“Are you sure about this plan?” Leland asked as the crew started lowering a rowboat into the water. “Splitting our forces seems risky when we have so few men to begin with. Shouldn’t we assess the situation first and wait for the Daireann Army to arrive?”
“Time is not a luxury we have at the moment, Cousin. This plan is our best chance to find Gwyneth and Isla.”
Leland sighed and leaned against the hull of the ship. “Or it could prove to be the instrument of your demise. What if Lord Carney was not really of sound mind when he drew the map? It could lead you to a dead end, or worse. There are most likely men guarding the entrance.”
“He assured me Lorcan’s men did not know about the secret tunnels. ‘Twas how Lord Carney escaped. Of course, he did not have a boat and nearly drowned, but we do.” Tristan rested his hand on Leland’s shoulder. “Trust me, Cousin. This will work.”
“And if it doesn’t?”
Tristan produced a reassuring smile, although the thought had caused him to lose sleep during their journey. “‘Tis why I need you and your men on foot, coming from the other direction. If our plan works, you will be signaled and be let in through the lower gate. If there is no sign of us by tomorrow night, then you’ll know something has gone amiss and move forward with the alternative plan. You mustn’t come searching for me. Gwyn and Isla will be your first priority.”
Leland stared at him long and hard. “Do you believe you’ll not be returning home, Tristan?”
He avoided his eyes, fearing his resolve would crumble. “That is the last thing I wish for, but if perishing here is God’s will for me, at least one of us will still be alive to lead our people to a prosperous future.” He looked up, not wanting to leave anything unspoken between them. “Cousin, you have been looking out for me since we were children. You searched for me for years, never giving up hope. Thank you for that. It is a debt I can never repay, but much has changed since then. I no longer need you to protect me.”
Instead of arguing, his cousin pulled him into a tight hug. “I understand that now. Be safe, Tristan. Our people need you more than you know and so do I.”
“Aye, you do the same.”
Murtagh returned from helping load the boat. “Everything be ready for departure, Your Majesty. I would suggest we make haste if ye wish to be reachin’ the secret passageways before first light.”
Tristan clapped his friend’s shoulder. “Aye, you are right, but I need a favor from you, old friend.”
“Of course, Your Majesty. How may I be of service?”
“I need you to stay here with a few crew members and act as captain in my absence.”
Murtagh’s eyes widened. “But, Milord…I thought I was to stay with ye.”
“I don’t enjoy the thought of separating either, my friend, but I need someone I trust to complete this task. We will not be escaping the Isles with my betrothed and cousin, unless the ship is watched over.”
Murtagh gave a slight bow. “Aye, Milord. I will do as you ask. Safe journeys.”
Tristan said goodbye to Leland and Murtagh before climbing over the side of the ship. Then he made his way down the rope ladder, joining six of his best men already waiting in the rowboat. The knowledge they were traveling toward a fortress full of enemy soldiers and their leader, Lorcan, who had proven to be a fierce competitor the last time they met, filled his stomach with a foreboding ache. Tristan brushed it away though. If they arrived with more than one boat, the risk of being seen increased. They needed to be invisible, or as close to it as possible.
He took out the hand-drawn map from Lord Carney as his men started rowing away from the ship. Holding his lantern closer to the paper, he confirmed the inlet would narrow soon, leading to a series of underground waterways. Within the hour, they would reach them, but there was a risk his informant told him about—one he had concealed from Leland and Murtagh. The current was strong, only allowing them to go one direction. One wrong turn could lead them into a potentially deadly situation, but it was a necessary risk Tristan would gladly take to save Gwyneth and Isla.
It was a few hours before the dawn when a faint knock at the door awakened Gwyn from a restless sleep. She shook Isla awake and then called for the person to enter.
Miss Leery rushed into the room, eyes wide and intense in the glowing embers from the hearth. “The time has come. There is a change in guards and this could be your only chance. Follow me.”
Gwyn collected her small satchel of belongings and rations of food Isla had gathered for them. Then they tiptoed out the door and down the dim hallways. Soon they reached a spiral staircase. It was darker there, but the risk of lighting a torch was too great. Gwyn felt along the stone walls to maintain her bearings as they journeyed down an eternity of dark steps. When they reached the bottom, the air quality had changed, taking on a musty odor.
The maid reached for the last torch above the stairway and handed it to Gwyn. “You must go the rest of the way on your own. Isla knows the way.”
Isla hugged their new friend. “Thank you, Miss Leery. I wish we could repay you for your kindness.”
“Knowing you both made it to safety will be payment enough.”
Gwyn gripped tightly to the maid’s hand. “We’ll not abandon you, or the people on the isles. I promise you.”
“I know you will.” Miss Leery looked upward as a sound came from the top of the stairs. “You must make haste before any guards take notice. Go!”
Gwyn gripped the torch with one hand and held Isla’s hand in the other as they dashed through the dark passages. Her friend whispered when to turn right or left as they journeyed on and on for what seemed like hours. Then they came to a dead end.
Isla’s breath came in panicked gasps as she felt along the cold stone walls of the passageway. “We must have taken a wrong turn. I’m sorry, Gwyn. I’ve failed us both.”
Gwyn gripped Isla’s hand. “No, you have not failed. We simply made a wrong turn. We will find it. God will lead us out of here.” They backtracked to the last turn and took a left instead of a right, but the torch began to flicker. Isla started to cry and Gwyn held her friend close to calm her. She tried to think of words of comfort, but then heard a faint sound echoing off the walls. “Do you hear that?”
Isla sniffled against her. “What?”
“Running water. It’s close. Come, we must find it before the torch goes out.”
They stumbled down the maze of passageways as the sound of the water alternated becoming louder, softer and louder again. The torch continued flickering, becoming dimmer and dimmer by the second. When it fizzled out completely, they felt along the cold stone walls, listening—hoping beyond hope the way out would appear around the next bend.
Tristan’s heart pounded as the boat floated down the underground waterways with only a few lit torches to guide them. There were markers along the way, as Lord Carney described, but the current moved more rapidly with each new turn. A fear grew in his heart that a large underground waterfall pulled the current, but he decided to keep it to himself. There was no sense in alarming his men over his anxieties—yet anyway.
All went well, until the last fork in the waterway. When a rock ledge painted with the image of a knight appeared to the left, Tristan knew it was the fork leading to the secret entrance, yet the current pulled them to the right. He heard the sound of rushing water growing louder each moment they continued, confirming his fear. “Row left with all your might!” he shouted.
The men groaned with the effort as they tried with all the strength they possessed, to steer the boat in the correct direction, but it was all in vain. The current on the right side had gripped onto them, refusing to let go. They managed to steer the boat, almost to the center, when the front slammed into a few sharp rocks, anchoring them to the mouth of the right fork. A few men began to panic and attempted to push the boat away from the rocks, but it only made matters worse. The vessel tipped savagely to the right side, sending two men overboard. Tristan watched in horror as the
y were swept away by the current. He heard their screams for a few moments after they disappeared from sight. Then, he heard nothing but the rush of the waterfall.
“What should we do, Milord?” One of the four of his remaining men asked, shouting to be heard above the noise.
Tristan balanced in the crippled boat for a moment, clinging to the last torch. It illuminated the rock face to their left, revealing a small glimmer of hope. He motioned toward it. “There, do you see that small ledge? If we can somehow jump to it, we could scale the cliff and make it into the left cavern.”
“Without the boat, Your Majesty? We could all drown.”
“There is a danger of that either way. The left waterway is our best chance.”
His men agreed and one by one, they made the leap onto the ledge. Tristan, who insisted on being the last one in the boat, threw the torch to one of his companions and jumped. He landed with both feet securely on the ledge, then scaled beside his men with care until reaching the other side. To his relief, the ledge continued on, allowing them to navigate for half an hour. It seemed to Tristan they had traveled for miles. His legs, arms and back throbbed, but when he looked back, the torch held by the man in front of him, still revealed where they’d started. They took short breaks and continued on. Tristan felt as though he’d collapse from exhaustion, but didn’t stop. Soon the ledge became inconsistent, having eroded away in places, forcing the men to scramble to keep their footing. Then they stopped moving altogether. “What is it?” he called out.
“I apologize, Milord,” one of his men answered back. The ledge is too narrow now to keep going. We’ll have to go back.”
Tristan’s mind reeled with the words of his statement. They couldn’t go back. There was nothing to go back to. “Here, hand me the torch.” The man next to him obeyed and Tristan leaned out just enough to look at the water below. It wasn’t rushing as fast as it had previously. Perhaps they could swim, but for how long? His men were exhausted already. Would they survive the trip to the secret entrance? Or did it exist at all? Even Tristan had begun to lose his faith they would find it.
“There, do you see that?” One of his men pointed toward a figure painted on the stone across from them. “‘Tis a shield with the Daireann coat of arms.”
Tristan squinted at what the man described. “Yes, I believe it is.” He held the torch a little lower and saw what appeared to be a narrow crevice in the stone. “It’s the entrance. Praise be to God. I believe we’ve found it.”
The echo of the rushing water grew louder as Gwyn and Isla continued trudging through the dark passages. However, the cavern shrunk inward, until she and Isla had to walk single file. Gwyn took the lead, but put her arm behind her, so she could still grasp her friend’s hand.
She had never experienced such darkness. It seemed they had been swallowed by an evil beast who refused to open its mouth and let them free. Although the sound of water grew louder with every step, somehow, she felt as if they only journeyed deeper into the belly of the beast with every step.
Soon, the passageway widened. Gwyn could no longer touch both sides with the tips of her fingers. Isla moved up beside her again and they continued following the sound of water. When they came around a bend in the cave, Gwyn realized she could start to make out the sides of the stone walls. Then she could see the details of its craggy surface. She turned to Isla, smiling when she recognized the youthful curve of her friend’s face. “I think we’ve found the way out,” she whispered.
“Aye, Gwyn. I think you’re right.” She wrapped her arm around Isla as her friend wept quiet tears of joy against her shoulder. Then they continued toward the glow of torchlight in the distance.
When they reached the torch, the passageway opened up into a large cavern with a waterway flowing through the middle. Gwyn’s eyes traveled the area, hoping to see a boat, or some other means of escape. Yet she saw nothing. Something wasn’t right. The maid said the passages would lead them to a cave near the harbor, yet there was no evidence of starlight from outside. The only available light was from torches lined up in various places along the walls.
A tingle rose up on the back of Gwyn’s neck. “Isla, we shouldn’t be here. Run!”
As soon as the words came out, soldiers appeared from the shadows. They tried to escape, but it was no use. There was nowhere to go, except back into the dark passages they’d come from.
“Gwyneth!” Isla screamed as a man grabbed her by the waist, causing a deafening scream to echo through the cavern.
Gwyn saw her friend being dragged away as she managed to dodge one soldier’s advance. She kicked him in the back of the shin and he fell into the rushing water. She heard him sputter and choke as the current swept him away. Then she ran with all the strength she had left. Gwyn spied a way out—a narrow passage with stairs leading upward and lit with torches. There was no way to save Isla by herself, but if she found help somehow, she could return for her. Gwyneth had almost reached the passage when a strong hand gripped her arm with the strength of a vice, making her body ricochet back into the man’s broad chest.
One of his arms anchored her to him as his free hand held a dagger to the delicate skin on her neck. “Try anything else and you’ll not live to see another sunrise, Milady,” the mountainous man growled in her ear. Gwyn obeyed, knowing she had no other choice.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Forgotten
The soldier blindfolded Gwyneth and led her through a maze of passageways. When they stopped, the sound of rushing water had become even louder.
Footsteps approached and then her captor removed her blindfold. First, she noticed in a panic, Isla was not with her. Then she saw Lorcan emerging from the shadows. Judging by the angry flame in his eyes, Gwyn knew it would be best to speak carefully, but she couldn’t help angry words from spewing out of her mouth. “Where have you taken my maid? I demand to know.”
“You demand?” He moved to face her at such a rapid pace, it made her flinch. “Do you truly believe it is wise to be demanding answers from me at this point, Milady?”
She clamped her eyes shut while struggling to calm her breathing. When Gwyn spoke again, her voice was softer. “My maid has been with me for many years and we have grown close. I simply wish to know she is unharmed.”
When she opened her eyes, most of the fire had faded from his gaze. “Take heart, your maid is safe. However, your attempt to escape will not go unpunished. You will not be seeing each other again. I’m sending her away tonight…to a place where she’ll be useful, but not cause you to disobey me.”
A tear gathered in the corner of Gwyn’s eye. “No, please don’t do this. We’ll never attempt another escape. Please don’t separate us.”
“The decision has already been made.”
Her tears ran freely down her cheeks, realizing he would not yield. “I believed you to be a monster at first, but since then I have seen deep down you long to do good in your heart. Please do not become what I previously assumed you to be.”
“Believe what you will, but it will not change my decision.” He turned away from her and started to pace, allowing Gwyn an opportunity to study her surroundings. There were about a dozen guards standing in the shadows, guarding the exits. They appeared to be by the same underground waterway, but further downstream. The air was filled with mist, telling her they were close to a waterfall.
She shivered while looking down at the white water rushing away from them, remembering the soldier she’d pushed in earlier. She didn’t like the thought of causing someone’s death, but she had seen no other way at the time.
Looking further, she saw a bridge, suspended by chains, hanging from the roof of the cavern. It seemed odd to have a forgotten bridge leading to nowhere. Yet she didn’t have much time to ponder the oddity.
Lorcan raked his fingers through his hair and whipped around to face her again, his eyes dark and conflicted. “Why must you torment me? Do you have any idea of the position you’ve put me in, Lady Gwyneth? I have done ev
erything in my power to keep you from harm. Yet, you betray me and somehow make it seem as though I am at fault?”
Gwyn crossed her arms in defiance, her previous fear of him giving way to exasperation. “‘Twas you who betrayed first, Milord…pretending to be Lord Carney and sweeping me off my feet. I was foolish to believe you had any goodness at all. Yet you fooled me twice.”
Lorcan rubbed his chin, appearing to battle with himself over something. “Fooling you was better than the alternative.”
“And how is that?”
He released a weary sigh, confusing her even further. Why did he seem so tormented? The man had more changes in mood than she’d ever witnessed in an individual. “I lied to you about my arrangement with Fergus.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time.”
“Fergus did promise me lands and title, but not a wife. I made that arrangement after I met you.”
Her eyes narrowed at him. “I do not understand. ‘Twas my understanding your purpose for impersonating Lord Carney was to take me as your betrothed.”
“No, Milady. My purpose for impersonating him was to assassinate you and your family.”
Gwyn stepped back as a rush of air escaped her lungs. “What?”
He stepped toward her as she continued backing up. “Gwyneth, please listen to my words. ‘Twas not my choice. Fergus wants King Tiernay to pay for what he did in South Rhona…for helping his cousin retake the kingdom. He lives and breathes revenge, but I’m not like Fergus. I convinced him to allow you to live, under the condition that you become my wife.”
“How can I believe that? You’ve lied to me so many times before.” She took one more step toward the water, feeling her heel slip on the edge of the stone.
Lady Gwyneth's Hope (Ladies of Ardena Book 4) Page 11
