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“By sea,” Cleve said. “Kerek would never risk Chessa’s life by traveling through Scotland. He doesn’t know the land or the dangers. Besides, it would be quicker to go by sea, if the weather holds steady.”
“It’s nearly winter,” Varrick said. “Storms in the North Sea come in the blink of an eye, without warning, and with deadly effect.”
Varrick had three warships, Cleve, one. In all, they had sixty men, most of them Pict warriors, so honed in their skills, so ruthless, that they would challenge the Christian’s hell itself. But they weren’t good sailors, and that worried Cleve. He wanted to go after Kerek and Chessa this very moment, but it was dark now and no man would venture onto the loch when it was dark. It would do him no good even to discuss it with the men. They would leave at first light. There was no choice. He thought and thought all evening, listening to Igmal, to his father, to the other men as well. It was just before Varrick left Karelia to return the short distance to Kinloch that he said, “I have a plan. Will you be willing to obey me, Father, in order to rescue Chessa?”
Varrick stared at his son. He saw strength and intelligence in him. He wasn’t surprised. How else would Cleve have survived for fifteen years as a slave? He was his son and he would rule Kinloch after him. But that wasn’t what made Varrick nod. It was Chessa. He had to have her back and who better to get her back than her husband? “Aye,” he said. “Tell me your plan.”
Cleve told him, working out flaws as he thought, then spoke. When he finished, Varrick slowly nodded. He pulled the burra from its sheath. It was pulsing with warmth, and it was so light he wondered if he released it, if it would rise to the roof of the longhouse. He gave it to Cleve and said, “What do you feel?”
Cleve looked at the heathen stick, for that’s how he thought of it now. He didn’t want to touch the damned thing, but he knew he had to. Slowly he took it from his father, nearly dropping it, so heavy it was. It was eerie and it made the hair stick up on the back of his neck. It shouldn’t be so heavy. He had to hold it with both hands. By all the gods, the thing was just a stick that was a foot long and with a dull point on the end, nothing more except for those strange markings, truly, there shouldn’t be anything more, but he remembered Chessa’s face when she had held it, her surprise, her fascination, and finally her fear. He gave it back to his father. “Take your burra and sheath it. I have no interest in it. It is heavy and cold. I accept that it has qualities that are not of this land, mayhap even of this earth. I don’t want to know its mysteries or its powers. Take it, Father, and force it not upon me again.”
Varrick accepted it from his son, balancing it on one finger even as he smiled at Cleve and knew that Cleve recognized that he had no power over it. Ah, but Chessa did have power. “We will leave then at first light. Are you certain this is what you want to do?”
Cleve nodded. “A large force would have no hope of rescuing her. No, we will do it another way.” Then he smiled, an evil smile, one that promised revenge and death.
“I don’t need a burra to make rain and turn the loch into boiling chaos or to bring that poor monster to me,” Cleve said. “I have a man’s brain and that is what will succeed.”
“Ah,” Varrick said as he turned away to slip into the night, “there is much that is uncertain. I agree to your idea. A small force of men, disguised as the guards at the palace
in York, aye, I believe that will work well enough, particularly since you know the palace. But if it doesn’t work, then you’ll see, Cleve, aye, you’ll see. Then you’ll need me. Never discount the power of magic.”
Heavy mist hung over the loch, touching the water, swirling around the single longboat. It was cold and damp on the water and Chessa’s teeth chattered despite the warm woolen cloak Kerek had wrapped around her. He had only six men, all rowing the small longboat with all their strength. They knew the monster lived in this loch that was said to be bottomless. They knew if one of them fell into the water, he would disappear forever, either pulled into the monster’s maw, or sucked into the oblivion that swirled ever downward in the loch. Each man was grunting hard now, not wanting to stop his frantic rowing, just praying to Thor that they’d reach Inverness and safety. They needed no encouragement, for fear of the unknown pushed them and gave them strength.
She sat in the bow of the longboat, trying to see through the thick gray mist, but unable to. There were no stars above, just this gray mist that gave off an eerie light. She said quietly, cupping her hand to her mouth, “Caldon, if you are there, come to me as you do to Varrick, as you do to Kiri. I don’t have his wizardry or that burra of his, nor do I have Kiri’s child’s belief, but I call you to me. Help me.”
“What are you saying, Chessa?”
She smiled at Kerek who was drawing on his oars as hard as the other six men, panting so hard she could barely understand his words. “I’m calling to the monster of the loch,” she said, raising her voice so all could hear her. “Cleve’s father calls her and she comes. He’s a sorcerer. Kiri calls the monster as well. We will see. If she comes, she will save me.”
The men turned to her and she saw such fear on their faces that she knew she had to push them. “Aye,” she said louder now, “just look at this mist. It isn’t natural, just look at the dull light it gives off. Look closely, soon the monster will appear. Caldon is larger than a warship, a sea serpent that’s lived in this loch for hundreds of years, mayhap thousands, mayhap since before time began. It’s said the Romans never came close to this loch because they feared the monster. Fishermen never come to the middle of the loch and never set their nets in the water after the sun sets. They know they will die and their bodies never again be found. Listen. Is that Caldon coming?”
One of the men yelled. “Kerek, we will die!”
Kerek said low, “Be quiet, Chessa, or I will have to stick that gag in your mouth again.”
“If you strike me, Kerek,” she said, smiling at him, “I wonder what Caldon will do.”
“Stop this, you know—”
With no warning, a huge wave slapped against the longboat. It sent cold water splashing over the men. They dropped their oars.
“Damn you, row,” Kerek shouted. “We will go to shore. Row to shore, it isn’t far. If there weren’t this wretched mist, you’d see how close we were. Do it or you will have no chance to survive.”
Another wave slapped against the side of the longboat, sending another curl of frigid water over the men. The water didn’t touch Chessa, nor did it wet the man next to her, but it poured over Kerek, as if meant only for him. The men knew it and were terrified. Kerek had stood up and was pointing. “The shore is just there. Row, damn you, row!”
There was a soft whistling sound just off the bow of the boat. Another wave struck, but this one wasn’t so big. It rolled against the side of the longboat as if something large were coming and making the water shift and pulse. The whistling sound was closer now and coming even closer. The men froze, knowing that the monster was here and that soon they would die. One of them yelled, “Princess, tell the monster to leave us. Tell the monster we will release you if we can but live. We won’t obey Kerek, tell the monster that.”
“Caldon,” Chessa called out, “You heard the man. If he speaks true, then you can release them from your death grip. If he lies, then kill them.”
The whistling sound changed. It was more like the hiss of a snake, a huge snake, nay, the sound a sea serpent would make to warn its prey just before it struck. The hissing was close now, in every man’s ear. The warmth of that hissing breath against every man’s face. All of them could imagine that huge sea serpent strike its immense tail against a longboat and send it spinning into the depths of the loch, down and down into nothingness. The men could hear the hissing closer now, as if it were right beside each of them, as if it were burrowing inside them. They could feel the damp scales of the monster’s flesh, they could smell death in the monster’s breath. Small waves crested, shimmering in the strange light of the mist, then slapped against the longboat, one after the other.
“Thor save us,” one of the men shouted, and pointed. “Look yon. It’s upon us!”
28
KIRI SCREAMED. SHE woke the other six children who all slept pressed against each other in the large box bed. She screamed again, arms thrashing, her body heaving. Torik began to cry. Eidalla, a year older than Kiri, shook her arm. “It’s a nightmare, nothing more. Be quiet, Kiri. Hush, wake up now and stop crying.”
But Kiri threw herself out of the bed and ran to her father’s small chamber where he was already in the doorway, pulling on his trousers.
