The Inscription (29 page)

The musty smell of damp stones and stale air filled Amber’s lungs. She kept to the shadows and followed the light cast by Marcail’s candle. Hushed voices drifted toward her and she sensed those she followed had paused. It was vital she stop Marcail. Maybe Subedei would go back on his word, but anything was worth a try, if deaths could be avoided. Amber ducked into an alcove and encountered a wall of sticky cobwebs. Cringing, she wiped them off her face and slid into the protective enclosure.

Marcail’s voice floated toward her. The sound was hollow and devoid of emotion as it echoed off the stone walls.

“O'Donnell, you know as well as I Bartholomew must die.”

Amber backed against the wall. Marcail was a healer. She strove to save lives, or so Amber had believed.

O’Donnell’s words tumbled out in a rush. “I know nothing of the kind. Leave the matter to the Council.”

“I will not.”

The sound of their footsteps drowned out O’Donnell’s response. Amber peered from her hiding place as they turned a corner and passed out of sight.

The passageway narrowed, sloping downward. Water coated the walls. Amber paused to catch her breath. The air was growing foul and putrid She felt sick and her legs trembled. She reached out to steady herself. Instead of the anticipated coarse stones her fingers touched something smooth.

A skeleton, clad in tattered clothes, was shackled to the wall. The skull rested on one arm and the empty sockets stared back at her. The mouth was open in a silent scream. Amber stumbled back, hearing in her imagination pleas for mercy. The brutality of his death told nothing of what his crime had been. A murderer or a woman accused of witchcraft might well have died in the same manner. She shivered. Two sets of small red eyes peered at her from a crevice behind the skull, as if accusing her of being too late.

Loud, angry voices reminded Amber of her reason for being here. She heard the words; murderer, traitor, deceiver. Picking up her skirts, she headed in the direction of the sound. She couldn’t let Marcail kill Bartholomew.

As she rounded the corner, the passageway opened into a cavernous dungeon that appeared to be twice the size of the Great Hall. Vacant cells lined all four walls. In the center of the room was an enormous fire pit. Iron tools of varying sizes and shapes hung in neat rows from a wooden frame on the perimeter of the pit. All was in readiness. It only lacked for victims.

“You cannot kill me.” Bartholomew’s voice echoed through the corridors.

At the far end of the chamber, in the cell furthest from die entrance, she saw the tutor. The door to his cell gaped open. Marcail had him pinned against the inside wall with a knife pointed at his throat.

“I can kill you and will.”

“Lachlan gave his word that I would be tried by judge and jury.”

“Those crimes are nothing. We have learned your true identify.”

Amber ran toward them. “Stop.”

O'Donnell stepped out of the shadows to block her way. “You cannot interfere.”

“Marcail wants to kill him. We can’t let her.”

Bartholomew turned his head. “She will not listen to you.”

Marcail pressed the blade against the tutor’s neck. Her voice was rich with loathing. “That is because your crimes are too many. You spied on Lachlan and his family. You poisoned Molly when she learned of your purpose and who you are.”

“I admit I killed the wench. And why not? Perhaps the girl loved me so much she began to believe the babe was really mine, instead of the wandering minstrel to whom she lost her virginity.”

His laughter echoed through the dungeon. “You know full well I could not father her child. She deserved to die. But you cannot kill me. Subedei’s revenge would be boundless if you killed his last remaining brother.“

A noise that could have been thunder vibrated through the walls. O'Donnell’s voice was angry. “Cannons. They attack us with cannon.” He grabbed Amber’s arm and pulled her toward the entrance to the passageway. “Hurry. There is little time.”

Bartholomew screamed and slumped forward. Blood coated the knife Marcail held. The blade clattered to the ground. Her voice trembled. “What have I become? I have spent all my years trying to save lives.”

O’Donnell left Amber to put his arm around Marcail’s shoulder. “I knew that you would not go through with murder. No matter the offense.”

She twisted out of his grasp. “I stabbed him in the stomach.”

“The man is immortal, Marcail. As you well know.”

“That does not excuse what I have done. I must let the Council deal with him, when he recovers.”

Another cannon blast shook the walls as Amber felt herself being dragged back toward the labyrinth of corridors. Things were falling into place. Molly was killed because she threatened to expose Bartholomew’s identity. Tears stung her eyes. Amber felt sick inside. She’d seen no remorse on the tutor’s face. As far as he was concerned, Molly’s death had been justified.

As they reached the stairs leading to the Great Hall, shouts and the clash of steel drowned out all other thoughts. The battle had begun.

A flaming arrow shot by Amber’s cheek. It struck the supporting post next to where she stood. A wave of heat seared her. Lachlan shouted orders to his men as they poured from the castle gates. His warriors manned the turrets and were showering arrows down on the attackers. Women and children hauled buckets of water in a human chain, trying to slow the progress of the flames. Amber reached down and tore a strip from the hem of her dress. She wrapped the material around her hand, then pulled the arrow out of the wood and immersed it in a pail. Her fingers were singed as she unwrapped the piece of cloth. She blocked out the pain. Her priority, after leaving the dungeon, had been to look for Gavin. She had to find him before it was too late.

She hadn’t seen the boy with Laehlan’s men, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t somewhere putting on a suit of chain mail and strapping on a sword. He was too young.

A scream rose above the battle din. Amber turned to see a flaming arrow pierce the leather vest of a soldier. He pitched forward and disappeared over the side of the castle into the water below. She leaned against the cold stone. Her legs trembled and her ears rang with the man’s last cries. Another shower of flaming arrows arced over the wall. Their light illuminated the stairs leading down to the castle gate. Gavin was there. His sword scraped the stones as he descended the steps, and his chain mail brushed against his ankles.

Amber could still stop him. She hurried down the stairs and turned Gavin to face her.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Gavin raised his chin and tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword. “I go to fight.”

Amber shook her head. “No, you don’t. Your brother gave you orders to stay here.”

The boy’s lip quivered as he looked toward the closed gate. “Only the women and children stay huddled in the castle. Lachlan needs my help to fight Subedei and his men.”

It was clear that Gavin was afraid his brother would not come back alive. The same thought played like a funeral dirge in Amber’s mind. She wiped away the tears pooling in her eyes. She couldn’t think of that now; she had to protect Gavin. He knew only too well that Lachlan could use every man available. But Lachlan had not wanted Gavin on the battlefield and she would do her best to keep him out of the fighting below.

Amber put her hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Not all of the men are out on the field.” She pointed in the direction of the castle wall. “Look. Some have to stay and protect us.”

Gavin followed her gaze. “My sword would be of better use defending my brother’s back.”

Amber knelt down beside him. “Gavin, sometimes it is harder to wait for a battle than to look for one.” .

Screams rang through the night air. Torchlight blended with the small fires that dotted the gently sloping hill in front of Urquhart Castle, turning the area into a vast battleground. Amber gripped the stone ledge. Marcail wanted more bandages for the wounded and Amber had returned to her room for more supplies. Now, however, she couldn’t make herself move from the window. She searched for Lachlan among the blur of warriors fighting below. He was indistinguishable amid the turmoil. Men appeared to be hacking at each other with mindless and relentless purpose. They lacked any regard for the carnage they left behind. Enemy and friend, they were all the same.

The scent of blood mingled with sweat and was carried toward her on the wind. Amber covered her mouth and turned from the window. She slid to the floor, wrapped her arms around her legs and leaned her head against her knees. But placing her hands over her ears only muffled the screams, it didn’t block them out. She was so afraid for Lachlan.

The sound of swords striking swords rose above the shouts of the men. She tried to put more pressure on her ears, but it did not help. Finally she released her hold and leaned against the stone wall of the chamber. She felt totally helpless.

Footsteps echoed in the hallway. She stood and braced herself. Had they stormed the castle? The door burst open and slammed against the wall.

Lachlan strode in carrying Gavin under his arm. “It was agreed you would keep him safe within these walls.” As Lachlan put him down, his brother ran toward Amber.

“Is he hurt?” She reached for Gavin. Her hands trembled as she gathered him in her arms.

“He is unharmed.” Lachlan’s expression was remote. “Why did you take my orders so lightly?”

She wiped the blood off the boy’s face and put her arm around his shoulder. “What can a mere woman do, if one of the great MacAlpins wants to fight?”

“You mock me and mine.”

She straightened and met his gaze. “You’re damned right. Marcail and I did everything short of tying Gavin to the bed, but he thought his place was beside you, hacking the enemy to pieces. He must have slipped away while we were tending the wounded.”

Lachlan’s eyes narrowed. “Would you rather Subedei and his men stormed the walls?”

She could feel Gavin pull closer to her. He was as concerned as she at Lachlan’s intensity. “I’m sick to death of hearing the standard argument. You want to fight Subedei. In fact, I’ve never seen you so pleased with yourself. How may men have you killed? I’ll bet you know the exact number. You hide your love for killing under the guise that you’re defending women and children.”

She took a deep breath. “From what I hear of Subedei, you and he are the same.” The hurtful words flowed out of her and were said before she had time to take them back.

He clenched his fist at his side. “Subedei is insane and seeks out battles to quench his bloodlust. I only defend what is mine. Perhaps honor is not important in your time.”

“It’s the same as now. Men make excuses for going to war. Maybe if you tried talking to Subedei.” She shook her head. “The defending part I understand. It’s enjoying your work that bothers me.”

Lachlan unsheathed his sword. “This is the only conversation I will have with the man. In time you will know I am right.” He turned and walked out the door.

She felt Gavin tremble beside her. He looked at her. “Shall I grow to be like my brother? Shall I be as angry when I fight?”

Fresh tears formed in her eyes. She swallowed. How much did Gavin know? She squeezed his shoulder. “Your brother is frustrated, because he wants to keep us safe from Subedei.”

She prayed that was all.

In Lachlan’s mind the shadows that flickered on the walls were like ancestral ghosts. He sheathed his blade and ran down the torch lit passageway. Their images were illusive. Amber was from another time. She couldn’t understand the fire that burned in his soul. He pushed thoughts of her from his mind.

He had to protect what was his from Subedei and his kind. The only way to purge his land was with blood. Descending the stairs he opened the double doors. He ran through the courtyard. The sound of men’s screams, the ringing of metal on metal and the smell of blood, filled him. He relished the battle.

Lachlan unsheathed his sword and let out an ancient war cry. It carried to the warriors below. Those nearest the castle began to chant his name until it seemed the very air trembled. The need to join his men flooded through his veins. He tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword and forced himself to focus. He must find Subedei and defeat him. Without their leader, his enemy’s men would run like rats before a flame.

He surveyed the field. Some distance away he located his enemy. Subedei carved a path through the battlefield which was littered with the bodies of Lachlan’s clansmen. Anger heated his blood. Reaching down, he drew his dirk from the holder by his calf and headed along the narrow path that overlooked the loch.

A full moon shone in the black sky. Beneath it lay the bloodstained field in shades of gray. Lachlan jumped from the crest of the path to the ground below only to be attacked by one of Subedei’s men. He blocked the thrust with his claymore, then stabbed the man with his dagger. Blood seeped over the man’s chest. His opponent cried out before crumbling to the ground and surrendering to death.

Lachlan turned from the fallen man as another ran toward him. It took one practiced blow to pierce his assailant’s chain mail. He ignored the man’s pleas for mercy as he dealt the killing blow. He felt the blood pound in his veins. Turning, he welcomed the next man who attacked him.

The roar of the loch, as its waters crashed against the rock-strewn shore, thundered in his ears and drowned out the sound of screams. He pushed forward through the waves of blood-soaked men who surged toward him. Faces blurred; only their weapons were in focus. The full moon glimmered white-hot against the dark skies. With each kill he felt his strength grow.

Screams and war cries rang in his ears. They seemed to urge him to quicken his pace. He could feel his heart thunder in his chest. He had never felt this strong, this alive.

Through the deafening cries of battle Lachlan heard his name. He recognized the voice. It was his enemy. He withdrew his sword from the body of a man he had just slain. The body collapsed to the ground amongst the others.

Subedei’s war cry rang above the screams of the battle. As with Lachlan, he stood surrounded by those he had killed.