She couldn't speak anymore, and soon she heard the tell-tale drumbeat of hooves nearby. They were following her. They were coming.
Her horse stumbled, and Maeve realized that the poor thing must be tired; she'd been out all day, and it had had no timeto warm up before they started this mad race at top speed. The hoofbeats were getting closer, and Maeve knew the gap between her and her pursuers was closing rapidly.
"Faster, bonny thing, faster," she whispered to the horse, leaning forward and patting the horse's neck desperately. They were far from the camp and Broken Windmill now, and there was a line of trees ahead, indicating a forest nearby. Maybe she could lead them into the trees and keep them occupied long enough for the rebels to hide or flee or do whatever they were going to do to get away from this. And then, maybe, just maybe, she'd be able to escape too.
"It's ye, isnae it?" a horribly familiar voice called out. "Ye thought ye could escape us!"
"Ye may as well stop, lass. It'll be easier if ye do!" someone else shouted.
It had been months since she heard those voices, but she knew she would recognize them anywhere. It was those two awful men who had mocked her and coveted her in her jail cell. She chanced a look over her shoulder and, to her horror, saw that all fifteen of the men seemed to be on her trail, Rod and Brian at the forefront. Her terror at feeling that was tempered by her joy; if they were all following her, then her plan was working, and maybe the villagers and the rebels would be safe.
"We'll continue where we left off," one of them called out.
Shuddering, Maeve sped toward the treeline. As soon as she and her horse managed to disappear inside the woods, she knew she only had a few moments before her pursuers caught up to her and it was all over.
The trees rose around her like a threatening circle, not so much a protective shield as another location where her life could come to an end. She was surrounded by shadows and darkness, and fear was her only companion. What was she going to do? How was she going to survive?
She slid down off her horse's back, her mind desperately forming a last-minute plan. She patted the neck of the horse and whispered, "I'm sorry, lass. I'll come find ye, I promise."
Then she slapped the hind of the horse, causing the creature to let out a loud neigh and race away deeper into the forest without her. Maeve gasped, her chest still tight, and ran to the nearest tree, hiding herself behind it just as the first of the pursuers broke through the tree line.
"Her horse is ahead!" someone shouted. "Follow!"
Holding her breath, Maeve could scarcely believe it as she watched her plan work; more than half of the men continued their race into the woods where her horse had fled, but six stayed behind, roaming the immediate area. They all got off their horses and someone shouted, "Check behind the trees!"
Panicked, Maeve looked around, trying to find some way out. Could she make it to the next tree? Even if she could, then what? She couldn't just stand here.
Gulping down air, she broke out into a run, flitting through the darkness and running as quickly as she could to the next tree. She made it, gripping the bark, her breath catching and her teeth worrying her lip so much that she could taste blood. How long should she keep this up? It didn't matter. All that Maeve knew was that she needed to keep going. She couldn't, wouldn't give up.
She darted between the trees as the six men who stayed behind searched for her, getting closer and closer. Taunts and jeers echoed through the woods as they all called out to her.
"May as well come out, Maeve," Rod's awful voice called out from just behind the tree that Maeve had just left. "Come on, come on. If ye're kind tae us and let us play a little, we may nae even hand ye over."
Crude laughter followed those words, and Maeve felt nausea clawing its way up her throat. She felt like she might actually besick, but she swallowed it down, trying to still her shaking hands, knowing that all she could do was keep going. If she stopped, if she got caught, then it was all over. She didn't know what Kyle Darach would do to her, but she knew it would be even more cruel than anything that Malcolm had ever imagined. He'd need to make an example of her to truly display his own so-called innocence.
Terror weighed upon her shoulders so much that it felt like it was crushing her, but she looked around for the next tree and set out on a run, hoping against hope that she'd be able to make it.
But it was dark, and she was tired and scared, and she didn't see the rock until it had already tripped her and sent her sprawling to the ground.
"There ye are, sweet one," Brian's mocking voice sounded all too close. A moment later, a rough hand grasped her arm and yanked hard, pulling Maeve to her feet. "Ye still want her, Rod? Are ye willin' tae share?"
"Let go of me," Maeve demanded, pulling her arm away — or trying to, at least. His grip was like iron, and the other five men were approaching. It was dark, but she could still see the disgusting smirks on their faces. "Let me go!"
"She's learned some fire since we last saw her," one of the other men commented. Maeve couldn't remember his name from her time in the castle, only that he'd been extremely loyal to the Darach cause. "That's good. Kyle will enjoy snuffin' it out."
Rod walked closer to them, his eyes burning into her. "We've been commanded nae tae touch ye again, ye ken," he said, "But all sorts of things happen in the woods."
Maeve spat in his direction, causing several of the other men to laugh. Brian, still holding her arm, pulled back his hand and slapped her hard. Maeve stumbled, and Rod shouted to one of the other men to fetch the rope.
Then a lot of things happened at once.
The sudden thunder of hoofbeats sounded again and a dark figure rode into the clearing, the moonlight filtering through the trees showing only the fury in a pair of deep gray eyes. The six men turned, and Brian threw Maeve to the ground, jumping forward to attack.
Cailean made a swift movement with his hand and Brian went to the ground in an instant, only the silent glint of silver a hint to what had ended his life. Rod let out a furious cry, and Cailean dismounted his horse, his sword in hand, facing the attacker.
Maeve, temporarily ignored as the five remaining men circled Cailean, crawled across the ground to Brian's body. His weapons were attached to his belt. His sword was too short, thick, and heavy for her to wield properly, but he had a shiny dagger which she picked up in an instant. She had no time to think, knowing only that she had to protect herself.
Rod attacked and Cailean dodged, then in one swift move, Rod was cut down too. Maeve hurried to Cailean's side as the other four men reacted with angry cries.
