Ian used her stick as a cane for the walk through the woods, and Catherine led their horses. She was surprised that Ian even found the cave and was even more surprised when she discovered the entrance was nothing more than a crack.
Warm air softly whistled from the crack, and Catherine settled Ian directly in front of it so he could soak up some of its warmth. Then she started wearing a new path in the dirt, pacing from their horses to Ian and back. But after another agonizing hour of worrying, wondering if Robbie was lost or stuck or had run into Cùram, she stopped when she heard a shrill whistle coming up the valley.
Mary landed on a branch in a tall pine tree and told Catherine her news. Catherine ran over to Ian and gently shook him awake.
“The MacBains are coming up the dry riverbed,” she said.
Ian came awake completely alert, canted his head, and listened. His eyes suddenly widened. “I’m guessing they’ve brought a legion of warriors,” he whispered, using the granite at his back to lever himself up. “Quick, we must hide ourselves and the horses.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Run down to where we were earlier and brush away our tracks leading up here. I’ll unsaddle our horses and send them away, and we’ll stash our gear and hide in the cave.”
Catherine ran to do as he told her, breaking off a spruce branch to brush the ground with. She even swept their path up from the riverbank and had just made it back to the cave when they heard the warriors stop at the base of the dam.
“Can you get inside, Ian?” she whispered, using her hand to protect his head when he tried to duck through the crack. “Do you fit?”
“Aye,” he said with a grunt, expelling his breath to squeeze through the narrow entrance. “It opens up once ya get inside,” he whispered, reaching out his hand. “Come quick, Catherine.”
She squeezed in after him, blinking to adjust to the low light, and gasped in surprise to see that the walls of the cave appeared to be glowing. She crawled further in and touched them, and found that they were unnaturally warm.
“What does this mean?” she whispered, crawling back to Ian. “How can they glow like that?”
“It’s the magic, lass,” he said as he watched through the crack and listened. “Aye, they’
ve stopped, all right. I’m thinking they’re making good on their threat to tear down the dam themselves. But don’t worry, lass. Niall will be here shortly.”
“Niall?”
“Aye,” he said, looking back at her and smiling. “My son was elected laird because of his cunning. He likely had someone guarding the dam.”
“But wouldn’t Niall’s scout have stopped us?”
Ian shrugged. “We’re just three villagers out enjoying the countryside, upsetting no one.” He grinned and patted her hand. “And we’re wearing the right color plaids. Nay, the scout will see the MacBains and go get my son.”
Catherine gasped and looked down. “Oh, my God, that’s water,” she hissed, getting up on her hands and knees as the floor became soaked and water started to trickle toward the crack. “Robbie!” she cried, trying to move deeper into the cave.
Ian grabbed her ankle. “Nay, lass. Ya cannot go after him. He’ll be back soon.”
The water quickly rose to about three inches deep, quietly babbling at first and then gushing into a small river that ran out the crack. Loud splashing came from deep in the cave, along with a roaring sound that shook the ground, and Catherine turned and saw Robbie hunched over, holding his chest as he ran toward them, a wall of water behind him.
“Get out!” he shouted when he spotted them. “Now!”
The frothing water beat them to the crack, washing them up in its path and spewing them from the cave in a churning deluge of chaos. A strong hand clamped around Catherine’s wrist, anchoring her against the current. She thought she was going to drown before she was suddenly pulled free of the water’s grip and slapped onto damp earth next to Robbie.
Ian shouted as he tumbled into the woods. Robbie pulled something from his chest, shoved it into her lap, and took off after the old warrior. Catherine sat up and blinked at the squirming, hissing bundle in her hands. A tiny mouth with miniature fangs spit at her as the black kitten twisted to get free.
But it was the thick piece of curling wood clutched in its sharp little claws that made Catherine smile. Robbie had found Cùram’s tree! She hugged the kitten to her chest, ignoring its spitting attempts to bite her.
“Shhh,” she crooned, rubbing its neck. “You’re safe now. Robbie wouldn’t leave you to drown.”
The wet little bundle trembled in her arms and finally settled down. She tried to pull the root from its claws, but it growled and hugged the wood tighter.
“Okay, you can hold on to it for now,” she whispered, using her thumb to stroke its shivering body.
She looked up when Robbie came striding through the water with Ian. He set him down on the ground beside her and cupped Ian’s sputtering face in his hands.
“You’re okay, Uncle. Just get rid of what you swallowed.”
Ian leaned over and coughed up a stomach full of water. He wiped his mouth, looked up at Robbie, and grinned. “I thank ya, MacBain.” But his smile disappeared when he looked over at Catherine. “What in hell is that?” he asked, pointing at her chest.
“That,” Robbie said, taking the once again spitting kitten from her and holding it against his own chest, “is a piece of the tap root from Cùram’s tree,” he said, pulling the wood from the kitten’s claws and holding it up. “I found it,” he said, clutching his prize in his fist. He looked over his shoulder at the stream gushing from the crack beside them, then turned back. “But I’ve killed the old tree of wisdom,” he whispered, shaking his head.
“It was in a deep crevice on the island, just its top branches exposed. When I dug at its base to get this root, I opened the flood-gates.”
“But what in hell is that?” Ian asked again, pointing at the kitten.
Robbie held the growling black ball up to face him. “A panther cub, I’m guessing,” he said, smiling when the kitten took a swat at him.
Ian snorted. “We don’t have panthers in Scotland.”
Robbie handed the cub back to Catherine and shrugged. “It was all alone in a tiny den not far from the entrance and was still there when I came running out. I couldn’t leave it to drown.”
Catherine held out her hand to Robbie as the cub squirmed and growled in her arms. “It wants the root. It’s his security blanket.”
Robbie hesitated, obviously reluctant to give his prize away, but then handed it over.
The cub dug its tiny claws into the wood, clamping its teeth over the root before finally settling against Catherine’s chest.
She pulled open the front of her shawl and tucked the kitten and root inside, tightened the knot securely, and patted it as she smiled at Robbie. “I promise not to let either of them out of my sight,” she said. “Ah… we chased the horses off so the MacBains wouldn
’t find us. How are we going to get back to the village?”
No sooner had she asked that than at least four dozen MacBain warriors emerged from the woods, swords drawn and pointed at them, each looking fierce enough to stop Catherine’s heart.
Robbie stood up and pulled his own sword from its sheath, which caused several of the warriors to step forward.
“Nay,” Ian said, scrambling to his feet. “Angus, ya old bastard, it’s me, Ian MacKeage.”
“You would have better luck in Gaelic, Uncle,” Robbie whispered, not taking his eyes off the wall of warriors.
“Aw, hell,” Ian muttered. He started speaking in Gaelic and walked toward them.
Catherine watched as one of the warriors, a man nearly as old as Ian, took a step back, his face paling and his eyes widening in shock.
“What’s happening?” she asked, getting to her feet to stand beside Robbie, clutching the kitten and tree root to her chest.