Once Upon A Highland Legend (13 page)

The setting sun brought back a chill. Out of nowhere, it seemed, a thin mist crept out over the hillside, peeking over the boulder where Annie lay hidden, waiting.

“Tonight?” the familiar voice asked.

Annie recognized it, though it wasn’t until she peeked over the rock that she realized exactly who it was. Still, she blinked in shock. It was Dunneld—Dunneld with some other man. But she had distinctly heard them mention Callum by name and she was pretty certain she heard someone say something about
killing
him as well. Oh, no! She’d thought they were friends! And Dunneld had been so helpful earlier today when she’d had him move all the foodstuffs up here into the cave. She’d managed to convince him that it would be a safer place to keep their stores, and whatever perishables were in there would keep longer as well. The rest of the items had been easy enough for Annie to move herself. She’d put them somewhere where they might be found later after she was gone. Luckily, for the most part, everyone else had been distracted by the construction.

As she watched, Dunneld shook his head. “Why can we no’ wait for Biera, Fergus?”

“The Crannog is nearly complete now. Once everyone is settled ’twill take the gods themselves to oust anyone from this god-forsaken place.”

Dunneld tilted his head, as though pleading. “’Tis no’ so bad here,” he protested to the man he’d called Fergus. “Mayhap Finn was right? Mayhap this is the right thing to do?”

Annie thought he must be battling his conscience.

“Nay!” Fergus exploded. He was even bigger than Dunneld, with hair as fiery red as Kate’s and a twisted bird painted on his arm and shoulder—one that looked a lot like the one on Dunneld’s back. She thought she recalled this man from her first night in the vale, around the fire, but he must have remained in the shadows, never speaking. But then, of course, with Brude’s drama that night, it would have been difficult to notice anyone else. His beard, like Brude’s was forked and long, falling halfway to his fat belly. “Máel willna come here, and I willna force her,” he said.

Dunneld’s brow furrowed. “Ach, Da, but…seems to me you’re putting your own good afore that o’ the clan?”

Father and son?

“’Tis too late!” Fergus snapped. “Only the gods may intervene now!”

Annie’s brain raced.
Too late? Too late for what?

She was terrified for Callum. But there wasn’t time to worry. Suddenly, she heard a terrible sound in the distance—a roar that sounded nothing at all like the explosion she had planned, but that’s what it
must
be. It bounced off the hillside, echoing back and forth like rocks in a can.

Both men’s heads turned in the direction of the loch. “What is that?” Dunneld inquired, frozen in a position to listen.

Fergus grinned and pulled at his beard. “That, my son, is the will of the gods.”

One entire side of the crannog came tumbling down, spilling into the loch with a crash that sprayed water halfway into the twilight sky.

At the monstrous sound, Callum froze on his way to the storehouse, realizing instinctively what it was. At the same instant, a second explosion echoed through the vale—this one coming from the direction of the storehouse. He turned in time to see flames shooting into the dusky sky. Within seconds, the entire building was ablaze and there was naught he could do to stop it.

Uncertain which way to go, he knew that the storehouse was lost already and that if any of his kinsmen had been caught anywhere near the crannog when it fell, they could be injured, or worse, dead. With nary a second to waste, he sprinted in the direction of the loch, and then a terrible thought occurred to him. What if, as Brude had said, Annie had gone inside?

When a second explosion came, Fergus and Dunneld peered at one another, and then, without another word both went racing down the hillside, leaving the cave unguarded.

Confused by the second explosion—this one sounding much more like a detonation of combustible liquids should—Annie sat frozen, uncertain what to do.

Her gaze sought the twilight sky, searching for any sign of the new moon. None was there to be found. And yet she knew instinctively it was time.
Now.
Tonight she
must
be standing up on that ridge in that field with her Winter Stone in hand—or else.

Or else what?

Or else she would be stuck here for all time.

She would never again see her cousin Kate again—nor any of her friends. Gone would be electricity and sushi and any chance of ever buying another awesome dry sack. Most importantly, the secret of the Stone of Destiny would be lost forever—or at least until another curious truth seeker came along. But it wouldn’t be her.

Knowing it was now or never, Annie bolted up from her hiding place and raced inside. By the light of the pitch torches hanging on the cavern walls, she made her way quickly through the maze of caves and down into the lowest grotto, seizing her Winter Stone from where it had been placed on a ledge in the corner. And then as fast as her feet could take her, she made her way back out, adrenaline shooting through her veins at the realization that this was going to work after all.

In her hand, the stone remained dark for the first time since she had discovered it. Maybe its
battery
was shot, she thought wryly, as she rushed back through the caves, grateful for the pitch torches in their braces because the stone gave off no light.

Once outside, her feet took her automatically in the direction she knew she needed to go. Only then did the Winter Stone begin to glow…

The loch churned as bits of the crannog’s roof slid into the water. Snapping under the pressure, another pile cracked, ditching more pinewood into the loch. Callum dove in, as immense logs continued to shoot like missiles into the water, not thinking of his own safety, only that of Annie’s and his kin.

The chieftain’s quarters were half submerged, and the roof was on fire, ignited by the burning pitch torches that were put in direct contact with the lowered thatch. Black smoke billowed into the bruised sky. Behind him, the burning storehouse sent more billows of smoke heavenward, and it seemed suddenly as though they had been sent to hell itself, for the skies turned ominous, and the waters of the loch blackened beneath a smoke-filled, moonless sky.

Once the churning waters stilled, he could hear the panicked voices of his kinsmen over the roar of flames. Those of his kinsmen who could swim continued to dive in around him, searching for poor souls who might have found themselves atop the structure when it collapsed.

By the sins of Sluag—it shouldn’t have come crashing down. The building had been near to completion, and Callum had personally checked all the piles himself. They were new and sound, with solid, coated pinewood that should have lasted more than a few years.

Time after time Callum dove under the water to see what he could see, but the unsettled loch was murky and dark and the light was swiftly disappearing. His head came up suddenly, “Annie!” he shouted. “Annie Ross!”

Panic shot through him as silence replied.

Many of those who could not swim had congregated along the shore. Others ran from the loch with buckets to put out the storehouse flames. That fire burned bright and quick through the growing darkness, feeding on more than kindling. Purple and angry, the sky darkened the horizon and Callum scanned the banks to see who he could see.

Annie wasn’t there.

His heart squeezed painfully in his chest. He didn’t want to lose her—not this way. Not at all! She was the only reason he could remain here. Without her at his side, he had no will to stay. There were far better men than he to lead these people and the Destiny Stone would create its own fate, whether or not he remained in the vale.

“Annie!” he shouted again.

And then he heard her—the sound of her voice calling for him in the distance. He spun to see her racing down the hill—not her exactly, but her glowing orb. It burned like a God’s eye in her hands. She ran toward him, shouting his name, and Callum swam back toward the shore with all his might, leaving his men to continue searching the area around the fallen crannog, drawn to Annie like a metal to a lodestone.

The damage was immeasurable.

Half the crannog had been destroyed, with many of the roof and floor joists having slid into the loch, unrecoverable. Most of the new thatch roof had burned away, leaving the interior exposed to the elements. More wood would have to be brought down from the forests, and with winter on the way, the work ahead of them would be long and arduous.

The storehouse was gone, burned to the ground, and it was fortuitous that its contents had been moved earlier in the day. Annie had apparently done that, though not alone, Callum was certain. She’d had an accomplice though she had yet to say his name.

The fire had been set apurpose, though far more grave was the fact that the piles on the crannog had been sabotaged. A few of the load-bearing columns had been cut below the water’s surface. The rest had snapped and come tumbling down simply from the weight of it all. It was fortunate that most of the work for the day had been done, but two men and one woman had fallen into the loch, one of them dead now. Angus. Drowned, Callum may have surmised, except that his bloodless body was bloated. As far as Callum could tell, Angus had been dead for a day or more. There was foul play at work here. That much was certain.

They gathered now around
Clach Tolargg,
their meeting spot, to discuss the crimes committed. Everyone was present—no one excluded from these discussions. The decisions made here tonight would have far-reaching consequences, especially in regards to the stone.

“I
did
move the stores,” Annie confessed. “And yes I
did
set a fuse to the kegs—I’m sorry.” She shook her head. “But I had nothing to do with the crannog!” she denied the charge.

He’d allowed her keep to her Winter Stone apurpose. It glowed softly in her hands—a muted shade of pink. If he was right about the stone, he thought she must be telling the truth, though no one else seemed to see what he could see. They were calling for her head, and if he didn’t find a way to prove what he suspected in his heart, she would die tonight by the blade. If it came to that, he would do it himself, for it only seemed right that it should be he who took her head.