Chapter Six

 

 

They stopped to rest after a couple of hours riding. Callum didn’t want to but he could tell his companion was growing weary. Pulling the horse to a stop by a pool of clear water, he left the beast drinking its fill while laying out a blanket from the saddlebag, covering the damp earth so Kerry could sit in comfort. “I could have kept going,” she said, looking up at him with her arms folded, for all the world like a petulant child.

“Aye,” he replied. “And you could’ve fallen off and cracked your skull when your grip went.”

“I was fine,” she said, her voice quieter, less defiant than before. “How far do we have to go?”

“We pass between the two old men,” Callum said, pointing at a pair of jagged mountains in the distance. “There’s a pass through but it’s still a wee climb to the other side. After that it’s only another couple of days.”

“Days? I thought it’d be hours.”

“What’s the rush? You’re in the most beautiful country in the world. I feel a part of this land and yet you wish to pass it by in a moment?”

She shrugged. “I need to get back to my own time. I can’t stay here much longer.”

“Why not?”

Her eyes turned away, staring into the distance. “No reason,” she muttered.

He watched her closely for a moment before turning back to the saddle bag, reaching inside to bring out a lump of hard cheese. “Hungry, lass?”

“Starving.”

He sliced a thick wedge and passed it over to her, taking a little for himself before leaning back against the thick trunk of an oak, watching the ripples on the pool spread as their horse stepped into the water, cooling his feet after the hard morning’s ride.

Glancing across at her, he noticed once again how beautiful she looked in the daylight. The sun seemed to light up her skin, accentuating the smooth softness of her features. He could have stared at her like that for hours, drinking in her features in the same way the horse drank from the pond. Behind her the morning haze had vanished and the last of the flower was upon the heather, framing her in purple and blue.

“What?” she asked, turning to face him, a smile spreading as she saw him look away embarrassed. “Why are you watching me?”

“You seem surprised by what you see,” he said, nodding in front of her. “What is it you’re looking at?”

“It’s this, all of this.”

“What? The heather?”

“The quiet. Listen.”

Callum stood still. He could hear a curlew in the distance, the water flowing into the pond, the horse splashing. Further away a stag was rutting but it wasn’t in view.

“Hear that?” she asked, smiling again. “It’s so quiet here. Empty too. There’s no one for miles around. No planes, no cars, nothing. Just us.”

“Is there no peace in your time?”

“Not according to Chamberlain.” He frowned but she just laughed. “Never mind. It’s just very different here.”

“In what way?”

“Well, take the farms when we first left the castle.”

“What about them?”

“They were divided up into strips.”

“Aye. So?”

“So in my time it’s just different. Never mind. Come on, we should get moving, shouldn’t we?”

“I suppose so.”

He didn’t want to move on. He wanted to stay where he was, staring at her with the sun behind her. The spell was broken when she stood up and the perfect image gone but in its place he was able to once again enjoy her closeness. With the two of them in place on the horse, he put one hand around her waist again though he had no doubt she would not fall. She was a natural horse rider. It was in her blood. As were the highlands.

The longer he thought about it, the more certain he became. She belonged in Scotland with him. He told himself not to think about it. What was the point of using her to ensure he did not need to marry if only to fall for her instead? He would still be wed and still unable to patrol but he would also incur the ire of his father and the wrath of the MacKays.

Behind them the castle had vanished from view. The fields and rolling heather clad glens gradually gave way to rougher country, crags and bare rocks that grew bleaker as they gained height, the track growing thin, becoming rutted. “Are we still going the right way?” she asked as the path faded away to nothing.

“Aye,” he replied. “Have faith.”

Another hour and they were high enough to look back and see the castle in the distance, the battlements peeking out many miles away, as if watching them go. Callum paused again to let the horse rest.

“The ravine is up ahead,” he said as she looked around her. “Our land ends at the other side. We must be cautious. Bandits patrol this territory.”

“Bandits?” she asked, her voice containing a hint of tension. “Will they attack us?”

“Hopefully not.”

He looked ahead at the mountain pass which dwelt in the shadows. Either side the two enormous peaks acted as guardians, protecting the MacCleod land. “In ancient times, we worshipped the old men of the mountain land,” he said as they edged forward slowly, the horse having to search for solid ground among the fallen stone. “Offerings were left up here for them by my ancestors. See there.” He pointed at a cairn to their left. In the base a hollow had been formed and in the gloom something sparkled.

“What’s that?” Kerry asked.

“A wee stone.”

“A wee stone? It looks like an emerald the size of my fist?”

“Aye, maybe it is.”

“And no one has stolen it?”

“It would be a rash fool who took from the old men.”

“Why?”

“These mountains can help or hinder. If you want to make it through the pass alive you’d be wise to leave them an offering, not leave them angry with you.”

“But-”

“Shush!” Callum held up a hand to silence her. Ahead of them a scattering of rocks tumbled down the mountainside, coming to rest in a plume of dust.

“What is it?” Kerry whispered.

“I dinnae ken,” he hissed back. Glancing up at the mountainside, he saw nothing. “But I will be glad when we’re through.”

Urging the horse forward again, they made slow progress through the ravine, the light fading behind the mountain, leaving them in the silent gloom. There were no signs of life anywhere, only bare rocks and another tumble of stones to their right. “Is that normal?” Kerry asked.

“No,” he replied. “Keep your wits about you.”

He stared forward as they went, his hand going to the hilt of his sword. “Keep the reins a wee while,” he whispered. “And if it comes to it, keep going forward. Ask for Fenella in the right places and many will point you the right way.”

“What? Why are you telling me that?”

“Quiet. No more talk.”

There was a moment of silence and then an echoing roar across the mountainside. “Bahoo!”

The response. “Bahoo!”

“What is that?” Kerry asked, twisting her neck to look at him.

“MacDonalds,” he replied, spitting onto the ground as from both slopes men sprinted out from behind boulders, running as best they could down toward the two of them. “We may outrun them.”

They almost made it. Snatching the reins from her, he spurred their horse onward and it stumbled through the cascading stones toward the far end of the ravine where the sunlight still shone. Would that light ever hit their skin or would they die in the shade?

As they grew closer to the end of the mountain pass, the attackers gained ground, hurling stones as they came in an attempt to make the horse throw them. “Damn them to the devil and back,” Callum said. “Old men, help us.”

He leapt from the horse’s back and stood in the middle of the pass, sword gripped in both hands, ready for their arrival. He counted half a dozen, none of them with bows. Typical MacDonalds to mount an ambush with no bows.

“You’re a dead man,” one of them shouted. “And your wee lassie will be the spoils of war.”

Callum said nothing response, waiting for them to get closer.

“You would spill blood in the land of the old men?” he asked when they were still a dozen yards away.

“Who believes in that nonsense?” one of them yelled back. “We’ve spilled many a man’s blood here before and yours willnae be the last.”

The stones were no longer in their favor, they had begun stumbling in their eagerness to get to him. Their lack of training prevented them working together. They were shoving each other aside, each desperate to be the one to kill the heir of the MacCleods. Kill him and they could claim Kerry for themselves. The thought was enough to clear his mind. This was what he was built for, not marriage.

He closed his eyes for a brief moment and said a silent prayer.

Then it began.

The first one to reach him tried a clumsy thrust but he batted it aside with his sword, sending the man off balance. The second made it a moment later and lifted his club, ready to bring it down on Callum’s head.

By shifting his weight and leaping left, the club hit only the rock where he’d stood a moment before, smashing it in two and enraging the attacker.

Turning again, he smiled as the club ricocheted and struck the first man, sending him sprawling down to the ground.

“Let me at him,” one of the others said, pushing his way through, his sword drawn. “He’ll not stop me with his fancy feet.” He waved the blade menacingly, marching through the others. “You’re a dead man, Callum.”

Callum still said nothing. Let them talk. He was patiently waiting for them to attack again.

The sword waver moved closer, the blade a blur as he shook it from side to side, his hand twisting on the hilt.

Callum managed a smile. The attacker was tiring himself out, panting heavily, his muscles bulging from the effort of constantly moving the sword.

Taking a step back, he made the attacker work harder, still not a blow had been struck. The man finally lunged at him but all his showmanship had weakened his attack and when it came, Callum was ready, flicking his own sword into the hilt of the aggressor’s and sending the weapon flying into the air.

It landed several feet away and as the others laughed at his misfortune, the attacker turned and swung a punch at the nearest man. “Dinnae mock me, I do not see you doing any better.”

“You couldnae do much worse.”

More laughter and as the argument descended into bickering and then brawling, Callum moved slowly backward, watching them closely. Behind them on the mountainside there was a rumbling noise. Callum heard it but the others were too busy fighting each other. With another step back he had hold of the horse’s head.

He swung himself up onto it, landing behind Kerry, surprised to find her crying. He had no time to ask her reasons. He needed to move. The rumbling had become a roar.

Turning the horse away, they broke into a gallop through the last of the ravine. As they went he heard the roar turn into an earsplitting crash as a boulder broke free from the very peak and rolled down into the ravine. He turned his head in time to see the boulder slam into the group of them. The noise of their bickering cut off in an instant and all he could see was dust.

“The old men do not care for blood spilled on their land,” he said, turning his head and concentrating on the descent from the ravine.

“That was just a rockfall,” Kerry replied. “Wasn’t it?”

“What do you think, lass?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” she said, sniffing loudly.

“You still cry. What ails you?”

“I almost saw you get killed. We nearly died.”

“Och, half a dozen MacDonalds who couldnae ambush their own mothers in a privy with a week’s warning.”

“Weren’t you scared?”

He realized as they slowed that she was trembling, her body shaking uncontrollably.

“I will let no man hurt you,” he said.

“Until I get back to my own time,” she replied quietly.

He looked at the back of her neck as she continued to tremble. Someone had hurt her, he could tell. It wasn’t just the fear in her eyes during the ambush, nor the tears at the danger that had befallen them. It was something deeper, something he couldn’t pinpoint.

He would get them somewhere safe to rest and then he would find out just who had hurt her. Then he would track them down and make them pay for what they’d done. The thought of anyone causing her pain made him grip the reins so tightly his fingers turned white.

Behind them the old men were still. In the ravine there was no sound at all.