It wouldn’t work. This time his plan was foolproof. All he needed was the silver key. Outside the tower thunder rumbled. The world did not like to hear such dark words as he spoke. The tower shuddered. The earth was trembling. He knew why.
“Not long,” he said out loud. A light flared in the distance. Lightning struck a tree and it then burst into flames. How much fire would there be when he had the key in his hand?
The keys had all been forged from the same piece of silver. Each held the same power, the power to create portals in time and space. All he had to do was unlock the right door and all would be well with the world.
He wasn’t sure why they were trying to stop him. Wasn’t this for their own good? They needed a strong leader. He could be that leader if they’d only bow down and worship him.
What did they do instead? Try to erase him from history.
He thought about what had happened when he was locked away. The agony of centuries trapped without release. And then all of a sudden he was free. He knew why that had happened too. It wasn’tjust them who had a helping hand from time to time.
Then just as he was getting started with his plan he was dragged back through time. The thought was enough to make his fists clench.
He forced them to relax, getting to his feet and leaning out the window, leaning too far. He should have lost his balance. Instead, he stood, only his ankles inside, looking down at the ground below. This time, there would be no mistakes.
He would get the key when it came back. Then he would unlock the one door that needed unlocking. And then? Well, then all hell would break loose.
The thought made him smile. He turned just before they knocked on the door. By the time they knocked again he was pulling it open, finding himself looking into the terrified face of two of his minions. “What?” he snapped. “This better be good.”
“You told us to tell you when the message arrived.”
“And?”
“It arrived.”
“When? Why did you not come at once?”
“We did, I swear.”
He shoved past them, taking the stairs three at atime. The key was back. He ran across the courtyard to the keep, hardly able to contain his excitement. The key was back. The key was back.
The words echoed around his head. This time he could not fail. It was right there and in moments it would be in his hand. The MacGregor brat had actually managed it.
Down the stairs to the dungeon. He paused, the door was open. Why was the door open? He marched inside, his minions catching up with torches held high to illuminate the interior.
“Where is he?” the barefoot man yelled, spinning around in the cell.
“Perhaps he escaped,” one of them replied. It was the last thing he said. His neck was snapped a moment later. The barefoot man turned to the others. “Cursed chains that cannot be broken and he simply got out of them, unlocked the door, and left?”
They looked at the floor, the ceiling, anything but him.
“Well, what are you standing there for? Find him!”
They scattered at once. He turned and kicked the chains on the floor in front of him, howling like a wolf, his head falling back, his fists pounding thewalls of the dungeon. “You will not save this one,” he said out loud before darting back up the stairs.
By the time he reached the courtyard he felt better. This made it more fun. He would have the remains of the MacCallister army out looking for Wallace MacGregor, and the woman if she’d actually made it back here with him.
They wouldn’t get far. In many ways this made it more exciting. It was almost too easy before. Soon they would be in his clutches and he would have the key.
The MacGregor clan would be wiped out. The MacCallisters would do his dirty work for him, glad of a chance to slaughter their rivals.
They were strong of body but weak of mind. They also lacked strategical skills. They had been on the verge of losing the war to the MacGregors until he came along to help. He had to remain in the shadows back then, afraid that they might recognize him. He wasn’t as strong then, one defeat after another sapping his power.
Not anymore.
He helped the MacCallisters to victory. They got Jock in their dungeon and he got his revenge on him at last. Now all he had to do was get the key and he would have his revenge on everyone whohad ever wronged him. The highlands would burn before it was all over.
The thought of so many dying nourished him. His smile broadened. “Run as fast as you can,” he said out loud, walking across the courtyard. “Run, Wallace. You will not get far. Soon, our game will come to an end with you sliced into pieces and me in charge of all.”
