by Beth Trissel
“Although I’d gladly bury Morley. Here, Beezus.” Fergus shifted the red vehicle and remote into her hands. “Get this down the steps then turn it loose. Run it at any guard coming for us who gets past me. Try to keep it out of broadsword range.” Passing her a lighter, he instructed, “Set the sparklers ablaze after you get it to the crypt.”
She nervously weighed her responsibility. “What’s our backup plan?”
He and Hal opened their coats to reveal a host of homemade smoke bombs, sparklers, and she wasn’t sure what all. “After we lift the stone, stall the truck near the dais. The smoke and sizzle will obscure our escape. Brace yourselves, kids. This is gonna be loud.” Fergus hit power on the MP3.
Beezus jumped as it blasted out, If You Wanna Be My Lover, by the Spice Girls.
She gaped at him and practically yelled in his ear. “Seriously? We’re attacking with this?”
He grinned. “Psychological warfare! Clearly, you never saw Small Soldiers.”
“Beezus, get with the program,” Hal chided in mock scolding.
They were both crazy.
“All systems go!” A nod from Fergus and his mother cleared away the crystals, salt, and herb bundles at the base of the door.
“Godspeed!” she called, then opened the portal and they were at the top of the hated steps leading down into the crypt; the sooty stone illuminated only by flickering torches.
Hal tossed in a smoke bomb that exploded in a cloud. Out came his green lightsaber/taser and Fergus rushed at the stunned Highlanders falling back under this most improbable of all possible attacks. Hal had mace in his free hand. And Beezus didn’t know what the hell she was doing, only that she must join in this mad assault and navigate a rigged monster truck. The Scotsmen must think aliens were coming at them.
Chapter Thirteen
All this saving the world stuff surely did energize a fellow. Fergus felt as if he’d been shot out of guns. Exhilaration pulsed through him like the vibrations of the most unlikely song blaring from the monster truck Beezus clutched. He’d never considered himself a leader, particularly of an attack on burley Highlanders. But he was in his element now. Perhaps because this was such an unorthodox approach. He’d certainly never lead a conventional one.
Shouting “Unleash Hell!” to further rattle the enemy, he reached the bottom of the stairs—Beezus and Hal at his heels.
The one snag, more men brandished swords and dirks than he’d anticipated. Unlike those they were up against, his small landing party weren’t supposed to kill any. That rule didn’t apply in reverse, however, putting them at a distinct disadvantage. He, Hal, and Beezus were all fair game. Fighting to keep together, the trio headed further into the crypt.
“Retreat or Die!” Yelling whatever seemed most unnerving, Fergus plunged his green lightsaber into the midriff of the boggle-eyed MacDonald on Beezus’s tail.
The stunned man cried out and crumbled, writhing, onto his knees.
Effective. But apparently not frightening enough. As taken aback as this guard and the others appeared, Fergus thought they’d bolt up the steps like a herd of cattle. Even trample each other in the rush. But only a few fled. Others rallied. Terror of answering to Morley if they failed him must outweigh their fear, or that devil had better prepared them for this bizarre onslaught than Fergus had foreseen. Well then, he must convince these men the dogs of war had invaded their Godless realm.
“Eat fire!” he called, springing aside to avoid the great blade coming at him. “Now Beezus!”
Fergus whipped around to see her set the sparklers ablaze with shaky fingers. Working the remote, she sped the sizzling truck over the stone floor at scattering guards; it must look like a demon from the mouth of Hades to these 17th century Scotsmen.
He glanced at Beezus. Those tawny tiger eyes revealed one frightened kitty, but Fergus knew she’d hold her ground no matter how rattled she was. Manning the remote left her unable to defend herself, though. And she seemed especially under assault. Was it his imagination, or were some determined guards maneuvering to get past him and go for Beezus?
He thrust his taser into an on comer’s chest and sent him roaring back.
No. He wasn’t imagining it. They were definitely after her! But not for death. No lethal blades sliced her way. Had Morley issued an order for her capture?
Cold fear knotted Fergus’s heart. That was exactly what he’d done. Fergus couldn’t take them all on. And time was running out. “Hal! Twelve o’clock! Help Beezus!”
“Duck!” Hal yelled at her.
She hit the floor and rolled to the side as Hal blasted a fiery miasma of spray into the face of the assailant bent on grabbing her.
“Ye bastard!” Covering his eyes, the man lurched blindly, colliding with another. Both fell.
Arms outstretched, a second Highlander ran at her. “Incoming!” Fergus yelled.
Hal whacked him with the crowbar. Their seer had allowed for maiming.
Tartans blurring in a haze of plaids, Fergus spun back around, leapt a swift sword, and thrust his lightsaber into that man’s gut. Screams rent the air alongside “If You Wanna Be My Lover,” but they kept coming at her.
“Beezus! Get behind me!”
Still working the remote, she darted around his back. So far, she’d managed to keep the truck going.
“We should’ve brought tranquilizer dart guns!” Fergus bawled over his shoulder.
“Next time!” Hal loosed another incapacitating spray. More smoke bombs exploded and sparklers lit the hazy, choking air, like a surreal Fourth of July celebration.
The modern music and devices clashed unbelievably with the old in this ancient pit. Through the smoky pall, Fergus saw the twisted forms and agonized faces carved in gray stone circling the room, the damned in purgatory warning of the flames to come for the unrepentant. A reminder for mourners grieving their departed as those sealed here had already expired. Fortunate dead, spared the ghastly sight. On one wall, a mural of knights on horseback rode to eternal judgment with lances and shields bearing the Holy Cross. In the arch above the door were more carvings of macabre figures with skeletal heads and bodies.
Enough of that gruesomeness. He dropped his gaze to the center of the crypt—the dais! At least the ranks were thinning, but Fergus couldn’t battle and aim his laser at once. “Hal! Light up and toss the lot!”
Amid the escalating smoke and sizzle, Fergus grabbed his blue laser and shone it at the stone in the floor in front of the dais. Coughing, he called out, “There, Hal!”
“On it!” He sped toward the slab.
“Park the rig, Beezus!”
She abandoned the explosively wired truck where Fergus instructed and ran with him to Hal. He’d wedged the end of the crowbar under the stone and was prying it up. Fergus bent to heave ho. Then the unbelievable happened. A shriek from Beezus and smoke shrouded arms dragged her backwards, thrashing like a wildcat snared in a trap.
Terror shot through Fergus. “Turn her loose if you value your life!”
He flew at her assailant only to hear a guttural male bellow in pain, then curse, “Ye bitch! You’ve cut me!”
The next thing Fergus knew, Beezus was racing back at him, a crimson stained dagger in her hand. She’d come more prepared for a fight than he’d known and hadn’t hesitated to use the hidden weapon. Good job she had, too. Even retained her bow and arrows.
“He’ll need stitches, but will live,” she choked out.
“He deserves to die.” If it wouldn’t potentially jeopardize their future and other hapless souls not yet born, Fergus would fell them all to protect Beezus. But they had a crucial task to accomplish and scant seconds remained.
Gasping from the smoke and exertion, the three threw themselves into shifting that great stone. Grating sounded and it grudgingly moved. They really put their backs and crowbar into it. Fergus heaved and a dark wedge opened up. The space was wide enough for Beezus to descend through to the tunnel below.
A shadow caught his eye, and F
ergus spun around. He stabbed his lightsaber at any man who dared come near the punishing taser. He barely dodged the slashing sword. Cripes. They were relentless.
Fergus rolled on the hard floor and sprang to his feet. “Quick, Beezus!”
Driving back another intrepid Highlander hell-bent on carrying her away, he yelled, “Hal! Get her out of here!”
Fergus angled his head to see Beezus disappear over the sides of the hole while Hal knelt at the edge, grasping her wrists, to lower her as far as he was able. She probably landed with a thump because it was more of a drop than they realized and Hal couldn’t assist her all the way. Fergus didn’t hear her descent over the noise, and only hoped she hadn’t turned an ankle or broken anything. They couldn’t afford to slow their escape and he wasn’t the best medic in the world. Nor was Hal.
With Beezus below, Hal wedged the chink farther apart. “Now you!” Fergus shouted at him.
If Beezus were on her feet, she could reach up and help Hal down. If not, he might take a tumble. Fergus turned to dive after Hal’s hazy form.
No time to glance at his watch. It had been a mad scramble since they first charged through the portal, but five minutes must’ve passed by now. That truck needed to blow!
A loud boom and bright light answered his prayer.
“Fire in the hole!” Fergus shot down to the hard-packed earth and stone below.
Hal grabbed him, breaking his fall. “Always wanted to shout that, didn’t you?”
“Yep.” Fergus swept his gaze over the faces faintly illuminated by the glow from above. “You guys OK?”
“A relative term,” Hal grunted. “But tolerable.”
Beezus gave a short nod.
“This place is just as charming as I remember. No wider,” Fergus noted.
“Real cozy,” Hal said under his breath.
“Dug by dwarves, I expect. You may need to crouch down as we go along.”
“Counting on it.” Hal again. Beezus was sucking in deep gulps of air.
Fergus fished in a pocket for the LED flashlight and flipped it to green. That hue made everyone appear garish, but would show up less in the gloom. Beezus looked scared spitless, and with good reason. Morley might as well have painted a big red X on her. She was ‘it.’ But Fergus would die before he’d let Morley take her. The problem was, he might not still be here to stop him.
No room to ponder that challenge now. The clicking that emanated from Hal told Fergus his quick-witted friend had retrieved his ultrasonic device to better navigate their way. He’d better think fast too.
“Here, Beezus.” Fergus pressed the flashlight into her trembling fingers. “We can’t risk you bringing up the rear in case we’re pursued and you’re snatched again. Shine this ahead and follow the tunnel. Hal will go next and me last. And don’t look too closely at your surroundings.” He remembered his last trek through this tunnel with rats scattering across their feet, not to mention spiders and pushing through cobwebs. Wishing he could take her into his arms, Fergus laid a hand on her shoulder. “We’re right behind you. And if all goes as planned, Niall waits ahead.”
She lifted a quivering chin, resolve in her eyes. “Watch your back.” Snatching up trailing skirts with one hand, she directed the light with the other.
Angry voices sounded overhead.
Fergus snapped, “For God’s sake, don’t they ever give up?”
“That would be a negative, Captain,” Hal said gruffly.
He tailed Beezus and Fergus brought up the rear. At least the really big men couldn’t get through this narrow pass. That still left a considerable foe. Of course, Fergus had smoke bombs inside his coat to toss over his shoulder. And he did. Luckily the breeze was in his favor.
Coughs and curses carried from behind, then a man with a strong Scottish burr roared, “After them, lads! Get the buggers!”
Fergus had always despised that expression. An especially noxious weapon he’d made seemed to suit the occasion and he lobbed a powerful stink bomb into the path of their pursuers. The overpowering fumes drove them back and him on. Beezus and Hal didn’t need any incentive to scramble ahead.
“Figured you’d use that!” Hal called. “But in here? Phew!”
“Had to!” Fergus nearly gagged and his eyes watered. It was tough to out stink those far more used to stench than they, but he’d given it the good old geek try.
“Almost through,” he assured his companions. The tunnel wasn’t terribly long as he recalled, though seemingly endless now.
“You bought us a few seconds,” Hal conceded.
“Yeah. But they’ll be back. In force.” Should Fergus turn and face them? By heaven, he could make some impact with his taser.
Not enough. It was a tight space to maneuver the lightsaber. He needed room to dodge those deadly blades and use his agility to full advantage. If worse came to worse, he’d take a stand and—
Hal broke into his scheming. “Any tricks left?”
“A few.” Out came the drawstring pouch and he undid the ties and loosed a shower of marbles for any remaining pursuers. Those little beauties ought to unsteady their stride.
Stumbling and sliding accompanied the belligerent, “Damn ye to hell!”
Yep. It worked. A few more moments in their favor.
“Hal! You and Beezus go on!” Fergus sensed them slowing for him and there was one last thing he could do.
While Hal sped Beezus ahead, he stopped to light one firecracker after the other and tossed them into the cursing, smoky stench behind him.
“He’s got a bloody cannon! Niver saw the like!”
Exactly what Fergus hoped they’d think. Might take them a second to note it wasn’t actually blowing anything up.
Finally! Up ahead shone the light of day. Once he was out in the clearing, he could fight and Beezus had her bow and arrows. Hal could do whatever it was Hal did. Still, victory was a long shot. And dang it all, they weren’t supposed to kill anybody. These odds were getting old real fast. They badly needed reinforcements.
Shouting the only thing that made any sense, Fergus yelled, “Niall! Where the heck are you?”
Dark hair whipping in the wind, the green and blue plaid flapping around his broad shoulders, he appeared at the end of the tunnel. “Right in front of ye! Any MacDonalds chasing after m’ friends had better depart or face m’ sword and the blades of m’ stalwart men! The MacKenzies are gathering!”
It struck Fergus, full on, that he was one of the clan. And in a deep, primal sense, was heading home to his roots. He tore at the way out.
Chapter Fourteen
Blinking in the blessed sunshine, Beezus scrambled from the gloom with Hal urging her on. Like wrenching free of a death grip, they’d escaped that horrible crypt and the despised tunnel. She glanced back at the rocky outcropping formed in the shape of a skull. The exit to the tunnel was in the mouth and it was through this forbidding hole that she and Hal had fled.
Where was Fergus? Sudden panic. Had the MacDonalds felled him while he’d delayed to cover their escape?
There! He emerged from the gaping hole, his face ebullient with success. Thank the good Lord. Her first awareness, apart from gratitude, were the dozen battle-hardened Highlanders surging around them in a protective circle. Not a one of these Scotsman was under six feet tall and most well over.
Fergus might not be as ruggedly built as these men but he was amazing under fire. And inventive. He and Hal made an impressive team. She’d done her part, and now they were joining up with the legendary Niall. Hope stirred in her. This impossible quest just might have a chance.
As if affirming her refreshed spirit, a cool breeze tinged with the woodsy scent of leaves and turf fanned her heated cheeks and tugged tendrils from her braid. Surely, the stern threat the MacKenzie chieftain hurled at their adversaries, on top of Fergus’s fireworks, had stopped the guards in their tracks. The MacDonalds were already unnerved and their ranks thinning. Those left might wisely choose to battle another day—this one could
not possibly seem in their favor—but she found the vagaries of men impossible to predict. They might deem fighting to the death here and now preferable to facing Morley.
“Beezus!”
To her surprise, Fergus caught her in his arms. He swept her up, skirts swirling, and held her close. His hard chest heaved with exertion. “You all right?”
Startled, breathless, she managed a muffled “Yes.”
“Thank God. That was too damn close.” He set her down and clapped Hal on the shoulder. “We made it.”
“Even without the dart gun.”
“Or flame thrower.” Fergus spun around and reached the striking Highlander in two strides. “Niall!”
His handsome face split into a grin and he slid his broad sword into the dark leather back scabbard fitted across his chest. While others in the wary party waited outside the tunnel entrance with drawn blades, their chieftain engulfed Fergus in a bear hug. “I’ve niver been sae glad to lay eyes on ye.”
“Nor I you.” In turn, Fergus closed his arms around Niall and thumped him on the back, the affection between the two deeply moving.
Knowing they were half-brothers, a secret Mrs. Fergus hoped to keep from Niall, Beezus sought some family resemblance. Niall appeared much more mature, and it was evident he was the older one. His dark good looks and height contrasted with Fergus’s lighter coloring and shorter, more wiry build, but the younger man wasn’t lacking in appeal. Beezus could testify to that, and how this normally mild-mannered geek with a wry sense of humor could come furiously to life. This adventure had brought him vibrantly into his own.
Smiling broadly, Niall stepped back and surveyed Fergus at arm’s length. “The fedora and coat I expected, niver doubting ye would arrive in a most unusual manner. But The Spice Girls?”
An answering grin and Fergus said, “Had to give you a heads up.”
“That ye did.”
“Thought we might.”
What explanation Niall had given his loyal band for their strange arrival, she couldn’t imagine. The latest craze from England, maybe. Or the New World. Space aliens who came in peace—at least, where the MacKenzies were involved. The MacDonalds had suffered during that bizarre assault on Domhnall. Whatever Niall had said, none of their tartan-clad companions pushed forward with any accusations of witchcraft, although the trio did get sidelong glances from the men.
