Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

T he man who called himself Mask finally dropped the dirk from her throat, and grabbed her wrists, pulling them behind her back.

“Move,” he barked, pushing her ahead of him.

There was no point in struggling. He was already holding her so tightly that if she did move, she would cause herself a great amount of pain. A moment later, his friend arrived with two horses, and not missing a step, Mask grabbed her by the waist and flung her onto the black beast.

“Me mare,” Iseabail cried. “What about me mare?”

Mask looked at his companion, and then glared back up at her. “Why dae ye care?”

“It is me horse,” Iseabail said. “O’ course I care.”

He heaved a sigh, and then mounted the horse behind her. “We will go and collect yer mare,” he spat.

The three travelled back to the rear of the tavern, and after Iseabail had pointed out her horse, the Mask’s companion untied it and led it beside him.

They left the village then, and as the sounds of the tavern waned, Iseabail began to worry about what might become of her. The man’s words from a moment earlier came back to her, and still reeling from the swiftness of her capture, Iseabail struggled to get her head around it.

Because ye were silly enough tae try and steal from the laird’s son.

She was on Clan Sinclair’s lands, and thus, the man who sat behind her on his huge beast, must be a Sinclair. But why the devil would the heir of the clan be fighting in such a dreadful way. His mask now made more sense, however, for clearly, and for whatever reason, he did not want anyone to know his true identity.

It still did not explain why he was fighting. Surely, he did not need the coin. The Sinclairs were a wealthy clan, she knew that much. So why was he doing it?

Dinnae ye think ye need tae be more concerned with the fact that ye are now captured, and thus, can nay longer look fer yer crystal?

Of course, she ought. Her plan had failed miserably, and now, she was a prisoner.

I will be fine. I’ve got this far. I’m sure I can find me way out o’ this mess… somehow.

The moon hung high in the sky, lighting up the trees and fields as they approached the castle. The huge gates loomed up ahead, and with a strange cry from Sinclair’s companion, they slowly yawned open.

Several guards stood and nodded at them as they entered the courtyard, and then the gates slowly closed again.

There will be another way out o’ here. There has tae be.

Even with that thought, her hope of escape waned when she saw the many guards that sauntered about the huge courtyard. Other people moved about too, some hurrying, looking as though they had some place to be, others were strolling, while some were stood together in groups talking.

Large fires burned in huge iron baskets stood on tall poles, the fire causing dark shadows on the cobbled ground beneath their feet. The area was busy with noises, and shouting, and children yelling. In fact, as Iseabail looked around about her, it reminded her of home.

The heir of Clan Sinclair, or so he called himself, guided his horse onwards, and eventually, they came to a huge wooden structure that Iseabail recognized as the stables. After he had dismounted, he grabbed her by the waist and lifted her down to stand beside him, keeping a tight grip on her wrist. Two young stable hands hurriedly took hold of the horse’s reins and guided the steed away.

“Now what?” his companion asked, once he had dismounted his horse and let the stable hands deal with both it and Iseabail’s mare.

“We’ll take her tae the dungeons. I have some questions I’d like tae ask her,” Mask growled, glaring down at her.

Iseabail gasped and gawked at him. Partly because at some point, he had removed his mask, and she could now see his face fully. He was as handsome as she had imagined he would be, but ruggedly so. Blue eyes pierced into hers as black hair framed the chiseled jawline of his face. The other reason came from the fact that, although she didn’t really know what she expected to happen when she arrived at this castle, she had not fully believed him when he had told her the dungeons were waiting for her.

“What?” he spat. “Did ye think I was jesting? Did ye think I might go easy on ye because ye’re a lass?” He then narrowed his eyes and gave her a cold stare. “Nae a chance.”

Abruptly, he pulled her along with him as they headed towards the towering castle. Iseabail had to trot a little to keep up with his huge, angry strides. As they neared the building, he did not take her in through the front entrance, but entered the castle via a smaller wooden door situated on the side.

Once inside, they turned right and traveled down a corridor. It was dull, with only small lanterns fixed on the wall to light their way. Iseabail was now beginning to grow a little more worried. She had imagined, at some point, that she might have been able to use her powers to get out of this situation, but if this man was going to keep an eye on her, she was stuck. She was simply powerless while he continued to wear that crystal around his neck.

The spiral staircase was narrow, and thus, he went first, Iseabail followed, and his companion followed at the rear. She turned to try and catch his eye, but the stairs were steep and she nearly lost her balance, and thus, she turned her attention forward again. Falling down the stone steps and breaking her neck was hardly going to assist her in escaping.

Once at the bottom, Laird Sinclair’s son grabbed her wrist once more and marched her down yet another dull corridor. They rounded a corner up ahead and immediately, Iseabail noticed the iron bars of the cells.

A guard jumped up from his post at their approach, and looking rather surprised, he said, “Is everything all right, sir?”

“Indeed, it isnae,” he growled. Nodding to one of the gates in front of them, he said, “Open that cell.”

“Aye, o’ course,” the guard replied, still looking slightly confused.

A piercing screech hit her ears as the guard pulled the rusty gate open. But the second it was wide enough, she felt herself shoved inside. It came as a surprise to her to see how clean the cell was. Not that she had spent any time in a cell in a dungeon, but she imagined it ought to be darker, colder, and perhaps teeming with rats.

Hearing the gate slam behind her, she spun around, only to discover her captor had stepped into the cell with her.

“Leave us,” he called to the guard.

A second later, the guard and the man who had accompanied them back to the castle seemed to disappear. To where, Iseabail had no idea.

“Now,” he growled, stalking toward her. “I want answers. What were ye doing in the tavern? How come ye ended up watching the fight when nay women are allowed? What dae ye want with me? And what did ye dae tae Daire?”

Iseabail was overwhelmed with all his questions, and could only stare at him. She had no intention of answering anything he asked of her, but even if she wanted to answer, she could now not remember the first thing he had said.

He heaved a sigh. “Let’s start from the beginning. I will tell ye me name, and ye can tell me yers, because I can bet every stitching of clothing I wear, that it isnae Soirsche. Fair?”

Iseabail nodded because, well, what else was she supposed to do?

“Me name is Owen Sinclair, son o’ Laird Madigan Sinclair. And ye are?”

“Iseabail,” she replied firmly.

She did not feel nervous, for as bad as the situation was, she sensed that there was no danger in this man. It was a strange assumption to make under the circumstances, and yet, her gut told her it was so, and thus, she believed it.

He gave her a long glance. “Iseabail what?”

She shook her head. “I’m nae willing tae tell ye any more than that.”

“I’m afraid that just isnae good enough, Iseabail ,” he said, emphasizing her name. “Ye did something in that tavern. Ye did something tae Daire.”

She now understood that Daire was the name of his huge companion. The man who looked like he might be able to rip a man, or woman, in two with his bare hands.

“Are ye a witch?”

“Indeed, I am nae a witch,” Iseabail spat. “What a ridiculous question.”

“Nae from where I’m standing. Daire had a full tankard of ale, and yet, ye convinced him tae go and get another. Did ye put him in a trance? What did ye dae?”

“I’ve already told ye. I’m nae willing tae answer any more o’ yer questions.”

“Och, but ye will, lass. Or would ye like me tae send Daire in here tae beat it out o’ ye?”

Iseabail’s eyes flew wide, but as she glared at him, she noticed an almost imperceptible movement at the corner of his mouth. As though, he found what he had said amusing. Perhaps she had got it wrong. Perhaps he was a dangerous man after all.

Or maybe, he’s laughing because he kens, he’d never dae it, and is only trying tae terrify ye intae telling him what he wants tae ken.

That sounded like a far better option, and thus, Iseabail grabbed hold of that reasoning with two hands. He had saved her earlier, before the fight had begun. If he was any kind of fiend, surely, he wouldn’t have made the effort. Her line of reasoning was a little thin, but it was just enough to keep her from spilling everything.

Earlier, she had unloaded all her worries onto the burly man who had approached her in the tavern, but she had known she could compel him to forget everything she said. Now, apart from the fact that her powers were useless against this man, she also didn’t know him and therefore, could not trust him. Somehow, she needed to know from where he had garnered his necklace, and yet, she had little doubt he would refuse to tell her without some information in return.

But if she did answer his questions, she might well end up in this dungeon for far longer than she intended.

“So, ye’re nae going tae tell me?” Owen pressed.

Iseabail stood her ground. “I think I’ve already made that quite clear.”

“Ye ken, it is ye who has gotten yersel’ intae this position. Ye tried tae steal something that belongs tae me. Ye put me friend under some sort o’ spell tae dae it. And I still cannae understand how ye managed tae get into that room tae see the fight.”

He glared at her for another long minute, but Iseabail only looked back at him, her eyes never leaving his, and her resolve as strong as ever.

“Will ye nae even tell me why ye want this?” He tugged at the necklace.

Iseabail stared at the necklace for a moment, but still did not say a word. What she had been looking for was right there, not three feet away. The irony of it was, if he wasn’t wearing it, she could compel him to give it to her. But alas, it was not going to come into her possession that easily.

Besides, it still wasn’t enough. The crystal she was looking for was far bigger than the one he wore. Laird Sutherland had made that quite clear. He had told her the stone was large and heavy, and thus, the crystal that hung on Owen’s necklace couldn’t be it. At least not the whole of it, but perhaps it was a small piece broken off it. But if she could discover from where he had obtained it, maybe it would lead her to its source.

“Where did ye get it?” she asked.

Owen burst out a mirthless chuckle and gawped at her in disbelief. “Ye dinnae want tae answer me questions, but ye expect me tae answer yers?” He shook his head. “I’m afraid it’s nae going tae work like that, lass.”

She already knew he wouldn’t tell her, but it was worth a shot. Even now, she could hardly take her eyes off it, and as she gazed at it, she wondered if this man knew how much power truly hung around his neck.

“Owen,” a voice said, carrying through the bars.

Both Owen and Iseabail looked across the cell to see the giant Viking-like man standing close to the gate. “I need tae speak tae ye.” He nodded, gesturing that Owen come and join him.

He huffed out a frustrated breath. “Fine.”

Spinning on his heels, he turned and left the cell. The guard hurriedly locked it once Owen had left, and then he stood in, what Iseabail assumed, was his usual position. She tried to see where Owen and Daire had gone, but even with her face pressed up against the bars, she could not see them.

If they had left, this might be her chance. For a certainty, the guard was not wearing a crystal, and if she could just get him to come over to her and look her in the eye, she might be able to escape this place.

But then, she heard voices echoing through the empty corridors, and realized that Owen and his companion had not left the dungeon at all.

“She’s saying naething,” Owen huffed. “As stubborn as a mule.”

“What is it yer hoping tae discover?” Daire asked.

“Dinnae ye remember? She put a spell on ye.”

“Dinnae talk nonsense, Owen. There wasnae a spell.”

“Then tell me why ye went tae get another drink when a full tankard sat beside ye on the bar?”

There was silence for a few seconds, and then Owen spoke again.

“Ye see, ye cannae, can ye? Ye only went after she told ye ye should go. And then, when we were outside, she tried to grab this.”

Iseabail assumed Owen was pointing to his necklace.

“What would she want with it?” Owen asked.

“She’s likely a thief. She saw an opportunity and took it. I mean, we ken how easily ye are swayed by the lasses, Owen.”

“Nae,” Owen spat. Iseabail could hear the frustration in his voice. “It’s more than that. I ken it. She was there when I was fighting. I saw her. Ye ken as well as I that nay women are allowed intae those rooms. How did she get in? Who let her in? Did she cast a spell on another poor soul?”

“I dinnae ken, and neither dae ye. I also think this is a fool’s errand,” Daire replied, now sounding a little frustrated himself. “Ye have far more important things tae concern yersel’ with. What if yer father finds out ye have a prisoner in the dungeons? What are ye going tae tell him? Ye sure as hell cannae tell him the truth.”

“I can tell him part o’ the truth.”

“Nae!” Daire barked. “We are lying tae him already. Dae ye nae think I feel bad enough, keeping the truth from him? Keeping from the man I have stood beside fer more years than I can remember, the fact that his son is fighting men in taverns fer coin tae save himsel’? I am his closest friend, Owen, and I am lying tae his very face. How dae ye think that makes me feel?”

Another silence fell, and while Iseabail stretched her neck to hear, her mind began to work.

So, his faither doesnae ken about his fights. What’s more, Owen is fighting tae save himsel’.

But save himself from what?

Who cares? Surely, ye can use this information against him if he willnae let ye go.

Perhaps she could. Perhaps Owen Sinclair’s deceit could just be her way out of there.