“Hush a moment, lass.”
His sudden tension began to make her nervous. Then she too tensed, feeling something, certain she had heard something yet unable to name it. When it became recognizeable, she stared at Parlan with growing horror.
“Get on your mount.” Parlan leapt to his feet then yanked her up.
Aimil needed little prodding. Horsemen were riding their way and fast. She only felt that that meant trouble.
To her dismay, their alertness to the danger had come too late. They were barely ready to mount when the horsemen came into view. Her fear grew in leaps and bounds when she recognized Rory.
“Kill him! Kill the Black Parlan!”
The frantic scream chilled Aimil, but she had no time to think about it. Parlan grabbed her hand and raced for the wood, giving up on trying to flee on their mounts who had become panicked over the sudden intrusion of armed men. She heard Parlan grunt then curse as they entered the thick wood but she gave little thought to it until they stopped. Parlan tugged her down beside him as he sprawled behind a fallen tree thickly surrounded by brush. Looking to him for some further instruction, she saw that an arrow had pierced his leg.
“Nay.” He stopped her when she reached to extract the arrow. “T’will bleed too freely and we havenae the time to tend it. We must elude that swine for an hour or so, mayhaps less.”
“Someone will come?”
“Aye. I had to make a bargain with my men. My time without them hanging about was limited. Mayhaps we can circle back to the horses.”
That did prove to be a possibility, but Aimil was not certain they could accomplish it. It seemed that they crept through the wood for hours while a ranting, cursing Rory and his sullen men searched for them. With each passing moment and each step taken, Parlan grew visibly weaker. She felt sure he could not hold out much longer, and if he became too weak or unconscious, Rory would have them. It was not really necessary to listen to the threats echoing through the wood to know that Rory would not take Parlan prisoner, that the man intended nothing less than murder. Rory was clearly after revenge for wrongs he felt had been done him.
By the time they reached the place where they had dined and loved such a short time ago, Aimil had to support Parlan. Her fear was replaced by concern for him. He needed his wound tended to and quickly. So too was she certain that, although she loathed the idea of falling into Rory’s hands, her life was not in danger. It was, therefore, more important to get Parlan out of Rory’s reach.
“Leave me, lass,” Parlan rasped when they came into sight of where they had left the horses to find that a nervous Elfking alone remained.
“Nay. I have little desire to aid Rory in murdering ye.”
“And I have little desire to see that hellhound get his hands upon ye. Leave me here and flee while ye can.”
She ignored him and called softly to Elfking. The fact that Parlan had no strength to enforce his command added to her concern for him. It made it all too clear that his condition was worsening. When Elfking reached them, she helped a complaining Parlan onto the horse’s back.
“The reins, lass. I cannae reach them.”
“I will get them in a moment. Are ye secure?”
“Aye.”
Hearing Rory’s men, she smiled faintly. Parlan was going to be furious, but she had no choice. His life was at risk. She only wished her time with Parlan did not need to end but she doubted that he would try to fetch her back once she was gone.
“Elfking, go home.” She slapped her horse on his rear flank, and Elfking bolted. “Home, Elfking. Ride!”
“Aimil!”
Ignoring Parlan’s angry bellow, she turned to face Rory and his men who were closing in on her. She knew that if she could give Elfking a few moments lead there would be no catching him. To keep Rory and his men occupied for that few moments, she let them see her then bolted.
Her way back into the cover of the wood was quickly blocked. For a moment she kept the mounted men in a confused knot as they tried to follow her nimble, elusive moves. Then several men dismounted to chase her. She was not really surprised when she was neatly tackled an instant later. She was roughly pulled to her feet and dragged before Rory. The look in his eyes made her heartily wish she had found a way to go with Parlan.
“Ye dress like a whore.” Rory studied her lad’s attire with scorn.
“Ye ken their style of dress weel, do ye?” Aimil wished she felt as calm as she sounded then bit back a cry when he backhanded her, causing her teeth to score the inside of her mouth, drawing blood.
“Where is your lover, that whoreson, the Black Parlan?”
“On Elfking and halfway to Dubhglenn by now. Out of your reach.”
He knew she was right, that he had lost part of the prize he had sought. “Ye will pay dearly for that, ye slut.”
With a detachment that seemed odd to her, she watched his fist come at her. Not surprised by his brutality, the blow to her jaw caused pain to explode in her head. As she slipped into unconsciousness, she prayed that Parlan was able to stay on Elfking, that he would reach Dubhglenn and safety.
