by Carey Corp
I thanked him, took Jamie’s hand, and we stepped into the darkness.
We followed the subtle curve of the hallway, our shadows lengthening ahead of us, and after a moment Jamie broke the silence. “I hate these caves. ’Tis too easy to get lost down here.” He swiped at a low-hanging cobweb with the torch. “Duncan was right. But not about Sawney Bean. When I was a lad, I was afraid of the dark.”
His steps slowed. I matched his pace and kept quiet, not daring to interrupt his rare moment of vulnerability.
“It was irrational, but I worried tha’ if I couldna see what was tying me to the earth, I might float right off of it.”
After a brief pause, Jamie went on in a soft tone. “My ma let me keep a candle burnin’ in my room until I fell asleep ever’ night.” His fingers twitched in mine, his next words low. “But then my da found out.”
He let out a heavy sigh and my breath caught at the shame etched on his face.
“My father was a firm believer that one should face their fears head on, so one evening he took me on a hunting trip deep into the forest, and when night fell, he left me there.”
Not sure I understood correctly, I demanded, “He left you in the forest at night? By yourself?”
“Aye.”
“How old were you?”
“Eleven and one half.”
My heart thudded in my chest. “What did you do?”
“At first, I waited. Da left to gather fire wood, and even though I could no longer hear him rustlin’ around, I figured he’d return shortly. But as the night deepened, something he’d said earlier came back to haunt me. He’d told me that as the future ruler o’ Doon, even when I felt afraid, I dinna have the luxury of giving in to that fear. I had to learn to press on despite it.”
We stopped by a stone bench and I faced my prince. The torch light cast the strong lines of his face in deep shadow, highlighting a furrow over his left brow. He looked anxious, like a part of him was still that scared little boy. I took the torch from his grasp, set it in a nearby wall bracket, and then tugged him down on the bench beside me.
“What happened then?” I prompted and took both his hands in mine.
He glanced away, his throat convulsing as he swallowed. “I slumped against a tree, hugged my knees to my chest, and cried like a babe. I’m no’ sure how long I sat there rocking back and forth, listenin’ to the animals scurry around me. But when I realized Da wasna comin’ back, I wiped my tears and got up. At first I walked aimlessly, but then I found the first notch we’d made on a tree and everything he’d taught me about markin’ my trail and followin’ the clues in the sky clicked into place.”
Jamie paused and stared down at our linked fingers before continuing. “ ’Twas nearly dawn when I found my way back to the castle. My da was waitin’ for me at the gate. He said he knew I could do it. But he couldna hide the relief in his eyes.” Jamie lifted his head and a corner of his mouth curled in an ironic smirk. “I no longer fear the dark.”
I met his steady gaze and whispered, “What do you fear?”
He hesitated, the line of his jaw tensing before his dark eyes blazed into mine. “Not being the man my father believed I could be.”
I realized then, an assumption I’d made that long-ago day we’d first arrived in Doon had been dead wrong — I’d seen how the king interacted with both his sons and presumed he favored Duncan. But it hadn’t been derision I’d seen when he looked at his eldest son. It had been expectation.
I blinked the sudden tears off my lashes and gripped his hands. “You, Jamie MacCrae, are all your father could’ve hoped for and more.”
A slow grin spread across his face, bringing out the dimples in his cheeks. His smile faded as he reached out and brushed the moisture off my cheekbones. “What about you, my queen. What are you afraid of?”
I caught my lip between my teeth to keep from saying what popped into my head. That the thing I feared most was becoming like my messed up parents. That was a conversation for another day when we weren’t sitting beneath thousands of tons of rock. So instead, I joked, “You mean besides wolf spiders and talking celery?”
His brows shot up on his forehead. “Er . . . I can understand spiders, but why would ye think celery could talk?”
“Do you remember me telling you about cartoons?” I stood and pulled him to his feet.
“Aye, like moving drawings that tell a story.” Jamie grabbed the torch and we continued down the passage. “I’d like to see that someday.”
“Yeah . . . well, when I was a kid there was this cartoon with talking vegetables. The characters danced around, drove cars, made dinner . . . normal, everyday things, but they didn’t have arms or legs. It completely defied logic.” I shuddered. “And really creeped me out.”
Jamie’s laugh sounded amused and disturbed at the same time. “On second thought, perhaps I dinna want to see that.”
We rounded a bend, and my hair stirred against my cheeks, blown by a breeze tinged with fresh air and foliage. “Do you smell that?”
“Aye.” Jamie grasped my hand tighter and we rushed forward.
Until we hit a dead end.
Jamie raised the torch as we approached an intricate iron gate. The passage resumed on the other side, but when I pulled on the bars it held firm. I pressed my face against the chilled metal. What was the gate hiding? A valuable artifact? An exit?
“Did you hear something?” Jamie handed me the torch and walked a few steps back the way we came.
Standing on tiptoe, I strained to see farther inside. It appeared to open up again into a larger room, and there on the far wall my light reflected on rows of white lines — tally marks? But before I could figure it out, a shout sounded from the direction of the main cavern.
I turned and jogged to where Jamie stood alert. “That’s Kenna.” We both took off at a run. Visions of cave-dwelling celery monsters danced in my head as I hastily retraced my steps to the main grotto.
“Down here!” Kenna called again. “I found something cool!”
Gideon emerged from his tunnel and the three of us followed Kenna’s voice down the far right passage. We rounded a corner and nearly bumped into Duncan’s broad back. Kenna stood on his opposite side, grinning and pointing at a recessed alcove like a maniac. An axe was mounted in its center.
“Ye’ve found the ancient Arm o’ the Bruce,” Gideon panted.
Kenna turned, and our eyes locked. This was the artifact Fiona had instructed us to find. But not wanting to tip our hand, Kenna put on her best ditzy girl face and asked our guide, “What are those crazy-looking carvings on it?”
“The blade is covered in Pictish. I canna read tha’. But the writing on the handle is Gaelic.” Gideon moved closer and tilted his head to read. “It says, ‘Try, try again.’ ”
I’d heard the saying before, but had no clue it was Scottish in origin. “You’re sure this is the battle axe of Robert the Bruce?” The handgrip was sturdy and well worn. The blade arched with a wicked-looking curve, and the counterbalance formed an equally lethal spike. I moved closer. It looked capable of breaking skulls or stone without discretion.
Gideon stepped to the side and bobbed his head. “Aye, my queen. ’Tis true.”
I reached out to touch the handle, and the world spun away. In a flash, I was hovering over the packed ballroom of Castle MacCrae. In the center of the room, Fiona, in a shimmering white dress, danced in Fergus’s arms. Drawing back, I flew away from the castle and over the trees. By the brilliant light of a full moon, the entirety of Doon stretched before me, and I could see the limbus encasing its borders. The hideous darkness no longer had a beginning or an end, but formed a complete circle of evil. At the mouth of the Brig o’ Doon stood two girls, one red-haired, one brunette, in gowns of blue and silver. But as I moved closer, something about the bridge appeared off — a black carpet of petunias covered the stones, reaching toward the town of Alloway. The point of view flickered and I was beside Kenna, focused on an axe as she swung it above her
head and then crashed the blade into the arch of a standing stone.
The tableau shattered, my vision returned, and I stumbled back against Jamie’s chest.
“Hey, are you all right?” He clasped my upper arms.
“I’m fine.” Actually, I was more than fine. We’d found the weapon that could destroy the limbus, and thanks to my divine revelation I knew we needed to do it during the second-day wedding ball. Unfortunately, we still had to figure out a way to get the axe out of the catacombs without raising suspicion. Navigating the labyrinth without Gideon’s help would be impossible, but there was no way I could include him in our plans.
Jamie tipped my chin up and searched my face. “Are ye certain you’re all right?”
“Sure. I just need to eat or something.”
“’Tis gettin’ late anyway,” Gideon said. “Let’s head back.”
After snuffing the torches in the room, we all filed back into the entrance tunnel. My chest constricted tighter with every step we took away from the axe. What if I could never find my way back to the King’s Cave? Was I making a grave mistake by leaving it behind?
If Robert the Bruce hid here, there had to be another way in. “Gideon, our passage ended in an iron gate. Do you know where it might lead?”
“Likely to a cave,” he answered. “Many o’ these old tunnels lead outside. They were meant as escape routes.”
“Why is it locked?”
“The story goes that when the witch and her army o’ undead attacked Doon, the caves were all gated and locked to keep them from gettin’ in.”
“Would anyone have a key?” I asked, trying to sound casual.
“Not that I’m aware.”
If the gate led to an outside cave, we could come back in that way. But the entrance could be anywhere in Doon. As I tried to figure out a way to ask Gideon about its possible location without giving away my plan, I turned to check on the others and noticed Jamie worrying the leftover bit of chalk between his fingers.
Then, like a knock to the head, it hit me. The white hash marks, the burst of fresh air — I knew exactly what was on the other side of that gate, and how to reach it from the outside. Now all we needed was someone with a very specific and nefarious talent. Luckily, I knew just the thief for the job.
CHAPTER 23
Mackenna
The best plays always have a twist. You think the story is going one way, and then it does a one-eighty. Just when you’ve got the characters set in your mind — whom to root for and against — the all-powerful playwright mixes it up. You discover that giants can be the underdogs and witches the good guys. Individuals the main character trusts might betray them, or at the last moment an ally might come from an unlikely source.
“You want to do what?”
This had to be a case of a nightmare imitating art. Vee couldn’t be standing in the middle of her sitting room informing me that she wanted to give Analisa the 411 on the Eldritch Limbus.
Except she was . . .
Vee dug her hands into her hips. “I know she’s not your favorite person, Ken. But we need help to get the Arm o’ the Bruce. And she has the right skill set.”
“Favorite person? Try evil nemesis. She’s the Ursula to my Ariel; the Cha-Cha DiGregorio to my Sandy; the Elphaba to my Glinda.”
“I thought Elphaba was the good one. Wasn’t that the whole point — perspective?”
“Focus, Vee, we’re talking about your harebrained scheme to spill the beans to Analisa, not musical theater.” My bestie rolled her eyes, but I continued undeterred. “Speaking of Wicked — there’s got to be another way to get that stupid axe.”
“We don’t have the luxury of another way.” She advanced on me in one of those rare, stubborn moods that made her seem twice her normal size. “My kingdom is coming to an end. That trumps your petty rivalry, so suck it up and commit to Team Doon.”
“I am committed,” I grumbled.
“Good.” Vee turned to straighten accent pillows rather than look at me. “Because she’ll be here any minute.”
Of course Vee had already sent for her. I should have guessed as much. For the sake of Doon, I could work with my archrival without having to change my opinion of her. “How much are you going to tell her?”
Vee reached under the couch and pulled out both the spell book and the spell-breaker book. She set them on the coffee table with a thump. “She already knows a lot of it because she helped with the paperwork when Duncan came to get you. And she knows the Calling is a cover story. Now I’m going to tell her the rest.”
After an official-sounding knock, Eòran opened the door to announce our anticipated guest. He stepped aside and Analisa sauntered through the door like she was on the runway in Milan. She favored Eòran with a mischievous smile that caused old Mutton Chops to blush. She was smooth — I’d give her that. But I’d expect no less from someone who made their livelihood by conning others.
She stopped in front of Vee with an amused demi-curtsey. “You called, Your Highness.”
Instead of being offended by Ana’s mockery, Vee accepted the teasing with a playful reprimand of her own. “What did I tell you about that? It’s Vee.”
Analisa tucked the long side of her asymmetric bob behind her ear. Even though the platinum was growing out and two inches of black roots were visible, it still managed to look stylish. “As you wish. You’re the queen.”
“. . . Who grew up on the wrong side of the tracks in Indiana,” Vee amended.
The other girl shrugged. “We all had to grow up somewhere.”
She brushed invisible lint on her gray formfitting trousers and straightened her top — which was deep violet and something I suspected she designed herself. The blouse had uneven layers that covered up everything essential while still managing to cling to her form in a sexy way. I hadn’t seen anything else like it during my time in Doon.
When Analisa finally finished primping, she asked, “May I sit, then?”
“Please, make yourself at home.” Vee gestured to the sitting area. “You too, Kenna.”
Reluctantly, I perched on the edge of a wingback chair as Vee settled next to Ana on the couch. Vee cleared her throat, shot me a nervous glance, and then began. “I asked you to come because I need your help again. There’s a threat to Doon. A curse that’s destroying the borders.”
Analisa didn’t as much as blink in response. “I know.”
On the other hand, Vee appeared shocked. “You do? How?”
“Some I heard from Duncan, the rest I put together myself.” She seemed as pleased as the Cheshire Cat, and I couldn’t help but wonder if she was as stealthy, too — overhearing all kinds of private things while she hid in plain sight.
Vee rubbed the nape of her neck before her hand twined nervously through her hair. “Do you think anyone else knows about the limbus?”
“Not that I can tell. For a while, I thought Emily might, but I’m quite sure she doesn’t.” Ana indicated the spell-breaker book. “The book I left you helped, didn’t it?”
“You sent this?” Vee snatched it up and held it in front of her. “Where did you find it?”
“Misfiled in the library. It was shelved in the botany section. I couldn’t make heads or tails of it, but it looked important.” She settled back against the couch. Her body language portrayed a picture of ease and sincerity.
To my critical eye she seemed a bit too rehearsed. “Why didn’t you just give it to Vee instead of being sneaky about it?”
“’Cause I’m not part of the Buffy gang, am I? The common folk aren’t supposed to have any knowledge that a limbus has us on the brink of extinction. If I trotted up with that book, I’d be met with suspicion. So when I stumbled across it in the library, I figured it would go easier if it came from some other source.”
I opened my mouth to fire off another accusation, but Vee silenced me with a glare. She mouthed Team Doon before saying to Ana, “Thank you for finding it. It’s exactly what we were looking for — in fact, it�
�s the reason I asked you to stop by. According to this book, to break the spell responsible for the limbus, we need a specific weapon. It’s down in the castle catacombs.”
Ana’s eyes narrowed slightly in what was otherwise a perfect poker face. “I heard a thing or two about the catacombs. They’re jam-packed with all kinds of historical trinkets. But the talk is it’s nearly impossible to find one’s way in those tunnels.”
Vee’s eyes gleamed as she leaned in. “Ordinarily, yes. But Kenna and I got a private tour. There’s a cave that meets up with the chamber where the axe is kept. It’s the cave that Jamie and Duncan use as their personal gym.”
The girl’s eyebrows lifted. “That’s convenient now, innit?”
“It would be if there wasn’t a locked gate separating the cave from the catacomb. The gate was locked centuries ago and there’s no key.”
With a slight smirk, Ana said, “I do enjoy a good challenge. Supposing I can pick it, what’s the item you want me to pinch?”
Pulling a small sketch from her pocket, Vee replied, “An axe. It’s called the Arm o’ the Bruce. And it looks like this.”
Ana took the drawing and studied it. “Right then. Pick the lock, pinch the axe, and take it where?”
Vee thought for a moment. “My room is too far and we can’t risk you bringing it back to the village. We need somewhere secret but not secretive.”
“The stables,” I said confidently. “Duncan said they have provisions stashed all over the kingdom for their” — war games — “training exercises, including at the royal stables. Look for a wooden bench that has weapons and provisions inside. Stash it in there.”
“Easy enough.” She glanced at the sketch again and then handed it back to Vee. “When do you need it by?”
“We were thinking that you could get it tomorrow night during Fergus and Fiona’s wedding reception.”
“Good on you,” Ana mused. “Very clever. Everyone’ll be in the village celebrating. There’ll be scant eyes out and about.” With a nod, the career criminal agreed to join Team Doon. “I’m in. I’ll just need you to show me where the cave is.”