Chapter 25

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

O wen could not deny it. He loved watching Iseabail work. Her gift was powerful, and so far, had been more than useful in their quest. Once again, she had worked her wonders to save them, and as the guard did everything she asked in a trance-like fashion, he realized how she had been able to escape from the dungeons of his father’s castle.

Once Iseabail had locked the cell door, imprisoning the guard, the group gathered.

“We should move quickly,” Owen said, grabbing a flaming torch from its metal bracket on the wall. “The guards are bound tae relieve each other at some point, and we want tae be as far away from here as possible when the next one arrives.”

“Indeed,” Hamilton agreed, gesturing in the direction the guard had told them to go. “Lead on.”

Owen turned and headed down the corridor, closely followed by the others. Her father had ushered Iseabail in front of him, and Keane followed at the rear, keeping a sharp eye out for any activity behind them. After passing more cells situated on their left and right, they reached the end of the corridor. Owen approached it slowly, keeping tight to the wall. With a slow movement, he peeked his head around it to check, only for him to swiftly retreat and turn to the others.

“There’s a guard at the end o’ the hall, but he’s facing away from us,” he whispered. “We need tae move as quietly as possible tae get across tae the opposite corridor.”

The other three nodded, none of them breathing a word.

“All right. We’ll go one by one. Iseabail,” Owen said, gesturing for her to come closer to him.

He moved her into a position where she stood by his side but still remained hidden behind the wall.

“When I say go, ye run across the hallway as quickly as ye can,” Owen said, gesturing to the corridor opposite.

She nodded and took a deep breath. Owen leaned his head out again to check, and then waving his hand, indicating for her to go, he heard her hurried but light footsteps cross the corridor. When they stopped, he glanced across at her. She gazed back breathlessly, clearly nervous as they all were.

He followed the same process with Hamilton and then Keane. Then he was there alone. The three waved at him eagerly, and with a final glance, Owen was about to follow when the guard moved on his feet and turned around.

Sharply he brought his head back behind the wall, his heart thumping in his chest. The guard’s footsteps echoed in the corridor, seemingly getting nearer and nearer.

If I have tae put this man down, I will.

He waved at the others, trying to communicate to them to get back from the corner so the guard would not see them. They did as he asked, all the while, the footsteps seemed to be getting nearer.

Until, they stopped.

Owen held his breath, readying himself for whatever might happen next. At least he had the element of surprise, and thus, held the advantage. Straining his ear to hear, there seemed to be no sound at all, but all he could do was wait. Peeking his head around the corner now was too great a risk to take.

What a great escape this will be if we cannae even get out o’ this damned dungeon.

The sound of footsteps echoed once more through the corridor, but it took a few seconds for Owen to realize they were getting more and more distant. Taking a huge chance, he jerked his head around the corner. Upon seeing the back of the guard, he wasted no time in using the sound of the man’s heavy footfall to cover his own, and hurriedly sped across the small gap separating himself from the others. Iseabail looked both relieved and delighted, but this was no time to celebrate. They had to keep moving.

Further down that corridor, they discovered the secret door to a tunnel, and once more, Owen led the way. Long shadows flickered against the walls as his fiery torched licked at the lint that kept it alight. They reached the end of the tunnel with a choice of going left or right. Owen led them to the right and continued down another tunnel. He took several more junctions, reaching the end of yet another tunnel.

But as he went to venture forth, his mind went completely blank. Was it left or right?

“What’s the matter?” Iseabail hissed behind him.

“I cannae remember which way we’re supposed tae go.”

“Left.”

“Right.”

Both father and son verbalized their directions at the exact same time.

“Right,” Iseabail said firmly.

Owen looked from one to the other. He had tried to remember all the instructions so far, but so eager to escape had he been that he had let his concentration lapse for just a minute.

He looked intently at Iseabail. “Are ye sure?”

“Aye,” she nodded firmly.

“All right.”

Owen ventured to the right and prayed that the trust he had in the woman he loved would pay off. He supposed, they would find out soon enough.

There were no more turns as they continued, and eventually, they reached another small door. Pressing his ear against it, he could hear distant voices and the clattering of pots. They were exactly where they needed to be. Right beside the kitchen.

Turning back to the others, Owen said, “This will be the most difficult part. We’ve got tae get through the kitchen unseen and reach the outer door. Follow me and stay close tae the walls.”

After they had nodded in acknowledgement, Owen slid the torch into a nearby metal bracket, not unlike the one it had originally been placed in on the wall of the dungeon, and then slowly opened the door. Once in the corridor, he pressed himself against the wall as he had instructed the others to do. Cackles of laughter danced across the air, and he could only assume that sound came from the cooks and maids who were likely preparing supper.

Given it was in the lower part of the castle, large support pillars across the kitchen separated them from the main area. While they were in the shadows at the far side, the hustle and bustle of the well-lit main space had maids and cooks hurrying about. Great big pots emanating billowing steam sat on large fires, vegetables of many varieties were being chopped, and some of the surfaces were covered in flour; balls of dough at the side, ready and waiting to be baked

This truly was a blessing. If the people in the kitchen were busily concentrating on their tasks, their eyes would be less likely to wander over to the less used side of the kitchen.

Even with the odds in their favor, Owen still moved slowly. He didn’t want any sudden movement in the shadows catching anybody’s eye. As lightly as he could, given his size, he moved gently, step by step, his back pressed against the wall. Glancing behind him, he watched the other three follow suit, and continuing on, they slowly made their way across the room.

The rear door came into view less than a minute later. Coming to a stop again, Owen assessed the situation. Unlike the wall they had been pressed against, the door was in full view of all the workers, and he wondered, as he gazed about him, how they were going to get to it and through it without being noticed.

He was still trying to figure that out when a young child came running into the kitchen. He ran towards one of the older women, clearly a cook, and when the woman bent down and stroked his hair, it became evident that she was likely his mother. After receiving a biscuit, the child ran about the place, and to Owen’s dismay, he made a turn and seemed to be heading in their direction.

“Damn it,” he hissed under his breath.

But it was too late to go back, for the child drew close, and upon seeing Owen’s feet, he bent his head all the way back to look up at the giant of a man that he was.

Owen smiled and pressed his fingers against his lips. “We’re playing a game,” he whispered. “Ye cannae tell anyone.”

The boy gawked up at him for a moment longer, and then suddenly, he turned on his heels and headed straight for his mother.

“Ma. Ma. There’s a bad man,” the boy cried.

Glaring at the others, Owen growled, “Run!”

No longer caring about a stealthy escape, Owen launched towards the door. He had managed to open it at the same time he heard the cook screaming for help.

He didn’t stop, but looking back, he grabbed hold of Iseabail’s arm. “Come on,” he barked. “Move it.”

While Iseabail kept his pace as they ran, Hamilton, in his weakened state, could not, and the second Iseabail realized that her father was not directly behind her, she pulled herself out of Owen’s grip and ran back. Keane had a firm grip on his father, but the two were moving far too slow.

Owen was now in the middle. To his right was the wall and a way to escape. To his left, was Iseabail and her family, struggling to close the gap. He had a decision to make, and he knew what he was going to do before the thought even occurred to him.

A great amount of yelling now came from the door of the kitchen which still hung open, light spilling into the darkness of the night. Just as Owen reached Hamilton, several guards flew out of the door and gave chase. Owen grabbed Hamilton and threw him over his shoulder before spinning around and heading for the wall. Keane and Iseabail were by his side as they ran, but it was too late.

“We’re nae going tae make it,” Iseabail cried.

And she was right, for suddenly, there were more soldiers hurrying from either side. In a short time, the four were surrounded, and for fear of being killed on the spot, Owen finally came to a stop. Gently placing Hamilton on the ground beside him, he followed Iseabail and Keane’s actions, and raised his hands in surrender.

“Ye tried, son,” Hamilton said sadly. “I can only thank ye fer that.”

While Hamilton’s words were kind and grateful, Owen could only feel angry at himself for letting everyone down. He had taken the lead upon himself, and he had been determined to get them out of this castle alive. He had failed. Now, Iseabail would be forced to marry Sutherland, and there was not a damn thing he could do about it.

“Move,” one of the guards growled, pointing a long spear at them.

The rest of the guards surrounded them, and the group had no choice but to do as they were told. Well, they did have a choice, but it would involve sacrificing their lives. Something Owen was pretty sure none of them were up for.

As they were marched through the castle, maids and servants hurriedly moved out of the way, their eyes wide with wonder. The guard at the front led them down several corridors until they reached a door. Opening it, the soldiers behind shoved them into the room.

It looked like a drawing room of sorts, and while the group of guards, for there must have been ten of them, stood around snarling at them, the one who had led them moved back to the door.

Speaking to all those who remained he said, “Dinnae take yer eyes off them.” He then turned and left, slamming the door behind him.

If Owen had been on his own and if he had had his sword, which he had been forced to leave with his horse when they arrived, he would have made an attempt at battle. Ten to one were not great odds, but he’d faced as many or more in battles before. Perhaps not all at the same time, mind, but he would have taken the chance.

After a small amount of time, the door flew open again, and Laird Sutherland walked in, his face twisted in anger.

“Ye dare tae defy me?” he barked, striding past the guards, who fanned out and stood further back at his presence.

While Owen balled his fists and tried to curtail his anger, his eyes were immediately drawn to the crystal that now hung around the laird’s neck. Someone had made short work of wrapping it in twine to make it secure. A leather strand had been added, and he now wore the large piece of stone as a necklace.

Noticing Owen’s attention of it, the laird smiled. “Aye, lad. I now have what I have been searching fer.”

He took several strides toward Owen and snapping out his arm, he grabbed Owen’s necklace, yanking it from around his throat.

Owen hissed as the leather burned his neck, but gritting his teeth, he glared at the laird. “Ye’re a fool, Laird Sutherland. That stone will bring ye naething but trouble.”

“Nay, boy. This crystal now makes me the most powerful man on earth,” the laird declared dramatically. “And now ye dinnae have protection, me powers will work on ye just fine.”

As though he needed to prove his point, Laird Sutherland then glared at Owen, and suddenly, a searing pain ran through his chest, as though he were being stabbed with a red-hot poker.

“Argh,” Owen cried, certain he had never felt pain like it in his life.

“Stop it!” Iseabail screamed. “Stop it. Please.”

But the laird ignored her, and continued, causing Owen to double over in agony.

“Ye tried tae take what was mine, and now, ye will pay,” Sutherland bellowed.

Thinking on his feet, Owen closed his eyes. Relief flooded through him as the pain ceased, though he was still breathless. The laird only had power over him with direct line of sight, just like Iseabail’s gift. If he could avoid looking at the laird, he could be spared from suffering.

“Grab him,” the laird yelled. “Force him tae look at me.”

A second later, Owen felt hands upon him from every direction. He fought with all his strength, but the pain he had suffered had weakened him.

“Leave him be,” Iseabail screamed again.

The laird took several steps across the room, his hand raised, ready to strike. But Hamilton and Keane hurriedly stood in front of her, and Keane took the blow. In the meantime, the soldiers had grabbed Owen’s arms, legs, and head. One of the soldier’s painfully forced his eyes open with his fingers.

Sutherland stepped back and glared at Owen, but before Owen felt another searing pain in his chest, yelling in the corridor beyond stopped Laird Sutherland in his tracks.

“We’re under attack. We’re under attack,” the voices yelled, quickly followed by many heavy footfalls outside the room.

Laird Sutherland swiftly headed towards the door, and upon opening it, he grabbed the nearest guard.

“What’s going on?” he barked.

“We’re under attack, me laird.”

“From who?”

“Clan Sinclair, me laird. There are hundreds o’ them.”

Even in his bound state, Owen felt a thrill upon hearing those words. He had no idea how his clan had found them, but a rush of hope ran through his entire being. Somehow, his father had found him, and now, Laird Sutherland would have a battle on his hands.