But Angus—he was grinning from ear to ear and bouncing on his toes like a little boy at a carnival. Didn’t he notice that their whole world had just been flipped upside-down?
“It worked!” He whisper-shouted near her ear.
He couldn’t have sounded more pleased with himself.
“It worked Ness, we’re here!”
“Where…”But she stopped short, eyes fixed on a drop of fresh blood on the ground. She was already beginning to have a sneaking suspicion, but now she had little doubt. There was one reason they had been on Clough Hill, and it was because she had promised her uncle she would bring him there so he could try out his latest math or physics, or whatever he did all day. But she had been humoring him. If she’d believed even for a second that it wouldwork…
Nessa swallowed hard, and swung her gaze upward to the proof of his apparent success. An unfortunate blow to the head years ago had left her uncle with the mental age of a ten year old child, and a crazy, almost mystical kind of genius. Though she hadn’t believed he’d actually found a way to travel back in time when she’d gone with him into the passage grave, she was starting to believe it now. One moment they’d been in a tunnel at the top of an old hillfort near their home in Inverness, and an instant later she was gasping at the surface of a pool of water in an entirely different underground chamber.
Had she and Angus actually…travelled back in time? Any other explanation currently eluded her. Her uncle was a certifiably crazy… genius.
And how did she know they had gone back in time and not just through a tunnel to somewhere else in 21stcentury Scotland? Because people in 21stcentury Scotland didn’t tattoo intricate designs on their faces or wear long, belted tunics fastened with elaborate metal pins in the shape of fantastical beasts. And they certainly didn’t carry around what looked to be freshly decapitated lamb’s heads in shallow baskets, with the glazed-over eyes staring lifelessly up at the sky. She watched in stunned fascination as several more droplets of dark red blood fell and soaked into the worn earth below.
Angus pointed—quite rudely—at the heads.
“Look Ness, I think they were on their way to this well with an offering for the Goddess of the Underworld.” His voice held a tone of child-like fascination that she really wished she felt as well. But they obviously had problems, and she needed to focus. The way she saw it, this could go one of two ways: either they would be welcomed, or killed. And shereallywasn’t ready to die at just twenty-four years old.
As it happened, they were standing face to face with a group of six women, each wearing an identical expression of stunned surprise. One of the women—who wasn’t holding a decapitated head—overcame the initial shock of seeing her and Angus emerge from the chamber, and after glancing at her peers—theyobviously weren’t going to do anything—turned and started shouting to others in the distance, making a sweeping gesture with her arm high above her head, a thick gold armband glittering in the sun.
“Fetch the King! Now!”
Nessa’s ears perked up, her fear and confusion forgotten for a moment. The language sounded slightly foreign yet oh-so-familiar, like flashes of memory returning from a dream. For a moment the context was so wrong that she didn’t realize her mind had flawlessly translated their words.It couldn’t be… but it was. It wasn’t English they were speaking. It was Pictish. A language that in Nessa’s time had been dead for at least a thousand years. A language she had spoken for as long as she could remember. An echo of a time when the Highlands had been filled with the ancient and beautiful words.The King, the woman had said.Fetch the King…which King? Whenwerethey? A tiny spark of intrigue pushed away some of the fear. Maybe this was a world she knew, after all.
The woman, not satisfied that her call had been heard, turned and ran for help. As Nessa’s gaze followed her, she noticed for the first time a huge stone broch rising in the distance, and beyond it, the sea. The shape of the land as it jutted into the water was also familiar. She had been here before, many times.Burghead? The well…of course. Burghead had a well just like this, and had been a Pictish stronghold for hundreds of years.Had been. The last time she had seen it, it had been smattered with modern houses and quaint little streets, the broch only a ghostly shell of what it once was. She had beenright herein January with Nathan to watch the Fire Festival, a ritual that had its roots in ancient times. The two of them had cuddled together on a blanket spread on the grass and watched the burning clavie make its rounds amidst the cheering of the crowd. When the fire finally made it to Doorie Hill to blaze brightly against the night sky, Nathan had leaned in and kissed her.
Now, a mass of smaller wooden structures with thatched roofs surrounded the towering broch, most round, a few rectangular, some with thick smoke rising from stone chimneys. People were appearing from within and between them, obviously eager to see what the commotion was about, and why the King was being summoned so urgently to the well on what was otherwise an apparently ordinary day.
Angus pulled at her sleeve, and Nessa sucked in a breath. Oh god, she had almost forgotten about him for a minute there. She was completely responsible for him; he didn’t have anyone else. Especially nothere.
“Our people, Ness! Did you ever think you’d see the day? Oh, we must look so strange to them—he looked down at his crumpled khaki trousers—“do you think we should take off these clothes?”
“What? No! Angus…please, just…keep quiet until I figure out what to do. And keep your clothes on! Anddon’tsay anything,” she added, just in case. If it was really true…if they had somehow slipped through time, it was going to be up to her to keep them both alive until they could return home.
Her eyes swept back to the lambs’ heads in their baskets, still blindly staring, still dripping blood, and she recalled that the Picts also practiced human sacrifice, often using their enemies as offerings to the gods. She knew a lot about this culture, but only from written texts and stories passed through the generations. She had to assume she knew almost nothing of the finer nuances, and she didn’t want to make a wrong move. The women were still eying them with a mixture of curiosity and unease, and her gaze skimmed across the sharp daggers strapped to each one of their belts. They stood back a good twenty feet, but she thought she heard whispers of the word ‘goddess’. Did they think she was some sort of deity that came up out of the well? No wonder they were so alarmed. She wanted to tell them that she wasn’t even close to being a goddess, but thought better of it. If they knew for sure she was far from divine,they might be inclined to use those daggers.
Thank goodness her brain seemed to have recovered enough for logical thought to return. It was starting to sink in that she had justtravelled back in time.A sudden thought occurred to her.
“Angus, can you take us home again? If we go back in the well?” A few of the women narrowed their eyes at her words, spoken in English, a language they didn’t understand. One slowly wrapped her fingers around the handle of her knife.
“Yes, of course. But not yet, Nessa.”
She relaxed just a fraction. He could get them home again. Of course he could. He knew all those numbers and figures and…whatever the hell else he was always working on. As much as she’d like to stay a while and look around, it was probably best to leave right away while they still had the chance. Once all of the people that were now closing in on them from all sides got within arm’s length, they might be stuck for a while. And there werea lotof people, some walking, others loping towards them at a good clip. There were enough of them that a faint cloud of dust began to rise in the air as they came. Her heart began to speed up again.
“Angus. We really need to get out of here. I don’t think it’s safe. If we turn and run back down the stairs right now, I think we can make it.”
She grabbed his arm, intending to drag him with her. The blasted man dug in his heels.
“Not yet. The voicestoldme to come here.”
“Voices?What voices? Angus I…”
Suddenly several men came around from behind the well, swords raised, blocking their escape.
She sighed. “Never mind. I think we just lost our chance.”
They were now surrounded by people, both men and women; most of their faces curious, but some with hard lines of suspicion. All strangers. All, as far as Nessa was concerned, a lethal threat until proven otherwise. There were at least a hundred, if not more, fanning out from the entrance of the well where she and Angus stood, and at the center was one man that stood out from the rest, even before she could clearly see his face. He walked slightly ahead of a large group of men that flanked him on all sides, and everyone else quickly stepped out of his way as he came near. The way he moved spoke of power and authority. He didn’t just walk, hestrode, head held high, square jaw set with just a touch of arrogance. Or was it just sheer confidence?
