Niall struggled to open his eyes in spite of one being swelled shut and blood from his nose and other cuts kept running into the one that wasn’t shut. He tried to roll to his side so the blood could drip on to the ground, but they forced him back and someone held him there with their foot—their heavy, booted foot.
‘And what did ye hear?’
‘The lass said something about The Camerons to him. And he said there was more than he could say.’
Someone arrived behind him, but Niall could not turn to see. He only hoped that they had not caught Fia.
‘No sign of her,’ Conran said. ‘Like she vanished into the night air.’
The pressure on his chest suddenly increased and Niall could not even draw in. Iain’s face appeared before him.
‘Does she know we are not Camerons?’ he asked. A nod brought on more pain. ‘What did you tell her?’
‘Nothing,’ he whispered, clenching his teeth against the pain.
‘Search his things,’ Iain ordered.
Niall could hear them climbing around, tearing apart bags and boxes. They would not find anything now, not if Fia took it with her. If he died here and now, and if Fia returned the ring to his godfather, mayhap the King would grant a boon of mercy to his sister and mother? He’d have died in service to the King after all.
‘Nothing but this,’ Anndra said. ‘A book?’
They’d found his mother’s book of hours. The last time he’d seen her, she’d given it to him with a mother’s admonishments of seeking a prayerful rather than sinful life.
‘What is this?’ the other Iain asked him.
‘I stole it,’ he rasped out. ‘To sell.’
‘’Twill do us no good,’ the red-haired man said. ‘We canna read and we canna sell it now.’ Niall thought he heard him toss the book.
‘So what do we do wi’ him?’ Anndra asked. The big man surprised Niall. He was using this to get rid of a competitor. ‘Take him to Lundie?’
‘Nay,’ Iain Ruadh said. ‘I think we leave him here to face the Mackintosh. He wi’ be dead afore he can utter a word against us.’
‘And fewer to split up the gold,’ Anndra said. He really was surprising Niall.
‘And the lass?’ The shuffling of feet told of a new arrival.
‘No sign of her,’ Martainn said, out of breath from chasing the lass.
‘Tie him up and gag him.’
Niall could not fight back. Soon he was trussed up tighter than a goose readied for the oven. They tossed him back on the ground and moved away from him.
‘At first light, or sooner,’ Iain ordered, ‘we ride.’
He could barely see them leave, shadows of feet scuffing across the packed floor, raising dust and dirt in their wake. He breathed slowly to avoid coughing. Coughing, well that would be painful.
‘Take anything ye think we wi’ need,’ Iain ordered. ‘Get his coins and, Martainn, take the first watch.’
Niall realised that he’d found only one of his two purses in the bag. One was gone already... The lass! She was a canny one.
‘But he is tied and gagged,’ Martainn protested.
‘Aye, and I still want a guard outside this cave.’
No one argued and soon the cave grew quiet and dark, for they’d taken or blown out the lantern. He heard Martainn mumbling under his breath for some time but Niall found it hard to concentrate.
His head ached, his chest hurt, his ribs burned and his leg screamed. After a while it all blended together and he could feel himself losing awareness. He drifted in and out of consciousness, plagued by ghosts and sins from his past. Was this what happened when you were about to face God and answer for your failings? Shivers racked his body and then ripples of pain became torrents racing through every part of him.
It continued for some time until he wondered if it would ever cease. Dying was more painful than he’d thought it would be.
The only good thing he’d done was get the lass free. She was smart and confident and would get herself off this godforsaken mountain and back to safety. He laughed at all the food she’d been stuffing in her cloak and then paid the price in pain. Hapless Dougal had better stand up and be a man in this. The lass deserved some happiness in spite of the muck she would be dragged through because of him.
The darkness began to claim him then and Niall knew it was nearing his end. The sound of a bell ringing softly once must be his call to judgement. And from the sound of the foul language after the bell, he knew his destination for eternity.
* * *
Fia winced as she said the words and slammed the iron girdle against his head. Only knowing what half of it meant, she could guess at its meaning. She remembered Eva’s reaction when Rob had spoken them and knew it was bad. Still, being in this situation certainly must grant her some dispensation to use such words and phrases.
Martainn slumped over, falling but still blocking the opening to the cave. Now, she must move him to get inside. After checking to see that he yet lived and offering a prayer of thanks to the Almighty for that, she took no chance that he would wake and turn on her. She used the rope she’d found and tied his hands and feet first and then rolled him over several times. He landed off the pathway and in the low bushes there.
’Twas not something she was proud of or wanted to do for the man had not been particularly unkind to her. But since the others had ridden or walked out of the encampment in the dark of night, Martainn’s horse was the only one left. She wanted to curse when she watched them take Iain Dubh’s horse as they left. Now, the other men’s fear of being captured made this one expendable, too. They’d left him behind without a word of warning or farewell, probably so they could steal his share of the gold Lundie promised to bring back.
It had taken her hours of watching from the hiding place before she’d felt ready to search for Niall. Brodie had made certain that everyone knew where to go if the camp was attacked and, lucky for her, those places of safety still existed. The one nearest the cave was open though she had to force her way through the overgrown branches that covered it.
Hiding there, she had planned to wait until they left or until Brodie arrived. With the bannocks and dried meats, she could last for days. If they left, she could search for more amongst what remained once they fled. Then, crouched safely in the dark, behind a tree and out of their view, she watched as they dragged Iain back to the cave. Badly beaten and unable to walk on his own, he could not fight them off.
Fia wanted to creep forward and hear what went on, but dared not. He’d done that—distracted them and then taken that beating—for her. To give her a chance to escape. And she would not render his sacrifice for naught. Then, some time later, Martainn had taken up his post and the others returned to their places around the camp.
Moving carefully, she watched as they each, save Martainn, quietly gathered up their belongings and followed Iain out of the camp. Because of the steepness of the path and their inability to see the edges of the road and the cliffs, they did one intelligent thing—they walked their horses down the mountainside.
The hours passed quietly as she thought about what to do.
She could remain here and wait for Brodie. Aye, that was one choice. But that would leave the one who’d risked his life for her to face Brodie’s wrath and judgement, if he yet lived. Now that she knew there was something more to this, to him, she did not think that the best choice.
She could leave the mountain herself, making her way through the hidden pathways that led down to the southern side of it, nearest to Glenlui and home. Martainn would realise his fate soon enough and escape on his own come morning. She even suspected that he would free Iain before he left, if Iain yet lived, though that would be the aid he offered and not before he was on his way. Fia could give the signet ring to Brodie to sort out since he was her chieftain and should see
to matters of such importance as that. That was the best choice for a woman in her situation.
Somehow, even in the hours of waiting, she could not convince herself to simply walk away. Especially as she did not know if he would survive. And it was as she thought about what he’d said and done that she realised what he’d done.
Other than his hand hitting her cheek when she did not fall away fast enough, he’d not hurt her at all. Her fear made it seem worse than it had been. He’d yelled, he’d kicked things around, he’d even grabbed her and tossed her aside. And, when faced with exposure, he had trusted her with his most valuable possession. Her discovery of the prayer book had surprised him, but it was the ring that caused him the most concern.
Just before the sun began to rise, in the time when the sky stopped darkening but the light was not there yet, Fia made her decision. Skirting around the camp, she’d made certain they’d left and then worked her way to the centre. The pot, she knew, was too heavy to use effectively, so she’d picked up the flat girdle and crept back towards the cave. Using a side passageway, she’d approached Martainn and lifted her arm. With a quick prayer for forgiveness for the action, she’d swung it down. She had to offer another prayer after she’d uttered the offensive words as well.
Now with him securely tied and out of the way, she pushed against the flap and entered. The cave had been sacked, everything that had been organised and neatly placed now lay strewn across the floor. She’d picked up the lantern from next to Martainn and now held it up higher before her. She gasped at the sight of him there.
His face did not have a spot that was not bruised, cut or bleeding. One eye was swollen shut and his nose was broken and off to one side. They’d tied his hands behind him and he lay half-twisted on the ground. She took notice that, although tied together at the ankles, one of his legs did not look...well.
He made no sounds other than a shallow, raspy breathing. She searched within her cloak for the dagger she’d pilfered and found it. Though not as sharp as she’d like, it would have to do and she set to work slicing through the ropes to free him. Only when she moved him, turning him to lie on his back, did he stir at all.
With no assurance the villains would not return here to finish their task begun, Fia knew she must get him out of there. Must get them out of there. First though, his serious injuries must be tended to if he was going to be able to ride at all.
‘Iain,’ she whispered as she touched his shoulder. ‘You must wake up now.’ She shook him a little harder then and he groaned. ‘Wake now.’
‘Ah, ’tis you, lass. I thought with the vile cursing that I’d gone to hell for eternity.’ He lifted his head then, or tried to, turning in her direction. ‘You should go.’
‘I am going nowhere without you, you daft man. They’ve left, every one of them, in the night. Cowards!’ she said loudly.
He began to sleep again, but she shook him. ‘They may be back if they find Lundie close enough. We must move.’
Though he groaned a noise that sounded like agreement, he did not rouse completely. Deciding instead to take measure of his injuries, she brought the lantern closer.
Over the years, she’d helped Margaret, Rob’s sister, in her duties as village healer. Fia had carried her basket, sought supplies and helped her as she went about in the village, seeing to those in need. During their exile here, she’d watched Margaret care for the wounded. So, injuries and blood did not make her squeamish as it did others. Ailean, Arabella’s Cameron cousin and companion for many years, passed out at the sight of blood. But not Fia.
Taking a deep breath, she leaned over and began to gently probe for broken bones. She’d watched Margaret fix a fractured nose before and, though not difficult, the sound of it did turn her stomach. Do it quick and push it hard, Margaret had said as she did it. Fia wondered if she dare try it now. Before she could convince herself not to, she reached over, slid her fingers across the bridge of his nose and pushed it hard back where it should be.
Shuddering, she slid her fingers over his face and cheeks and was thankful when everything else felt fine. She did not tarry over his injured eye for fear she would worsen the swelling there. Through his clothing, she could feel no breaks in his arms but the bone near his left shoulder was not even. The moan when she pressed on his ribs and then lower on his belly was not a good sign. Then, when she stroked down his leg, especially his right lower one, she found a huge swelling and signs it was broken. Tugging up the edge of his trews to examine it more closely, she saw the bruise and swelling spoke of a fracture in the bone.
Damn! He would not be able to walk or ride with such an injury. It would need to be set by someone who knew how to do it. The best, the only thing she could do would be to bind it with supports to keep it steady until it could be seen to. Moving quickly now, she found the box he’d kicked out of the way and pulled its broken slats apart. Choosing two that seemed the right size, she looked around for something to use to wrap them and remembered his other trews. They would give her long strips when cut into pieces.
She set about her task, keeping an eye on her patient and an ear to the opening for signs of anyone returning. By the time the sun came up and day was upon them, Fia had done as much as she could to prevent further injury. His trews and her shift had been sacrificed for the material necessary to bind his ribs and splint his leg.
Fia left him there to get Martainn’s horse. The man lay unconscious there by the path, breathing and alive. Heaven smiled on her for the horse was saddled and ready to ride. Bringing it back to the cave, she tied it there and went in to pack up what they could take. A skin of ale, his sewing box and shears, the last of the bannocks, a few extra garments and his sword and scabbard were all she thought necessary. They’d taken his coins, but she still had the other bag hidden in her cloak.
As she carried the supplies out to pack them on the horse, she knew that she needed to find one more item among the chaos of the cave. She crawled around until she found it and tucked it inside her gown where the ring already hung on a length of leather lace, secure and hidden.
It took more time and more strength than she thought she had to get him up on the horse. Several tries and possibly more injuries, too. The sun was moving higher in the sky by the time they reached the drovers’ trail at the bottom and she had to make the final decision about their destination.
To the left and east was the lands of Glenlui. To the south lay the lowlands and eventually Edinburgh, the city of the King.
All she needed to do to make that choice was remember what his last actions had been when things turned against him—he made sure she got away but not before trusting her with the signet. He’d said to get it to the King. He trusted her.
Touching her heels to the horse’s side, she guided it south, following the roads that they used to take cattle to market. He leaned against her, barely conscious and unable to tell her what to do. There were several villages along this road and she would seek a healer to tend to the injuries she could not. Then, she would find out the truth from the man she knew as Iain Dubh.
Chapter Fifteen
Days and nights passed in confusion and pain. No matter what he said or did, no matter how he begged or promised, they continued to ride. There was not a single part of him that did not scream in pain. There was not a moment when anguish was not his dearest companion.
Niall felt the fires of hell burning within him. His skin was too tight and on fire. He was racked, pulled and stretched until he screamed and could take no more. But oblivion was too hard to find and he kept returning to the pain.
Then the freezing of winter would strike, chilling him to the bones and making him shudder at its icy touch. Not even the warmth of the body that covered him could take away that cold.
Was this his punishment for his father’s sins? His betrayal of his friend and King? Or had Lundie found him and was forcing him t
o reveal his true mission? Neither, for the devil that confounded and tortured him had soft hands and a gentle voice, urging him back to her every time he slipped into the darkness.
At first, for many days and nights, he wished she would stop and allow him to seek the darkness of death. Then, he came to crave her voice, her touch, her scent. Even her stern and forbidding voice when he failed her. But the worst was when she cried. The tears scalded him, burning his skin and tormenting his ears with the sound of her soft sobs.
Then, with the voice of an angel, she sang to him with soft words and tunes that eased his heart and his mind and his suffering. She would cradle him in her embrace and sing so gently it made him want to weep.
Niall did not know when he first came back to himself. It felt as though an early morning’s fog burned off, bit by bit, until one day, one moment, he awoke and opened his eyes.
He took a few minutes to get his bearings and then realised he was alone. In a small chamber. That held a bed and a stool and not much else. He lifted his head, but the dizziness became so profound he did not try it again for a long time. Instead, he began by stretching each of his limbs to find out where the worst of it was.
Toes on both feet worked and moved without pain. Both feet could shift and circle on his ankles. The first bit of trouble came when he moved his legs and a searing pain tore up from his right one, taking his breath away. Slowly, he evaluated his body parts for possible injuries and discovered that his leg was most certainly fractured. His ribs, a number of them on both sides, were cracked and a bone near his neck as well.
Slowly tracing his fingers over his face, Niall felt the bump on his nose where it had broken and then been pushed back into place. Not the first time and most likely not the last. His eye swelled quite a bit but it opened a little and he could see clearly.
But as he thought about his injuries, he remembered nothing after the beating that caused them. How he got here, wherever that might be, was a mystery to him. Someone had taken care of him to keep him alive this long. When he heard a voice approaching the door, he knew then.
KIDNAPPED BY THE HIGHLAND ROGUE Page 14
