Chapter 17

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

T he cottage was dark and quiet, though it did not seem abandoned. The cottage stood at the edge of the town and it was quiet there, no one but Alaric, Lucia, and the Ravencloaks around; no passersby, no townspeople to disturb them or to bear witness. Alaric exchanged a quick, suspicious glance with Lucia, both of them lingering by the door.

Despite its emptiness, Alaric couldn’t immediately disregard the idea that someone lived there. Perhaps its residents knew the Ravencloaks had come for them, even hidden as they were, and were making an effort to make the cottage appear empty when in fact the family was there. The entire situation was far too suspicious for his liking, and he tried to think of a way out in case things were not what they seemed.

Either way, they would have to go in. It was either that or admitting to the Ravencloaks that they were skeptical and doubtful of their plans and intentions, something they couldn’t possibly do.

Alaric made his way to the front door first, putting Lucia behind him. Neither of them was obviously armed; they only had their knives on them, so as not to scare the people who were supposed to be inside, and Alaric missed the comforting weight of his sword. Without it, he felt too bare, too vulnerable to attacks. His fingers itched to wrap around the handle of a blade just to get the reassurance of it, to know that he was not entirely defenseless.

“Stay behind me,” Alaric told Lucia, one of his hands reaching out to hold her back. She, too, was wary, moving rigidly behind him as they made their way to the door. Once there, he knocked once, then twice when there was no answer.

Glancing over his shoulder, he exchanged a glance with Lucia. He couldn’t see the Ravencloaks who had come with them, but he knew they were all watching—what he didn’t know was what they would do if no one was there.

This is far too strange. Far too suspicious.

Still, Lucia gestured at him to keep going and so Alaric knocked on the door and waited for it to open, doubtful that it ever would.

He was soon proven wrong. Slowly, the door creaked open to reveal a man, old and weathered, with grey hair and a thin, scraggly beard, who peered up at them curiously.

Well, I suppose I was wrong.

“Aye,” said the man gruffly, in a voice deeper and stronger than Alaric would have expected. Alaric tried to peer into his cottage, but it was dark past the door, the small sliver of space he could see betraying nothing.

Was this the man who owed Callum? Alaric didn’t know whether or not he preferred this over someone who was younger and in better health. On the one hand, he didn’t want this poor man to suffer in Callum’s hands. On the other, at least he looked like a man who had lived a long life and who couldn’t be supporting an entire family. If he had family at all, then his children were likely the ones taking care of him rather than the other way around.

Now that Alaric was face to face with him, though, and he knew the Ravencloaks had not been lying to him and Lucia, he couldn’t help but feel sorry for the man. Was there any way to prevent Callum’s plan, he wondered? Was there any way he could spare the old man?

“We’re travelers,” said Alaric, his mind working fast to come up with a way to save him but coming up blank. “Me an’ me wife, we’ve been travelin’ fer many days an’ we were wonderin’ if ye could spare a warm meal or even some ale.”

The man examined them both with a careful, meticulous gaze, his dark, rheumy eyes following even the slightest movement they made. For a long while, he hesitated, neither speaking nor moving from where he stood, blocking the door, and Alaric thought they would be turned away and their task would be over. Soon, though, he was proven wrong, as the man stepped back and let them inside, and Alaric had no choice but to follow, his hand reaching for Lucia’s as they crossed the threshold.

Inside, the cottage was dark and cluttered, nothing but a small fire in the hearth illuminating the sparsely furnished room. The windows were covered with thick skins and no matter how much Alaric tried to find any signs of another person being there, he saw nothing but empty space. As he and Lucia looked around, the old man hobbled through the room in the half-light, making his way to the far corner that served as the kitchen. Alaric’s eyes, which had been glued to the man this entire time, slid over to Lucia to find that she was just as ill at ease, keeping her distance from the stranger. There wasn’t much he could do to reassure her. He was certain he, too, radiated nervousness, though if the man had noticed, he hadn’t yet commented on it.

The mission was already a disaster in Alaric’s mind. Both he and Lucia were acting too strangely, he couldn’t bring himself to harm the man, and he didn’t know what the Ravencloaks were planning to do. Did they expect him and Lucia to do all the dirty work for them? Would they soon enter the house?

They had been too vague for Alaric’s liking, giving them half-truths and barely any instructions, and it was that which had made him so suspicious in the first place. None of this seemed right to him and the more he thought about it, the more he feared there was something he couldn’t see.

“We should dae this an’ leave this place,” said Lucia in a quiet voice, just as the man brought them two cups of ale, handing one to each.

“Sit,” the man said, gesturing at two rickety chairs by a small table, near the only window that allowed some light in. “Forgive the state o’ me home. I had tae send me wife an’ bairns away.”

Did he send them away because he fears the Ravencloaks?

It was likely, Alaric thought as he took a large sip of ale, for the first time realizing how thirsty he was after such a long ride. Lucia, too, drained her cup quickly with a satisfied sigh and the man plucked it from her hand to bring her more.

“What place did ye leave tae end up here?” the man asked, his voice strangely slow and fragmented in Alaric’s ears.

He was certain he answered, though he didn’t know what it was he could have said. Before he knew it, the world was turning black around him, even the smallest hints of light disappearing.

When Alaric opened his eyes, it was still dark in the room, though he couldn’t tell if said darkness was manufactured or if it was already past sunset. He blinked a few times, trying to bring the room into focus as he tried to recall what had happened. It was then that he noticed he was tied to the chair where he had been sitting.

O’ course. I should’ve kent better.

He and Lucia had suspected the Ravencloaks from the start and yet they had been so careless as to drink whatever that old man put in their hands. It had been a grave mistake, one for which they were now paying.

When he searched for Lucia, Alaric found her still in her chair, just like he was, and bound just like he was. She was still unconscious, her smaller frame making it take longer to get the poison out of her system. However, even in the dark, he could see the soft rise and fall of her chest that told her she was still breathing.

That, at least, was a relief.

“Ach, ye’re awake.”

The voice came from the shadows but Alaric didn’t need to see the man to whom it belonged to know who it was.

“Callum… ye could have spared us all the trouble an’ attacked us on the way,” Alaric said with a sigh, letting his head fall back. A headache, pulsing and unbearable, was crawling behind his eyes once again and he hoped Callum would do whatever it was he was planning to do with the two of them soon, so he wouldn’t have to listen to him drone on and on.

Chuckling, Callum made his way through the room, revealing himself. When Alaric took a closer look, he saw that the old man was still there and so was Douglas, but no one else from the Ravencloaks was present.

He has taken it personally. He wants tae kill us himself.

That suited Alaric just fine. If they only had to fight Callum, Douglas, and an old, frail man, then an escape would be much easier.

Of course, they would have to get out of the ropes first and if Alaric wanted any assistance, then Lucia had to be awake, too. The Ravencloaks were bound to be nearby. They couldn’t escape with him carrying her.

“Did ye think I wouldnae find out about the letters?” Callum asked, tutting as he shook his head. “Did ye think ye could hide it from me? I have eyes everywhere.”

“Well, yer eyes dinnae seem tae be very clever, so we thought we might get away with it,” said Alaric. “But I suppose one o’ the cleverer ones caught us.”

“So, he did,” said Callum. The floorboards creaked under his boots as he approached Alaric, and Alaric knew what was coming before Callum even got close. When Callum’s fist collided with his stomach, there was no surprise; only a dull pain spreading over his torso and exacerbating every other throbbing pain in his body. Bound as he was, he couldn’t even fold in half, his body convulsing as he tried to fend off the pain.

Coughing, Alaric took a deep breath and tried to control himself before slowly leaning back, looking up at Callum with a cold gaze. “Why did ye bring us here?” he asked. “Why didnae ye simply kill us?”

“Kill ye?” Callum asked in disbelief. “I would be riskin’ me men’s lives fer nay good reason. But now I have ye here an’ I will enjoy killin’ ye very much.”

Is he afraid o’ us? Afraid o’ what we can dae?

It seemed so to Alaric, but he wasn’t certain whether it was a good thing. On the one hand, if Callum was frightened, it meant that he could be careless, acting out of desperation; that would either cost him his victory or make him all the more dangerous. A frightened man was a dangerous man and Alaric had to approach their escape with care.

“I didnae think ye would take it so personally,” Alaric said, trying to buy himself some time. Instead of answering, though, Callum punched him again, this time across the cheek. The blow was hard enough for Alaric’s head to snap to the side and he tasted blood as it flooded his mouth from where his teeth had cut into his skin. He had yet to recover from the last beating he had received and his ears were already ringing with the force of the blow, the room around him swimming in the dark. He couldn’t handle too much of this. Hurt as he already was, he knew that he would be approaching his limit soon and he had to find a way out of there before that happened.

Maybe I should stop antagonizin’ him.

Alaric could hardly help it, though. He despised men like Callum. He had fought against such men his entire life and now he couldn’t resist the temptation of fighting back any way he could.

“Ye’ve come intae me ranks,” said Callum. “Ye’ve lied an’ cheated yer way through an’ ye’ve brought naethin’ but chaos with ye.”

Alaric gave Callum an incredulous look, shocked by the accusations which, though true, were nothing compared to the harm Callum and his gang had done.

“Ye dare speak o’ chaos when ye’re the one workin’ with the enemy?” Alaric said, the volume of his voice rising with every uttered word. As though being a brigand and a mercenary wasn’t bad enough, Callum was more than willing to collude with the English in order to gain more influence and destabilize the clans. Blaming Alaric for trying to stop him only served to fill him with rage, the blood rushing to his head the more he considered Callum’s words. It was when Callum laughed, though, as though his actions were humorous, that Alaric became enraged, bucking against the restraints as he tried to get to him.

The chair under him creaked and wobbled. In his fury, it barely registered in his mind, but it was enough to inspire an idea for their escape.

“Please,” Callum said with a callousness that chilled Alaric to the bone. “Dae ye think I would care about that? They’re certainly nae me enemy… only yers.”

Behind Callum, Alaric saw Lucia come to slowly, blinking as she took in her surroundings. Panic soon kicked in and she fought against her restraints, the sudden ruckus catching Callum’s attention and making him turn around with a cold, malicious smile that Alaric didn’t like at all. He didn’t want Callum’s attention on her, but now that she was awake, he could finally put his plan in motion.

He gave Lucia what he hoped was a meaningful look over Callum’s shoulder, though he couldn’t tell if she noticed. She was always quick to action, though, jumping into the fight with no hesitation, so Alaric wasn’t too concerned about that. He was only concerned about getting his hands on a blade and escaping that room unharmed.

With a grunt, he lifted himself up as best as he could and then slammed back down, throwing himself along with the chair on the floor. Old and crumbling as it was, the chair broke on impact, the wood shattering under Alaric’s weight and digging painfully into his back. The fall itself knocked the breath out of him, leaving him gasping, but he didn’t have the luxury of time to catch his breath. Without wasting a moment, he shot to his feet, kicking away the ropes, and threw himself at Callum, dragging him along to the floor as he froze in surprise at the sudden attack.

Distantly, he could hear the sounds of struggle behind him as Lucia slammed her body against Douglas, the chair breaking between them. As much as he wanted to help her, though, there was nothing Alaric could do if he didn’t fight off Callum first.

In his weakened state, it was difficult to block Callum’s attacks. The man was strong, each punch he dealt Alaric landing with a rib-shattering precision that pushed all the air out of his lungs. Half of his attention was on Lucia and Douglas, which only made his task even more difficult, but he couldn’t ignore the fear that something could happen to her if he didn’t get them both out of there soon enough.

It was that thought that helped him muster all of his strength and hit back, catching Callum in the jaw. The single moment of disorientation that he caused was enough for Alaric to get out of the man’s grasp and stumble over to Lucia, who was struggling in Douglas’ grip, trying to shove him off her with little success. He was too big, his frame towering over her, and though she was a strong woman, Douglas was holding her in a vice grip that was difficult to break.

Before Callum could reach him, Alaric managed to fall into him, forcing him to let go of Lucia. Afterwards, he didn’t try to fight either of them; he didn’t think it was worth it. The only thing in his mind was escaping that cottage, and so he grabbed Lucia’s hand and pulled her to the door, the two of them bursting through it as Callum and Douglas followed in pursuit.

“The horse!” Alaric called to Lucia—it was Douglas’, a large chestnut mare that was hopefully strong and fast enough to carry them to safety. Footsteps thundered behind them as Callum and Douglas gave chase, but Alaric resisted the temptation to look back. There was only forward, the way out of there, and they were so close that he could almost bring himself to believe they had a chance.

As Lucia jumped onto the horse, Alaric deftly undid the knot that held it tied to the fence. Instantly, the horse reared and Alaric saw Lucia tighten her grip as she tried to hold on, while he pulled himself up as quickly as he could.

It wasn’t fast enough. A blade cut him across his back just as he jumped on and Lucia set the horse to a dizzying pace, the two of them finally escaping into the wilderness.

Alaric’s back stung, the wound shallow but long enough to hinder his movements and distract him with the pain. Now that they were getting away from any imminent danger, it was difficult to focus on anything else but the ache that spread all over his body from the blows he had received, but he knew he had to stay vigilant. There could still be Ravencloaks hiding in the woods, men waiting to attack them.

“Are ye alright?” Lucia called over her shoulder.

“Aye,” said Alaric, and held on tighter. But alright he was not.