Chapter Thirty-Four

"Deliberate violence is more to be quenched than a fire."

Heraclitus, Philosopher, 500 BC

Sara followed her brother as he ran from the great hall. His voice rose as he burst outside into the bailey, issuing orders to organize the Macdonald troops.

A woman ran past him into the entryway, catching Sara's arm to pull her back into the great hall. Beatrice had her natural wide-eyed, frightened-fawn expression. "MacLeods are coming to conquer us," she said. "What do we do?"

Winnie picked up a pear that had been left on the table and bit into it, speaking while chewing. "We remain calm and act like ladies."

Sara looked into Beatrice's eyes. "Go through the village. Any woman and child who fears can come inside the castle."

"That's not what the chief said," Winnie said. "We'll be overrun."

"Start by putting them in my bedchamber," Sara said.

"We have the Fairy Flag," Winnie said. "All will be well."

Relief slid over Beatrice's face, making Sara's heart hurt. Because they didn't have the Fairy Flag, she did, tied under her petticoat. A flutter of remorse beat like bat wings inside her. She could run outside and pull the flag out of her petticoats, delivering it to her father. Although she despised her father and what he was doing, she loved her people, people like Beatrice who believed in the flag's power.

Sara held tightly to Beatrice's arms. "Go now. Bring those who are frightened."

Beatrice ran out, determination, and the thought of the Fairy Flag, giving her courage. Sara hurried to the double doors leading into the bailey.

"'Tis a lie!" Her father's voice thundered over the din of horses being saddled and swords being strapped to every man with two arms. Sara's insides twisted as she watched with horror. Walter lifted the scarf out of the wooden box. He let the box drop, and it splintered, as he held the yellow silk up with two hands. "A foking trick."

He will kill ye. Her brother's words pierced her chest as surely as if Walter Macdonald had drawn his sword and stabbed her with it. Sara leaped back inside the doorframe, barely able to breathe, her heart thumping wildly. In that instant, seeing her father's reaction to being betrayed, she believed he pushed her mother from Dunscaith's roof.

Kenan grabbed it from him. "Fly it anyway. People don't know what it looks like, MacLeod or Macdonald." There were soldiers nearby who could hear. He looked at them. "For all we know, this is the Fairy Flag. It hasn't been seen for two decades. 'Tis yellow silk and sits in the box."

Father Lockerby strode up to the scarf, touching it. "If this isn't the pagan flag, where is it?"

"I looked at it the night Reid Hodges brought it," Walter said. "'Tis been replaced since then by a traitor." He looked around, and Sara pulled back farther into the alcove inside the door. "Seraphina Macdonald!" His voice rattled through Sara like an earthquake.

"We must find it," Gilbert called.

"Nay!" the priest yelled back. "Trust in God, not some pagan cloth."

Sara peeked back out in time to see Kenan catch Walter's arm. "There's no time to hunt for it. 'Tis inside Dunscaith, keeping the castle safe. Fly this flag or none at all."

Father Lockerby's eyes were wide. "'Tis inside the castle somewhere." The priest turned, striding back inside, walking right past Sara into the great hall.

Kenan's friend, Angus, rode his horse into the bailey. "The Lion of Skye leads them in a charge across the moor. Some on horse, most on foot. Looks to be about three hundred men."

"Say the flag is in the box, and give it back to them," Gilbert said, shoving the scarf back inside the box, but the fall had left it lopsided, the corner chipped off.

"To make them leave?" Walter growled. "I don't want them to leave. I want them conquered, whether here or at Dunvegan." He looked straight at Gilbert. "Kill them all, and Dunvegan is yours."

He'd give Dunvegan to Gilbert? Sara looked back into the hall where Winnie stood finishing the pear. Sara's eyes narrowed. If the woman couldn't get Dunvegan through Jamie, she'd get it through Gilbert.

The priest dashed up to Winnie. "Do ye know where the real Fairy Flag is?"

She pointed toward the doors. "They took it out there."

"Daft woman. That's a fake." He turned, running toward the stairs. "It must be inside the castle. It must be destroyed!"

Sara's hands flattened on her skirts, knowing it was safely tucked between the layers. She stepped back as two men carried a caldron between them into the hall. It held black pitch.

"What is that for?" Winnie asked, worry tightening her previously annoyed features.

"The chief ordered it inside in case it must be carried above to pour over MacLeods."

" If they get inside the bailey," the other man said. "Which they won't." He grinned at the ladies. "Because we have the Fairy Flag." They jogged back out.

Apparently, not everyone had heard her father's explosion in the bailey. But how long would it take to spread, muting her clan's confidence?

Sara hurried back to the double doors, peering out. She heard Winnie laugh behind her. "You're like a chicken running back and forth without its head."

Sara's father and brothers had ridden out of the gates, and Macdonald armies were organizing, many on horses and the rest on foot. Walter yelled for the massive catapult to be brought forward. She saw no flag or scarf flying up high.

Standing on tiptoe, she could make out the oncoming MacLeods, straight down the center of the moor toward them. She squinted, and her breath caught. Even if he was too far away for Sara to see his expression, she could see Rory's broad frame, riding his gray charger with total confidence at the head of his army.

He was coming for the Fairy Flag. If she'd been able to get it back to him, would it have stopped this battle? She could run out to Rory, handing him the flag. Her fingers slid around her waistline where the edge of the flag was caught. If she flew it over her head, would that be the third flying of the Fairy Flag, using up all its magic? If there was magic.

Which clan would claim she was flying it for them? Her father would despite his suspicion that she'd replaced the flag with the scarf. But if she ran toward Rory, would he think she flew the flag for him, for MacLeods?

Sara ran her hands over her forehead, letting them rest on the top of her head as she tried to decide what to do. Her breaths were coming too fast, making her chin feel numb and sparks start to glitter in her sight. Dropping her hands, she leaned against the door, forcing even breaths between her parted lips. It took her a moment to realize the gates to the bailey were closing.

"No!" she yelled. "There are villagers coming."

"Orders from the chief," one of the warriors barring the gate yelled at her.

Her father wasn't only protecting Dunscaith, he was trapping the Fairy Flag inside since he'd seen it when Reid first brought it.

"Bloody priest! Are you mad?" Winnie's shrill voice made Sara spin around toward her.

"Fire?" Sara said, running back into the great hall where flames had caught onto three of the tapestries hanging on the walls. The dry threads became a banquet of many colors for the fire as it gorged over the neatly stitched images.

"Father Lockerby?" Sara yelled. "What are you doing?"

The priest's face was contorted in a manic smile, his eyes wide. "In the name of God and His everlasting son!" He held his torch to another tapestry. "We will destroy the pagan idol."

Sara ran up to him, grabbing his arm, but he shoved her back and brandished his torch before him. "Don't try to stop me or ye will die with the Fairy Flag."

"We will all die, you mad arse," Winnie yelled, running out of the great hall toward the double doors.

"Please, Father Lockerby," Sara yelled over the sound of crackling flames. "The bailey doors are locked. We'll be trapped in all the smoke."

Mania, wild and vicious, encompassed his features. "I should have burned with the chapel when I helped Walter Macdonald in his sinful plans, so I will be purified by the flames here, destroying the pagan flag."

"You knew about the plan to burn the MacLeods in the chapel?"

He spun, baring his teeth. "Walter Macdonald promised he'd burn the Fairy Flag himself if I helped him."

Her father lied to everyone. He'd lie to God when he finally died.

Sara threw her arm over her mouth and nose as the acrid smoke billowed, and the fire crackled over the dry tapestries. There was no stopping the priest when he noticed the caldron of pitch. With a cackle that sent chills racing through her, she watched him touch his torch to the flammable pitch. It caught easily. He threw his torch on the table where the remnants of their dinner sat.

"No!" she yelled as he tipped the already wobbly caldron over, the burning pitch pouring out slowly to cover the rugs on the wooden floor, like a flow of lava burning a path through a helpless town.

Coughing, she ran back to the front doors, which were closing. Winnie stood on the outside of the narrowing crack. "He can't be stopped," Sara yelled as she ran up to the woman, realizing Winnie wasn't opening the doors to let her out.

"Your father agrees, Seraphina," Winnie called through. "You should have burned in the chapel." Winnie's face was hard and serious as she slammed the doors together right in Sara's face.

Sara worked the latch frantically, pushing her shoulder against the crack between the two heavy oak doors. But the sound of logs or boards scraping against the doors on the outside made Sara scream with fury. "Let me out!"

The smoke billowed, choking her. It was like St. Mary's Chapel all over again except now she was trapped inside and there was no tunnel underneath to crawl out.

Hurrying back to the great hall, Sara stopped to stare at Father Lockerby as he stood on the table, having kicked the food off into the growing patch of fire under him. His arms were raised. "Blessed be the Lord, cleanse me of my wickedness with these flames!"

He was determined to die, but she was determined to live.

Coughing, she ran toward the steps. Groan! Crack! Turning back to the room, she saw the heavy caldron drop out of sight as the floor under it gave way. No, she couldn't go down below, not with the flaming floor falling upon her head. She grabbed her skirts in her hands and raced up the turning stairs. Higher and higher. She coughed, covering her mouth. She must get to fresh air.

Thighs starting to ache from use didn't stop Sara from climbing. She reached the third floor and pushed through a door to the roof. Cold wind flew around her, yanking her hair, and she sucked in large inhales. She slammed the door shut behind her, trying to contain the smoke for the time being, and ran across Dunscaith's vacant roof, all the guards having run out to battle.

The low stone wall met her hips as her hands grasped the cold, rough stone. Rory's army had stopped in a line across the moor above the village, and Macdonald forces stood before them. Her father yelled, but she couldn't hear what he said. Rory pointed toward the castle where smoke billowed out now from all the windows. She saw her brother, Kenan, break away from the army, racing back toward the castle.

"You can't do anything to save it," she said. To save me.

The fire would eat up through the floors, one at a time while filling every crevice with deadly smoke. Eventually, it would feed on the wood under her feet. Although the walls of the castle were made of stone, the floors and the roof were wood.

Like fire eating upward through wooden floors, destroying a building from the inside out, fiery guilt did the same within a person. I should have fought to stay, to prove my innocence, to tell him… Tears burned in her already stinging eyes.

Sara stood upon a stone seat built into the wall so that she was higher. Was this where her mother stood before her father pushed her? The wind snatched at her skirts and hair, whipping it around her face. Her breath caught as she looked toward the field. "Rory," she said, her lips suddenly numb. He'd seen her.

With a yell, taken up by many MacLeods, another two armies flooded out of the woods on either side, increasing the MacLeod army like the legend of the flag said would happen. But Rory didn't wait for his men to join him.

Sara held her breath as she watched him dodge between Macdonald men and horses. He only used his shield to block strikes so he could race past warriors, riding Airgid straight toward Dunscaith Castle.

She glanced back at the closed door where smoke snaked out of the cracks around it. Her gaze scanned the roof, but there were no ropes or chains to aid her. "'Tis too late."