by Beth Trissel
How Scots they were, reddish manes hanging loose around linebacker shoulders, or pulled back at the neck, thick arms brandishing swords. Thank heavens they were on the same side as the newcomers. Battling Highlanders without deadly force was wearying beyond words and not a little unnerving.
Fergus glanced around. “Where’s Calum?”
“Holding down the fort,” Niall said.
A simple nod from Fergus sufficed as a reply. He didn’t voice Beezus’s vast relief upon hearing Calum was safely housed inside the MacKenzie stronghold at Donhowel. At least, for now. She wished he’d remain there during the upcoming battle. Maybe they could tie him to a chair.
Without a word about his plight, Fergus gestured toward her and Hal. “My associates, Beezus Mac—“ he left off ‘Donald,’ likely best under the circumstances. “And you remember Hal Dubois from the old days.”
“Aye. I do. Odd how old is now new and new is old.” Niall clapped Hal on the shoulder. “Another brilliant mind among us is most welcome. All m’ thanks fer yer aid.” His gray eyes explored Beezus with a slight arch to his brow. “Ye are also most welcome, lass.” Any further appreciation stayed on Niall’s lips, and she wondered what he might know of her.
No opportunity for further conjecture. Fergus warned, “We’ve got to keep close watch on Beezus. Morley wants her.”
Niall’s astute gaze passed between them. “He’s not the only one, I’ll wager.”
Fergus flushed slightly. “Not for that. I haven’t yet figured out his mad reasoning.”
Beezus had a sneaking suspicion what Morley wanted from her. But if she confided in Fergus, he might misunderstand and lose what little faith he’d gained in her. And she badly wanted his esteem.
“Bound to be up to some devilry,” Niall grunted. “We’ve delayed here long enough. The MacDonalds will be pouring from the castle snarling like rabid foxes next thing, unless Fergus has frightened the life from ’em with his tricks. Mayhap they’ll den up awhile before returning to the fray. You three stay in the center of m’ men.” He waved everyone toward the trees. “Fall back!”
Fergus retracted his lightsaber and clipped the hilt to his belt. “Come on!”
His hat clamped on his head against the breeze, he took Beezus’s hand and grasped Hal’s arm to guide him. The three of them sped with the retreating band through grass bent by frost, Beezus doing her utmost to keep up the pace and not trip over her skirts. A welcome nicker of horses greeted them as the group reached the sheltered copse of oak, birch, and pines about a mile from the entrance of the tunnel. Several men had remained with the tethered mounts and all was in readiness for a hasty departure. Eager horses tossed their heads and chewed their bits.
Beezus looked back at the stone fortress rising behind them. Domhnall and its ancient relics beckoned no more. Anxious to put more distance between herself and those within its hostile walls, not to mention Morley and his amassing army, she was ready to flee further into the hills.
“Fergus,” Niall summoned, patting the neck of a glossy gray mare. “Can ye ride, m’ friend?”
The gleam in his eyes belied Fergus’s offhand manner. “I took a few lessons in case I made it back here, given the popularity of horses and scarcity of hovercrafts.”
A low chuckle from Niall, who replied, “Ye would prefer Luke Skywalker’s landspeeder, given the choice.”
Beezus had to remind herself this unique Highlander had once been the 21st century Neil MacKenzie and was well versed in sci-fi lingo.
“Who wouldn’t? Is this Mora’s mare?”
“The same. Awin is as steady a horse as they come.”
Fergus stroked the mare’s velvet nose. “I rode alongside Mora on her. Does Awin remember me, I wonder?”
“No doubt. That beast is nearly as clever as you.”
Hal snorted. “Possibly more so. Although those firecrackers were genius.”
“Aye,” Niall affirmed with a smile. “And ye smell of rotten eggs from the stink bomb. Mount up, Fergus. Beezus can ride with ye. Hal, yer with me.”
Fergus shot Hal a smug look he couldn’t see, but Beezus wondered if he knew all the same. She sensed Hal knew a great deal more than he said. Fergus was also shrewd enough to be psychic, and Beezus had a confession to make. But when, and how to best go about it?
Meanwhile, watching him mount intrigued her. “I didn’t know you could ride.”
“There’s a lot about me that would surprise you.”
“You’ve already blown me away.”
“‘Leave them wanting more,’” he quoted with a grin.
Grasping the reins in his left hand on the mare’s withers, and securing his left boot in the stirrup, Fergus held the waist of the saddle with his right hand and nimbly swung himself up. A moment later, he was astride the horse and fixed his other boot in the second stirrup.
“You next.” He smiled down at Beezus, doing peculiar things to her heart.
A hand up from Fergus and she tucked in behind him, closing her arms around his solid warmth. How good and reassuring he felt, especially after their close call in the crypt.
Niall and Hal took the lead on a large chestnut stallion. Fergus and Beezus fell in behind this incongruous duo on the docile mare. The rest of the men rode in a protective phalanx on either side and farther back. Their vigilant glances continually slid in either direction; no doubt those at the rear looked over their shoulders. Like her companions, Beezus was tuned to any sound that didn’t belong. Ambushes rarely announced themselves in advance, but the slightest warning was better than nothing.
With ears cocked to danger, conversation was minimal and the lack of it dreary. When the trail narrowed, they all rode single file. Miles fell away under the steady tread of hooves.
No confrontations with angry MacDonalds yet. She ardently prayed there would be no more today. She needed time to recoup and regroup. Unlike Fergus, who could sleep anywhere despite anything, she hadn’t managed more than a few hours rest in the past two days. The adrenaline pumping through her during their flight from Domhnall Castle had dissipated and weariness seeped through her heavy limbs. She hardly dared to wonder how far they had to go before reaching their destination, let alone ask. Admittedly, she was out of riding form and accustomed to holding the reins when she did go for a jaunt.
At least Mrs. Fergus had filled her pockets with sustaining snacks, and the scenery was undeniably breathtaking. The air had that clarity of light found only in autumn. A hawk wheeled high overhead in a sky so blue she felt she could see forever. Up, up it sailed over mountains rising above them in magnificent swells. She dropped her gaze to the yellow and tawny brown shrubs coloring the steep hills, each leaf lit in the golden glow. Grass rippled in the breeze and drifts of heather lined the track the horses followed. Hardy blooms still held their purple color in the sea of green. A burgundy flush tinged the leaves where they’d darkened with the advancing season, and the faint scent of gorse drifted down to her.
All this beauty was more lulling than stimulating, though, especially as the miles advanced. Despite her discomfort jouncing along on the back of the mare, her head nodded against Fergus.
“Don’t you topple off this horse, Beezus.”
She jerked awake.
“Can’t risk you falling on the hard ground. Here. Take this.” He passed her the paracord from the survival strap bracelet at his wrist. “Wrap the cord around yourself and hand it back. I’ll lash you to me, then you can drowse all you like. I’ve ridden this route before and we’ve got several more hours to go.”
“Thanks.” She did as he directed and he snugged her in place. Her head sagged against him, she was nearly out, floating away on a dream…but a nagging worry prodded her like a thorn. “Fergus?”
“Yes?”
“There’s something I need to tell you.”
He tensed immediately, and quietly asked, “What?”
Doubt assailed her. But it might be best to go ahead and confess now, get it out of the way while Fer
gus was impeded by the ride. Plus, she didn’t have to look him in the eye.
Keeping her voice low, she confided, “I brought the map.”
“You can’t be serious?”
The hiss in his tone did not bode well.
“You’re still on about that treasure?”
“Uncle Ru wanted me to take a peek.”
“For God’s sake, Beezus.”
“After all his plotting and planning, he badly wants to know if anything’s there. I hated to tell him no.”
“That man is your Achilles’ heel.”
“Maybe so. What’s yours?”
“She’s seated right behind me.”
Beezus made no argument.
“Morley knew Ruen would put you up to this and that you wouldn’t be able to resist, didn’t he?”
“That would be my guess,” she allowed miserably.
“It’s why he’s after you like a hellhound. You’re handing that map over the instant we stop.”
“All right. I will. There’s one other thing.”
“Great. What now?”
“I’ve spent a lot of time studying it.”
An exasperated “Uhhh,” from Fergus. “So with or without that infernal map, Morley’s got what he needs for treasure hunting in you.”
“I’m afraid so.”
“Why couldn’t you memorize something else?”
“Oh, I did. The floor plan to Donhowel.”
“This just gets better and better.” Fergus sounded ready to strangle her. “Beezus, you need to decide once and for all where your loyalty lies.”
“With you.”
“Are you sure, because it damn well sounds like your uncle still wins out, and that’s dangerous. Don’t you see?”
“Yes,” she faltered.
“But?” he prompted.
How could she explain? “After all these years with Uncle Ru being my only family and the only person who’d won my loyalty, I’m giving it to you now. Can you expect me just to cut him off? He has little enough time left as it is.”
“I may have little left too.”
A grim reminder.
“Does Mom know you brought that map?”
“She knows most everything, so I suppose so.”
“That partly explains why she was so mental when we left, all those prayers, blessings, and herbal protections. Like a crazed nun.”
“Or weirdly religious witch.”
“Don’t say that word aloud here. Some Scots are into burnings.”
“I know. Fergus, I’m not going to surrender the map to Morley, or tell him anything.”
“No. Because I’d die before letting him take you. And Mom knows that.”
Fear knotted her stomach at his declaration. “You won’t have to die for me. And besides, who says I won’t die for you?”
He covered her hand with his warm grasp. “I wasn’t counting on it.”
She gave his fingers a squeeze. “Well, maybe you should.”
“I don’t want you dying for me.”
“And I don’t especially want to live without you,” she whispered fiercely.
“You may have to.”
“You can’t make me.”
“Beezus, you drive me crazy—”
“What in the name of Saint Peter are the pair of ye going on about?”
Beezus looked around to see Niall, turned in the saddle, studying her and Fergus from his vantage point slightly ahead of them.
“They’re always going on about something. It’s a volatile relationship,” Hal explained.
“Aye. That’s plain enough. Now Fergus, tell me what’s up?”
He prodded his mare alongside the big well behaved mount Niall and Hal rode, and in a barely detectable voice said, “Beezus has a treasure map to give you.”
Niall gave her a sharp look. “Does she, now? One Morley covets, no doubt.”
“And she’s a walking version of it,” Fergus said.
“Ah. Where’s the dig to be?”
“On the shores of your loch.”
A low whistle escaped Niall. “I niver caught even a glint of gold. What’s hidden there?”
“Templar wealth, if the map is right.”
“Bound to be,” she argued.
“Would this map be a detailed work of art, like something out of Tolkien?” Hal asked.
It occurred to Beezus that he hadn’t seen it. “Yes. Wondrously so. Did Fergus tell you?”
“I’m not a blabbermouth, Beezus,” he chided.
“Then how—”
“Do I know about the map?” Hal finished for her. “Simple. I drew it.”
Beezus gulped, and for once, Fergus was speechless. At least momentarily.
Niall fixed his eyes on Hal. “Ye were here before as a Templar Knight escaped from France?”
“It’s feeling more and more like it with every passing second. I’m even ‘seeing’ better, if that makes any sense.”
“None of this does.” Fergus sounded a little short with him. “We’re fellow geeks, Hal, remember?”
“Who passed through a portal in time and are in the company of Niall who used to be Virginia born Neil. So why is my revelation so strange?”
Niall weighed his traveling companion. “’Tisn’t, considering.”
Beezus absorbed Hal’s startling revelation. “Dubois is an ancient French name and Hal does have that look about him.”
“Ancient or French?” Fergus shot back.
Ignoring him, she asked Hal, “Does this mean you know where the treasure is?”
“Of course. But not where you think.”
“X marks the spot. I saw it,” she argued.
A smile at his lips, Hal said, “A ploy, to put off treasure seekers.”
“Then it’s not on MacKenzie land?”
“Oh no.”
“Where is it then, pray tell?” Niall queried.
“Beneath the age-old sarcophagus at Domhnall where the MacDonald lies buried.”
Blowing hair didn’t conceal the grimace crossing Niall’s face. A haunted look shadowed his eyes. “In the vile chamber just off the crypt where I was once imprisoned.”
“Cripes,” Fergus hissed. “Under Morley’s very nose if Hal’s right,”
“And no one’s ever found it,” Hal emphasized.
Beezus asked, “How much wealth are we talking about?”
“Enough for Morley to build an empire and rule it.”
Niall gaped at him. “That much? If anyone ever discovered sech wealth, word would have reached us at Donhowel.”
“Then we must conclude it’s still hidden away,” Hal said. “Best if none of you know exactly what the treasure is. Morley’s a mind reader, I hear. We better work on our blocking Morley skills.”
“He must niver know,” Niall said firmly.
“Whatever’s stashed there, you are not digging for it, Beezus.” This time Fergus elevated his hiss above a whisper.
“Nothing would induce me to go back into that crypt. Not the wealth of kings. Not even the portal.”
“Then we may remain here indefinitely. Except possibly for me,” Fergus added.
His fate hung heavily in the balance.
Niall arched a quizzical brow at him. “Why that? Is yer mom expecting ye back fer tea?”
Fergus tensed as though regretting his slip. Hal’s mouth was shut tight.
“Something else I should be knowing about besides this hidden treasure?” Niall persisted.
Uneasy silence passed between Hal and Fergus.
“Why the zipped lips?”
Still no reply.
Niall looked questioningly at Beezus. “Lass, care to enlighten me?”
If neither of them would speak, she would. They needed all the help they could get and Niall was a powerful ally. Besides, he deserved to learn the truth.
“Fergus is your brother.”
Blowing out his breath between his lips, Niall scrutinized Fergus as if seeing him for the first time. “Which l
ife? Past or present?”
“I’ve only had the one, and it’s half-brother.”
“Oh, I see,” Niall said slowly. And then more emphatically, as realization filled his gray eyes. “Oh, I see.”
Fergus nodded. “Right.”
Beezus added the vital name, “Calum.”
“Back to that again, are we?” Niall was pensive. “How long do ye have?”
A shrug, and Fergus said, “I should think I’m already living on borrowed time. Calum was supposed to wed Mora, remember, and have a son by now.”
“And she has a wee lass with me.”
“Everything will still work out, Mom believes, as long as he has a son.”
“And doesn’t get himself killed first,” Beezus supplied, then reluctantly divulged, “which, according to the annals my uncle discovered, he does.”
Neil’s brow shot up. “When?”
“Soon,” she disclosed. “But it’s our intent to protect him.”
“Oh, aye? Calum will love that. Coddle him, will ye? Keep him seated by the hearth?”
“Something of the sort,” Beezus hoped.
The cynicism in Niall’s face told her that wasn’t gonna happen.
“Ye would have to sedate him.”
“Also an option.” She forged ahead before Fergus revealed Uncle Ru’s original plan to drug the guards at Donhowel. “Morley being here in the first place is all my fault.”
“Not entirely.” Fergus was being gracious.
“And how were you to know that maniac was the Red MacDonald reincarnated?” Hal reasoned in her defense.
“He’s who?” Niall stared from one to the other then shook his head as if trying to clear it. “Fergus, I don’t know if I should thump ye on the back in joy I’ve a brother or weep that I may lose ye. But as we’ve miles yet to journey, both will have to wait.”
Beezus wondered when they should explain about the cursed stole and Mrs. Fergus’s plan to destroy it. Probably later.
Chapter Fifteen
Suspecting his legs were permanently bowed, Fergus traipsed behind Niall through the timbered doorway into the Great Hall. A dozen riding lessons hardly qualified him for a lengthy expedition, although this trek was nothing to these hardy Highlanders. And Beezus, despite her claims at expertise in the saddle, trudged at Fergus’s side, even leaning on his support. Hal plodded at the rear. Fergus had held up better than either of those two, although he couldn’t claim bragging rights.
