Rónán nodded. The massive fortress situated on the rock-laden peninsula angled up with merciless disregard. On three sides, steep slopes cut away to where large swells pounded the coastline, an unforgiving mix of jutting, angled rock and sheer cliff.
Between a break in the crag and in view of the guard on the wall walk, a single road wound down the rough patch of land to the stronghold. The narrowed path forced anyone who sought entry to ride no more than two abreast. Three quarters of the way down, the track branched off to the small inlet, where the castle could receive replenishments from the sea.
Rónán grimaced. Whoever built Murchadh Castle had considered every angle to ensure that once it stood, the fortress was nearly impenetrable. Had he not spoken with a galloglass who knew of a secret entry to the castle, little hope would have existed that they could reach, much less free, Lord Sionn.
Regardless, before they could slip inside, he, Lathir, Craigshyre, and the handful of warriors chosen for this task must reach the inlet unobserved.
Thankful for the map drawn by a galloglass rolled in his pocket, he grimaced at the sun sinking in the west. When they reached the cove, he prayed enough light remained to find the hidden passage. God help them if they were discovered. Given the solitary location of the castle and the stronghold’s formidable defense, if their plan was thwarted, all in their party could die.
A fact that had pushed him to speak with Lathir alone before he’d shared his plan with the others. Her refusal was expected, but he damned placing her life in great danger when they had the choice to leave her protected by the remainder of their combined contingent.
If only they were sure Lathir’s father still lived.
Jaw tight, Rónán glancedover. “Ready?”
Expressions grim, Lathir and Craigshyre nodded.
Rónán waved forward the remaining men chosen toaccompany them.
Snow began to fall at a steady rate as they made their way down a break in the rocks. Though the thick wash of white made the trek dangerous, ’twould provide cover from the guards onthe wall walk.
A snow-filled gust blustered past, then another. Rónán tugged up the hood of his cape, glanced at Lathir. “I was hoping we would be inside the tunnel before the wind picked up.”
“As I.” She stepped onto the stone he’d vacated. “The weather is beginning to worsen.”
Teeth clenched, Rónán reached out, caught the ledge. He used the fragment to steady himself as he wedged his boot ontoa jagged rock.
The thunder of waves below pounding the sheer rock grew as they neared the bottom.
With care, Rónán stepped down. His boot slipped on the foothold. With a curse, he tightened his hold on a wedge of stone, steadied himself. “Take care. Ice is forming on the rocks and ’twill be slick the rest of the way down.” A complication they didn’t need. Rónán again lowered his leg, this time bracing his boot againstthe damp rock.
The heavy scent of sea filled each breath, and the muted thud and errant clack of shifting rock clattered in the wind as they continued. By the time he reached the bottom, the sun was a ball of orange on the horizon.
In the waning light, Lathir’s betrothed reached the cove, his face flushed with effort, but satisfaction as well. Craigshyre glanced up the cliff, frowned. “In truth, I had my doubts ’twas passable.”
“Which is why none in the stronghold will expect us,” Rónán said. “If only we didna have to climb back up, more so as even if all goes as planned, we will scale the break in the cliff at night.”
Eyes dark with concern, Lathir stepped over a jagged rock and paused a pace away. “I pray my father isable to walk.”
“As I.” After Bran’s report of Lord Sionn’s condition, doubts plagued Rónán. He suspected if he was still alive, they’d have to carry him out. Given the icy rocks, the steep climb, a dangerous challenge.
A gust howled past, blinding him for a moment. The soft, fluffy flakes had hardened to frozen barbs that pelted his face and fought to slip beneath any crevice in his garb.
Once all the men had reached the slick, rocky shore, Rónán stepped inside a worn indentation in the large rock, waved everyone to follow.
With the small contingent crowded inside the shelter, Rónán withdrew the map. He shifted the drawing to catch the last of the fading light. “Look for a large boulder that is angled on its side.”
Craigshyre scanned the area, scowled. “That could be several.”
“Aye.” Rónán again glanced at the map, tapped the parchment. “The entry will be marked by three small stones at the base. Come.” He exited their shelter; all following, then they beganspreading out.
“There,” Lathir said, excitement filling her voice.“To the left.”
The others hurried over, and after several tries, in the last rays of sunset, they pried open the half-frozen entry. After a quick glance around to ensure they hadn’t alerted the guard, he led them into the tunnel.
Inside, Rónán noted the clever design that after breaking the icy bond, allowed them to push the large rock open with minimal effort. One used by the Templars.
Unease filtered through him. Had the Brotherhood been involved with crafting this stronghold? ’Twould explain why the fortress had been built in such a strategic location, though neither King Robert nor Stephan MacQuistan had mentioned Murchadh Castle as a previous Templar stronghold.
