A shadow moved, stepping closer, and Conall realized it was James, the old ferryman.
He let out his breath in a whoosh and sheathed his sword. “James. What are ye doing here?”
“I might ask the same thing of ye, lad,” James replied with a frown. “I heard rumors that there had been some sort of altercation and that ye and Lady Molly had been thrown in jail. I came to speak to yer da, find out what’s going on. Annie was worried sick when she heard. We both were.” He frowned. “But obviously the rumors weren’t true because here ye are.”
Conall shook his head. He was suddenly exhausted. Exhausted, sick, and heartsore. “It’s true, James,” he rasped. He staggered over to the older man. “James, they’ve taken her. They’ve taken Molly.” He could barely force out the words and they came out as a rasping croak.
“What? Who’s taken her?” James asked. “What do ye mean—”
He cut off as a bell suddenly began clanging urgently from inside the keep. His escape had been discovered. Soon, this shoreline would be crawling with guards.
He grabbed the front of James’s shirt. “Where is yer boat? I have to get off this island and back to the mainland. Molly’s life depends on it! If ye ever held me in any regard, please, help me now!”
James studied him in silence for a moment, as though weighing Conall’s words against his loyalty to Earl Sinclair. Finally, he nodded. “I trust ye, lad. This way.”
James led him to a small landing stage on the far side of the keep. It lay in the Pinnacle’s enormous shadow and Conall would not have spotted it had he not been shown it was there. James’s ferry bobbed gently in the water.
“Get aboard quickly and pull that tarpaulin over yer head. If we are lucky, we can stay in the Pinnacle’s shadow almost all the way to the far shore and we willnae be spotted. If we are lucky.”
Conall clambered aboard and did as he was told and then they were off, Conall huddling beneath the tarp as James ferried them across the loch in the dark. The journey was tense. Conall stayed low, his heart pounding so hard he was sure it could be heard across the whole of Scotland. The wind had picked up and it whipped around them, slamming waves against their boat and sending spray over its sides.
The warning bell still sounded from the Pinnacle and, peering out from beneath the tarp, Conall could see torches moving around on the shore. James carried no lights and he had to hope that their small boat was invisible against the darkness of the water.
Conall couldn’t see where they were going or how far away they were from the mainland but it seemed like forever until finally he felt the boat bump against land.
James leapt out quickly, tying up the boat to a nearby post before turning to Conall. “Ye can come out now,” he said gruffly. “We are safe.”
Conall scrambled out of the boat and stepped onto the shoreline. The lights of the village were visible in the darkness up ahead but James had brought them to a dark, isolated patch of the shore, away from prying eyes.
“Thank ye, James,” Conall said, looking down at the grizzled old man. “I dinna know how I’ll ever be able to repay ye for this.”
James looked up, his gaze searching Conall’s face before he said, “I dinna pretend to know what’s going on here, lad, but bring Molly back home safely, and that’s all the thanks I need.”
Conall placed his hand on James’s shoulder. “I will. On this I swear.” He looked around in the darkness. “Do ye know where I can get a horse?”
James nodded towards the village. “There are usually travelers at the inn that come overland with horses. There’s a stable out back but I dinna know if ye’ll convince any of them to sell ye one.”
“Who said anything about buying one?” He dug into his shirt and pulled out a small, folded letter, sealed with wax. He pressed it into the old man’s hand. “I need ye to do one last favor for me, old friend. Get this letter to Kai Stewart at Callingford. It explains everything in case...in case I dinna come back.”
James’s eyebrows shot up in alarm. “Why? Where are ye going, lad?”
“It’s best if ye dinna know.” He squeezed the old man’s shoulder. “Just send the letter. And thank ye. Thank ye for everything.”
Then, before the old man could respond, Conall turned and dashed off into the night.
***
MOLLY SAT WITH HERback against the mast, her knees drawn up to her chest, and her arms wrapped around them. The rope they’d used to tie her to the mast cut painfully into her stomach but she knew better than to complain.
She’d done that when they’d transferred her from the rowboat to this sleek galley, and she’d paid the price. She’d kicked and fought as they’d manhandled her up onto the ship and for her troubles she’d gotten a punch that had laid her flat out on the deck and made her head swim.
But since then, Alice Brewer and her men seemed to have lost all interest in her. They ignored her, going about their tasks efficiently, manning the ship and sending it sailing out of the loch and downriver towards the sea. Molly had craned her neck to look back as the Pinnacle receded into the distance, and with it, her dreams.
Conall couldn’t come after her now, not without a much bigger, faster ship, and there wasn’t such a ship available at the Pinnacle. She was alone. There was no rescue coming for her this time.
If she thought about it long enough, her predicament sent cold fear spearing through her like splinters of ice, making her stomach coil itself in knots and threatening to overwhelm her with panic. But she knew that would not help her. If she was going to get herself out of this mess, she needed to think calmly, clearly, rationally.
So she concentrated on one breath at a time, one moment at a time, and watched the crew go about their tasks, trying to glean as much information as she could.
