“Take yer best shot, you Faerie bastards,” he called, lurching toward the light.
“Robbie? Are you down there?”
Isa?He shook his head, struggling back to his feet. Not possible. She was prisoner somewhere in the castle proper.
“Robert MacQuarrie!” the disembodied Isa demanded. “I ken you have to be down there. I hear you moving about. Answer me, dammit!”
“Isa?”
He stumbled toward the light, looking directly up into it. Her face, her beautiful face hovered above the grated opening.
“Isa?” He whispered this time, fearful of speaking out loud lest the apparition disappear.
“He’s there! Help me get this open.”
“Look, Isa. There’s a rope just up there.”
He’d swear that was little Jamie’s voice. Now that was impossible. He must be hallucinating because Jamie had been burned alive in that...
His throat tightened and he fought for air, feeling as if he might be reduced to blubbering like some dainty girl at any moment.
That infernal scraping sound again!
He looked up to see the grate disappearing as it was dragged away from the opening.
“Stand back so I dinna hit you with this. I’ve tied it off on this end, but you’ll have to climb. Please tell me you can climb, aye?”
For Isa? Anything.
Whether this was hallucination or reality no longer mattered. He was going for it.
He pulled on the rope, testing, hoping it would hold his weight. Then, one hand after another, he lifted himself up the long rope, ignoring the searing pain in his chest.
When he reached the top, hands grabbed at his clothing, helping him over the edge. For a long moment he lay there, catching his breath.
“Come on, Robbie, on yer feet. We’ve no time.”
He pushed to his knees and looked up. There before him, like angelic visions, Isa and Jamie waited.
Had he died in that hole?
Allowing them to help him to his feet, he decided not to look back down. Just in case.
He reached out and pulled Jamie to him, hugging the boy tightly. “How?” he asked, looking over at Isa.
“Later,” was all she said, her face pinched with anxiety as she urged him forward.
His legs didn’t seem to want to cooperate, and it was all he could manage to drag himself up the narrow wooden steps and out into the kitchens. By the time they made it across the big room and out the door, he was panting with the effort. Isa situated herself next to him, and draped his arm over her shoulder, helping to support his weight. He didn’t want to lean on her, but he could think of no other way.
Too slow. They’d never make a successful escape like this.
They’d made it outside the castle and were nearing the little gate that led out to the fields when Jamie veered off to one side.
“This way, Jamie,” Isa panted, shifting his arm on her shoulder.
“No, Isa,” the child called, limping steadily away. “Bronco’s tethered out here. I heard the men say so.”
“Bronco?”
