it take the cannibals to…to consume Malcolm?
Her belly heaved and she struggled to control herself. Bile rose into her mouth and she choked it back down. Her prison was tiny and smelly enough. Fouling it further would be a mistake.
She touched an exploratory finger to the bars of her cage. It came away wet. She sniffed her finger, detecting nothing more unholy than seawater. She hesitantly licked, finding she was correct.
Not drinkable. She tried the puddle behind her and found the same saltiness, then fought another wave of despair. Gathering whatever determination she still possessed, she ran hesitant hands over the metal latticework. It seemed stable and secure, but was fastened at one side with only a twist of wire. The other side was bolted into rock, but how deeply? And how solid could the stone be, she wondered, so close to the ocean? Might it not be weakened by exposure to sea mist and tide?
The tide.
Mother of mercy.
A puddle wetted the cave behind her and the stone beneath her was damp. Was that from the general humidity of the place, or would she be drowned by the high tide?
Was the sound of the waves louder than when she’d awakened, or was that her fear and dark imagination seizing her, filling her with dread?
Stop it, she told herself. She had enough real threats to manage without inventing more.
She grabbed the bars with firm hands, tightened her grip and tugged, once, twice, three times. Was that her imagination again or had the gate wiggled a bit?
Mayhap. She tested the wire twist that secured the gate to a ring sunk into the stone. The stiff wire was heavy and she feared that she couldn’t loosen it. But she’d try nevertheless.
Shouts distracted her from her task but she still yanked at the metal while trying to discern what was going on in the main cave.
Someone else had been brought in. Someone who bellowed and plunged like an angry bull, the chains that bound him rattling like thunder.
She knew that voice.
Dugald.
Chapter Six
Her heart froze. That she’d die was bad, but that Dugald would also, in a vain attempt to rescue her, was intolerable. “No!” she screamed.
She doubled her efforts, tripled them, fingers shaking with cold and effort.
“Mistress Alice, is that ye?” he called, sounding calmer.
“Yes, it is.”
Coarse laughter. “So join your hoor.”
Another bellow from Dugald and a lot of thrashing about. Screams—not Dugald’s, though, for which Alice was grateful. It sounded as if he was banging a few heads together, but gradually the noises approached her tiny prison. She scuttled to the back of the grotto.
Gloved hands untwisted the wire clasp and the gate swung open with a rusty creak. Dugald was thrust in, so roughly that his head whacked the bumpy ceiling. While he shook his head, dazed, their captors locked the cage and left, laughing.
She could see him, a vague dark shape blocking what little light glowed from the torches. He rolled to face her. His visage was a white mask in the darkness, with two great black holes…
She shrank back with a gasp before realizing that the holes were his eyes, featureless due to the lack of light. She panted, making an effort to calm and even her breaths.
But Dugald had been captured. What hope had they for rescue?
“I’m glad to have found ye, mistress.” He sounded perfectly serene, as though she’d just arrived back at their inn from a walk.
“Wh-what?”
“I was afeared that they’d try to kill me straightaway and I’d have to search for their lair.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Well, I cannae allow them to murther me, ye ken? So I’d have had to kill them first.” He sounded utterly calm and certain.
That startled her.
He continued, “But luckily ‘twasn’t necessary. ‘Twas far easier for me to trick them into taking me to ye. I ken that they feel that they have plenty to eat, what with taking puir Malcolm.”
Alice breathed deeply, willing her tears away. She hadn’t cared much
Her belly heaved and she struggled to control herself. Bile rose into her mouth and she choked it back down. Her prison was tiny and smelly enough. Fouling it further would be a mistake.
She touched an exploratory finger to the bars of her cage. It came away wet. She sniffed her finger, detecting nothing more unholy than seawater. She hesitantly licked, finding she was correct.
Not drinkable. She tried the puddle behind her and found the same saltiness, then fought another wave of despair. Gathering whatever determination she still possessed, she ran hesitant hands over the metal latticework. It seemed stable and secure, but was fastened at one side with only a twist of wire. The other side was bolted into rock, but how deeply? And how solid could the stone be, she wondered, so close to the ocean? Might it not be weakened by exposure to sea mist and tide?
The tide.
Mother of mercy.
A puddle wetted the cave behind her and the stone beneath her was damp. Was that from the general humidity of the place, or would she be drowned by the high tide?
Was the sound of the waves louder than when she’d awakened, or was that her fear and dark imagination seizing her, filling her with dread?
Stop it, she told herself. She had enough real threats to manage without inventing more.
She grabbed the bars with firm hands, tightened her grip and tugged, once, twice, three times. Was that her imagination again or had the gate wiggled a bit?
Mayhap. She tested the wire twist that secured the gate to a ring sunk into the stone. The stiff wire was heavy and she feared that she couldn’t loosen it. But she’d try nevertheless.
Shouts distracted her from her task but she still yanked at the metal while trying to discern what was going on in the main cave.
Someone else had been brought in. Someone who bellowed and plunged like an angry bull, the chains that bound him rattling like thunder.
She knew that voice.
Dugald.
Chapter Six
Her heart froze. That she’d die was bad, but that Dugald would also, in a vain attempt to rescue her, was intolerable. “No!” she screamed.
She doubled her efforts, tripled them, fingers shaking with cold and effort.
“Mistress Alice, is that ye?” he called, sounding calmer.
“Yes, it is.”
Coarse laughter. “So join your hoor.”
Another bellow from Dugald and a lot of thrashing about. Screams—not Dugald’s, though, for which Alice was grateful. It sounded as if he was banging a few heads together, but gradually the noises approached her tiny prison. She scuttled to the back of the grotto.
Gloved hands untwisted the wire clasp and the gate swung open with a rusty creak. Dugald was thrust in, so roughly that his head whacked the bumpy ceiling. While he shook his head, dazed, their captors locked the cage and left, laughing.
She could see him, a vague dark shape blocking what little light glowed from the torches. He rolled to face her. His visage was a white mask in the darkness, with two great black holes…
She shrank back with a gasp before realizing that the holes were his eyes, featureless due to the lack of light. She panted, making an effort to calm and even her breaths.
But Dugald had been captured. What hope had they for rescue?
“I’m glad to have found ye, mistress.” He sounded perfectly serene, as though she’d just arrived back at their inn from a walk.
“Wh-what?”
“I was afeared that they’d try to kill me straightaway and I’d have to search for their lair.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Well, I cannae allow them to murther me, ye ken? So I’d have had to kill them first.” He sounded utterly calm and certain.
That startled her.
He continued, “But luckily ‘twasn’t necessary. ‘Twas far easier for me to trick them into taking me to ye. I ken that they feel that they have plenty to eat, what with taking puir Malcolm.”
Alice breathed deeply, willing her tears away. She hadn’t cared much
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