Just as she was about to give in to the urge to look behind her, Brian made an abrupt change in the direction they were traveling in. She was forced to keep her full attention on following him. It was a rocky, winding trail they now followed, one that severely slowed their pace, if only for fear of maiming their horses.
For a moment, panic choked her, as she grew certain they would soon be caught, but she forced the fear down. Brian moved as a man who knew the land well. The ones chasing them did not. This upward winding, treacherous trail might slow them down more than she liked but it would slow down the enemy at their heels even more.
“Your cousins dinnae want anyone to come visiting, do they?” she muttered as she struggled to guide her mount over the tortuous path, annoyed that she had none of the skill at it that Brian revealed.
Brian laughed softly. “Nay, they dinnae, but the more common route used to get to Dubheidland is a wee bit easier. This one is hard but shorter. A lot shorter. On the other side of this pile of rocks and heather the land is much easier to ride over. We shall have a straight, swift ride right to the gates of Dubheidland.”
“Straight and easy also means open, doesnae it?”
“It does, but we would have ridden onto open land even if we had gone the other way, too.”
“What if the others have learned to follow the other path, the easier one? Will they get ahead of us?”
“Nay. As I said, ’tis only a wee bit easier. Sigimor doesnae like to make any route to Dubheidland too easy. And, truly, this is much shorter. Dinnae fret, love. We will win the race.”
Brian hoped his brave words proved true. It was going to be a very close-run race no matter which path that fool Amiel forced his men along. Worse, he and Arianna were on tired horses and were tired themselves. Brian knew Amiel, his horses, and his men were undoubtedly as weary as they were but that did not ease his concern by much.
The way Amiel kept finding them, remained so close at their backs no matter how convoluted a trail Brian chose, worried him. He began to suspect that Amiel, fool though he was, had finally had the wit to hire a Scot or two to lead him and his men. Or one of Amiel’s men had. There were always those who would do anything for a few coins. A good tracker, one who knew the land, would explain why he and Arianna had been unable to lose Amiel despite all the twists and turns he had taken them on. In the beginning it may have been luck but good luck was never this persistent. Amiel might have known where they would head from the start but he should not have been so continuously good at finding the trail they took to get to that place.
Brian chanced a quick glance at Arianna. She looked weary but kept her attention fixed firmly on the dangerous trail they rode over. Small and slender though she was, she was revealing an astonishing strength so far. That strength was rapidly waning, however. He could see that in the paleness of her face and the shadows under her eyes.
What she needed was a few nights in a soft bed and a lot of nourishing food. She had not even been given time to recover from nearly drowning before being forced to run for her life. Another night at Molly’s inn would have helped her but they had not been allowed that needed respite. Brian could only hope that they found it at Dubheidland.
Determined to get her to his cousin’s keep unharmed, Brian turned all of his attention to the chore of reaching safer ground as quickly as possible. It was not a trail that allowed any speed, however, and he cursed it continuously as they struggled to get over the hill. When they finally got to safer ground, he paused for a moment to breathe a sigh of relief, not surprised to hear Arianna echo it.
“This does look much better,” Arianna said as she nudged her mount up alongside his. “Is that Dubheidland in the distance?”
“Aye. A straight run.”
“Some of which looks to be uphill.”
“But nay as rocky as the hill we just rode over.”
Before she could say any more, Brian tensed. A heartbeat later she knew why. The sound of horses approaching from their left was unmistakable. Amiel was obviously pressing his men and horses dangerously hard. She and Brian had not gained much of a lead at all.
“Ride, lass.” Brian leaned over to slap her horse on its flank. “Straight for those gates,” he yelled as they both picked up speed. “Dinnae look back and dinnae stop nay matter what happens.”
Following Brian’s example, Arianna leaned low over her mount’s neck as she kicked it, prodding it to as fast a pace as it could provide. She prayed that the exhausted animal still had the strength left to get to those gates and safety. A cry from behind them told her that they had been seen, but she ignored the need to look toward the sound. She could hear her brother Neacal’s voice telling her to keep her gaze fixed upon the direction she was headed in, that looking back would only slow her down. With shelter so close at hand she was determined to win the race.
She was close enough to see men moving on the high, thick walls of the keep and hear shouting coming from within when the deadly hiss of an arrow passing close by reached her ears. Arianna tensed, fear swiftly chilling the blood in her veins, but nothing struck her, she heard no cry of pain from Brian, and her horse did not falter. Shouts and curses came from behind her and there were no other arrows fired at them. Amiel had obviously reminded his men that he needed her alive. Her death gained him nothing. The DeVeaux wanted her and Lucette needed the boys.
The man was an utter fool if he thought she would sacrifice her boys to his greed. Even if she did not think of Michel and Adelar as hers, she would never trade the life of a child for her own. Amiel’s ignorance gave her a small advantage. So long as she remained free, her life was not truly in danger. The same could not be said of Brian, however, so she would continue to act as if the men chasing them wanted her dead. Not later, after she had given them what they wanted, but now.
“Almost there, love!” Brian yelled, able to see Sigimor’s men on the wall so clearly that he recognized a few. “’Tis Sir Brian MacFingal! We are coming in!”
“Ye have a tail, laddie!”
“Cut it off!”
This time when Arianna heard the sound of arrows slicing through the air her heart did not leap up into her throat. The deadly weapons were not aimed at her and Brian but at their enemy. She followed Brian through the high, iron-studded oak gates only to abruptly rein in her mount, barely avoiding riding straight into a group of mounted men.
“I see ye brought me a wee gift, Brian,” said a huge, red-haired man.
“I need at least one of them alive, Sigimor,” yelled Brian even as he dismounted, grabbed another horse and joined with the men riding out through the gates, their horses at full gallop and their swords drawn before they had even cleared the gates.
“Such poor manners ye have, lad, to give me a gift and then tell me what to do with it,” she heard the man Brian had called Sigimor yell back.
Brian’s reply to that was lost in the roar of a battle cry erupting from all the men racing toward Amiel and his men. Arianna turned in her saddle to look out the gates, not surprised to see Amiel and his men immediately turn and flee, leaving two arrow-ridden bodies on the ground behind them. Arianna suspected those two dead men had been the ones closest to her and Brian.
