Page 50 of Fallen
No wonder she’s run off.The very sight of the clan-chief must have turned Sister Coira’s stomach. Mother Shona’s breathing hitched.Satan rules this land … andhe must be stopped.
A cool feeling of resolve settled over the abbess then, drilling in the marrow of her bones. MacKinnon’s rule of terror would end today, and she would sacrifice her life, if need be, to see it done.
She tore her attention from the gateway and swept her gaze around, taking in the peaceful surroundings of Kilbride. This place had been her home for so long, but it wouldn’t be for much longer.
Everything was changing. Father Camron’s campaign against her would never end. Even without MacKinnon threatening the abbey, the sanctuary that she’d worked so hard to protect would soon be no more.
That being the case, she’d do what she could to help Craeg and his men bring MacKinnon down.
Turning on her heel, she glanced about her. It was early, just after dawn. She and the sisters had just finished Lauds, the prayer dedicated to recounting the eternal light bestowed on the world by the Risen Christ.
The monks were now at prayer in the kirk. As soon as the nuns exited, the abbot and his monks had filed inside. Father Camron insisted on conducting his own dawn service, in which the nuns were not welcome.
Spying a small figure across the yard, hurrying toward the refectory, Mother Shona called out. “Sister Mina.”
The novice halted and turned to her. After the awful scene the day before, in which MacKinnon had strode across the refectory, hauled Sister Mina from her seat, and twisted her arm behind her back, she was surprised not to see the young woman’s face gaunt and strained. MacKinnon had come close to breaking her arm. Yet the novice wore a composed, if wary, expression this morning.
She expected a rebuke from the abbess—although none had been forthcoming the day before.
“Come, Sister … help me. We must bar the doors,” Mother Shona instructed, striding toward the kirk. “Now!”
Thankfully, although Sister Mina’s gaze drew wide at the instruction, the novice didn’t question her. A heartbeat later the nun joined her, and they ascended the stone steps to the kirk. There was a heavy iron bar inside the building, in case the nuns ever had to barricade themselves inside during an attack. However, there was also a bar on the outside—one that Mother Shona had never used, until today.
Halting before the closed oaken doors, the abbess listened. Inside, she could hear the low rumble of the abbot’s voice.
Mother Shona’s mouth thinned.There’s no going back after this.
Father Camron was looking for something to condemn her for—and she was about to give him an excellent reason. However, this man’s meddling could no longer be borne.
For what she planned to do now, he had to be kept out of the way.
Together, the two women lifted the heavy bar and slid it through the iron handles, locking the doors together. Fortunately, there was no other exit from the kirk, for the narrow windows were too high to reach.
Father Camron and his monks were now trapped inside.
Turning to Sister Mina, the abbess saw the novice’s gaze was gleaming with excitement. Although she hadn’t yet explained her plan, the young woman knew that something was afoot.
“Gather the others. Tell them to don their winter woolen leggings, and collect their weapons and bring them to the stables,” she ordered, her voice sharp with purpose. “No time must be wasted.”
“Where are we going, Mother?” Sister Mina asked. She was already moving away, intent on doing the abbess’s bidding.
“MacKinnon plans to carry out a massacre today,” Mother Shona replied. “We must stop him.”
Sister Mina’s step faltered, her eyes growing huge. “We’re going to fight the clan-chief?” The novice’s voice trembled, betraying her fear. Mother Shona didn’t blame her. Sister Mina hadn’t been at Kilbride long, and hadn’t spent as long as the abbess had preparing for this day.
But many of the others had. This was the day they’d all hoped would never come.
“Hurry, Sister,” the abbess instructed sharply. “Time is against us.”
Dawn had barely touched the edge of the ravine as Craeg strode through the ranks of his men. Shouldering quivers of arrows and pinewood shields, their faces were grim, their gazes glinting with purpose.
Craeg met their gazes, his chest constricting as both pride and trepidation filled him.
These men trusted him.
They’d put their lives in his hands—he couldn’t fail them.
“We leave shortly,” he shouted, his voice echoing about the rumble of conversation. “Ready yerselves.” It wasn’t a rousing speech, but there would be time enough for that on the battlefield.
