by Mariah Stone
Andy shook his head. “I will say one last thing. You’re miserable, and you know it.”
“I’m fine,” Konnor growled. “I’m great. I have everything I ever wanted.”
Thunder rolled in the distance, and they both glanced up to the dark-gray sky.
“Let’s get a move on,” Andy said. “Come on.”
He sped up, but Konnor didn’t. Seeing his friend moving off in the distance, he realized he needed a break from him for a while.
“You go on, Andy. I need to take a leak. I’ll catch up with you.”
Andy stopped and glanced at him with suspicion in his eyes. “Are you sure?”
Konnor sighed. “I’m sure the summer rain won’t melt me.”
“All right.”
Andy hurried down the track. Once he was out of sight, Konnor took in a lungful of air and breathed out. He didn’t really need to piss. The cold wind picked up, and the scent of lavender and freshly cut grass rushed by him.
Suddenly a woman’s voice broke the silence. “Help! Help!”
Instinctively, Konnor reached to where he usually kept his gun. But of course, it wasn’t there. The only weapon he had was a Swiss army knife in his backpack.
He looked around. Andy was nowhere to be seen. Trees swayed, hissing in the wind, and leaves and branches flew by. One narrowly missed his eye and scratched his cheek. Thunder rolled closer, and the granite sky flashed with lightning. The storm was almost right over him. Was the woman stuck somewhere?
Rocks crumbled from somewhere behind him. Konnor squinted back down the trail but couldn’t see anyone. The wind brought the woman’s scream again. Or was it just trees moaning as the emerging storm assailed them?
The scream came again, and his pulse accelerated. It was coming from behind him, up the trail. He sprinted in that direction as fast as he could with his backpack on.
“Help!”
Trees and bushes flashed by as he ran. Twigs cracked, and pebbles rolled under his feet. The scent of lavender and freshly cut grass grew stronger. The voice was louder now, so the woman must be somewhere nearby, but he still couldn’t see who was calling.
“Down here!”
The voice came from behind the trees and bushes. Through the gaps, he saw the edge of a cliff. He stepped through the undergrowth and looked down a ravine that was about two hundred feet wide. It was as though an ancient earthquake had cracked the ground in half here. There was a steep, rocky slope of about twenty or so feet right in front of him. A few pines grew straight out from the rocks. The ravine was shielded by a steep slope on the other side. A creek flowed along the grassy bottom below. It looked fertile and cozy, like a small, secluded piece of heaven. Something about it was magical and mysterious and unreal.
There was a woman down in the ravine. She was sitting on a small pile of rubble and holding her shoulder.
“Are you okay, ma’am?” Konnor called, trying to shout over the wind.
She looked up, and even from here, he could see a bright smile. She had long red hair and wore a medieval-looking green dress.
“Oh, lad, can ye help me?” she said. “I hurt my arm and canna go up.”
The wind picked up, and the next gush stole Konnor’s breath. He looked the slope over. It was really steep, but he could more or less see a path down. The question was whether he could bring an injured person back up.
First, he needed to get down there and see what was wrong with her arm.
“Don’t move,” he said. “I’m coming.”
“Oh, bless ye, lad!”
Thunder shook the world, and lightning split the sky in half. Thick raindrops began to hit Konnor’s face. He needed to hurry.
He lay his backpack on the ground and began making his way down the slope. Rocks and rubble crumbled under his feet. He hung on to bushes and the occasional pine that grew in between the hard rocks. Heavy raindrops fell faster now, and he had to blink rapidly.
His leg slipped, and he tumbled down. Earth and sky flashed. His military training kicked in, and he kept his arms close to his body to avoid his organs being hit. Something smacked against his ankle, and red-hot pain blinded him. He got a hard blow to his head, making the world explode.
Finally, he stopped rolling and lay still. He felt like he’d been put through a meat grinder. Willing the dizziness away, he opened his eyes. Raindrops fell from the leaden sky, and he blinked. His left ankle hurt like hell. Was it broken? With a groan, he sat up. When he moved his leg, fire shot through his veins. Goddamn it. His first aid kit was up in his backpack.
His wrist ached, too. No doubt, there’d be a bruise there tomorrow. His Swiss watch, a gift from Andy, had a hair-thin crack on the glass. Thankfully, it was still working. It was waterproof and as reliable as a German car. He’d hate to lose it.
He looked around. There was a heap of rubble and gray mortar nearby. The woman sat and stared at him with an emphatic grimace. Rain fell heavily all around them, but while Konnor’s clothes were getting soaked, the woman didn’t look wet.
Weird.
“Does it hurt?” she said.
Suppressing another wave of nausea, he swallowed. “You bet. I have bad news for you. I don’t think we’re getting out of here without help, not with me like this, and not in this storm.”
As though to confirm this, lightning flashed, and thunder cracked above them.
Konnor cursed. “I don’t suppose you have a phone?”
She bit her lip and widened her eyes. “I dinna have a phone. ‘Tis the one thing from yer time that scares me.”
He blinked. Had he heard her right, or had he whacked his head so bad he was having audible hallucinations? “What’s your name, ma’am?”
“They call me Sìneag.”
“Sìneag. I’m Konnor Mitchell. Nice to meet you. We need to find some sort of a shelter until the storm passes, and I’ll need to take a look at your shoulder.”
“Oh, aye. Mayhap here by the ruin.” The heap of rubble formed an alcove where it connected with the cliff. An ancient oak tree grew there, its thick crown forming a sort of a ceiling.
“Yeah,” Konnor said. “That’ll do.”
He tried to rise to his feet, but the pain in his ankle was excruciating. She jumped to her feet and rushed to him. She put his arm around her shoulders and lifted him up with strength that surprised him. Was she in any pain at all? As though he weighed nothing, she helped him towards the small shelter and then let him slide down the wall of the cliff by the rubble.
It was a relief to be out of the hammering rain and wind. The ground here was cold and dry. The air was thick with the scent of rain and wet ground, but the predominant smell was lavender and cut grass. It seemed to be coming from Sìneag.
She sat next to him, and now that raindrops weren’t making him blink every second, he studied her. She pushed back a strand of hair from her heart-shaped face. Her eyes were large, and she had a strawberry-shaped mouth, and freckles dotting her milky skin. Her hair was red and played in the small gushes of wind that reached her. She looked like Red Riding Hood, except her hood was green, and she had no basket.
“Your shoulder is fine, isn’t it?” he said.
A guilty expression crossed her blushing face. “Aye. But I can help ye.”
Konnor grimaced. She’d lied and put his life at risk. For what?
““I almost broke my neck trying to help you.” he said, his voice ringing with restrained anger. She must have a good reason for the ruse, and he didn’t get a dangerous serial killer vibe from her. He hoped Andy would come back to find him once the storm passed. He should see the backpack by the track easily enough.
Sìneag managed to look both sheepish and a little upset. Her green eyes darkened and became as hard as rocks. “Ye dinna have love in yer life, do ye?” she said.
Konnor blinked. He must have smacked his head really good, Because this conversation was unbelievable. “What?”
“Do ye have someone? Love someone?”
Shit. He had
to be reading her wrong. “Look, I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression, but I’m not looking for anything here. I’m just on a guy trip with my friend.”
She laughed, the sound sweet and pure.
“Oh, nae!” She said. “‘Tis nae what I meant with the question. Forgive me. I canna be with a mortal anyway.”
A mortal? What did that mean? Was she some sort of a celebrity here and meant that in a mocking way? Nausea rose in his throat. Yeah, he probably had a concussion.
“Okay,” he said. “As long as we’re clear about that.”
“I just wanted to ken if someone like ye—a man with a strong soul and a soft heart—has someone in yer life?”
A grunt started deep in Konnor’s gut, but he stopped it. Was today “let’s grill Konnor about his love life day”? First Andy, and now a complete stranger?
“I don’t.”
“Good,” she exclaimed and clapped her hands. “I dinna see anyone in your heart, but I just wanted to be sure.”
“What is the point of this?”
“‘Tis all for yer own good, ye’ll see.”
Getting hurt was for his own good? She was really testing his patience. As the owner of a personal protection agency, he had to deal with all kinds of clients. Sometimes his company was contracted by Hollywood celebrities and billionaires to protect them and their families, so he’d met his share of eccentric people, but he’d never had a conversation like this. Could the concussion be causing him to hallucinate?
“What are you talking about?” he said.
She giggled, and the sweet laughter reminded him of the ringing of small bells.
“I’m testing yer patience, aye? Ye’re a good man. I wouldna have done this for a bad one. ‘Tis like so…” She pointed at the huge pile of rubble and what looked like the remnants of a wall. “‘Tis here was an ancient Pictish stronghold. ‘Twas built upon a magical rock.”
She looked pointedly at a large, flat rock that lay sunken in the dirt. It had what looked like an old, simple carving on it—a flowing river in a circle with something that looked like a road piercing it. Near the carving was the clear imprint of a hand. Just like the imprint of a shoe in asphalt before it got a chance to dry. Weird.
“They say there’s a tunnel through time that opens for those who touch the rock. On the other side is the person who’s destined for them.”
Konnor raised one brow. “Wonderful,” he murmured. “That’s a looney story.”
“There’s a person for ye, too,” Sìneag said.
“Oh, really?”
“On the other side of the tunnel of time, there’s one person who’ll make ye happy. Someone who can help you soothe all your wounds and stop running from all ye secrets. A woman you can truly love. A woman who can love ye.”
“Back in time? Do Highlanders have stories about time travel?”
An owner of one of the distilleries on their whiskey tour had been very enthusiastic about local folklore. She’d told them stories of kelpies, faeries, and silkies. But none about time travel.
“Aye, though nae many ken them. The woman I’m talking about is as hurt as you are, and she needs someone who’ll help her get back on her feet. Tell me this is nae something you need, too?”
He shook his head. “What I need is to be left alone.”
She smiled. “Ye humans amuse me. Ye make all kinds of excuses to cling to yer beliefs. Destiny will show ye, Konnor Mitchell. Remember, Marjorie will soothe yer soul.”
He propped his hand against the ground. Was he hallucinating, or was the rock with the carvings glowing? No. Not hallucinating. There was a faint glow coming from the indentations of the carving.
“What the hell?” He looked up, but Sìneag wasn’t there. He looked around. “Sìneag?”
The noise of the rain drumming against the ground and the leaves was the only sound, and the scent of lavender and cut grass was gone.
Where the hell did she go? “Sìneag?”
It seemed like the rock was vibrating. His pain and discomfort forgotten, Konnor stared at it. What was happening? The carvings were glowing clearly now—the waves blue, the straight line brown. And the handprint… It called to him to put his palm into it. What was the harm? Slowly, he moved his hand and placed it into the indentation in the rock. A buzz went through his fingers, like the distant rumble of an earthquake. It was as though his hand were made of metal and the rock was a magnet. Strangely, his head was full of one name.
Marjorie.
He fell forward, and the hard, wet surface disappeared, replaced with cold, fresh air. He saw nothing. Heard nothing. His ears were muffled, as though he’d been plunged into water.
He was falling and falling, and darkness consumed him.
Chapter 2
Lands near Glenkeld Castle, Loch Awe, summer 1308
Marjorie pulled back the string of her bow. The tip of her arrow was pointed at the stag grazing between the trees, his antlers a giant crown on his head.
The air was ripe with the scent of flowers, deer dung, and rotting tree trunks. Birds chirped, and the wind rustled through the leaves. Sunlight fell through the branches onto the grass and tree trunks, and the hair on the stag’s body glistened where the sunrays fell on them.
Marjorie made herself breathe deeply to fight the violent drumming of her heart against her ribs. She imagined it wasn’t the big, graceful animal with the crown of antlers beautiful enough to decorate a king’s great hall. Instead, she imagined Alasdair MacDougall standing there with his back to her.
She often imagined the man when she trained with her sword, imagined piercing him with her weapons and bringing the most excruciating of deaths to him.
In her mind, he fought back every time. Now, just like the stag, he didn’t. He stood there unaware of her presence. The arrow was in the perfect position to meet the target, but she couldn’t let it fly.
Despite her years of sword, archery, and combat training, she’d never attacked and killed anyone. All she’d done was train. This stag would be her first truly large kill. She’d only hunted fowls and hares before.
Just do it already.
Marjorie let out a long, slow breath, making the last estimations of the flight of the arrow in her mind’s eye. Everything was ready. The coarse string rubbed against her cheek as she pulled it back just a little.
Let go.
The stag raised his head and looked east.
Voices.
It took off.
“Oh, damnation!” Marjorie cursed and lowered her bow.
Tamhas and Muir, the clunky fools, must be looking for her. She may as well head back. She was alone outside the walls of Glenkeld Castle for the first time in ten years. Her father and three brothers Craig, Owen, and Domhnall, were north in the Highlands, fighting for King Robert the Bruce together with the rest of Cambel clan. Ian, her dear cousin who’d been fostered with her family for almost his whole life, had been killed in a battle with the damned MacDougalls soon after she’d been saved from Alasdair.
The warrior in her wished she were off fighting for her king with them, and finally using her years of combat training. Instead, she’d been left in charge of Glenkeld Castle, which both terrified and excited her, because together with the castle, she was responsible for protecting Colin, her son.
The sense of danger prickled against her skin as she quickly looked around. She better hurry to Tamhas and Muir. It had been pretty stupid of her to separate from them, but she’d wanted to test herself, to see if she was strong enough, if she was ready. The truth was, she’d been afraid of walking alone outside the castle walls ever since her clan brought her back from Dunollie. She was ashamed of her fear. Ashamed that she couldn’t conquer it. Separating from her bodyguards for this small mission was a step towards putting an end to it.
She put the arrow back in her quiver and the bow on her shoulder. The voices grew closer, and she went in that direction.
“There’s no moat, and the walls are nae high. With ladders,
we’ll be in the castle in no time.”
She stopped. Those were not her bodyguards.
“Aye, and the top part of the wall is crumbled on the northern side. Chief will be pleased.”
She hid behind a tree trunk, her stomach churning, her breath ragged. Crumbled wall on the northern side… No moat… That described Glenkeld Castle.
Cold crawled down her spine.
“Aye. How much longer to the horses? Canna wait to bring the news to Dunollie. Chief wants to march soon and get his grandson.”
“Nae long.”
Dunollie… His grandson…
The ground shifted under her feet. Her knees melted, and her blood turned to ice. The nightmare that had crippled her whole life was coming for her again.
MacDogualls.
Where were her bodyguards?
Her feet were as heavy as lead, frozen to the ground. With an enormous effort, and trying to calm her shaky breath, she turned and looked in the direction of the voices. The two men were walking east with their backs to her now. Their dark tunics swayed as they moved lazily through the trees like they already owned these lands.
She could kill them. She could send an arrow into one of them, and if she were fast enough, she could kill the other one before he turned around. Her hands shaking violently, she took her bow and an arrow. She nocked the arrow in place, but it fell.
“Damnation,” she whispered.
They were walking away.
She tried again. This time, she secured the arrow in place. She lifted the bow and pulled the string to her cheek. But her breath shuddered, and the arrow jumped up and down before her eyes.
They were leaving. If she wanted to stop the MacDougall spies, this was her last chance. She was almost out of time. She’d never actually hurt anyone, except for the occasional bruises and scratches during combat training.
If she shot now and the arrow missed, the men would be alerted and come after her. Then she’d really need to fight for her life. She couldn’t let them to take her again.
The past blurred her vision. She remembered lying helpless on a bed, unable to move, pain unlike any she’d ever known tearing her apart. Panic clogged her throat.
