Page 49 of Darach

As he turned a corner in the passages he saw some torches had been extinguished, and then something moving in the shadows. Suddenly a crossbow twanged, and a bolt came flying at his chest. He caught it easily, but a tiny glass ball on the point broke, spewing a puff of glittering powder up in his face. He tossed it away, but as he stalked toward whoever had fired it his legs and lungs grew heavy, and his eyelids drooped.

“You may dodge my bolts, but no’ my sleeping draught,” a sly voice taunted him. “I’ve added something special to silence you, Chieftain.”

Falling to his knees, Darach opened his mouth to call for help, but no sound would come from his throat. As a cloaked figure emerged from the shadows aiming a crossbow at him, he fell forward, completely unable to move now. The figure loomed over him, bending down to caress his face with a gloved hand before taking hold of his hair.

“Come now. I cannae spring my next trap without you and the facking sain,” the intruder said as if on the other end of a tunnel, and then began dragging him into the darkness.

* * *

Charlotte followed the passage to the forge, where she hurried past the open door, only to stop and backtrack. Once she was sure Camdyn wasn’t working inside she went in to look for the dagger he had promised her. Fortunately he’d left it and the splintered wooden blade on one of his work tables; he’d also put a new wrapping around the hilt. As soon as she picked up the dagger the weight of it made her fingers clench. It fit her grip perfectly now.

I’m supposed to hold graphite and brushes and palettes, not this.

She kept hold of the blade as she turned and nearly smacked her face on a broad chest.

“Fair day, Mistress.” Camdyn glanced down at the dagger. “As you ken I finished fitting the new hilt to your blade. The bootmaker shall fashion a sheath for it on the morrow. Why do you look ready to swoon?”

“I just saw the bodies that were found in the granary.” Charlotte was tempted to tell him the rest, but the armorer wouldn’t understand. “Emery believes whoever killed those three people is the bone cobbler.”

“Indeed.” Camdyn’s eyes narrowed. “Why did you come here, then?”

“I’m scared.” That much was true. “I don’t want to walk around unarmed anymore.”

He reached out and touched her arm. “If ’twill give you ease, take the blade.”

She thanked him, and walked out into the passage as if to go back to the hall. As soon as she heard him adding wood to the hearth she changed direction and went the other way, keeping her footsteps as quiet as possible. Soon the sound of hammering came from the forge, and she was able to run.

Stay alive until I get there. Please.

The passage had a barred door at the end that opened in the forest. Charlotte looked around until she remembered the direction of the bathing spring, and hurried in that direction until she found the trail to it. For a moment she hesitated, and looked back at the stronghold. Only the thought of Darach at the mercy of the killer made her turn her back on Dun Lasair.

This is why the sword brought me here. To save him.

By the time she reached the spot where they had made love by the water her heart hammered under her breast. At the same time she sensed a strange certainty growing inside her, as if some part of her knew this was exactly where she should be. She saw the crossbow bolt still buried in the tree, and the broken branches in the brush where Darach and Taveon had gone after the intruder. She followed their trail to the slopes, where she saw a narrow recess in the rock. Flickering light came from within the dark place, and deep, fresh marks on the ground in front of it indicated something large had recently been dragged inside. The smell of blood and rot that came from it reminded her of the moment she’d walked into Zoey’s house to find her friend butchered.

Charlotte tightened her grip on the dagger as she went inside.

A dying torch cast feeble light on the piles of bone that littered the cave floor, where the drag marks continued back into the shadows. She took down the torch and held it in her free hand as she moved forward, her throat and chest so tight now she could hardly breathe. The passage seemed to constrict around her until both of her shoulders brushed the sides, and then it suddenly opened into a much larger open space.

This is where it began, Charlotte thought as she took in the gruesome view. Where he became a monster.

All over the cave hundreds of thousands of bones of different sizes and shapes had been twined together in ghastly sculptures. Some formed spiraling columns, and others had been shaped into the animals from which they had been taken. To one side the torch illuminated a work area with tables fashioned from bones that had been mortared together, and long bones driven into the walls on which he had hung knives and other tools. In the back of the cave, a large, blackened pit of ashes sat beneath a hole in the cave roof high overhead. From the sheer number of constructions, Charlotte guessed the killer had been using this cave for a very long time.

Everywhere––on the bones, the walls, and even the floor of the cave––the three Fae symbols had been carved over and over, a silent yet screaming litany.

She turned, and looked across the small pool of murky water at a flat-topped boulder, on which a shrouded body lay. “Darach? Darach.”

“You came too early,” a familiar voice said, and shrill laughter echoed through the cavern. “I’ve no rope to hang the bastart, so he yet breathes.”

“You don’t need him.” Charlotte walked forward, holding the torch higher as she tried to see where he was. “You have me and the sain. Wasn’t that the point of all this? Let him go.”

“’Tisnae what my master wished,” the killer said, and a strong hand seized her wrist from behind, gripping it so tightly her bones ground together. “I’ve plans of my own now.”

She bit her lip as he jabbed her in the back with the tip of a blade, and dragged in a shallow breath. “What do you want from me, Fyn Carack?”

“Drop that dagger, my precious, and I shall tell you.” When she did, he chuckled and released her hand. As he touched the tip of the Fire Sword to her neck, he snatched the dagger from the ground. “You shall wish Nyf become the laird of the Carack.”

This is why it brought me back, because I’m the only one who could recognize the way he killed, Charlotte thought. So that I would expose him as the bone cobbler, and the MacRoss could stop him from killing. This all ends with me and him.