Beyond the Sea Mist (5 page)

Even as she said the words, the now familiar hopelessness settled like a weight on Ailinn’s shoulders. How would she ever manage to get this group of exhausted women free of this place? Even if they did get away, she had no idea where they would they go. It was very long walk across the isle to their homeland.

But, nay, she wouldn’t think about that. She would focus on getting out of here. Disengaging herself from Brina’s embrace, Ailinn went to the doorway of the structure and knelt down. There was a crack in the clay plaster at the side of the door. By putting her eye near it, she could see out of their prison.

It was difficult to make out anything in the darkness, but through the crack she heard a familiar sound and her spirits soared. The guard outside the door was snoring.
This is our chance! We must take it!

Ailinn hurried over to her bag of belongings and searched for an item buried in the bottom. Then she moved back to the door, which was secured from the outside with a strip of leather. With shaking fingers she took the tiny scissors and opened them and began rubbing their sharp edges against the leather. It was fortunate Croa knew so little about woman. He’d searched their bags of possessions himself, and when he’d come upon Ailinn’s sewing kit, she’d protested that a well-born gentlewoman couldn’t get along without it. He’d left the leather-wrapped packet alone, never guessing there were scissors inside. On the other hand, even if he had seen them, Ailinn doubted he would have cared. To a man used to axes and swords, the scissors would seem much too small to be used as a weapon.

But they were more than adequate for this task. In moments, she was through the leather latch. Her heart pounded as she edged the door open. Sure enough, the guard was asleep. He sprawled against the storehouse wall, a presumably empty beverage skin lying by his right leg.

Ailinn ducked back in the storehouse. “Wake the other women,” she whispered to Brina. “Tell them to gather together their things. This is our chance to flee.”

Brina did as she asked, and soon all four women had joined Ailinn at the door. “Are you certain it’s safe?” Little Ullach drew near to Ailinn, her voice trembling.

“The guard’s asleep and probably drunk as well,” Ailinn responded.

“But where will we go?” Gormlaith asked, still sounding half asleep.

“The quay,” Ailinn answered. The idea had come to her like a bolt of lightning. They would find the Norseman and ask him for help. But doubts gnawed at her. After the way she’d spoken to him, he might not be willing to aid them. Somehow she would persuade him. For a brief moment she wondered at the price he might demand for helping them. Her body was the only thing she had to barter with. She forced her mind away from such thoughts. First, they must get free of this place.

Ailinn put on her warm cloak and grabbed the bag containing the few possessions left to her, then looked around to see if the other women were ready. Brina, Ullach and Gormlaith had collected their things and were huddled together, looking terrified. Cailin stood nearby, gazing at Ailinn with a sullen expression. “Your plan is witless,” she said. “We’ll never make it.”

“We have to try,” Ailinn responded in a taut whisper. “I’m not going to stay here and do nothing when we have this chance.”

“If you weren’t always insulting Croa and the other men, they might treat us better.”

Fury leapt through Ailinn. She wanted to slap Cailin. Glaring at Cailin, she said, “Perhaps you don’t care if you end up as a bedslave to one of these foul beasts, but the rest of us have no desire for such a life.”

Jerking around, Ailinn picked up the smoking candle in its pottery holder and headed for the door. The other women followed.

Outside, Ailinn turned to see Cailin in the doorway, a defiant expression on her pretty face. The guard continued to snore, but he might wake at any moment. Ailinn stared hard at Cailin, willing her to come to her senses and not ruin all their chances. Beside Ailinn, Brina mouthed pleading words, begging their companion to join them.

Time seemed to crawl by. Ailinn felt herself sweating. Who did Cailin think she was? She might be the daughter of one of Ailinn’s father’s wealthiest client farmers, but she had no right to endanger the rest of them with her obstinacy.

Ailinn held the other woman’s gaze, and Cailin finally slipped through the doorway and joined them.

They hurried away from the sleeping guard and assembled in the narrow passageway behind the storehouse. “We’ll have to keep to the rear of the buildings,” Ailinn whispered. “It’s the only way to avoid being seen.”

Except for Cailin, the women nodded, their eyes wide with fear and dread. Ailinn drew a sharp breath as she contemplated what was ahead. They would have to make their way through the settlement and find the quay. Although she had a general sense of where the river lay, between it and them was a daunting maze of buildings and walkways. And if anyone saw them... Her stomach lurched at the thought. Unprotected in this savage settlement, they might well end up raped and brutalized.

But this was their one chance to get away and she intended to seize it. For the sake of the other women, she must be strong. They were depending on her, believing she could save them. Somehow, she must do so.

“This way,” Ailinn whispered as she moved forward. A disgusting odor assaulted her nose, near gagging her, and she used her free hand to lift her skirts from the muck around her feet. The reek of garbage and dung was strong and she shuddered as she spied the rotting corpse of a dog lying among the debris. Dark shapes swarmed around it. Rats. Behind her, she heard one of the women gagging. “Come on,” she whispered sharply. “The faster we move, the sooner we’ll be away from here.”

The buildings didn’t seem to be laid out in any particular order. Sometimes there was a large area behind a dwelling, with room for a garden or storage shed. Other houses were built so close together the women could barely squeeze past. In some places planks or wattles had been laid over the mud. In others, their leather shoes sank into the ooze.

What time was it? Well past midnight, Ailinn felt certain. She glanced anxiously at the sky, hoping morning wouldn’t come too soon.

“Ailinn, lady, do you know where we’re going?” Brina whispered.

“Aye. We’re going to the docks,” Ailinn answered.
Please, God, let it be this way
, she breathed silently to herself.

“But what if we encounter Croa’s men?” Ullach’s voice hovered on the edge of hysteria.

“We’ll have to risk it. Our only hope of escape is by sea.”

The buildings they passed seemed to be larger and the smell of ale and urine grew strong. Ahead, Ailinn saw a man staggering around. She halted and gestured for the other women to do the same, but the man must have heard them, for he turned and looked at them. His eyes grew wide. He muttered something and grabbed for the amulet he wore around his neck.

The Norseman was drunk, Ailinn realized. Perhaps if they moved by without speaking, he would think they were some vision conjured by his ale-soaked wits. Keeping her gaze straight ahead, she walked forward. The skin on her neck prickled as they passed the man. At any moment, she expected him to call out or try to stop them. But nothing happened. As they moved into the shadows of an adjoining building, Ailinn exhaled in relief.

They were nearing the docks. The fresh smell of the sea replaced less pleasant odors, and large, stoutly-built structures loomed up around them, storehouses meant to shelter vast amounts of trade goods. This area was also better lit than the other part of the settlement, with torches burning near several of the buildings. And there were guards. Her heart seemed to leap into her throat as she spotted a burly warrior dozing against one of the warehouses, his war axe propped up beside him. She motioned for the other women to keep silent, then stealthily led them in the other direction.

They finally reached the open area of the quay. It was getting light and Ailinn could make out the looming silhouettes of the vessels moored there. Now they must discover the right ship, and somehow, the right man. It seemed a futile quest. But the only alternative was to meekly accept her fate, and that seemed worse than anything they might encounter here.

Ailinn turned to face the other women. Gazing into their pale, exhausted faces, her own weariness and sense of hopelessness threatened to overwhelm her.
You can’t give in. You’re a Donovan. Donovans fight to the death.
“Wait here,” she told them.

As she moved past the shelter of the warehouses, the stinking candle began to gutter, and Ailinn blew it out. It was light enough to see without it anyway. Which meant they had little time. Soon, the sleeping guard would wake and discover the unlatched door. Once Croa knew they were gone, he would send his men searching for them. She shivered, feeling very vulnerable on the open quay.

Her gaze swept the nearby ships. None of them looked familiar. The damp morning air pierced her cloak, chilling the sweat that coated her skin. She squinted into the gray veil of morning light and knew a sharp relief as she recognized the distinctive dragon-headed prow of the Norseman’s ship.

She didn’t see anyone guarding it. The crew must be aboard. Now what did she do? How could she alert her potential rescuer?

She gazed at the ship a while, watching it shift in the water, its timber hull creaking faintly. Counting the oar holes, she decided there were at least sixteen men on the vessel. Most of them probably weren’t anything like the blue-eyed warrior, but were as rapacious and crude as Croa’s men. If only she knew the Norseman’s name. Then she could call out for him. If only she hadn’t insulted him but listened to what he had to say. If only...

She couldn’t change the past. All she could do was try to shape the future, to wrest back control of her life. Even if this ill-fated escape led to her death, that was better than enduring the rest of her life as a helpless thrall, knowing that she’d done nothing to try to change her fate.

Her body stiff with resolve, she raised the pottery candleholder and let it fly. It struck the side of the vessel with a crash, which was immediately followed by a man’s startled exclamation. She heard muttering and cursing in the Norse tongue, then a man’s head appeared above the deck of the vessel. It wasn’t the handsome face she’d hoped to see, but the heavy-jawed, leathery countenance of an older warrior. He gaped at her, his amazed expression implying that she was the very last thing he expected to see standing on the dock.

“I’m Ailinn, daughter of Conlach O’Donovan of Locha Lein,” she called out to him in Norse. “I would like to speak to a member of your crew. He’s very tall, with tanned skin and light brown hair tinged with gold.” As she spoke, Ailinn considered how witless her words must sound. Most Norsemen were tall. And the hair of all seafaring men was lightened by constant exposure to saltwater and sun.

She wondered if she should mention that her potential rescuer was young and handsome. But such a description would be meaningless to these crude seamen. They wouldn’t recognize comeliness in a man.

Yet their ship was beautiful, a part of Ailinn’s mind noted, possessing an elegant grace. The long, sleek hull was as well shaped for traveling upon the waves as any water bird. If only she and the other women were allowed to board. On such a vessel they could sail far, far away from Croa and avoid his awful plans for them.

More men appeared on deck. Ailinn perused them anxiously. Her nerves stretched to the breaking point. It was almost full light now. If some of Croa’s men had been left behind to guard his ships and those men saw her... She took deep, steadying breath.
Please
, she begged silently.
Please let the young Norseman be on this ship.

A moment later, she spied his tanned countenance among the other men. She gazed up at him, her heart leaping. Yet her elation was mixed with an unease that set her empty belly churning. How could she make up for her lapse of manners at their last meeting? How to impress upon him the desperation of her situation?

He made his way to the edge of the ship and stared at her, looking stunned. A moment later, he turned and moved away. Panic slammed through her. He wasn’t going to aid her! But then he returned, climbed over the side of the vessel and jumped down to the dock as easily as a cat leaping from a fence.

Her heart beat faster as he approached. Her memory hadn’t tricked her. He was as big as she recalled, and just as pleasing to look upon. She drank in the sight of him—his proud, masculine features and striking blue eyes. The way the soft light of dawn burnished his skin tawny beige and gilded his hair with golden warmth.

He appeared so strong and substantial. So comfortingly male. Ailinn wanted to collapse into his arms and press her face against his broad chest. With effort, she reminded herself he was a stranger and a foreigner. And after the way she’d spoken to him when they last met, he was unlikely to have any fond feelings for her.

And yet, for a moment she saw a look of such concern on his face that she was stunned. Then the look was gone and he spoke in a curt voice. “Where’s Croa? How did you get away? Where are the other women?”

She answered his questions as rapidly as she could. “With luck, Croa is still asleep back at his dwelling and has no idea we’ve escaped. We were able to sneak past the guard he set at the door because the man drank too much. As for the other women...they’re over there.”

His gaze flicked in the direction she’d gestured, then returned to her. In clipped tones, he said, “If it were up to me, I would take you all aboard right now and sail away without delay. But as you pointed out when first we met, this isn’t my ship. I must speak to the captain and see if he will aid you.”