode up beside them. "Look at the gorse growing amidst the rocks. And there's more growing on the cliff face."

  "Must have happened this winter." Frazier frowned. "'Twas clear when I was last here. I swear it."

  "No one doubts you, man," Ranald said, his tone affable.

  "And whether it was here or no' doesn't change the fact that we canna go this way now." Iain and Ranald exchanged a telling look, and Bram wondered for the first time if they'd been wise to put their faith in Frazier. He was older even than Bram's father. And though he seemed spry enough, there was always the possibility that his mind wasn't as good as it had been.

  A faded memory tugged at his brain. Something about Frazier. But that part of the conversation had been lost. It had been his father's next words that had stuck with Bram. The guardsman had suggested that Seamus consult with his son.

  "The day I need my son's advice is the day I go to my grave," his father had scoffed. And Bram had stalked away in anger, his father's words echoing in his ears. Nothing he did was good enough for the old man. Seamus refused to accept the fact that Bram was a man grown. And a worthy one at that. Bram had more than proven it in service to both Moy and to his great uncle, Ian Ciar. But Seamus had never acknowledged any of it. And now… he never would.