Page 11 of Highlander’s Captive

The cold, hard floor shook and the rocks rattled. Small stones and sand showered down on Amy.

She sat upright with a jerk. She looked around, but blackness surrounded her.

Where was she? Not in the barn, not again.

Her lungs contracted, her diaphragm tightening. She coughed and searched around her with her hands. She was on something like a rock or a smooth stone floor. Something metallic and rounded rolled from her touch.

She had a flashlight, she remembered.

There wasn’t a flashlight in the barn—so Amy was somewhere else. Relief flooded her body.

Then events rushed into her mind—Deanna, the underground chamber, the glowing rock, the sensation of falling into it…of being sucked in…

She turned on the flashlight and studied her surroundings. There, against a rocky wall, was the stone with the carving—dark and still, not glowing. Along the rough rock wall laid firewood in heaps and wooden planks. Barrels stood along the walls, as well, and full sacks. She didn’t remember anything being there before; as far as she remembered, it had been a giant, empty cave.

It was clear now that she was in a storeroom, not the crumbling ruins she’d walked into.

She stood, her head spinning, nausea rising. Her body ached all over, as though she’d had a hard fall. Something boomed, and the walls and the floor shook, sending another shower of rocks and sand over her.

What was going on? An earthquake? She’d never heard about earthquakes in Scotland. If it were one, she needed to get out right away.

She ran the flashlight’s beam over the walls. Where there’d been an empty doorway leading to another room, there now stood a solid, heavy door with large bolts.

Crazier and crazier.

Well, whatever it was, Amy needed to get out. She walked on weak legs towards the door and opened it. It was dark, but a golden light poured from somewhere above, illuminating the curved stairs she’d descended before—but they looked like new. More chests and barrels lined the walls here. The odor of wet earth and decay was gone, replaced by the barely noticeable scent of grain and something else…something like beef jerky.

The room had been a ruin when Amy had followed Deanna in just a few minutes ago. Was Amy hallucinating or dreaming? Her head heavy, she made her way towards the stairs. Looking up the flight of stairs, she could see the light of fire dancing on the wall. People’s worried yells and cries carried from somewhere outside. Probably, Jenny and the class were looking for her.

Amy laid her hand on the cold, hard wall, which felt very real, and walked up the stairs as quietly as she could. The ground floor wasn’t a ruin anymore, either. It was a storage room of some sort—full of swords, spears, and axes, as well as barrels, crates, and chests like downstairs. Fire from torches on the walls illuminated the room. There was a door that probably led outside and another opened door to a stairwell leading up.

Amy gave a small shake of her head. This looked exactly like the tower she and Deanna had run into—but as though she’d returned to a time when it had been recently built.

What was this? Maybe the rock and the whole glowing river and such were just some sort of mushroom or algae that had hallucinogenic effects? Or had she hit her head? How else could she explain this?

Sìneag had spoken of a river of time and time travel. That must be why Amy had dreamed herself this medieval world.

Or maybe Amy had gone crazy, her fear in that dark space sending her over the edge.

Another boom, and the building shook. A large rock fell from the wall onto a barrel, splitting it in two, and brown, yeasty liquid poured out—beer? Amy had better hurry if she didn’t want to end up like that barrel.

She approached the door and opened it a crack, peering outside through the slit.

Her stomach dropped.

It wasn’t the empty, grass-covered courtyard surrounded by four ruined walls and towers anymore.

It was a real castle, all four towers tall and whole with cone-shaped wooden roofs. The yard itself had several small timber buildings and one big building made of stone. Amy could smell horse dung, woodsmoke, and something being cooked. Archers shot arrows from the walls, she realized. And men ran across the courtyard in heavily quilted coats, metal helmets, and chain mail. Almost everyone had a sword on their belt, as well as a shield, and many had spears or axes.

Amy blinked once, twice. Her heart stopped for a moment. How was all of this even possible? Maybe it was some sort of hologram to represent how the castle had looked when it was still in use. What other explanation was there? Unless Amy truly had gone insane…

Then a man came straight towards the tower, and Amy closed the door. Her pulse beating like a drum, she searched for a place to hide.

The stairs.

She dashed up the circular staircase. There was a small door on the landing, and still more stairs. She heard someone on the ground floor open the door and step inside. Amy tugged open the door in front of her and peered in—it was a barrack room with several beds, and there was no one there. She quietly went in and closed the door behind her, listening for anyone following her.

There were eight beds and something like sleeping bags on the floor. Three slit windows let light in with huge, wide sills like sitting alcoves.