Rise of a Legend (Guardian of Scotland Book 1) (8 page)

William’s shoulders weren’t quite as tense as they usually were when lying in wait for the enemy. He’d been so distraught last eve, he hadn’t realized how well Eva’s deft fingers had eased his stiffness.

Though waiting was his least favorite part of battle, he’d never forget it was the most important. Impatient men ended up dead.

At least waiting gave him time to think as the water from the burn rushed past, unaffected by the ravages surrounding them.

He’d never encountered a woman like Eva. They’d only met, but she seemed to understand him better than many people who had known him for years. Her encouraging words wiped away all suspicion of her being a spy. As most had, she’d lost a great deal in this war with England—yet another victim of Edward’s brutality.

Regardless, he’d most likely not see her again before she found employment. He almost regretted leaving her in the stall, but it was for the best. He couldn’t court a woman—could give his heart to no one but Lady Scotland. Aye, he’d like to. And mayhap one day he’d settle down, grow crops and raise a family.

Take up the cloth? Fight with the Templars in the Holy Land as was his boyhood dream? Now he knew bonny Eva lived in Christendom, family life bore a bit more allure. The corner of his mouth turned up, picturing her hips swaying gently as she stirred a kettle of pottage over home’s fire.

Holding her in his arms last eve had set his blood to thrumming for certain.

And there is nothing like a battle to reset my priorities
.

There would be bloodshed for certain this day and he had no business thinking of anything but the task at hand.
A man whose mind wanders is a man who ends up with his throat cut.

Regardless if there was nothing he hated more than waiting, Brother MacRae had drilled three critical elements of war to ensure success:
Wait for your quarry to come to you. There is nothing greater than the element of surprise. And stage your battles using the most advantageous ground.

Aye, he’d live by this code and put a stop to his errant thoughts of a redheaded lassie.

William opened his psalter and pulled upon his inner calm by reading. When he finished the psalm, he looked to the top of Loudoun Hill. His archers stood ready with their bows and boulders lined up to push down onto the unsuspecting horsemen as they rode through the pass.

He and his best swordsmen crouched in their saddles, lying low in the gully of Winny Wizzen. Completely out of sight, they had not only the ground advantage, but the element of surprise on their side. If only the bastards would come.

“How many horse and how many foot do ye reckon there’ll be?” asked Blair in a low voice.

“Two dozen mounted and forty or so pikemen,” Eddy whispered, though he’d reported the same earlier that morn.

Two to one. They’d fought worse odds, and this day William’s men had the ground advantage and, if nothing tipped them off, they had the element of surprise as well.

“We’ll wait until they’re trapped in the pass with nowhere to run, then I’ll toot one blast from the ram’s horn.” William pointed toward the archers. “That’ll be their cue to start firing.”

Blair crossed himself. “May God have mercy on their souls.”

William followed suit. “Och, John, put in a good word for us while ye’re at it.”

“I do that every waking hour.”

“Wheesht,” Malcolm scolded from behind. But Willy’s elder brother was right.

Without another word they waited.

The silence before a battle always sent chills along William’s spine. When not a bird called, the faint sound of hoofbeats carried on the breeze.

William squeezed his fingers around the hilt of his sword and made eye contact with Blair, then Little. Each man’s face determined, Willy would be confident riding into battle with these men any day of his life. He raised his head high enough to peer through the brush at the pass. The English hadn’t yet rounded the bend.

The archers atop the hill loaded their bows.

Movement at the forest’s edge caught William’s eye.
What the devil?
His heart stopped in his chest.
I’ll murder that wayward ox-brained lad
.

Blair nudged William’s arm and pointed.

All Willy could do was shake his head and roll his eyes. Now he’d have to worry about a woman and a lad of two and ten who thought he was a man. When this was over, Robbie Boyd would need to be taught a lesson in obedience—if he managed to survive this day.

The first rider came into view, carrying the king’s pennant—and the next touted Sir Heselrig’s colors emblazoned on his surcoat. William raised his ram’s horn no higher than his shoulder—the men on the hill could see his signal, but in the gully, he and his rebels remained hidden from view of the English.

“Now,” John Blair whispered.

William shook his head.
Let them come a bit farther
.

He waited until the iron pike tips reflected the sun over the heads of the riders. Slowly he drew the horn to his lips, holding his hand steady. With a single blast, he dug in his spurs and drove his mount toward the unsuspecting cavalry. Arrows hissed and enormous stones bounded down the hill. Horses whinnied and men howled with unimaginable pain.

Bellowing the rebel’s war cry, “Scotland until Judgement,” William led the charge straight toward the first horseman. With a gasp of horror, the man cast his pennant aside and reached for his sword. Before he drew, William dealt a killing blow across his neck.

The English cavalry surged forward, surrounding William and his men. One by one he fought the onslaught of riders. “I will avenge my father for his murder at Lochmaben!” He spun his horse in place, swinging his longsword from side to side.

His mount squealed with a high-pitched whinny and reared. Thrown from his seat, William crashed to the ground, his sword clattering beside him. Intently focused on the battle, no pain could sway him during a fight. Clamping his fingers around his swords hilt, he sprang to his feet. A horseman barreled in, bellowing like a madman, battleaxe held high. Planting his feet, William prepared to meet the bastard’s blow. As if time slowed, he watched the weapon as it came down on a path to lop off his head. But the English soldier made a mortal mistake by wielding it with only one arm.

William ducked aside. With and upward strike, his great sword met the soldier’s axe with a clanging scrape. The jarring impact shuddered through his arms, but Wallace held fast. The bastard’s weapon flew from his hand, while William caught the attacker with his downward stroke. Cut in two, the man’s corpse dropped to the earth.

William spun in place, searching for his next opponent. A shrill scream resounded from the forest edge. Robbie toppled forward as he took a bash with the hilt of a sword. Heselrig threw Eva over his horse’s neck and galloped into the forest with a half-dozen riders behind him.

“No!” William yelled, racing for his horse. Before he took two steps, something crashed into his helm with teeth-rattling force. He dropped to his knees, the world spinning.

***

When William opened his eyes, Robbie’s worried mug grimaced inches from his face. “Thank the good Lord, ye’re alive.”

William’s hand shot up, his fingers clamping around the lad’s throat. “Why did ye not stay at Ellerslie, ye fool-born milksop?”

Robbie clenched his hands around William’s wrist. His face turned red as he croaked out a gurgling sound.

“If ye want him to answer, ye’d best loosen your grip,” Blair said beside them.

William pushed the lad away and sat up. A miserable pounding punished his head. “Tell me, Robert Boyd. Why did ye bring Miss Eva here—a battle site, no less? She could have been run through or worse.”

“She said she would ride alone if I didna go with her.” The boy rubbed his throat. “I told her ye would throttle me.”

“Ballocks!” William stood and glared at his men. “What are ye all standing idle for? Heselrig is the one man we wanted and now he’s ridden off with Miss Eva.”

Blair crossed his arms. “Good riddance if ye ask me.”

The ache in William’s head nearly burst through his skull. He balled his fist and smacked the priest across the jaw.

Stumbling to his arse, Blair rubbed his chin. “Why in God’s name did ye have to go off and hit me? Ye’re taken with the lass and she’s marred your judgment.”

“Ye think ye’re so wise? What about Heselrig? As long as he’s in Scotland, he’ll not only rape our women, he’ll burn and pillage our villages—regardless.” William ground his teeth, forcing his mind away from what that monster could do to Eva.

“He’s using the wench to lure ye into his lair.” The priest lumbered to his feet.

“Aye?” William paced. “Well that’s an invitation I’ll gladly accept.”

Blair swatted his palm through the air. “Bloody woman.”

Wallace held up his fist and glared. “She changes nothing.” Then he pointed east. “Heselrig will pay for his crimes against Scotland
and
Da.”

“But we now have a bonny lassie to rescue from the Lanark gaol—if she’s still alive,” Robbie said.

“Aye.” William glared at the lad and growled. “And shut your gob. That spineless boar will not murder Miss Eva. ’Cause I aim to find him first.”

Stars flashed through Eva’s eyes after riding face-down, draped over a horse for God knew how long. She smelled the burning peat a good quarter-mile before the road grew wider and the horse slopped through mud made soupy from heavy use. Out of the corner of her eye, stone buildings passed.
This must be Lanark
.

When Heselrig pulled her down, Eva’s knees gave out. She strained to regain feeling in her legs while the ruthless toad dragged her through ankle-deep mire toward a stone building.

She twisted against his crushing grip to no avail. Though shorter, the man was a beast. The stench of raw sewage burned as he pulled her up the stairs. Her gaze shot across the scene—muddy street, stone buildings charred with smoke residue from endless burning fires—people gathered around and stared at her like spectators anxious for a public display. This brief glimpse was the first she’d seen of a medieval village and was every bit as ghastly as she’d imagined and worse.

With soldiers flanking her on all sides, she had zero chance for escape.

Shuffling her numb feet, Eva managed to keep pace with the scoundrel. “You have no right to bully me. I am an innocent bystander.”

“That is yet to be seen.” Even Heselrig’s voice cackled unpleasantly.

He led her into a narrow stairwell and pulled her down the winding steps. Shoved into a dimly lit chamber, Eva crashed to the dirt floor.

Bracing herself with the heels of her hands, she blinked and forced her eyes to adjust. Then she wished she’d remained blind. Some of the torture devices she recognized from museums, like the rack, the iron branks and stocks. Lining the wall were whips, thumbscrews, even a heinous breast ripper. Beside them hung an assortment of deadly knives, saws and sharp axes—a torture chamber to rival any museum exhibit she’d ever seen.

But this was real.

The display of weapons made a cold shudder pulse through Eva’s veins.
God help me
.

Heselrig sauntered up to her, a sadistic sneer stretching his thin lips. Eva scooted away until she hit the wall. She flinched when he swung his foot back, but wasn’t fast enough to dodge the toe of his boot as he kicked her in the stomach.

“Gah!” Eva cried.

“I want his name.”

Sharp pain shot through her abdomen like shards of glass. Eva curled into a ball, sucking in gasps. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Lurching forward, he grabbed her shoulders and pulled her to her feet. “Ye talk like a guttersnipe. Exactly what I’d expect from a backstabber’s whore.”

Clutching her arms around her gut, she glared at him through narrowed eyes. The man was shorter by at least three inches.

Eva twisted and struggled to wrench from his grasp.
Fight
. With another glance at the knives on the walls, she clenched her fists, threw back her shoulders and jerked her arms wide. As his grip released, she dashed for the stairs.

Guards crossed their poleaxes, blocking her escape.

She flung her arms over her head and prepared for impact.

Heselrig grabbed her from behind. Crushing her neck in his grip, Eva’s arms clamped harder as he drove her body against the wall.

The iron taste of blood slid across her tongue. Everything hurt. The sheriff pinned her in place with his disgusting, smelly body, oozing with male sweat covered by a sickly concoction of musk oil.

Cold steel pricked the side of her temple.

Eva drew in consecutive stuttered breaths. That damned knife was too sharp. One twitch and his dagger could cut out her eye. God, she hated knives.

He pressed his lips to her ear, the foul stench of decayed teeth nearly made her heave. “I’ll ask ye one more time afore I cut off your gown and take the lash to your bare flesh.” He chuckled and thrust his hips into her buttocks. “And then I’ll bend ye over and give ye a taste of King Edward’s elite.”

“You goddamn fucker.” Eva bucked, only to have her chin slammed into the wall. Gasping, she stretched her jaw to the side while shirking away from the dagger.

“Ye are a spirited bitch. I like that,” he cackled, rubbing his sickly erection across her buttocks. Sheathing his dirk, he whipped a rope around her wrists. “The giant phantom who descends from the darkness and murders my men. If ye want to live, ye’ll tell me his name.”

Eva regarded the brutish man over her shoulder and wrenched her arms against the grating rope.
He’ll be dead soon and everyone will know William’s name no matter what I do
. Then she pictured Walter Tennant’s big tent at the caravan park. Blinking, the image quickly faded. The medallion warmed.

Heselrig stepped away and studied the assortment of torture devices on the table. He picked up a headman’s axe and examined the blade.

“Stop this madness.” Eva faced the man’s back, emboldened by her knowledge of the past. “The man you fear will attack and cut you down in a matter of minutes. You want his name? Well, it’s William W…”

Before she blinked, everything went black, her body spinning as if being sucked into the depths of a whirlpool. A deafening rush filled her ears, so painful, she wanted to clap her hands over them to muffle the roar, but she couldn’t move even if she’d been untied.

As fast as it started, blackness turned to blinding light. The noise ebbed.

Eva drew in a sharp breath, recognition tickling the back of her mind. Tent walls flapped. Birds sang.

“Back so soon?”

Walter
.

“Holy shit!” Standing in the center of the tent, she struggled against her bindings and stared at him wide-eyed. “W-what happened? One moment I was in Heselrig’s torture chamber and then everything went black.”

“Were you about to do or say something that could change the past?” He pulled out a pocketknife and opened the blade.

With a cry catching in her throat, Eva skittered away. Lord, she’d met with enough sharp objects for a lifetime.

He held up the knife. “To cut your bindings, unless you like being tied.”

“Right.” She forced herself to be rational, turned and presented her wrists. “Thank you.”

“Honestly, I thought you would have returned days ago.”

She eyed him over her shoulder. “I knew you and your medallion were behind this.”

“I merely acted on a hunch.” He ran his blade back and forth over the rope. “So, what’s happened?”

“God.” Her entire body shook. “Heselrig captured me and demanded I tell him the identity of the enormous phantom warrior who kept attacking his soldiers. I was about to reveal William Wallace’s name and, poof, everything went black.”

Her bindings released and Walter folded his pocketknife. “That must have been what did it.”

“But why would it matter?” Eva rubbed her wrists. “We know Wallace killed Heselrig in May of twelve ninety-seven—
exactly
the time I was there. Would it have made any difference if I told him?”

The professor shrugged, his rolling eyes ginormous behind his thick lenses. “I’ve no idea, but evidently it would have.”

“Why?”

“Perhaps it would have given him a chance to dispatch an army before Wallace attacked.”

Eva pressed her palms to her face. “This can’t end. Not now. I was just beginning to earn Wallace’s trust—providing I escape Heselrig’s sadistic torture.” She gave Walter a pointed look. “How do I get back?”

Walter spread his palms, a bewildered frown stretching his jowls. “I’ve no idea.” He offered her a folded handkerchief.

“What?” She wiped her bloody nose. Jeez it hurt. “You’re the mastermind who gave me the medallion.”

“Aye.” He scratched his head. “But I wasn’t sure it would work.”

Eva paced. He couldn’t be serious—playing with her life on a whim? “How long have I been gone?”

“A few days.”

“That means time passed here while I was there.”

Walter nodded.

“Where’s my car?”

“I moved it here—where you always park it.”

“Are the others worried?” She wrung her hands.

“Nah.” He waved his hand and batted the air as if she’d never been in an iota of danger. “I told the team you had a big story you were chasing.”

“Good…I think.” Eva’s mind raced. Wallace had looked directly at her before she was taken at Loudoun Hill. Never had she seen such a determined expression. Though in the midst of battle, she knew he’d ride after her. “I must return. William will come for me—I need to be there when he does or else he’ll think I’m a turncoat.”

The professor crossed his arms. “So it’s
William
is it now?”

“Oh, please.” She had to make Walter understand. “I’ve learned so much in such a short amount of time…” Eva quickly rattled off the details about Wallace’s father’s death, meeting Robert Boyd, Edward Little and John Blair. “Did you know Robbie was only twelve years old in twelve ninety-seven?”

Walter sat in a camp chair and gestured for her to do the same. “That stands to reason. As I recall he was still a young man when he rode for Bruce.”

Eva remained standing. “But the history books make out like Robbie was William’s right-hand man.”

“You are as aware as I the history books are often mistaken. Besides,
Sir Robert Boyd
would have been a strong ally of Wallace in later years—perhaps even after William returned from mainland Europe.”

“Right.” Eva swiped a hand across her forehead. “Regardless of all this, I must return.”

Walter guffawed. “And end up dead?”

“Wouldn’t I hurtle through time before I got killed?” She blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of all that had happened in the past five minutes. “Come on—tell me I’m immortal when traveling to the thirteenth century.”

Tennant threw up his hands. “How should I know?”

Holy shit
. That made her gut clamp as she pictured Heselrig’s torture chamber. The madman wouldn’t think twice before he ran a blade across her throat. “What?” she shrieked. “You mean to say you picked me, knowing I could end up dead?”

Walter’s gaze trailed sideways. “Well not exactly—not when you put it like that.”

“Then why? Tell me, why did you give me the medallion?”

“Because you are a writer and a Wallace fanatic. I thought you’d have the best chance of staying alive and bringing back the truth—and then have the skills to tell the world about it. Besides, I honestly didn’t believe you’d spend more than two minutes there, just like...”

Pacing in a circle, a bazillion thoughts warred in Eva’s head.
I can’t leave things with William thinking the worst. I must see him again
. “I have to figure out how to get back.”

Walter removed his glasses and wiped them with the hem of his shirt. “I don’t know if you can.”

She gulped. “What are you saying?”

His exasperated mien grew more exaggerated when he repositioned his thick lenses. “You might have guessed that
I’ve
already tried.”

“Shit.” She plopped into the camp chair. “I figured you might have. What happened?”

“An old man gave me the medallion years ago at the Fail Monastery ruins. The only thing he said was the rule, the same one I told you.”

She shoved her hands against her temples and rocked back. “Where did he come from?”

“I’ve no idea. I was sitting on the wall, writing in my journal, and all of a sudden he was standing in front of me. I looked down at the medallion and read the inscription. When I looked back up he was gone—almost thought he was a ghost.”

“That’s creepy.” Eva shuddered. “Did you travel right then and there?”

Tennant nodded. “I landed in the midst of a battle, and fought for my life, shrieked when I was sure my head was about to be lopped off.” He stretched his legs out and crossed his ankles. “I was only there for a few minutes before I was catapulted back. It’s never happened for me again.”

Dropping her hands, she grasped the camp chair’s armrests. “So you traveled before you were killed?”

“Aye, I did.”

She scooted to the edge of her seat. “Do you know if the traveler has any control over time and place?”

He shook his head. “You ken as much as I do, lass. And I’m not certain if Fail Monastery has anything to do with it or not.”

“Then why did I end up in your tent and not at the ruins?”

Shrugging, Walter had no answer.

With a drum of her fingers, Eva recalled that she’d pictured the tent—her mind must have some sort of control.
But how?

Filled with growing confidence, she jumped to her feet. “I need a shower and to collect a few things. Then I’m heading back to Fail.”

Walter leaned forward in his chair. “Don’t you have enough material for a story? I’ll say it again, traveling back could be dangerous.”

And now he was worried about her safety? But for the first time in her life, she wasn’t. “Jeez. Did you think about that when you put the medallion around my neck?” She stopped at the tent flap and grinned. “Besides, I’ve got William Wallace watching my back.”