Hidden Away (The Swept Away Saga, Book Three)

by Kamery Solomon

  The word traveled quickly through the group, the men hanging their heads and uttering prayers. Dagger, who had been standing just in front of us, turned around and frowned.

  “Davies is dead,” he said softly. “Bled out before anyone could stop it.”

  Francois laughed, as if he knew, his eyes crazy when I peered at him. Captain MacDonald was holding his arms behind him, a blade held against his throat.

  “No one betrays me,” Francois said vehemently.

  Glowering, I went to ask Tristan what we would do now, with no Grand Master and a Master who had been sentenced to death.

  A low, deep rumble vibrated through the ships, the water going suddenly still as the ripple of sound shot through it.

  “What was that?”

  The shamans were darting through the water once more, picking up men and literally throwing them onto the decks of nearby ships. They seemed frantic, shouting at each other as they moved, gathering together into a large group.

  “What are they doing?” Confused, I watched as the continued to clump together, seeming to argue as they waved at each other.

  Another rumble shook the ship, stronger this time, knocking everyone to the deck.

  “Francois!”

  Stumbling to my feet, I viewed the captain, seeing that the shaking had caused him to lose his hold on the traitor.

  “Look out!” I shouted, watching as the Frenchman grabbed a blade and rounded on his captor.

  Captain MacDonald scooted away just in time, the tip of Francois’s blade barely missing him as it dug into the deck.

  Another rumble shook us, and we were suddenly riding a large wave, all three ships tugging at one another. The ties that held them together stayed strong, though, causing them to bump together and throw us around even more.

  Screaming, I held on to the rail, completely caught off guard, my eyes squeezed shut.

  “Holy shit!” Mark’s voice pulled me from my panic and I opened my eyes, feeling my stomach turn with sea sickness. All of my worries and fears were forgotten in an instant, though, as I stared at where we had been sitting.

  The only way to describe it was to say it was a monster. The creature raised out of the water at least one hundred feet, its dark, scaly skin glistening in the light of the sun as the storm faded away. It had two arms, beefy and bulky, currently lifting from the water. Long claws rested at the end of its fingers, matching the ferocious teeth in its mouth. The eyes were what scared me the most, though. They were dark, like the skin, but there was an intelligence to them that made my own skin tingle. As the beast examined the scene before it, I knew it was actually seeing all of us, thinking, and making plans.

  For a moment, nothing moved, everyone simply staring at the thing while it scrutinized us. Even the shamans were still in the water, watching the creature with hesitation.

  Then, it let out a terrible roar, swinging at the two ships that hadn’t joined the battle. With a deafening crack, they exploded into tiny bits, the monster causing giant waves as it moved through the water.

  I didn’t need anyone to tell me that the creature was the Leviathan, the thing that had caused the Atlantians to sink their city in terror. Just staring at it now, I knew that it was the beast. We must’ve caused such a scene in the water it had drawn him here and revealed the shamans to him. The only question I had now was how in the hell were we going to get out of this situation alive?

  The shamans attacked then, darting through the water, battling the beast with little effectiveness. He easily threw them aside, obviously the superior being in the fight.

  “Break the ships apart!”

  Captain MacDonald’s voice shattered the bubble I was in, bringing my attention to the ships and the danger we were in. He was still fighting with Francois, incredibly, trying to gain the upper hand. Like always, though, his first thought was for his crew.

  “Break them apart and sail away, as fast as ye can!”

  The well-oiled machine he had trained and commanded for years jumped into action, cutting lines free and separating the Isobel from the secondary ship that had attacked it. The majority of the Templars were on that ship, and they wasted no time in setting a course away from the Leviathan and his battle with the shamans.

  Dashing over to the broken mast that connected the flagship to ours, I desperately tried to shove it to the side, or even lift it enough to drop it in the ocean.

  “No!” Captain MacDonald slapped Francois across the face, catching him off guard and dazing him for a moment, and shouted at me. “All of ye onto this one! Ye willna be able to sail fast enough with the broken mast. We must leave the Isobel behind.”

  He was right, of course. Mentally kicking myself for not thinking of that, I turned to the rest of the crew. “Everyone on the flagship! Now!”

  A flood of crew was crossing the broken mast then, cutting the lines from the other side, working to desperately free themselves from the captivity of the Isobel and the imminent danger of the Leviathan.

  Finally, we were free, except the mast. It had become stuck under the rubble of the broken rail and stairs it had fallen into, the ropes of the Isobel tangled in a large knot with those of the flagship, the mast refusing to budge until they had been cut.

  “Out of the way!” Francois snarled as he pushed through the group, sword in hand. “I will not die today, by your hands or this monster’s!” He sliced through the knot and began hacking at the wood, little chips of wood flying out around him.

  “Ye’ll never get it that way, ye old loon.” Captain MacDonald appeared beside him, shoving him aside. Raising Shelia high, he peered across the space to Dagger, smiling slightly.

  There must have been something in that look that no one else caught, because Dagger was suddenly shouting, shoving people, trying to get to the mast and his captain, but it was too late.

  Captain MacDonald smashed the hammer against the mast, freeing it from its stuck position. Leaving the mallet where it landed, he grabbed one of the rapidly retreating ropes, and was suddenly flying through the air, back to the Isobel as we broke free from her.

  Screaming, Francois hit the deck, his feet caught in the remains of the knot he’d undone. Before anyone could grab him, he was also flying through the air, smacking into the side of the Isobel.

  Flinching, I tried to tell if he was simply unconscious, or if the collision had killed him. He hung there, limp, giving no sign of what had happened. Captain MacDonald hurried to the side, pulling on the rope that held the old man in place, until the body was in his arms.

  “Go!” He yelled, waving at us. “I’ll do my best to hold the creature off!” Laying Francois on the deck, he ran to the helm, taking control of the steering once more. After a moment, it became clear that he was aiming the bow right at the Leviathan’s midsection. The first cannon that had hit us had left a jagged piece of wood sticking out, like a giant spear.

  In that moment, it seemed to dawn on all of us what he was planning to do. There was a collective gasp from the crew, horror covering their faces.

  “Are you mad?” Dagger screamed at him. “You’ll die if you ram it with that!”

  The captain only smiled. Turning to face us, he saluted, and then turned to the helm, the air of a man who was ready to meet his fate surrounding him.

  Staring at the creature, I saw the shamans still trying to fight it, the other Knights screaming for help as they tried to swim and sail away. Any time they would get any distance between them and the Leviathan, though, it would reach out and pull them back, like it was playing a game with them.

  “Turn us around!” Dagger ordered. “We have to go after him!”

  I knew we wouldn’t make it, though. Captain MacDonald was already plowing through the waves, coming behind the creature fast, despite the loss of one of the sails. He would hit it before we could ever catch him, and he probably knew that.

  Covering my mouth in horror, I watched as he squared his shoulders, standing steady. Tears filled my eyes, but I couldn’t l
ook away. I’d never seen someone so brave or selfless before. He had truly meant it when he said no one would die unless he went first. Here was a man who had treated me with kindness and respect, even when he didn’t have to, who cared for the health and wellness of his crew above all else. I knew that for all of time, The Order would speak of William MacDonald and the sacrifice he was making right now, in front of my very eyes.

  The makeshift spear of the Isobel slammed into the Leviathan, causing it to scream in pain as the wood dug deep into its spine. Twisting around, the creature slapped at the boat, crushing it into the water as blood poured from him like a faucet. In a matter of seconds, the water around him was red and thick, the remains of the boat sinking to the bottom of the ocean.

  You could have heard a pin drop on the deck of the flagship. Without even checking, I knew I wasn’t the only one crying. We were all frozen, staring at the beast as it crumbled into the water, the shamans continuing to attack it as it faltered, its eyes rolling into its head. Not far away, I caught sight of the ship that had managed to break away, her crew also watching in horror as Captain MacDonald went down with his ship.

  Finally, with one last groan, the Leviathan slipped beneath the waves and did not resurface. The churning of the water slowed, until all we were left with was a bright sky and a red sea to stare at.

  “He saved us,” I said softly. Staring at the gory water, I wiped a tear from my face, still not able to believe what I had just seen. “Without even thinking about it. He jumped right in and took the fall.”

  “Captain was like that,” Dagger responded roughly. “I should have expected it, to be honest.”

  “Ye couldn’t have stopped him,” Tristan said gently. “Even if ye tried.”

  “Look!”

  Everyone turned to Abella, who was pointing at something in the water. At first, I thought it was an odd piece of wood, but then I realized what she had already seen.

  “She’s bringing him back!” Trying my best to not be blinded by the tears in my eyes, I searched for anything we could throw out into the water and tow the pair in with, desperately. “Someone get a ladder or something!”

  It was odd, seeing Isobel outside the spirit realm, but I had no doubt that it was her. She appeared somewhat ghostly and tired, as she struggled to keep Captain MacDonald’s head above water. There was blood on his face, and one of his arms was bent the wrong direction, but he was obviously alive, thanks to the spirit that had rescued him from the deep.

  Finally, they were beside the boat and we were lifting them, having thrown down a rope for her to tie around him. When they reached the deck, she laid him carefully down, brushing her hand across his cheek.

  Slowly, his eyes fluttered open, his stare landing on her face. He sucked in a hard breath, wincing as he tried to touch her with his broken arm.

  “Isobel.” His voice caught, and his lips trembled as he took her appearance in. “Will ye accept my death as penance for yer own?” he asked her softly, a tear escaping him and rolling down his skin to the deck.

  She laughed, her own tears bright in her eyes. “Ye’re not dead yet, ye fool. Not if I have anything to say about it.” Leaning forward, she kissed him gently on the lips, her other hand resting on his chest.

  The action caused him to cry even more, much to my surprise.

  “Ye’re not mad at me?” He was barely whispering, unaware of all of us around them. The stare he gave her made me think that perhaps he had only ever seen her and was living life with her memory always at the front of his mind.

  Her expression fell and she shook her head, kissing him again before answering. “Mad at ye? No, love. I hurt for ye. All this time and ye still blame yerself for my death. It was never yer fault, Will. Never. And if I could go back to that day and do it all over again, I would do it a million times.” She took on a stern look, frowning as she took his good hand in hers. “But I am mad at ye for avoiding me. Damn it, Will. All I wanted to tell ye was to forgive yerself and move on. I couldn’t hardly stand watching ye be so miserable.”

  He laughed, wincing as his arm moved, tears still falling from his eyes. “I kent ye were mad about something. I could see it in yer eyes.”

  “There hasn’t hardly been a day since I met ye that ye didn’t make me mad, William MacDonald. Ye know that just fine.” She smiled widely, wiping away one of his tears.

  He paused for a moment, grasping her hand in his own, and then sighed, blinking away his tears. “I dinna ken how to live without ye, lass. I dinna ken how I did it before and I dinna ken how I will do it now, knowing that ye hold no malice for me and are here, waiting.”

  Her expression softened and she ran her fingers through his beard, smiling through her own tears again. “Ye’ll do it the same way ye always have. One day at a time. That’s how I do it.”

  “Ye couldna have just let me die now and come to ye?”

  He was joking, but I could see the pain in his eyes as well. There was a part of him that would have preferred he died today, just so he could be with her. The realization made my heart hurt for the both of them. I knew I would have felt the same, if it were Tristan and I that were in their places.

  As if he were thinking the same thing, Tristan took my hand, squeezing it tightly.

  “No, Will,” Isobel said softly. “Ye are going to die an old man, in yer bed. And I will come and get ye when it happens. Ye have my word.”

  “I’m old now,” he joked.

  “And ye have much still to do.” She smiled, and it suddenly seemed that everyone knew she had to go now.

  “I love ye, Isobel,” Captain MacDonald said roughly.

  Kissing him in response, she rose, turning toward the railing and the waiting spirit realm. “I’ll see ye when it’s time.”

  Sitting in the overstuffed chair beside the window, I sipped my tea, watching Abella as she hemmed one of her skirts on the other side of the room. The street lamps of Paris were the only light I could see outside, no sign of Mark or Tristan having returned from their midnight meeting at the Temple.

  The new house was nice—nicer than our previous one, actually. I’d been surprised when The Order offered it to us, not expecting such grand accommodations. Still, I’d been glad to return to the city for once, feeling like I’d finally healed from my wounds. Tristan and I had even been talking about having another baby, depending on what the new Grand Master would assign him to.

  “Who do you think they’ll vote in?” I asked Abella, not able to keep my thoughts to myself any longer.

  “Captain MacDonald, certainly,” she replied with a smile. “Mark said he’d not heard one man say otherwise on the return crossing. The news of his sacrifice spread like fire once we returned to Paris.”

  “I was with him when someone suggested he be the new leader.” Laughing, I thought back on the memory with fondness. “He was absolutely mortified. I agree, though. He has proven himself as a leader. If anyone deserves to be Grand Master, it’s him.”

  Silence fell between us, and I debated asking her about Mark. She had brought him up, after all, but I didn’t know if there was much to tell. As far as I knew, they hadn’t spent much time together since our return.

  I was saved having to ask by the door opening, my husband appearing in the entryway with a large smile.

  “Was it the captain?” I asked excitedly, putting my cup down.

  “It was.” He laughed, sweeping into the room and taking me in his arms. “MacDonald will be so good for The Order! I can’t say I’ve ever been more pleased with our choice of leader, really.”

  My reply was cut off by a yawn, causing him to chuckle even more.

  “It is quite late. I didn’t expect you to actually stay up and wait to hear.”

  “I wanted to,” I replied happily. “We were all hoping William MacDonald would come out on top of the vote. I didn’t want to wait until morning to know what the verdict was.”

  “Aye. Shall we to bed, then?” He glanced past me to Abella. “Assuming ye h
ave nothing else ye’d like to do at this godforsaken hour of the night?”

  Abella giggled shaking her head. “No. I’m quite ready for sleep myself.”

  “Very well.”

  Taking my hand, Tristan led me from the sitting room and along the hall, stopping in front of our bedroom door. “I forgot to tell the cook that Mark is coming by for dinner tomorrow. I’ll run down and leave him a note, aye?”

  “That’s fine.”

  Kissing me on the cheek, he dashed off, disappearing around the corner.

  Snickering to myself happily, I went in to our room, sitting at the desk. A large mirror hung on the wall behind it, the dark hall reflecting in the glass.

  Opening one of the drawers, I carefully removed the necklace that Pathos had given me in Atlantis. I wore it to bed every night, wanting to make sure I stayed nightmare free. Pulling the chord over my neck, I took the stone in my hands, examining it as I so often did when I put it on.

  Footsteps sounded in the hall and I smiled, dropping the stone back against my skin. “You know, every time I put this on, I can’t help but admire how beautiful it is,” I said casually, looking up at the mirror.

  My breath caught in my chest and I froze, gripping the desk with both hands. Closing my eyes for a second, I tried to convince myself that I was dreaming, that what I was seeing wasn’t real, but I knew it was.

  Staring at his reflection again, I tried not to growl.

  “Hello, Sammy,” Thomas Randall said breathlessly.

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  The story continues . . .

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  Since its formation in the twelfth century, The Order of The Knights Templar has kept its fair share of secrets. Eric Ray, a young man living in the present, didn’t intend to stick his nose in The Order’s business, but that’s somehow exactly what happened. Amidst a budding relationship and heartbreaking revelations, he finally learns the truths he’s been longing to hear. However, the more he learns, the more he realizes that some things are better left in the dark.