He wondered if any of them bore such ill feelings toward him. When they would finally snap. The ones that smiled the most and worked the hardest, wormed their way into your heart, just so they could strike a dagger into it. He wasn’t fooled, nor would he allow their loyalty to fool him.
“Ye hear me?” Bryce said.
Duncan blinked back to the present. He’d heard absolutely nothing. “Aye.” Bryce clapped him on the shoulder, his face lined with worry. There was nothing more he could say. Duncan knew his friend got frustrated, he was a straightforward man that struggled with gray areas. It was kill or be killed. When it came to the English, he could not understand how the man’s death had the power to affect Duncan as it did, despite his knowledge of Duncan’s history.
It was a quality Duncan admired in his friend. Too many gray areas blurred a man’s view of what was right and what was wrong. Bryce sidestepped and hollered at a warrior who was lifting the stands of his tent. Left alone, Duncan brushed into his own tent. He frowned at the scattered mess that was his bedding. He could have sworn he had properly arranged it that morning. Close to the entrance, his demeanor lifted as he sighted a bucket bearing warm water.
His body was covered in grit and sweat from training and running around. His shirt was spattered with Craig’s blood and thus landed in a messy pile on the floor. Remembering his mother’s sharp voice, he sighed, picked up the shirt and folded it, then repeated the same for the kilt and boots. Placing his sword on the table, he set about washing himself.
However, he’d just sprayed a hand of water on his body, when the shivering voice of the old man jabbed into his head. “Grace… danger, help.” He cocked his head. Why could he not stop thinking about this Grace?
The land stretched farther than her eyes could see. Perched on her horse, Grace wiped a line of sweat from her face. She leaned forward and ran a hand down Minnie’s face. The horse grunted, fidgeting from feet to feet.
“I know, you’re probably tired, aren’t you?” she mumbled. Minnie dipped her head and yanked a blade of grass into her mouth. She’d ridden hard in the general direction of the clan as shown by the map. Yet it was as though they were intricately hidden, even the maps helped little at this point. Now, Grace was faced with a vast emptiness.
She’d often been terrified of meeting a band of brigands who’d take advantage of the fact that she was travelling as an unaccompanied woman. When that happened, she would feel up her skirt for the comforting metal of the sword resting there. It would be justice if she found her father’s killer and stuck aSgian dubhdown his throat. For now, it would serve as her hidden weapon.
Grace was ready to fight, but it appeared–
Her head snapped up. Dry leaves crackled behind her. She heard a footstep. Heart thudding into alertness, Grace urged her horse forward. Maybe she wasn’t as ready as she thought she was to fight. A rush of footsteps behind evaded her thoughts.
Without looking back, Grace shouted, “Go! Go!” yanking on Minnie’s reins. The horse leapt forward, galloping at full speed down the sunny terrain. However, the footsteps did not ease. In fact, Grace detected several hooves joining the melee. Her heart sank as she recalled Harris’ words to her. “Your wish for danger never ceases to amaze me.” This was in answer to her suggestion for them to invade a rumored ‘haunted’ house when they were kids.
Ahead of Grace, two men on black horses emerged suddenly from a patch of trees. They blocked her path, causing Minnie to rear up in agitation. Grace could only hold on for dear life.
The men had the desperate look of hungry thieves. Their tattered clothing barely clung to their dirty skin. Blackened teeth bared in her direction as they scanned her up and down. Behind, another couple of men waited. Grace gulped her fear and sat up straight in her saddle, ready to blunder her way out of the mess.
“Aye, lass. Ye shouldnae bother. We jus’ want the horse. See, me men are tired. I am sure ye can understand. Run along now.”
Grace’s anxiety spiked. Minnie was a gift from her father. They’d grown up together and she could barely remember a day the horse hadn’t been a part of her life.
“Please, I have tae take medicine tae me ailing faither,” she said in a trembling voice with the best Gaelic accent she could manage. Discretely, she peered left and right, in search of a way out. There was none, she was surrounded. Their mocking laughed carved deeper fear up her spine.
“Afore I change me mind, take yer medicine and run. Dinnae look back,” he sneered.
Grace was a good fighter, but she saw the men were too many to fight. Swallowing her bitterness, Grace tugged a sack loose from Minnie’s saddle. Sadness crawled up her throat like an imprisoned waterfall. She blinked several times, patting her rump as she jumped down.
Minnie snorted and turned curious brown eyes on her.
“Run,” the one who’d been speaking commanded. Grace stood silently for a minute, then turned to leave.
“That’s it, ye be a good little lass.”
“She’s a fine un’,” one of the men leered, leaning down to tap Minnie’s chest. Grace’s skin covered in disgusted goosebumps. As her heart thundered, that wave of stubbornness that’d sustained her as a motherless child crashed into her being. She veered back on the heels of her boots, faster than lightening and grabbed the sword dangling by the closest man’s hip.
Because they’d regarded her as a helpless, little lass, the attack took them by surprise. Grace quickly plunged the sword into the leg of the leering man. Quick on her feet, she then slashed in the hip of his companion. In anger, they roared and swatted around for her. She pulled Minnie’s reins, flew atop her and shouted, “Let’s go!” with all her might.
Because she’d never actually drawn blood, Grace’s body trembled from the horror of it. She rode harder, attempting to shield her mind from the squelch of flesh when the sword dug into skin. For the two that had initially come up from behind, and that were uninjured, were in hot pursuit.
An arrow whizzed past her right ear, immediately eliminating her thoughts about blood and flesh. Survival was her topmost priority. She was at the mouth of the woods, which could be both bad and good for her. Other men could be lurking in there but it was her only choice. Another arrow whizzed by, so close it slightly grazed her cheek.
Grace lowered her body, biting back on the pain. She urged Minnie into the woods. She rode straight ahead, the sounds of the men’s hooves heralding her oncoming doom.
She made Minnie gallop in a zig-zag to try to avoid the arrows that were raining down on her. Just as fast, the onslaught ceased. Grace heard the neighing of their horses and sound of the hooves disappeared. Chancing a risky glance back, she saw that they’d retreated.
A bloom of relieved, victorious joy bubbled through her, lifting her lips in a smile. That smile, however, left her face immediately as she noticed a man on patrol. Just as he was about to turn his head, Grace pulled her horse to the side, to hide behind a tree. There, she gulped some much-needed air, absently touching the scrape on her cheek.
Peering out at the clearing, she spotted a couple more Highland warriors patrolling the grounds. Behind them were tents with even more warriors bustling about. The two paused to stare in direction of the noise from the departing brigands but they didn’t bother with a chase.
