“It's them,” Craig said, frightened. He drew up his knees.
“Do you think I hit a ghoulie with my chalk?”
Alex's attempt at humor fell flat. Wide-eyed, Craig suddenly leapt up. Arms outstretched, he scampered up the narrow arch.
“Wait!” Alex scrambled to catch him, but partway up, his legs started trembling, his eyes lost their focus, and the arch wavered. Alex dropped to his hands and knees and took to crawling.
The eerie sounds from below were becoming stronger. They resembled the babble of thousands of people speaking at once, rising up, coming closer – close enough for Alex to imagine that at any moment ghoul-like creatures would claw at his feet. A shriek shattered the air. Alex leapt up, running the rest of the way up the arch. At the top, Craig was standing stock-still on the circular platform.
“Get down!” Alex prayed the platform would offer some shelter from what lay below. They curled up and pressed their hands tight against their ears to block out the awful noises. It was futile – the cackling, shouting, moaning, and shrieking were all around them. In the grip of an ice-cold fear, Alex watched ghostly gray shadows flash up and vanish. Non sensical words leapt out from the roar, as if all of humanity swirled and spun around them. There were flashing moments of joy and unbearable screeches of pain. Contorted, shadowy faces and figures emerged and disappeared in seconds: a chalk white, screaming newborn with the face of a bat; a severed hand that twitched; leering faces with menacing eyes.
Alex felt that it was not the gray shadows, but him and Craig who were spinning, bucking, heaving among the howling masses. The watery ceiling Alex had seen earlier as a tranquil shimmering surface was now a twisting vortex, a multicolored cyclone. It seemed to be slowly descending on them – or were they rising up to it? Alex no longer knew if it was him or his surroundings that were moving, spinning, rising, falling; if the shrieks were from the shadows around them, or from Craig, or from himself. Numb with shock, Alex saw the howling whirlpool vortex spin around them. Then, mercifully, all went dark and still.
PART II
A CHANGE IN TIME
8
WITHIN DARK FORESTS
Alex felt as if he were awakening from a very, very, deep sleep.
Wherever he was, it was warm and bright. He slowly raised his head and squinted against the sun. He was on a grassy knoll of an otherwise rocky hilltop, where the blue horizon stretched out in all directions and where clouds drifted lazily overhead. Curled up beside him was Craig. Alex gently shook his shoulder.
“Where are we?” Bewildered, Craig blinked slowly, as though, with each blink, he thought all this would go away and he would be back in a dark cave, or maybe even back in his bed waking up from a bad dream.
“I have no idea.”
“Where's Annie?”
Alex frowned. “She's probably going back through the caves to get help. If we can get from here to the coast fast enough, we might meet her when she comes out.”
“Won't she be surprised!” Craig managed a small chuckle.
Alex tried to spot the ocean past the surrounding hilltops. He wished he had Annie's compass. Everything they'd brought was left with Annie. But where were the caves and that circular chamber, and how did he and Craig get from there to here?
Alex scuffed away some tufts of grass and moss, thinking that perhaps they'd been blasted up from somewhere far below. But there were no openings in the ground anywhere near them – not even so much as a rabbit burrow. The rock under them looked completely solid.
Alex and Craig climbed a crest and were overjoyed to see the ocean sparkling off in the distance. Between them and the sea was a densely wooded valley that was nestled between rocky, tree-studded hills.
“Anything look familiar?” Alex asked hopefully.
Craig shifted his gaze from up and down the coast to inland. “I didn't even know there were forests in this part of Scotland,” he said. “Maybe we'll figure it out when we get down to the coastal road.”
“That one?” Alex pointed to a small dirt road that came out from between two distant hills and disappeared in the forested valley.
“No, of course not – that's just a country lane. The coastal road is, you know, paved. It has a yellow line in the middle and signs on it like STRAITH MEIRN, 2 MILES.”
“I don't see a coastal road.”
“It's got to be there. It goes up and down the whole coast.”
Alex shrugged. “Well then,” he said, “let's head for the coast.”
After looking for the best route, they decided they had no choice but to climb down the side of the hill and follow the country road right through the forest.
“Look!” Alex pointed to where the sun glinted off some riding helmets. There were about a dozen people riding horses two abreast.
Craig shaded his eyes. “Looks like fox hunters – they're going at quite a clip.”
They watched the riders pound down the winding dirt road until they rounded a bend and disappeared into the forest.
Alex worried that they might not get to the coast in time to meet Annie. “Let's hope there's traffic on that road,” he said. “Maybe we can wave down a car and find out where we are, or maybe even get a ride.”
“We shouldn't ask strangers for a ride – it's dangerous.”
“Well, we certainly wouldn't want to do anything dangerous, would we?” Alex's sarcasm was lost on Craig.
Slowly they picked their way down the hillside. To cross a shallow, swampy section, they had to hop from rock to rock. Soon they lost sight of the ocean behind the hills; then their view of the valley was blocked by trees.
Alex was relieved when the terrain became less rocky. Surely the road could not be much farther. Once they found it, he estimated that, even on foot, they might make it to the coast in an hour or so.
Suddenly out of nowhere leapt a wild man with matted hair, dirty rags for clothes, and a nasty glint in his eye. He landed on the path, his arms outstretched to block anyone getting past.
Alex shrieked. He turned to run, but another foul-looking man leapt onto the path behind them, blocking their escape.
“Hee, hee, hee – got ye.” The first man laughed evilly, revealing stumps of rotted black teeth. The two men moved closer.
Craig bolted. One of the men caught him by the arm and cruelly twisted it behind his back. Alex jumped onto the man, grabbing his hairy arm to pry Craig loose. He felt a hard blow on the side of his head, followed by another from his face hitting the ground. When he struggled to get up, a kick to his side knocked him back down into the dirt.
Craig was screaming. One of the men barked, “Shuddup, shuddup,” and there was the sickening sound of a fist hitting flesh. Craig, tossed to the ground, fell silent. Alex tried to reach Craig, but he felt a tremendous weight stomp on his back and another hard cuff to his head.
“Don't ye move,” one of the men growled.
Alex could taste blood. A terrible pain throbbed in his head and in his back, where one of the men continued to press down hard with his foot.
“Damn noise was enough for Wallace's men to hear,” said one in a low voice. “Kill 'em if they make another sound.”
“We might get some ransom money for these two,” said the other. “Seems to me someone'll pay for 'em. They're no sons of peasants.”
Alex felt rough hands pull out the contents of his pockets, including some chalk and loose change.
“Look at this silver – and look at their breeks 'n' what else they're wearing. I say these two are from some visiting nobility.”
“It's too risky trying to git ransom money from nobility,” the other said. “We'll have a whole bloody army after us. Let's club 'em and be done with it.”
A cold clammy chill went through Alex. Lying pressed to the ground, he saw the foot of one of the men not far from his face. His shoe was no more than a piece of leather tied to his foot. Knowing he had nothing to lose, Alex lunged and sank his teeth as hard as he could into the back of the man's ankle. The man
shrieked and jerked his foot away. Catching a glimpse of a gnarled club swinging down at his head, Alex let go and pulled back. The club missed and hit the dirt with a thud. But Alex knew it would come down again at any second. He desperately tried to squirm out from under the man's foot, tensing for a blow that would end it all.
Alex heard a short gasp. A heavy weight fell across his back. There was a gurgling sound. He wriggled out from under the twitching weight and scrambled to his feet. One of the men was sprinting away. The other was on the ground, a look of amazement in his eyes as he stared down at an arrow protruding from his chest. The man made another gurgling noise, and bubbles of blood appeared in his gaping mouth. Then he lay still, his unblinking eyes staring blankly at Alex.
“Craig!” Alex dropped to his knees and put a hand on Craig's shoulder. “Are you okay?”
Craig slowly rolled his head to one side. “Are they gone?” He looked up at Alex. Under his puffy eye was a nasty black bruise.
“Sort of.” Alex spoke as calmly as he could. “But don't worry. They won't hurt us anymore.”
Off to one side, Alex noticed a movement. A tall lean man with dark hair stood quietly watching them, his head tilted quizzically. The longbow tucked under his arm had an arrow loosely notched in position. Alex eyed him warily, wondering if he was another thief, perhaps a rival of those who attacked them. The man dressed strangely: his jacket and trousers looked like they were made of green-dyed deerskin, vaguely similar to the deerskin jackets Alex had seen in the United States – except there, the jackets had fringes under each arm to shoo away mosquitoes and blackflies, and had buttons or zippers. This man's jacket was closed by laces, which crisscrossed up the front. He also wore a peculiar cap with flaps that hung loosely down the sides, looking like they could be tied under his chin if his ears got cold.
Alex helped Craig to his feet. The boys edged away from the body. Alex stared at it in morbid fascination. It was un settling that the thief, who just a few moments ago was so full of life, was now some inert thing. This was not one of the casual deaths of his daydreams; this one gave him a queasy sensation, and he had to breathe deeply to keep it down. There was a curious buzzing in his ears. Feeling dizzy, Alex put a hand on a tree for support and gulped in air.
The deerskin-clad man bent over the body and abruptly yanked out his arrow. “I don't like killin' these rogues,” he said, casually wiping the blood from his arrow onto the dead man's clothes. “Most of them are doing no more than trying to feed their own bairns the only way they know how. God knows it's hard enough to make an honest living without the likes of Hesselrigge making it damn near impossible.”
Alex's nausea rose each time he looked at the dead thief, so he turned to face the other way. “Thank you for saving us, sir,” he said timidly.
The man looked sharply at Alex, his eyes dwelling briefly on his clothes and shoes. “Ye speak strangely, m'lad, and your garments are unlike any I've seen. Where are ye from?”
“Canada.”
The man stared at him blankly.
“I'm here to spend the summer with my aunt, but she's sick so I'm staying with the McRaes.”
“McRaes, ye say? And what's your name?”
“Alex Macpherson, sir. And this is my friend, Craig McRae.”
“Very good.” The man nodded in apparent satisfaction. “Sir Ellerslie's my name. I'll send some men out to your clans. They'll be glad, I'm sure, to learn that ye two are safe. Now, tell me, what brings ye boys here wandering about these woods?”
“My mother disappeared,” Craig said. “And, long ago, Alex's parents disappeared too. We're looking for them.”
“Disappeared, ye say?” Sir Ellerslie clicked his tongue sympathetically. “I'll no be surprised if Hesselrigge's behind it. Has there been a demand for ransom?”
Alex and Craig glanced at each other. It had never occurred to Alex that his parents might have been kidnapped. And there was that name – Hesselrigge – again. Where, oh where, had he heard that name before? Alex shook his head. “Not that I know of, sir.”
Sir Ellerslie turned away. “Ah well, no need to fear the worst.”
Alex was convinced Sir Ellerslie thought his parents were dead.
Sir Ellerslie grabbed the dead man's ragged tunic and dragged him off the trail. “I'll send one of my men around to dig him under,” he said, giving the body a heave to roll it beneath low-hanging branches. “If the wolves don't get to 'm first.”
He gestured into the woods. “Come. I'll take ye to our camp.”
There didn't seem to be anything else to do. Confused and hesitant, Alex followed Sir Ellerslie, Craig at his side. He did not understand why the man would want to have the body buried, except maybe to keep animals from eating it before the police came. No, that did not make sense: it would not take long for the police to come – once they'd been called. Surely he wouldn't be trying to hide the body; surely the police would understand that Sir Ellerslie killed the thief only to save Alex and Craig? Alex wondered if Sir Ellerslie was wanted by the police. He was a bit strange, referring to himself as “Sir” Ellerslie as if he were some kind of nobility….
Once deep in the forest, they were quite secluded. Sir Ellerslie did not follow anything that even remotely appeared to be a trail, yet he led them without hesitation. The forest seemed to go on forever. They wound around gnarly, sticky pines, over moss-covered boulders, and through ravines with tiny creeks filled with slippery rocks.
Alex was relieved when they finally came upon a road.
He hoped they could catch a ride with someone, or, at the very least, make faster and easier progress. At the edge of the road, Sir Ellerslie stopped abruptly. He had them stand still while he listened. Satisfied no one was coming, he had them quickly cross the road and wait while he used a pine branch to carefully brush away any sign of their footprints. To Alex's dismay, they then headed into even denser forest.
For the most part, they hiked in silence. Sir Ellerslie had told Alex and Craig to avoid stepping on thin twigs that snap underfoot. At long last, Alex spotted a break in the trees. Craig wiped his brow with relief.
Sir Ellerslie knelt on the forest floor and motioned for Alex and Craig to come nearer. “I need to have a spy at Hesselrigge's castle before we head to our camp,” he said. “I'll need ye to follow close behind me and do what I do. Above all, be very, very quiet – your lives depend on it.”
As he crept from tree to tree, Craig exaggeratedly copied Sir Ellerslie's every movement. Sir Ellerslie didn't seem to mind, so long as Craig made no noise. The last few yards, they squirmed on their stomachs to the edge of the forest. Carefully, they parted the foliage.
Alex gasped. Perched high on shoreline cliffs was a fully intact medieval castle, complete with flags fluttering from its many turrets and armored soldiers standing guard on tall battlemented walls. Behind it sparkled a bright blue sea.
Alex gazed in awe, trying to imagine how, in an age prior to cannons, any army could take such a castle by force. Mere arrows and spears, or even catapults, could not possibly be a match for its massive walls.
The countryside about the castle bustled with people. Farmers hoed small, irregular gardening plots. Carts trundled down dirt paths – some pulled by hand, others by oxen. Thatched dwellings clustered about an intersection where a meandering coastal road met the road coming from the forest.
Surprisingly, despite the presence of so many in peasant and soldier costumes, there was no sign of tourists. Alex cupped his hand over Craig's ear. “Where are we?”
Craig raised his palms and shrugged. “I don't know…. The cliffs look familiar though.”
Now that he mentioned it, they did look a lot like the cliffs near the McRaes' farm. It appeared as if the castle had been built atop the very ruins of the former Duncragglin Castle. Even the harbor looked similar. Although he could not see over the edge of the cliffs, Alex would not have been surprised to find a beach looking just like the one where he had found the carved board.
The double doors of the central blockhouse suddenly swung outward, and armored horsemen burst out at full gallop. Two abreast, they thundered over the drawbridge and down an earthen ramp to the roadway below. Sweeping through the main gates, they charged down the road, ignoring the plight of those who struggled to pull their carts and oxen out of the way.
Craig edged further back into the woods. “Are they coming to get us?” he asked nervously.
Sir Ellerslie gave him a reassuring smile. “Nae, m'lad. We're too far for them to have seen us.”
“But, they could have seen us with binoculars,” Craig said, his fear growing as the horsemen drew nearer.
“With what?” Sir Ellerslie looked puzzled. He pulled Craig down. “Wait right here 'til they're past.”
Alex felt his heart pounding as the armed horsemen rounded the bend and came to within yards of where they lay. The horsemen scanned the forest, occasionally appearing to look straight at them. To Alex's great relief, they stuck to the road, rounded another bend, and disappeared into the forest.
“Knight James Barr is with them,” Sir Ellerslie muttered grimly. “Off, cap in hand, to plead to King Edward Plantagenet for reinforcements, I suspect.”
“Reinforcements?” Alex was confused. First they find themselves with an archer who saved them from robbers, but appears to be on the run from the authorities; now they find a castle where knights in armor are charging out to ask a king for more troops. This all appeared to be some kind of grand historical re-enactment.
“Aye, Hesselrigge's spies would have told him that an uprising is imminent. He'll want reinforcements to help him stamp it out. Better to take him now, before Barr makes it back with more men.”
“An uprising?” Alex no longer expected an answer that made sense.
“And a bloody great uprising it will be too. The people around here have had enough of this murderous pawn of the English. It's time to put things right.” Sir Ellerslie got up. “Come, let us tarry here no more; there's work to be done.”
The Battle for Duncragglin Page 7
