Born of Fire - Kella McKinnon Page 0,3

together on a blanket spread on the grass and watched the burning clavie make its rounds amidst the cheering of the crowd. When the fire finally made it to Doorie Hill to blaze brightly against the night sky, Nathan had leaned in and kissed her.

Now, a mass of smaller wooden structures with thatched roofs surrounded the towering broch, most round, a few rectangular, some with thick smoke rising from stone chimneys. People were appearing from within and between them, obviously eager to see what the commotion was about, and why the King was being summoned so urgently to the well on what was otherwise an apparently ordinary day.

Angus pulled at her sleeve, and Nessa sucked in a breath. Oh god, she had almost forgotten about him for a minute there. She was completely responsible for him; he didn’t have anyone else. Especially not here.

“Our people, Ness! Did you ever think you’d see the day? Oh, we must look so strange to them—he looked down at his crumpled khaki trousers—“do you think we should take off these clothes?”

“What? No! Angus…please, just…keep quiet until I figure out what to do. And keep your clothes on! And don’t say anything,” she added, just in case. If it was really true…if they had somehow slipped through time, it was going to be up to her to keep them both alive until they could return home.

Her eyes swept back to the lambs’ heads in their baskets, still blindly staring, still dripping blood, and she recalled that the Picts also practiced human sacrifice, often using their enemies as offerings to the gods. She knew a lot about this culture, but only from written texts and stories passed through the generations. She had to assume she knew almost nothing of the finer nuances, and she didn’t want to make a wrong move. The women were still eying them with a mixture of curiosity and unease, and her gaze skimmed across the sharp daggers strapped to each one of their belts. They stood back a good twenty feet, but she thought she heard whispers of the word ‘goddess’. Did they think she was some sort of deity that came up out of the well? No wonder they were so alarmed. She wanted to tell them that she wasn’t even close to being a goddess, but thought better of it. If they knew for sure she was far from divine, they might be inclined to use those daggers.

Thank goodness her brain seemed to have recovered enough for logical thought to return. It was starting to sink in that she had just travelled back in time. A sudden thought occurred to her.

“Angus, can you take us home again? If we go back in the well?” A few of the women narrowed their eyes at her words, spoken in English, a language they didn’t understand. One slowly wrapped her fingers around the handle of her knife.

“Yes, of course. But not yet, Nessa.”

She relaxed just a fraction. He could get them home again. Of course he could. He knew all those numbers and figures and…whatever the hell else he was always working on. As much as she’d like to stay a while and look around, it was probably best to leave right away while they still had the chance. Once all of the people that were now closing in on them from all sides got within arm’s length, they might be stuck for a while. And there were a lot of people, some walking, others loping towards them at a good clip. There were enough of them that a faint cloud of dust began to rise in the air as they came. Her heart began to speed up again.

“Angus. We really need to get out of here. I don’t think it’s safe. If we turn and run back down the stairs right now, I think we can make it.”

She grabbed his arm, intending to drag him with her. The blasted man dug in his heels.

“Not yet. The voices told me to come here.”

“Voices? What voices? Angus I…”

Suddenly several men came around from behind the well, swords raised, blocking their escape.

She sighed. “Never mind. I think we just lost our chance.”

They were now surrounded by people, both men and women; most of their faces curious, but some with hard lines of suspicion. All strangers. All, as far as Nessa was concerned, a lethal threat until proven otherwise. There were at least a hundred, if not more, fanning out from the entrance of the