Page 25 of Darach

Reothadh pitied the war master, who had to spend three moons each year closeted in this chamber during the days. From his sire he had inherited a weakness that left him incapable of tolerating heat; during the summer months his pale skin would blister the moment he ventured outside the keepe.

“Forgive the intrusion, my lord,” Reothadh said. “I should wait until nightfall, but ’tis been a mishap in the lab. The younger lads attempted to blend the rock-cracking elixir themselves before informing me of your request.”

Struan used a sliver of charcoal to mark a spot on the wall map. “The younger lads being those two sage brothers ever at each other’s throats, I’ll wager. I heard them bickering just after I told them ask you.”

“They’ve good intentions,” he said, sighing. “’Tis what shall end me, I reckon. But why ask you for a stone-cracking wash? The miners, they’ve hit granite again?”

“’Tis no’ for the shafts they now work.” The war master stepped back from the wall and gestured for him to come closer. “We once mined in the places I’ve marked, only my sire abandoned them all just before he died. Callum reckoned they’d filled with blackdamp, but I’m no’ so sure ’twas the reason.”

“Over time near every mine amasses so much bad air that they become unsafe for the men,” Reothadh murmured. “Just as the coal miners must beware of firedamp in their shafts. You ken that time doesnae improve such conditions, my lord.”

“Aye, ’twould be dangerous to send teams into the old tunnels, unless we might first vent them. Yet we cannot dig down with picks and chisels, else the shaft collapse.” Struan tapped one mark on the map. “If we weaken the overlying stone in a small spot, mayhap no’ bigger than a hand, we might drill down to make vent holes.”

“With care, ’tis possible.” The sage hesitated before he asked, “Why should you wish again work shafts abandoned long ago? ’Tis unlikely they yet hold any veins of value, and most border the boundaries…ah. The MacRoss ken them to be long abandoned. They’d never expect them used again.”

The war master gazed at him for a long time. “Repeat naught of what I’ve said, Sage, else I relieve you of your duties––and your head.”

His throat tightened, and he bowed low. “Aye, my lord.”

* * *

After leaving the map room Darach asked a guard to stand watch at the base of the tower stairs, and then returned to the lists to see the last of the day’s matches. A battered Kyal had a bleeding Wal in a grappling hold, and both panted heavily as they kicked at each other in vain attempts to sweep a leg. The taste of Charlotte still lingered on Darach’s mouth; he could still smell the maddening womanly scent of her on his hands and tunic. He pretended to watch the bout while he fought the pounding need to return to the tower, drag her onto the table and bury himself inside her.

“’Twould seem an even match, Chieftain.” Ameron came to stand beside him, and wiped some sweat from his upper lip. “Our lord and lady, they’ve no’ returned yet from the village. The war master, he’s in the forge with the armorer. Since the morning meal most of the clan’s fallen in love with Mistress Walsh.”

He grunted. “They’re but tickled to watch a lady put a blade to Camdyn’s neck.”

“Ah, no, Chieftain.” The guard gave him a wry look. “You’ve no’ looked at Mistress Walsh in the light of day?”

Darach wondered if clouting the back of his head would end his prattling. “I ken she’s lovely, lad.”

“Had I a chance to win her heart, I’d kneel at her feet and confess my devotion now.” Ameron winced as Kyal went down, but then grinned as he rolled and pinned Wal beneath him. “None would go near Lady Emery, for she’s wee and adorable, like a young sister to us. Aye, and we saw from the start she wanted none but our lord.”

“Say what you mean,” Darach demanded.

“’Tis said Mistress Walsh doesnae wish to return to her time,” the guard said. “She’s tall and fair and as fetching as a Fae princess. Should she wish to stay with one of us, and become immortal like Lady Emery, well.” He moved his shoulders. “What lad among us wouldnae leap at the chance to wed such a lady?”

Darach took a step toward the circle to call an end to the match, and heard something like a bow string twang, and then a whistle. On instinct he reached out and grabbed an iron-tipped bolt out of the air a moment before it buried itself in the guard’s eye.

“By the Gods.” Ameron stumbled backward, his expression horrified.

“Who fired a crossbow in the lists?” Darach demanded as he strode forward, looking at all the men. None held any weapons, so he looked up at the top of the curtain wall and shouted, “Watch captain, attend me.”

The captain of the wall sentinels looked over the edge at him.

“Aye, Chieftain.” He frowned at the bolt Darach held up. “We’ve no archers on the inner wall or towers. They man the outer wall and gates.” His eyes narrowed. “That, ’tisnae a MacRoss bolt.”

“Kyal, Wal, Cinead, Tamhas, arm yourselves and search outside the gates. The rest of you, to the walls. Check every trail from the stronghold into the woods. Bring in anyone you find, crossbow or no’.” Darach turned to Ameron, who looked ashen now. “Go into the hall and wait by the hearth, lad. Muir, go with him and keep your blade at hand.”

“Aye, Chieftain.” Muir took the shaken guard inside, and the other men scattered.

Darach returned to the spot where he and Ameron had been standing, and looked carefully in the direction from which the bolt had flown. No one should have been able to shoot into the lists because the wall blocked it off on two sides, and the stronghold did the same on the others. Whoever had fired had been concealed inside the lists.

He ran to the straw targets lined up against the wall, and began pulling them down one by one, tearing them apart. The third seemed too heavy, and smelled of something burnt.

Taveon trotted up to him. “Someone attacked us inside the wall?”

“A bolt, fired at Ameron from here.” Darach ripped the target in half, exposing the crossbow concealed inside the straw. It had been fired, and the catch and part of the stock appeared scorched. He went behind the target pole, where he crouched down over a small pile of glittering ash.