The going was difficult and treacherous, winding up through jagged rocks and loose boulders but Molly kept going, determined to get to the top and find a settlement, a road, a farmhouse or anything else which she could orient herself by.
At last, she scrambled to the top of the cliff and stood panting with her hands on her hips, as she looked around. Before her stretched a vast expanse of windswept moorland. There was nothing in sight but the undulating heather, a few pockets of pines in the more sheltered areas, and the gray, cloud-filled horizon. She swallowed. Okay. Fine. She turned to face the other way, gazing out to sea, expecting to spot tankers on the horizon and the slowly-turning turbines of the offshore windfarms that hugged this coastline.
But there was nothing. No ships. No turbines, no tracks of planes criss-crossing the sky.
She sank down onto the springy turf at the cliff’s edge, ignoring the wind that tried to prise her from her precarious perch. She had to think. She had to figure out what had happened to her. Everything had been normal until she’d gone down to theSelkie. The usual tourists, the usual weather, the usual worries gnawing at her.
She paused. No. Hang on. Wait. Therehadbeen something different. Irene MacAskill. That strange old woman who’d hung back on the boat and said all those weird things. She’d never encountered anyone like that before on any of her trips.
Then she’d seen that strange swirling mist beneath the arch on theSelkie, the arch made by the snapped mast, and that’s when all this had started. She’d stepped through that arch and stumbled into this bizarre world of swords and crossbows, raiders and danger. It felt like she had stepped into some kind of twisted TV show or video game. But it was all too real.
She suddenly heard the sound of footsteps behind her. She clambered up just as Conall emerged onto the clifftop.
“There ye are,” he said, his voice gentle. “When ye didnae return I thought it best to come and look for ye. It isnae safe up here.”
“Oh, and you think I’m safe with you?”
“No, I dinna. But ye are safer with me than on yer own. There are dangers out here ye canna imagine.”
“Oh, I can imagine plenty!” Molly cried, an edge of panic in her voice. “Like you turning on me with that crossbow.”
Conall’s face darkened, anger flashing in his eyes. “I would never hurt ye, lass. Ye have my word on that.”
Molly snorted. “Your word? Like that means anything to me? I don’t even know you!”
Conall took a step closer. “I’m not your enemy. Remember,yewere the one who chose to grab that rope and get pulled out to sea. I would have happily left ye on that beach and ye would be safely home by now. Or at least, far away from me and those raiders.”
He had a point. If she’d not been so stubborn, she’d not be in this mess.
“Fine,” she said, crossing her arms. “But I’m still not using any of those weapons you showed me.”
Conall held up his hands in surrender. “As ye wish, lass. But ye need to be careful. There are those out here who would take advantage of someone like ye.”
“Someone like me? What’s that supposed to mean?”
Conall hesitated before responding. “Ye are a woman, alone and...confused,” he said carefully. “That makes ye vulnerable.”
“I can take care of myself! I don’t need anyone to protect me.” Considering what she’d experienced so far, that affirmation sounded ridiculous, even to herself.
“Is that so?” Conall replied, raising an eyebrow. “Left to yer own devices ye would be a prisoner on a raider’s ship right now. Either that or at the bottom of the sea.”
He was right, of course. She was completely out of her depth here. Whereverherewas. And where was that exactly? She thought about Conall’s odd, old-fashioned clothes. The weapons he’d shown her. Those raiders firing at them with muskets. It all seemed so surreal, like she had gone back in time. She froze.
Could that be what this was? Not somewhereelse? Somewhenelse?
She licked her lips. Nope. Absolutely not. That was not possible. No way.
But she couldn’t shake the thought. Nothing else made sense.
“Can I ask you something?” she said to Conall, her voice shaking slightly. “What year is it?”
His brow furrowed, clearly confused by the question. “What year? Why would ye ask that?”
“Just tell me. Please.”
He looked at her as if she might be mad. Perhaps she was. “It’s the year of our Lord, 1496.”
Molly’s eyes widened in shock. 1496? No. This had to be some kind of joke, right? But she could see in Conall’s face that he was serious.
