The Battle for Duncragglin (14 page)

Sentries on the hillside over the split rock waved and let them pass. Momentarily distracted, Alex caught his foot on a root and pitched forward. Unable to use his arms to break his fall, he hit the ground with a hard thud. Rolling onto his side, he tried to scramble back up before the rope went taut. It jerked his neck painfully and he almost fell onto his face again, but caught his balance just in time. The sentries whooped with laughter.

They passed a few bends in the trail when Malcolm motioned everyone to stop. He cupped his hands over his mouth, hooted, paused, and hooted again. After a few moments, a single hoot come from somewhere in the trees, followed by two more. Shadows were moving in the woods. One by one, several dozen bowmen silently slipped out of the forest.

Wallace dismounted and led his horse into a secluded area. “We shall leave the horses here and continue on foot.”

Craig and Alex were untied, and they led the others through the forest. Everyone took great care not to rustle branches or step on twigs. Before long, they caught sight of water shimmering through the trees. The buckets lay where Alex and Craig had left them the day before. In a low voice, Craig explained that the soldiers' camp was around the embankment. Wallace and Malcolm conferred quietly.

Malcolm had a group of men follow him back the way they came, and Wallace waved for the remaining men to come close.

“Malcolm and his men are circling around to the other side of the camp,” he explained. “We will get into position by climbing yon ridge. Rorie might have posted sentries, so we'd best travel in groups of three. Spread out, and advance quietly. If ye find a sentry, kill him and be quick about it. Once we reach the high ground overlooking their camp, lie low and wait for Malcolm's signal. He'll start the attack from his side and draw them out. Once they're all headed for him, he'll signal us with his horn and we'll attack. Be careful not to overrun the enemy and fire upon our own men on the other side.”

The men fidgeted. They flexed their fingers and tested their bowstrings.

Wallace ordered the boys to stay put. “It's no likely, but in case one of Hesselrigge's men makes it past us, I want ye to keep hidden in yon bushes.”

Alex wanted to say “good luck,” but Wallace and his men had already moved on, leaving Alex and Craig eerily alone in the deceptive calm.

They made themselves a semicomfortable hiding place
in the bushes by twisting off a few branches for extra camouflage. There was nothing left to do but wait. Hours later, they finally heard it: Malcolm's horn.

“It has begun.” Alex and Craig listened intently, but heard only a few distant shouts. The silence surprised them, but then arrows make little sound. They waited, as ordered.

Alex was about to get up when he heard a crashing in the trees. Peering cautiously through the foliage, he saw movement: shapes, legs, feet running. Several men, panting heavily and wheezing, were coming closer and closer. Alex and Craig ducked down and covered their heads. The bushes around them shook.

“Wait fir me, will ye, man? For God's sake,” puffed one of the men. “There's nobody at our heels.”

The rustling through the undergrowth slowed and stopped.

“That bastard Wallace sure surprised us back there,” gasped a voice that sounded like Rorie. “Someone must have given away our position. When I find out who, I will carve out their eyes with a dull knife.”

Alex hardly dared breathe.

“Are ye sufficiently rested? We need to be off to Duncragglin for more men. Sir James should be back with reinforcements from King Edward ere long. We'll rout that bastard Wallace from his lair and put an end to his treachery once and for all.”

“Aye, on the end of a swinging rope –”

“If he doesnae feel my steel twixt his ribs first.”

The crunching footsteps and voices receded and faded away.

Alex shifted uncomfortably. “This is not good.”

Craig scrambled to his feet. “We've got to tell Wallace.”

“No, wait! We were told to stay here.” Alex tried to hold Craig back, but it was too late: Craig was gone.

Cursing, Alex left the hiding place, crouching in the undergrowth. He ran after Craig, up the slope towards the enemy camp. Craig leapt to clear an obstacle, but Alex fell over it, sprawling face-first on the ground. Raising his head, he looked in horror at a mop of blood-soaked hair: a soldier. Judging by the split in his head, the soldier was done in by a hard blow from a battle-ax.

Craig wrinkled his face in disgust.

Alex gulped air. He had that annoying buzzing in his ears again. “This must have been a sentry,” he gasped.

A small crossbow lay discarded near the corpse. Craig picked it up and gave the drawstring a tug. It barely moved. Undaunted, he lay the front of the bow down on the ground and stepped on it, placing his feet on either side of the shaft. Teeth gritted, Craig pulled up on the drawstring with all his might to extend it far enough to hook onto its catch.

“Phew,
that is tight,” Craig said, inserting one of the arrowlike bolts that lay strewn about. Holding the crossbow up like a rifle, he sighted along the stock and pulled the trigger. The drawstring twanged and the bolt shot like a bullet, thudding a split second later deep into the trunk of a nearby tree.

Craig's jaw dropped. He slowly lowered the bow.

Alex was impressed. “That thing might come in handy … can I have it?”

“No way.”

Alex gathered up all the bolts he could find. Most lay in
a heap, where they had fallen from the dead soldier's quiver.

“Give 'm here.” Craig held out his free hand, the other still clutching the crossbow.

“No!”

Craig's face turned red. “Those arrows are no good without the crossbow.”

Alex held the bolts out of reach. “They're not arrows, they're bolts, and that crossbow is no good without them. Hand it over.”

They glared at each other. Finally, Craig broke the impasse. “Fine!” he said. “We'll share, but I get the first turn.”

“Deal.” Alex held up his little finger. “Pinkie swear?”

“What's that?”

“A promise that can't be broken.”

Alex and Craig linked their pinkie fingers and touched thumbs.

“Can you carry the bolts for me?” Craig asked.

“Sure, no problem.”

With the crossbow tensioned and ready to fire, they continued their ascent far more cautiously than before. Alex did not want to stumble over any more sentries, dead
or
alive. Now and then, they stopped to listen for sounds of battle, but all was quiet except for the birds chirping cheerfully as ever.

From the top of the ridge, they could see all the way down to the enemy camp. Motionless shapes lay scattered about the forest floor. Emerging from behind one tree to quickly scurry behind another, Alex and Craig slowly closed in on the camp. The shapes were people … motionless people … dead people. Anxiety welled up inside Alex. He could so easily end up like them. It took only one bolt….

Some shapes were bristling with arrows that stuck out from just about everywhere, so Alex tried to think of them as porcupine people. Ketchup people were the ones with ketchup dribbled around the arrows, spilling over the ground around them. Others were Lego people, without limbs or a head attached. Lego people were also ketchup people. As Alex and Craig stealthily approached the camp, they tried to stay away from each of these people, giving them furtive glances in case one of them moved.

Hearing a thump behind a collapsed lean-to, they scrambled behind a tree, tripping over each other in the process. Craig thrust the crossbow at Alex. “Here! It's your turn.”

Alex ducked. “No way! You shoot them.”

Craig dropped the bow at Alex's feet and turned away. Reluctantly, Alex picked it up.

Craig was shaking. “Let's go back.”

“Go
back where?”

“To the bushes where we were hiding. We can wait there.”

It was tempting. What if that noise came from a dying soldier? Should he shoot him to put him out of his misery? But what if the bolt didn't kill him and only made matters worse? What if it was Malcolm … or William Wallace?

Alex had no idea what to do, but knew he had to do something. He couldn't leave and not know what made the noise. Peering down the crossbow shaft, finger on the trigger, he crept forward.

S
weat beaded on Alex's forehead and the collapsed lean-to slipped in and out of focus at the end of his cocked crossbow. He decided against a direct approach as he wouldn't be able to see what lay behind the lean-to until he was almost upon it. It was better to make a wide circle around to the other side.

Placing each foot carefully, Alex tiptoed from tree to tree, thankful for the chattering sparrows. Several dead soldiers lay in his way, sprawled facedown in the dirt. Arrows protruded grotesquely from their bodies. He gave them a wide berth.

Craig stuck close by him. Whenever Alex hesitated, he dropped onto his stomach and covered his head.

Hearing voices, Alex ducked behind a tree, Craig scrambling on all fours after him. Alex listened hard. He could make out bits of what was being said.

“I told you we should have gone back to get help, but noooooooo, you wouldn't listen.”

Remarkably, it sounded like a girl.

“It's not
my
fault,” replied a boy, who sounded annoyed. “How was I to know we would end up like this?”

Craig leapt up. “It's Annie and Willie! Annie, Willie, it's me, it's me!” he called joyfully.

Two heads popped out from behind the collapsed lean-to. Craig was on them in a flash, hugging Annie and slapping Willie on the back, happy tears rolling down his face.

Alex felt a flood of relief. “Are you guys alright?”

“We're just fine,” Willie said, overcome. “At least, we are now.”

“I'm so glad we found you!” Annie said.

“How did you get here?” Alex asked.

Annie explained that after they were separated in the cave, she'd waited as long as she could for them to return, then found her way out at the next low tide. She bumped into Willie, who had woken up feeling better, saw that Alex and Craig were missing, and ran out to find them.

“I saw where you and Craig were on the wall before that big monster-head lowered,” Annie said. “But I couldn't be in both places at the same time. The head lowers only if both levers are pulled at once.”

“Did you get blasted out of the spaceport?” Craig's eyes glittered.

“That's no spaceport,” Willie said somberly. “It's hell. We've been to hell … and back.”

“To hell and back
in time,
you mean,” Alex said.

Willie looked up, startled. “No way!”

Alex gestured all around. “Did you think this is all one
big costume party? Did you think someone planted a forest when we weren't looking?”

Willie scrunched his brow. “Maybe we're in another dimension.”

Annie looked at him. “What?”

“Another dimension is another universe happening at the same time, in the same place.” Willie spread his arms dramatically. “Another time, on the other hand, is the same universe happening in the same place, but at a different time.”

Annie stifled a snort. “Did you read that in one of your space comics?”

Alex rubbed his chin in his best imitation of a thoughtful professor. “Can one dimension be the past or future of another and, if so, what's the difference between being in another dimension and being in another time?”

“If this is another dimension,” Craig asked, “then what is William Wallace doing here?”

Annie gasped. “He's here? William Wallace is here? Are you sure?”

“Of course we're sure, we met him,” Alex replied. “Maybe you saw him too – he and his men attacked this camp.”

“But why would he want to attack these nice soldiers?”

“Nice soldiers?”

“Yes,” Annie continued. “They were going to take us to the castle. They said their boss, some Lord Hessel something-or-other, was a friend of the McRae clan and would want to meet us.”

“Are you sure you weren't hostages?”

“I don't think so….”

“Guys … GUYS.” Willie waved his arms to get their attention. “Look around. Don't you think that we could have this conversation somewhere else? Whoever gets back here might not be in the best of moods.”

“Let's go to Wallace's camp,” Alex suggested.

“I'm not going back there!” Craig held up his hands in protest. “First, the cook was going to cut off our thumbs and put them in the stew, then we got chained up by this creepy man who wanted to torture us all the time. Then they wanted to have us beheaded, then they tied ropes 'round our necks and dragged us behind a horse –”

“But, Craig, don't you want to warn Wallace about the reinforcements coming from Duncragglin?”

“I do, but … but …” Craig's face contorted. “What if we don't get to see him and they chain us up again? I
really
don't want to be chained up again.”

“I still think we should be having this conversation somewhere else,” Willie said.

“Let's go to the coast and see if we can find a way back into the caves,” Annie said. “We've got to try to get home.”

No one argued. Alex retrieved the crossbow and slung the quiver over his shoulder. Willie fitted himself with a longbow nearly as big as he was tall, and Craig strapped on a belt with a dagger that, in his small hands, appeared long enough to be a sword. Removing the belt from a dead soldier was unpleasant, but Craig was determined to have it. Willie and Alex rolled the body back and forth while Craig loosened the belt from its loops.

“Good grief, you guys,” Annie said, as she emerged from a partially collapsed tent. “People are more likely to shoot at
us if you carry all that around. What are you planning to do with it, anyway? Kill somebody?

“Now here is something useful.” She thrust a sack into Alex's hands. “There's one for each of you.”

Opening the sack, Alex found bread, smoked meat, a pot, and a blanket. He slung it over his shoulder.

They left camp in the direction of Duncragglin Castle. The route took them past the spot where, hundreds of years later, the McRae farmhouse would stand.