Page 16 of Following Her Highland Journey (The White Witch’s Apprentices #2)

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T he world was finally light when Adair opened her eyes again, and day had officially broken. However, she woke because of the patter of cold, icy water on her face, causing her to jerk awake in shock. It was raining heavily again, the clouds thick and dark and grey, the sun nowhere in sight, and once again Adair found herself silently praying that it wasn't an omen. Duncan was extinguishing the fire, and he smiled as he saw that she was awake.

"Good. I was about tae fetch ye. As ye can tell from the sky, it's far past time we're makin' tracks," he told her. "We need tae get as far as we can before the storm worsens so we can find some shelter for ourselves and the horses."

Adair nodded, getting to her feet. She glanced at his horse and his wagon, and at her own horse. "Will they be all right?"

"Och, aye. We'll tie yer lad there tae the harness so they dinnae get pulled apart. Ye should go into the wagon; it's covered and there's a wee bit of shelter for ye there too as we go," Duncan told her.

Adair was alarmed at the suggestion. " Ye should go in the shelter. Ye're older than me, and ye deserve the rest, and?—"

But he tutted, wagging a finger, and replied, "Nonsense. Ye think I got tae be a merchant of me advanced years without bein' able tae handle a Highland storm? Compared tae some of what I've journeyed through, this is naught but a drizzle. Now intae the wagon with ye."

Adair was conflicted, but ultimately decided to do as he said. He was right about the fact that he was a well-traveled merchant, and no doubt better suited to guiding and protecting the horses under such conditions. Even more, he knew exactly the direction in which they had to go to reach Caiside in a reasonable amount of time. Even though it hurt her pride a little and even more so conflicted with her natural instinct to protect, she knew that she had to let Duncan take the lead on this one.

Even more so, it was a relief. The secret fear of storms she'd carried in her heart since the storm had taken her mother had waned over the years, dwarfed by the magnitude of the trials she'd been forced to face, but given the choice to be inside rather than in the brunt of it was soothing to her soul.

She clambered into the wagon and wedged herself between the haphazard mound of goods. Outside, Duncan was whistling to himself as he prepared for the journey ahead, hitching the horses together and packing up the remains of his camp. She smiled to hear him, and couldn't believe her luck at having found him. He had been like a second father to her in the long darkness since her father's passing, and to have him by her side truly meant a lot. It made her feel like, despite the problem with the letters, she still had the strength and the ability to get to Caiside and prevent any more major disaster from plaguing her homeland.

Adair was still feeling hopeful right up until the whistling stopped. Then, Duncan hissed in a low, urgent voice, "Stay hidden. And stay quiet."

She froze, bundling up as small as she could, and listening hard. There, between the sounds of the rain hitting the ground and the water of the burn, she heard what he had heard—hoofbeats. Someone was approaching.

"Hail, traveler," Duncan said, and though he was trying to speak casually, Adair heard nerves in his voice. Why would that be the case? He was just finished talking about how experienced a merchant he was, and in any case, Adair knew him personally: she knew that, if he so desired, he could talk the back legs off a horse with no difficulty. "I'm sorry, ye've reached me just after I've doused me fire and mean tae move on."

"Is that so, merchant? Such a shame. And when I was just so sure that ye had somethin' of value I'd be willin' tae do anythin' tae get me hands on."

Adair's blood ran cold. She knew that voice. She knew it, and it filled her with a depth of fear she'd once thought she'd never feel again. It had been five long years since she had heard it, but that rough, deep voice had haunted her memories and dreams every night, eclipsed only by McNair's own and by Henry's.

The Serpent was here. Lyle McDonaghue was here , and there was nothing that he could be here for except…oh, God. He was looking for her !

"If ye're lookin' for the Moonlit Harvest, I'm afraid I cracked open me only bottle last night." Duncan gave another forced laugh. "It was the only thing of value I had; I need tae restock in the next village."

"I'm not interested in the Moonlit Harvest, merchant," McDonaghue said sharply. "I'm lookin' for somethin' much more precious. Somethin' I'd buy, borrow, steal, or kill for if need be. Tell me, are ye alone?"

Adair shivered, trying to convince herself that this was a real question…and failing.

"I'm alone," Duncan lied. "I've seen nobody on the road this mornin'. Now, if ye'll forgive me, I must get movin' before the storm gets worse, and I—stop that!"

Suddenly, an arm shot into the wagon and grabbed Adair by the arm. She shrieked in fear as McDonaghue yanked hard, and she stumbled out of the wagon, landing hard on the ground in a quickly-forming ice-cold puddle.

"Alone, eh?" the Serpent asked with a sickly sound of triumph in his voice. "Seems ye have a little infestation in yer goods, in that case. Shall I stamp out the rat for ye?

He was exactly as she remembered him—tall, strong, and horrifying. He had the same cruel gleam in his eye, the same dark glee as he stood over her. Would he take her back to McNair? Or would he kill her here and now?

The man who killed her father. The man who'd taken everything from her.

"Please…" she whispered, though more to God than to him.

McDonaghue reached down and grabbed her by the hair, pulling her so that her ear was close to his hot, sticky breath. "First I'll kill the merchant. Then ye've a weddin' tae get tae."

He threw her to the side as she screamed, "No!"

Duncan charged forward, a knife in his hand, and McDonaghue drew out his sword, smirking. Adair closed her eyes, terrified of what she was about to see.

Then there was the clang of steel against steel and a hissed, furious, " Ye! "

She opened her eyes. And there, sword drawn, body positioned between Duncan and Adair and the Serpent, was Henry.

The storm raged around them, the howling wind whipping like a vengeful spirit. Maybe that was what it was—after all, it seemed the ghosts from the past had returned in spades. Henry stood with his sword drawn, his heart racing as he faced down his uncle's pet. Lyle McDonaghue, the terrible Serpent and Henry's tormentor in his childhood, had appeared from nowhere to threaten and hurt him once again.

Henry had barely time to take a breath. He'd seen the Serpent just ahead of him as he followed Adair's trail, and raced to catch up. He hadn't dreamed he would find McDonaghue threatening an old man and Adair, but all he knew was that he had to protect them. He'd jumped off his horse, drawn his sword and thrown himself forward without even stopping to think.

He parried the swing that had been meant for Duncan, and the Serpent's eyes widened then narrowed.

"The little bastard. Come tae die at last, have ye?" McDonaghue grunted.

"Stop talking and fight!" Henry snarled. Around him, the storm worsened, as if in response to his words. Thunder crashed and the rain poured more heavily.

Then it began.

The small burn nearby offered no solace from the chaos, its gentle babbling drowned out by the clash of steel and the roar of the tempest. Lightning illuminated the scene in brief, jagged flashes, casting eerie shadows upon the rugged landscape.

With a snarl, the Serpent lunged forward, his blade gleaming wickedly in the dim light. Henry met his advance with a fierce resolve. He was aware of Duncan and Adair nearby, now beside each other and holding each other as they watched in horror, their fates hanging in the balance. He couldn't spare too much of a thought for them now. There could only be here and this moment, only the fight—because if Henry lost concentration for a second, they'd all be lost forever.

The two warriors collided with a force that sent sparks flying, their swords clashing with a noise to rival the crashing thunder. Henry fought with the skill he'd honed over years of endless practice mixed with pure desperation, his movements fluid and targeted as he sought to find the opening he so desperately needed. But the Serpent was a formidable adversary, his strikes fueled by a ruthless determination to see his mission through.

They stumbled backward, each breathing heavily. "Still me uncle's lapdog huntin' innocent women, even after all these years?" Henry demanded. "Run while ye still can, McDonaghue. Only warnin'."

McDonaghue laughed wrong and loud. "I should've convinced yer uncle tae drown ye at birth, whelp," he announced, then threw himself forward again.

As the battle raged on, the wagon nearby stood silent witness to the violence unfolding before it, its two horses tethered anxiously as if sensing the danger that lurked nearby. Rain poured down in sheets, turning the ground to mud beneath their feet as the combatants danced their deadly dance. Henry didn't realize just how strong it was until he slipped, just for a second, and only managed to right himself enough to parry the next attack.

He heard Adair scream, but didn't respond, too determined to keep his balance and keep McDonaghue's sword from his throat. The Serpent pushed his advantage, bearing down upon Henry with deadly strength.

For a moment, Henry felt all was lost. And then, as if from nowhere, he saw a stone skittering across the wet ground right toward them.

The Serpent's foot caught on the stone, throwing off his balance just enough to disrupt his attack. Henry, sensing the momentary advantage, surged forward. He saw the older man nearby with his hand extended, and inspired by the clever help, he fought back with renewed vigor. With a swift and calculated series of strikes, he drove the Serpent back, each blow landing with devastating accuracy.

Caught off guard, the Serpent faltered, his defenses weakening as Henry pressed his advantage. He fell back, Henry's sword at his neck, his own sword falling to the ground.

"Yield," Henry said. "Yield, and I'll let ye live."

The Serpent's eyes were wild. "Let me live, and I'll kill the old man, wound ye, and then take the girl for meself while ye watch."

Henry gritted his teeth. " Yield! " he snarled.

"And then I'll make her watch ye die, just as she watched me kill her father."

It was too much. He could not be allowed to live, not while he would forever be a danger to everyone. A danger to Adair.

Henry's sword sliced through the air with lethal precision. The Serpent laughed wildly once more, then the light vanished from his eyes. Slowly, he slid to the ground in a heap as darkness claimed him at last.

Henry stood there, overwhelmed with exhaustion as he surveyed the aftermath of their brutal struggle. The storm was still raging, and when Henry moved his hand away, he saw blood on his fingertips. McDonaghue's?

Adair rushed to his side. "Henry? Henry! "

But that was the last thing Henry heard before the darkness claimed him too, and he felt himself slipping down, down, down into nothing.