Chapter 23
Conall stared at thespot where the boats had disappeared. He had no idea where they were taking Molly or what they planned to do with her. The thought of her being hurt or worse made him want to scream. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, the blood rushing through his veins like a wildfire. He didn’t think he’d ever been so terrified.
He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He focused on the feeling of the ropes around his wrists and ankles, the texture of the gag in his mouth. He tried to remember everything he had learned about escape and evasion during his training with the Order. He needed to be calm and focused if he was going to help Molly.
It was no use. The ropes were tied too securely. He screamed against his gag, a muffled howl of rage and frustration, but it only echoed back at him from the empty shore. He was alone, powerless.
He stilled suddenly, as an idea struck him. He turned his head to the side and there it was. His sword, lying in the shadow of a pillar where he’d thrown it. In her gloating, Alice had overlooked it.
He began to squirm, trying to inch his way across the ground towards his sword. The ropes dug into his skin, the rough stones scraped his cheek, but he didn’t stop until he’d managed to reach the discarded weapon. Getting his bound wrists over the tip, he sawed them back and forth along the blade, wincing as the sharp steel nicked his flesh and sent rivulets of blood running.
Finally, the ropes parted and Conall snatched out the gag and took several long breaths before untying the ropes from around his ankles. He grabbed his sword and clambered to his feet, using the blade for support.
Taking a deep breath, he tried to clear his head. He had to act fast if he was going to find Molly. He looked around, but the undercroft was empty, Alice and her men had taken all the remaining boats. He cursed. He had to get after them, and fast.
He sheathed his sword and sprinted towards the canal, hurling himself headlong into the icy water with an almighty splash. As he went under, the shock of the cold was like a punch to the gut but Conall ignored it, stroking hard and fast towards the water gate at the far end. He swam underneath the iron grate that marked the entrance and came up for air on the other side. He was outside now, the castle walls looming above him. He stumbled onto the shore, gasping for air, and turned around, trying to orient himself.
Where was Molly? Where was she? He ran down to the water’s edge and stared out over the loch towards the sea. Clouds covered the moon, making it as dark as pitch, but in the distance he could make out a dark shape moving away at speed.
His stomach clenched. That was no mere fishing boat. It was a ship, large, sleek—and far faster than anything Conall had access to. He guessed it was the ship Alice Brewer had arrived on and now she was leaving on the same ship—and taking Molly with her.
Panic clawed its way up his throat, making it difficult to think.No. This is not happening. I won’t let it!
But he had no idea what to do. He couldn’t catch them. He couldn’t reach Molly. He couldn’t—
He curled his hands into fists, digging his nails into his palms so hard it hurt. The pain helped to steady him a little, made it easier to think. He couldn’t catch that ship but he knew where it was going. He needed to get there too.
He ran through the darkness, keeping to shadows and using what little moonlight that filtered through the clouds as his guide. The ground sloped down towards a rocky shoreline where Conall knew there were several skiffs that could get him across the loch if he worked fast. He stumbled over rocks and stones, cursing as they dug into his feet, but finally he arrived at his destination—a small wooden pier with several boats moored to it. Most were half-submerged and all were broken and battered. These were the boats awaiting repair, and to Conall’s mind, none looked seaworthy.
It didn’t matter. He had to try.
But just as he picked the best and strode down to it, a voice spoke behind him.
“Conall? Is that ye, lad?”
He spun, drawing his sword in a flash. “Who’s there?”
