Page 38

Broc

Broc brushed Midnight Majesty down, whispering sweet words in the animal’s ear just the way he liked. The horse tipped his head back, then nuzzled Broc’s hand, searching for its treat, so he moved to the apple barrel at the end of the passageway, bringing one for Midnight and one for himself.

After much discussion with Simone, they’d decided to take Merryn but only on the condition that she would ride with him.

Simone was emphatic that if anything happened, he was to find a tree and get Merryn safely to a shooting spot.

She’d vouched for the lass’s ability and said they needed archers along, but she was not ready to battle from a horse.

She and Simone would be the only archers, so they needed a higher vantage point.

Merryn came out with her quiver and arrows, her bow over her shoulder, looking fine in her tight leggings.

“My, but you do look just like Simone and Eli in that outfit. I’m glad you found some to fit you. Riding in one of your gowns would not have worked. How is Shealee?”

“She’s awake and chattering with Tora and Grant. The three carry on a conversation as if they can understand every word that Grant says. And the lad sure does enjoy John, does he not? Whenever John is in his presence, his gaze never leaves him.”

“True, but John enjoys him too. Grant is the little brother he never had. And Shealee loves them all.”

Merryn said, “Dyna said she would watch over her while we are gone. Tristan is going home to work but will return in two days. He’s still worried they’ll not finish before first snowfall.”

The stable lads ran back and forth, saddling the horses for Connor and Alasdair. John would ride his own horse. Simone and Artan joined them while Connor gave the lads instructions on which horses the guards would take.

The group readied themselves. Broc led his horse out, surprised to see his father was already near the gates waiting for the others.

Once the group lined up, they numbered ten plus five guards.

Their plan was to head to Craignure where Connor had obtained a large enough galley ship to take the horses across with them.

They were just about to leave when Lia approached.

They all froze.

Uncle Connor said, “Who are you looking for, Lia?”

“John, may I ride with you?” The wee lass had on a green pair of leggings and a tunic with a green mantle.

Alasdair shouted, “Nay, nay … Lia, nay. Not John. You cannot choose him. Please.”

They all knew at this point that Lia was the green faery who was here to protect someone.

“Then may I accompany you, please, Alasdair?”

“Me?” His eyes widened and he looked from one person to the other. “I don’t need protecting, Lia. Go back and stay with the bairns.”

She turned to Artan and said, “May I?”

Artan nodded. “I won’t fight with you, lassie. If you feel the need to come along, then please join me.”

No one said another word to Lia, and the group moved toward Craignure. Lennox accompanied them—Simone and Artan, Broc and Merryn, Alasdair and John, Uncle Connor, and Alaric.

And Lia.

They loaded the horses on the boat, the many stallions restless because they still hadn’t adjusted to the ships yet, but they eventually settled. Lennox said, “I’ll go as far as MacKinnis with you.”

Broc stood next to Midnight Majesty and kept hold of his bridle.

Midnight Moon stood next to him, the two nearly ready to go at it because a sweet mare stood on the other side of Moon, but with a firm command from Uncle Connor, Moon calmed immediately.

He’d learned his horse skills well from Grandda Alex.

Broc had left Merryn on the upper deck with Simone because she still could be a bit unsettled around all the big warhorses, but Connor insisted on bringing the best of the beasts they had. Kelvan needed a reminder of who he was dealing with.

Broc had one goal—to find his mother. He had to. There was no option here. He would not go home without her.

Uncle Connor took one look at him and said, “If you feel that way, lad, you should have left the lass home.”

“What?” Broc replied, shocked his uncle could interpret his expression so well. They were the only two on the lower deck with the animals, other than a few guards at the back.

“You have that look of determination I’ve seen on my sister’s face before. The look that says she won’t change her mind for any reason. You are committed to finding your mother, but do not forget you have Merryn’s life in your hands too.”

Broc had thought of that, so he nodded. “Understood, Uncle. I’ll protect her with my life. You know that.”

“I do. But I recall the day your mother vowed to protect another lass’s life and thought it would be worth risking her own. Do what you must, but don’t be foolish. You have not been in many battles, so keep your head where it needs to be.”

The trip was a short voyage across the sound.

They landed near Lochaline and Ardtornish Castle as Lennox had arranged with Angus MacKinnis.

They didn’t waste time visiting, instead heading straight up the path toward Aeoineadh Mor and the village.

Lennox had suggested starting there because if there were any unknowns, the villagers would be aware of changes.

“Godspeed,” Angus called out, Theebet next to him. “I’ll have a few men at the ready should you need them. And we’ll water your horses when you return.”

They saw nothing for over an hour. Broc’s gaze scanned everywhere and there was little to see along the way.

Halfway to the village, everything changed. The attack happened so quickly that no one was prepared. They headed down a wide pathway, forests on both sides, a fork in the path ahead of them.

Midnight Majesty let out a blow that told Broc something threatening was nearby. Alasdair was next to him and his stallion reacted the same.

“John, move closer to me,” Alasdair instructed.

Artan moved toward John on the other side, and Lia hopped over onto the lad’s horse, surprising him. The next moment, John was surrounded by three horsemen, yanked off by one, and tossed over the back of his mount. Lia followed, hopping onto another one’s horse.

Broc had been searching for a tree to set Merryn in when the attack took place. He’d just gotten Merryn on a wide branch when the bellows happened.

Simone whistled and climbed up on an oak near Merryn. “Fire, Merryn!”

Broc unsheathed his weapon and attacked one of the group near John while Alaric sought another, giving Alasdair the chance to go after the horse John was on. Alasdair called out. “I have to follow him!”

Alaric and Broc fought hard, Broc’s sword clashing with a masked man dressed in black, his grunts telling him the man wasn’t going to give up easily.

A score more men came out of the woods, some carrying small swords, some on foot, to join the assault.

When Broc finally took one man down, two others came at him.

An arrow flew from the trees, catching one man in the shoulder hard enough to knock him from his mount.

The second man Broc went after with his sword over his head, bringing it down on his weapon arm and nearly amputating it.

Then he followed the path that Alasdair had taken.

Alaric and his father followed him, his sire bellowing, “Don’t be foolish, Broc. The bastards already have Mama. Do not give in to what they want!”

Alaric came abreast of Broc, his father behind him. They could see Alasdair a short distance ahead. “We’re behind you, Alasdair. Don’t slow!” Alaric yelled.

Alasdair glanced back but then was suddenly attacked by four men from the woods he’d passed.

He bellowed and swung like a possessed man, taking one attacker out immediately.

Broc went after one, using the Grant war whoop to give him the power he needed to knock that attacker off his horse.

He swung hard enough to send another man’s weapon into the forest and then plunged his sword into his chest, killing him instantly.

But five more came at them.

They were too far away for the archers to help them.

“Broc!” his sire called out when two men went at him. “Help me. I cannot take on both.”

Alaric fought two of his own. Broc killed his attacker quickly, then went to help his father who was slowing. He couldn’t lose his father.

Alasdair was nowhere to be seen.

Merryn was a distance away in the trees near Simone.

Uncle Connor hadn’t approached yet and neither had any of their guards.

It was the three of them against this new onslaught that had burst forth from the trees.

His father swung but was losing strength. Broc could see it in the sweat on his brow and the slow arc of his weapon. Broc attacked one man from behind, striking his flank and sending him retreating into the woods where he lost his mount.

“Da, move back!”

Finlay pulled his mount out of the way and Broc maneuvered his black beast in front of his father. Midnight Majesty had seen enough and nearly tossed Broc by raising up on his hind legs, though it was too small an area for the attempt.

Broc had to finish quickly, or he’d be off. His horse landed and snorted, turning sideways, which gave Broc the perfect angle to thrust at the man’s side, the life leaving his eyes as soon as the blade sunk into the soft flesh between his ribs.

Where the hell was Merryn? “Da, go back. Protect Merryn. I have to go after Alasdair and Mama.”

Alaric finished both of his attackers, and the two cousins stared at each other, heaving. Alaric said, “Alasdair’s long gone. Out of sight. I’m not going alone. You want to go?”

Broc wished more than anything to find his mother. “Da, go after Merryn. I’m going for Mama.” He turned his horse around and Uncle Connor galloped toward them. “Where is Alasdair?”

“Long gone,” Finlay said. “You’ll never catch him, and there were three men behind him. I can’t do it anymore. The rest? Simone, Artan, Merryn?”