He fell to his knees next to the man with the arrow in his neck. “Where are they taking her?” he demanded.
The man coughed, blood flecking his lips, his life seeping away as he struggled for breath. “I’ll... I’ll send ye to hell,” he gasped out.
“Hardly. Ye are dying,” Emeric said flatly in a voice that was neither compassionate nor cruel. “But it doesnae have to be painful. I can end yer misery quickly, but ye will tell me where they are taking Anna first.”
The man gurgled a laugh, blood trickling from his lips as he smiled his predator’s smile—though there was nothing left to prey upon now. His eyes were glassy and unfocused. He wasn’t going to last long.
“Ye have no idea who ye are dealing with,” he gasped. “She will destroy ye.”
“She? Who is she?”
The man’s glazed eyes seemed to clear slightly and a cold smirk played on his bloodstained lips. “She’ll have yer hearton a platter. Ye are finished, Mackintosh.” His head lolled back against the dirt, his last breath escaping him in a long wheeze.
Emeric stared at the lifeless body as frustration boiled through him. He stumbled up, his hand gripping the hilt of the stolen claymore all too tightly, his gaze drifting towards the vast expanse of wilderness that spread out before him. A harsh wind swept across the desolate land, howling in his ears and whipping up a small tornado of dust.
Things were rapidly spinning out of his control. He had to get Anna back. Nothing else mattered. Despite the urgency roaring through him, he forced himself to think. He needed help and there was only one place he was likely to get it.
He tore a strip of linen from his shirt and used it to bind his injured hand, then raised his fingers to his lips, giving a shrill whistle. The sound echoed off the gullies and canyons like the cry of a wounded bird.
Minutes passed. Emeric heard nothing but the thumping of his own heart until finally, in the distance, hoofbeats. Moments later, Plover came trotting into view, his head hanging as though ashamed of bolting during the battle. As Plover trotted over and lowered his head to sniff his injured hand, Emeric clung to him, relief almost making his legs buckle.
He grabbed a fistful of mane and commanded the gelding to stand whilst he dragged himself painfully into the saddle—a task that jarred his wounded hand and sent white pain exploding in his head.
“Home,” he murmured to Plover, kicking his heels against the beast’s flanks. “Take me home.”
ANNA HAD NO IDEA WHEREthey were going, although it was clear her captors had a destination in mind. They’d woven through the broken land of gullies and ravines as though they knew the terrain and had emerged into a gentler land of upland meadows that housed herds of shaggy livestock and sheep.
She glanced over her shoulder. It must be the hundredth time she’d done this since she’d been abducted. Each time, she both hoped and dreaded that she would see Emeric riding to catch up. Hoped because she was terrified, dreaded because she knew that if he came after her he wouldn’t stand a chance alone against this many, despite the destruction he’d scythed through them back at the ravine.
She closed her eyes, tears leaking from beneath her eyelids.
Where are you, Emeric? she thought.I hope you’re all right. Please be all right. Please God, let him be all right.
Those last words he’d spoken echoed through her head.I love ye. I’ll come for ye.
She clung to them, playing them over and over in her mind. Those words were the only thing keeping her together, the only thing stopping her from losing it completely.
“I love you too,” she whispered to the breeze. She only wished she’d said it to Emeric himself.
Without warning, the man leading her horse pulled up sharply. Anna looked up from her daze to realize that asprawling settlement lay ahead, cloaking a hill that rose in the distance. A loch glittered at the base of the hill and she could see fishing boats bobbing on its surface. Thatch and timber houses—lots of them—clung to the shores of the loch and then climbed up the hill to either side of a wide road that led to the gates of an imposing keep at the hill’s summit.
It was far bigger than Dun Achmore and appeared far more prosperous, with colorful pennants snapping in the wind and the glint of steel flashing every now and then from the battlements.
“What is this place?” she demanded of her captors.
They didn’t answer but merely nudged their horses into motion again, riding quickly along the road and up the hill to the gates of the keep. They were waved through by guards and emerged into a vast open area that looked big enough to hold a parade.
The man leading her horse pulled to a halt. He dismounted, untied her, and dragged her from the saddle. She winced as pain shot through her wrists and ankles where the ropes had bitten cruelly into her flesh. But she welcomed the pain, for it beat back her numbing fear for a while.
She almost collapsed to her knees when her feet hit the ground, but the man caught her and hauled her upright. Without ceremony, they dragged her to the steps of the keep, where three people were waiting for them.
Anna’s eyes widened. “You!” she gasped in recognition.
“Hello, Anna,” said Lady Maria.
