he has lost his soul,” said Fergus, fear clear to read in his handsome face.
“Nay,” said Brona, a little surprised by the sharp tone in her voice for she rarely spoke sharply to anyone. “He is weak from being left naked in this cold, damp place and from loss of blood, but ’tis still Peter I just talked to. There is no change in the mon he was ere he was dragged down here and surely there would be some change if he was now soulless, aye? I wouldst judge Hervey and Angus as lacking souls faster than I would Peter.”
Colin frowned. “Ye are certain he is the same?”
“Verra certain and I shall need your help to get him out of here,” she said.
“Then let us out, mistress, and we will carry the mon to safety.”
“I will also need ye to help me get Sir Heming out of here.” She sighed when they both stared at her in horror.
“But he is a demon,” whispered Fergus.
“Nay he isnae,” snapped Brona. “Do ye truly think my cousin has the strength to capture and hold firm to a creature from hell?” She nodded when they both frowned in doubt. “E’en Hervey and Angus dinnae think he is a demon.”
“He drank blood, mistress.”
“Aye, I begin to believe that he did and ’tis a frightening thing, but he didnae attack Peter to get it, did he. My cousin cut Peter’s throat and kept shoving the mon at Sir Heming until he did take what was offered. I dinnae understand why any mon would drink blood, but what happened to Peter was the laird’s doing, nay Sir Heming’s. If Sir Heming has such a strange need, he fought it hard, didnae he. But, weak and wounded as he was, he obviously couldnae fight it for verra long. All I ken is that that mon has ne’er harmed a Kerr and yet he is being tortured unmercifully.”
Colin slowly nodded. “Then we will help ye get the mon out of here.”
“Thank ye, Colin.” Brona quickly unlocked the door to his cell. “We had best hurry. I dinnae think anyone will be coming down here but ’tis wise to get out of here as quickly as we can.”
When Brona reached Sir Heming’s cage and held her lantern closer, she had to smother a cry of shock. Fergus and Colin both hissed out a series of profane curses, but she did not reprimand them for speaking so in front of her. She wished she knew some very profane curses herself, for spitting them out might ease some of the horror and anguish twisting knots in her stomach.
Sir Heming hung limply in his chains, the length of them not allowing his unconscious body to sprawl comfortably on the stone floor. It was just another form of torture to chain him in such a way. He was covered in blood, his body a mass of whip marks, cuts, and bruises. Some of those wounds still oozed blood. Brona saw the slow rise and fall of his chest and the fear that she had come too late to save him slowly left her.
“I dinnae ken what the mon is, but, if he isnae a demon, he doesnae deserve this,” muttered Colin, and Fergus grunted in agreement. “As ye say, mistress, he has ne’er harmed us. Wheesht, I have ne’er e’en heard of these MacNachtons.”
“There are a lot of dark whispers about the clan,” Brona confessed as she struggled to find the right key to unlock Heming’s cage. “I have listened to some, e’en gently sought out some information on the clan although few here had any, but I simply cannae believe the tales. If the MacNachtons were as dangerous and powerful as is hinted at then they wouldnae stay so quietly hidden away at some place called Cambrun, would they. Nay, their men would be giving the great Douglasses a fight o’er all that power they grab for themselves. Ah, there we are,” she muttered as she finally got the door to Heming’s cage open.
It took Brona another few minutes to find the key to unlock the shackles. As soon as she freed Sir Heming’s ankles, she gave Colin the breeches to put on the man. Fergus stood ready to catch Sir Heming as she unshackled the man’s wrists. With the two men helping her, Sir Heming was free and clothed in less time than it had taken her to find the right keys. Brona gently bathed the man’s battered face, but it only roused him a little and she was not sure he would understand what was happening.
“I fear one of ye are going to have to carry him,” she said to Colin and Fergus.
“I can do it,” said Colin. “Fergus can help Peter. Once we are outside we can make a litter to carry them.”
“Ah, weel, I fear we willnae be going outside the keep for a wee while.”
“But ye said ye were freeing us.” Colin hoisted Sir Heming over his shoulder, faltering a little under the weight of the man before he could steady himself again.
“I am but ye would find yourselves back here quick enough if we try to flee o’er land, at least right away. I couldnae get us any horses, so we would all be on foot,” she said as she led them to Peter’s cell. “I dinnae think Hervey and his men would e’en work up a good sweat in catching us all.”
“So where do we go?”
“This keep is riddled with hiding places and I have prepared one for us to hide in.”
“Which the laird will be able to find, aye?”
“Nay. It seems no one ever told Hervey about all of the passageways, tunnels, and hidden chambers. I think many of them came about in my grandsire’s time.”
“Ah, aye, me da once mentioned that, I be thinking. When the old laird decided the easiest way to thicken the walls of Rosscurrach and add all those fireplaces was to simply build a new wall around the old ones.” Colin frowned. “Are ye certain the laird doesnae ken aught about them?”
Brona nodded as they paused for Fergus to help a weak, unsteady Peter to his feet. She noticed that Peter groggily eyed Sir Heming with both fear and wariness, but he said nothing. Even beaten and unconscious there was something about Sir Heming that put a person on guard, but Brona was glad no one was going to argue any more about saving the man.
“As sure as I can be,” Brona said as she started to lead the men to the place they would all hide, at least until Peter and Sir Heming could run for their lives and defend themselves. “I spent the day slipping in and out of passageways and taking supplies to the place I chose for us to hide in for a while. There was no sign of anyone else having used those secret passageways for many years. I cannae think my cousin or Angus would e’er miss the chance to use passages that would allow them to spy upon someone in near every room in the keep if they knew about all Rosscurrach’s secrets.”
“Nay, they would be wandering about in there all the time,” agreed Colin. “Yet, he is the laird and should have kenned about them, aye? Why didnae your da tell the mon about them?”
“Hervey is the laird here only because he is the last male kinsmon in my father’s line. My father didnae fully trust him and neither did my mother. I may have been little more than a child when my mother and then my father died, but I do recall that. Hervey did his best to deceive them about his true nature, but he failed. Unfortunately, my mother also failed to convince my father that he should choose another heir. Father felt verra strongly that the heir should be the closest male kinsmon.”
“So will the king be choosing the next laird then?”
“Weel, I suppose if Hervey doesnae have a son, aye, something like that will happen.”
Colin gave a short, harsh laugh. “Mistress, your
