“Here, Father. Use these to stem the bleeding, if ye can.”
He said nothing, only sniffled miserably and tried to pick up the strip of cloth, using his whole hand to wrap the other.
“Whether ye are executed or not depends on the others,” Senga hissed, taking a step towards him. “Look at me!”
Laird Murray dragged his gaze up from his bleeding stump to focus terrified eyes on her.
“For my part, I’d let ye live,” Senga continued, as evenly as she could. “But ye have committed atrocities, and I do not know how ye will be punished for them. But know this,Father. When we part ways today, I will not see ye again, and I will never think of ye again, and nor will anybody else. That will be yer punishment.”
He made no response, and really she did not want to hear one. Drawing in a ragged breath, she turned to Noah.
“It’s not over,” she repeated. “They are attacking the convent. Laird Dickson is coming for the Abbess.”
His eyes widened. “What?”
“Could they have slipped soldiers behind our lines?”
He paused, thinking. “I don’t know. I suppose so. We should hurry, then. I’ll find somewhere to lock him up, and then we’ll have to run. Can ye run?”
Senga nodded, ignoring the twinges of pain in her body. “Aye. I can do this.”
Chapter 18
Gods And Chess
“Icannot let ye do this,” Sister Rosemary stated flatly. “I cannot. Iwillnot. Have ye lost yer mind, woman?”
The Abbess stood at the window, staring at nothing in particular. This window didn’t look down onto the carnage going on around them. They could all stillhearthe battle, though. Swords clashed, voices cried out, and horses screamed in abject terror.
Men and women screamed in terror, too, but somehow it was the horses the Abbess thought about. The soldiers had all chosen to go to battle, but nobody had asked the horses what they wanted.
This window, however, looked onto the peaceful kitchen gardens at the back of the convent. Beyond the gardens, the ground sloped up to meet the tree line, which in turn faded away into a huge forest, the edge of a strip of woodland that bisected the Highlands. It was one of her favorite views.
“Do ye know, Rosemary, I never even think of my own name now?” the Abbess said aloud. “I had a name, once. And a clan. A true name. I cannot quite remember when I put it aside to become the Abbess of St. Deborah’s, but here I am. It was asacrifice I made to become who I am now. I saw a long time ago that the clans needed guidance, and the Highlands needed saving from the monsters. I had no idea what to do about it, of course. Then God sent me a girl. Four of them. No, five, all in a row. Astrid, Senga, Kyla, Freya, and Una. The five of them have changed our destinies, and it feels as though my life’s work was simply to prepare myself to meet them.”
There was a short silence, then Sister Rosemary came stamping around, squeezing between the Abbess and the window so that she forced the older woman to look at her. The Abbess did look, blinking down at her short, round-faced friend. Sister Rosemary glared balefully up at her, propping her fists up on her hips.
“I will not let ye go out there,” Sister Rosemary stated. “It’s a death sentence.”
There was more silence, and this time the Abbess clearly heard the rhythmicboom-boom-boomof the Dickson battering ram crashing down on the heavy wooden doors of the convent.
It was a clever ploy, she had to admit. The battle seemed to be turning against the Dicksons. If his allies had stuck to his side, then perhaps things would have been different, but one by one, the clans whose loyalty he’d bought or threatened faded away. Only Murray was left now, by all accounts.
Yes, Laird Dickson was losing this last fight. After the battle was over, the man’s grip on the Highlands would loosen at last. A new world could dawn if only they were prepared to receive it.
But as a last-ditch effort, the laird had taken some of his personal guard and launched an attack on the convent. Only a few guards had been posted around the convent, and they were quickly and quietly taken care of.
The Abbess prayed that Sister Abigail and Senga were safe. She’d moved from window to window, keeping an eye on them both, but now she was forced to turn her gaze inward.
“We’ll stay here,” Sister Rosemary said desperately. “Those doors will hold.”
“Not for much longer. And what happens when they break down, and Laird Dickson and his bloodthirsty hounds come pouring in? They’ll know they haven’t got much time, so they will focus on slitting each and every one of our throats before they are caught. The end will come soon.”
Not for me, though,she thought, careful not to say it aloud.He wants to make me suffer.
The pounding on the door halted, just for a moment. A bellowed cry echoed through the halls, the same cry that had been bawled out at five-minute intervals since the attack began.
“Give us the Abbess of St. Deborah’s!” boomed a strong male voice. “Give her up, and the rest of ye shall live. Shelter that woman, and ye will all die.”
