“We must need it if ye’ve come. Mayhap ye willna tell me why, but ye have only ever come to Dunvegan to warn us of peril.”
“That is true, Edina. But I amnae ready for all to ken I am here. I would remain a secret, so our enemy doesnae learn of me or the flag.” Abigail said whatever came to mind, hoping to keep the woman from asking more questions. The less Abigail said, the less Edina might repeat the next day. The woman’s mind was no longer sound, but Abigail feared she would remember enough to make people wonder who visited the former Lady MacLeod’s chamber during the night. When Edina pointed to the headboard, Abigail stepped closer and looked between the wood and the brick wall. She leaned forward and ran her hand over the bricks, her fingers pressing against the mortar until she felt a loose one. She pulled the brick free, catching the one above it as it dropped. Squeezing her shoulders into the tiny space, she reached into the hidey-hole and swept her fingers inside. They brushed across soft material. Holding her breath, Abigail retrieved the hidden cloth.
“Aye, there it is,” Edina beamed. “The defender of Clan MacLeod. It is back in its rightful hands, the queen of allban-shi.”
“I would return with this and inform the king that yer clan has kept it safe all these generations.”
“King Oberan?”
“Aye, Edina. It will gladden him to ken yer clan has done its duty.” Abigail slid the bricks back into place before she stepped away from the bed, nodding toward it. “Ye shall return to yer bed and sleep once more. Ye will keep ma visit a secret. The lives of all the fae depend on yer secrecy.” Abigail prayed her warning seemed appropriate.
“As ye wish, ma queen.” Edina grinned as she climbed back into bed.
Abigail watched her pull up the covers and lie down before Abigail slipped back into the tunnel. She moved away from the family chambers, glancing down at the Fairy Flag in the weak torch light. Rather than returning to her chamber, she turned toward the sea cave when she came to the fork in the tunnel. With the Fairy Flag in hand, Abigail was more desperate than ever to find a means to escape and reach Kieran. Entering cautiously, Abigail discovered there were no more crates and barrels lining the walls. The tide was low, so Abigail inched toward the gate. She walked along a ledge until she could reach the metal bars. She looked around, shocked to find a key just within reach if she stretched. A powerful gust blew through the metal squares and chilled Abigail’s face, but she froze with the key in her hand.
It’s blowing north. If I can get to a birlinn, this wind will have me back to Stornoway before dawn.
Abigail strained to hear anything on the wind that might warn her if someone was on the docks. She had no idea if she could reach the boats without having to swim. The last thing she wanted was to be soaked. She would die of hypothermia long before she reached her brother. She eased the gate open, shocked but relieved that it didn’t squeak. Abigail supposed they kept the hinges well-greased to keep the gate a secret. She dunked her torch into the water, extinguishing it. She watched the tide pull the log out of the cave, then stepped onto a rock outside the keep. She pulled the gate nearly closed, but not all the way. She wouldn’t risk it locking until she was certain she didn’t need to retreat, even if she held the key.
Abigail took a long, calming breath, enjoying her first moment of freedom. But another gust reminded her of what was at stake. She inched along the rock until she could see the docks, illuminated by torches on the wall walk.
Despite the limited visibility, Abigail could tell that she could inch along the rock face since the tide was out. She wouldn’t have to swim. She switched directions and pulled the gate shut, locking it and dropping the key down her bodice. She didn’t doubt there were others, but she hoped it would slow the progress of anyone who tried to chase her from the cave. She gathered her skirts, throwing them over her shoulder as she crept toward the docks. She cradled the Fairy Flag in the crook of her arm, holding it against her chest to protect it as seawater splashed the rocks.
Abigail’s attention shifted between the guards who could spot her at any moment and her goal. When she reached the docks, she crouched on the rock beside it, watching the men above her. She tried to judge the time and when the guards would shift positions. She prayed the nighttime rotation was the same as the daytime one. When she assumed nearly a quarter of an hour passed, she sighed as the men traded posts. She knew she had another half hour before they would move again. She moved her head to different angles as she considered the birlinn closest to her. It would be the easiest to board, but it wouldn’t be the fastest to get into the current. She needed to reach the one at the end of the dock, but even if she was fast, she was likely to draw attention if she sprinted along the floating platform.
Despite the strong wind, the water was calm. Abigail stuck her hand in, shivering from the icy bite. She reminded herself that she’d already survived being submerged in it. As she glanced at her target once more, she knew there was only one choice: run down the docks and pray that she got the boat free and into the current before anyone caught her or reach the farthest boat without using the dock. She didn’t doubt she would be spotted, and she didn’t doubt the MacLeods would pursue her. Only one of the two options bought her more time. She scrambled to untie her boots before tying the laces together and slinging the boots around her neck. She shoved her stockings into one before pushing the flag into the other. She grinned when she remembered Ronan asking if she intended to throw her skirts over her head. This time she did.
Abigail pulled her gown and her chemise above her waist, the cool night air shocking to her nether region and backside. She draped the material over her shoulder, beneath her chin, and then back over the other shoulder. Before easing into the water, she pulled hersgian dubhfrom its sheath in her boot and put the handle between her teeth. The first step made her suck in a breath through her nose. The second stole that breath. The third made her want to cry out. But by the fourth, her legs were already growing numb. She eased her way along the dock, holding herself as high out of the water as she could manage. The ground dropped away quickly, so she kicked her legs and inched her arms along the wood planks. When she neared the first boat, she had to decide whether she could squeeze between the hulls and the dock or if she would get out. She knew she couldn’t make it to the seaward side of the boat and inch along the hulls without getting completely wet.
Abigail accepted the risk that a boat might shift and crush her against the dock. She kept making her way toward the end. She felt the water lapping at the ends of her kirtle that were now above her breasts, but most of her gown and her boots were still dry. Her arisaid was caught within the folds of her gown and protected from the water. As she moved toward her destination, she kept her eyes on the guards on the battlements, certain they would raise the alarm at any moment.
What surely took less than five minutes felt like an agonizing five years. She made her way to the very end of the dock, where the torches on the wall barely illuminated the area. The ramp on the last birlinn was down, connecting the boat and the dock. Pushing with all her strength and kicking her legs, Abigail pulled herself onto the ramp and crawled onto the deck. She lay on her belly, catching her breath and once again waiting for someone to spot her. When nothing stirred, she hurried to use her skirts to dry her legs and feet. She put her stockings and boots back on before looking around the boat. She placed the flag within the overlapping plaid across her chest.
She’d loved the days Kieran took her sailing as a child. Madeline hadn’t enjoyed it, but Abigail begged her brother to teach her to sail. Kieran agreed not only because he knew she enjoyed it, but he wanted at least one woman in his family to know how to sail in case they ever needed to escape an attack on the keep. Maude and Kieran’s advice echoed in her mind, telling her to sail home if ever she needed to. She wondered if her brother and sister-by-marriage tempted fate or had the second sight.
Abigail crawled along the deck until she came to the center mast. It would be difficult, but not impossible, to captain the boat alone. She checked the rigging and untied the sail, but she didn’t hoist it yet. She would never make it far if she had to row by herself, but she placed an oar within reach on each side to serve as a rudder when she needed it. When she was certain the boat was fit for the open water, she inched back toward the dock. Rather than untying the line on the dock, she untied it on the boat. She used her oar to push herself away from the dock, then used the oar to angle herself into the current. A combination of back paddling and catching the current with the oar’s blade pushing against it set her on course. She couldn’t believe no one cried out, alerting the keep to her escape. Even if no one could see her aboard the vessel, how could they allow the boat to just float away?
Abigail let the wind and tide push her north without raising the sail, fearing the movement would be what finally signaled the guards. It wasn’t until she cleared the headland and had a head start of a few nautical miles that she unfurled and raised the sail. It caught the wind, and the boat glided along the water. Abigail couldn’t see much in the dark, but the stars helped her navigate. Kieran’s concession to teaching her to sail was to insist she learn how to navigate by the sun and the stars. Abigail knew Kieran always feared she would try to sail one alone one day and get stuck. He insisted she also learn the geography of the eastern coast of Lewis and Harris. While she didn’t want to travel overland at all, she was more confident that she could make it to Stornoway on foot than trying to find Dun Ringill on Skye.
As the birlinn cut through the waves, Abigail considered her route. She couldn’t imagine her father or brother ever having reason to tell Cormag and his brothers that she knew how to sail. While they might realize she’d slipped away on their boat, they would assume she was at the mercy of the sea and drifting without direction. She pictured where Ronan and his other three captains shifted course to cut across the Little Minch. If the MacLeods set out to recapture her, they would stay closer to Skye, likely believing Abigail wouldn’t know how to steer and would feel safer in friendly waters. With a glance to her bow, she turned toward her stern. There was no movement in the distance, so she used an oar again to turn her bow to cross the sea long before she reached the point that Ronan had. Pointed in the new direction, Abigail pulled the oar in and moved to angle the sail. Cutting diagonally across the body of water proved easier than Abigail expected. The current continued pushing her north even as the wind blew her west.
After two hours on the open water, Abigail didn’t lower her guard, but some of her fear abated. She remained vigilant, standing at the bow to ensure she didn’t run aground, but frequently looking to the south to ensure no one followed her. She didn’t understand why the MacLeods didn’t catch up to her, so she could only guess that they continued to sail on the east side of the channel while she sailed along the west. When she spotted the southern tip of Harris, she steered herself back toward the center of the Minch and managed to avoid anyone noticing her. The MacLeods of Harris had a deeper connection to the MacLeods of Skye through heredity, and they would surely recognize one of Cormag’s boats. They wouldn’t hesitate to turn her over to him rather than Kieran.
Twenty-Eight
Stornoway came into view as the earliest rays of sun peeked over the eastern horizon. Abigail shivered on the bench where she sat to steer the birlinn toward her former home. She’d had to crawl under a bench to block the wind during a particularly rough stretch, but that same wind sped up her progress. Snow began falling two hours earlier. She feared her ungloved fingers would break off. She sat on them and curled her toes within her boots as she shivered, but excitement and relief coursed through her as the first bricks of the castle became visible. She heard the call go up before she could announce herself. She hurried to the bow and cupped her hands around her mouth.
“Get ma brother!” Abigail called out, hoping the wind didn’t carry her voice away. She waved her arms over her head as men passed through the gate and ran toward her. She recognized her brother leading the charge. “Kieran!”
“Abigail!” Kieran sprinted along the dock.
“I have nay rope. Throw me one.”
Rather than listen to her, Kieran leapt onto the birlinn and swept her into his arms. Another man followed her brother and maneuvered them alongside the other boats. Before Abigail could say anything, Kieran was already racing toward the keep. She watched Maude run toward them; her arisaid wrapped around her head and shoulders but not belted. Abigail tried to press against Kieran’s massive chest while twisting toward her approaching sister-by-marriage.
“They have Ronan. He’s in the Dunvegan dungeon. Dinna take me inside, Kieran. We must go back.”
Abigail feared she was babbling, but she didn’t want to wait to return to Dunvegan. Cormag and Gordon would know she was gone by now, and she feared what they would do to Ronan. If she waited too long to make her way back, she was certain they would kill her husband. Once off the dock, Abigail scrambled to be put down, and Kieran lowered her feet to the ground lest he drop her. Maude embraced Abigail, and the reassurance the woman offered nearly broke Abigail’s resolve. She never imagined she would find more comfort with Maude than with Kieran. Tears she’d held at bay for over a week finally coursed down her cheeks.
