He didn’t let go until she was safely on the horse, Emeric’s arm around her to keep her steady. “Go with Emeric, lass,” he said, meeting her eyes.
“What? No! I’m not leaving you!” She began squirming again, trying to get down.
“Emeric! Promise me!” Magnus growled.
“I promise,” Emeric said tightly.
He spun his horse in a tight circle and spurred the beast away from the melee. Isabelle screamed Magnus’s name, reaching for him even as the horse bore her away, Snaffles racing along behind them.
Magnus watched, heart in his mouth, as they sped away. Some of McRae’s men tried to intercept them but Magnus charged them, fists swinging and knocked them down before they could reach their horses. In a frenzy, he punched and kicked, wrestled and fought, desperately trying to buy Emeric and Isabelle time. It worked. In only seconds, they had disappeared into the distance, the rest of the Order following behind.
Magnus took a deep, steadying breath. Isabelle was safe. He turned around to face the chaos that was coming for him.
Eamon McRae’s face was twisted with fury as he hobbled up to Magnus. “I should kill ye here and now!”
“Then why dinna ye?” Magnus replied. “Or try, at least.” He was beyond fear or even anger now. Isabelle was safe and that was all that mattered.
McRae glared at him and Magnus saw the fury fade from his eyes to be replaced by that coldness that had overtaken him since the accident, that ruthlessness that had turned him into the man before him today, a man Magnus no longer recognized.
“Oh, I dinna think so,” McRae whispered. “That would be too easy.”
“It’s over, McRae,” Magnus growled. “The only leverage ye had over me was Isabelle and now she’s gone. When ye present that confession as evidence against me I’ll only deny it and Isabelle will back up everything I say. I understand that ye hate me. To be honest, I dinna blame ye. ButIwas the cause of yer accident, not the innocent villagers ye have been attacking. If it’s revenge ye seek, then take it now. I willnae stop ye.”
He lifted his arms out to either side and waited. He had no wish to die. There was still so much he wanted to do and in truth, he couldn’t help harboring the hope that he might see Isabelle again. But if trading his life stopped McRae’s attacks against innocent people like those in Morwenna and Able’s village, it was a trade worth making.
“Well?” he asked when McRae didn’t move. “What are ye waiting for?”
McRae stared at him a moment longer, then turned and snapped to his men. “Tie him up and get him in the cart. We’ve a journey to make.”
McRae’s men grabbed Magnus’s arms and tied his wrists behind him.
“What journey?” Magnus demanded.
McRae cocked his head to one side. “Ye offer yer life to me as though that would repay everything ye did to me. It wouldnae. A life for a life, is it? There’s only one problem. I didnae die that day but was forced to live a half-life instead. A life of pain and degradation. A life that was a shadow of what it had been. Ye took everything from me that day, Magnus.” He tapped the side of his head where the scar ran through his skin. “It took me a long time before I could evenremember who I was. It took even longer before I remembered who did this to me. And when I did, I swore to myself I would have justice. I would take everything from ye, the way ye took everything from me. Ye think this is over? It is far from over. I will destroy ye Magnus, and that precious Order of the Osprey of yers.”
He turned and hobbled away, leaving Magnus staring after. “McRae!” he bellowed, taking a step to follow the old man. Two of McRae’s men grabbed him and held him back. “This is between us!”
But the old man carried on walking and Magnus was dragged over to the cart and bundled unceremoniously into the bed of it, where he was tied to a heavy iron ring fixed into the floor.
As the cart began to move, Magnus was jostled roughly. His wrists burned where the ropes bit into his skin and he could feel the hard ridges of the wooden planks against his back. He fought his way into a sitting position, pressing his back against the cart’s rough side. They were moving south, away from Dun Saith and Dun Crogan both.
He frowned. Where were they going?
McRae’s words echoed in his head, instilling a dread he had not felt even when he had faced down the man. What could be worse than death?
As they traveled, Magnus noticed that the terrain was growing steeper, more treacherous. Ridges rose up in the distance, jagged against the midday sky. Recognition dawned on him and his stomach churned.
He knew exactly where they were going.
