“How far have we left to go?”
“Over that next hill, across a glen and through the gates,” Elias told her.
So the answer to her concern was closer forward than behind. She kicked her mount into motion. Stellan had men with him, his arms, and his prowess. Valkyrie had her, and perhaps Ian. Dunrobin was close. She’d never thought to reenter it without Stellan at her side, but she would do what she must. She always had.
CHAPTER 19
Stellan hated leaving Mariota behind, but she was well shielded by the men surrounding her. He’d heard her call out that the shooter was likely Alber. He thought so, too. He didn’t think hitting Valkyrie— or near to her —was a coincidence, or an accident. Alber hated that hawk as much or even more than he hated Mariota.
With Gregor and Erik at his side, Stellan slowed as they approached where he judged the arrows had originated. As he expected, the shooter was gone.
“As soon as his first shot missed, he saw us coming after him,” Stellan muttered. “He took a chance with the second one.”
“Aye. The coward would run as far and as fast as he could,” Erik said, agreeing.
“Unless he wants us to think that,” Stellan told them, then signaled for them to go right and left while he continued forward. It was a risk. He knew enough about Alber to think he’d hang around to see what more trouble he could cause before he moved on. Or had he followed the group with Mariota at its center?
That gave Stellan pause. Was the shooter still here? Was it truly Alber or someone else?
Mariota might have been the target, and might still be in danger if the shooter trailed her, or rode parallel to her, hoping for a clear shot.
He had to trust the men around her. And her instincts. They’d reach Dunrobin soon at a gallop. The best he could do from here was to confirm the shooter, discern his movements, and if possible, capture him.
Erik whistled from the left, so Stellan turned in his direction.
“Here’s where he waited for us,” Erik told him once he arrived and pointed out the open view of the path they’d ridden on. Gregor showed up a few minutes later, as Stellan and Erik were studying the ground and the trees where Erik found signs of disturbance, and a broken arrow. The fletching matched the one Stellan had pulled from Mariota’s pommel.
“Did he climb?” Stellan studied the branches above them, and those of the nearby trees. A man could move from tree to tree in this part of the forest, the branches were so thick and interwoven.
“If he did, he jumped down here,” Gregor said and pointed to deeper heel marks in the forest loam beneath the tree. “He’s heavy enough to have made those.”
“Assuming ’tis Alber.”
“Where would he go from here?”
“’Tis whatfashesme,” Stellan said, still studying the surrounding trees. “He might think Mariota would charge at whomever shot Valkyrie, so he’d move far enough away, but no’ so far as to be unable to see her coming. But he realized too late that our men were holding her back and keeping her safe. Seeing that, he would expect the whole group to go with her, so he’d move in the direction of his horse, and ride away. Free to keep threatening her.”
“Which way, do ye think?” Gregor, too, was studying the branches above them.
“See any broken twigs? Torn or crushed lichen or moss? Anything?” Stellan moved quietly forward. His men flanked him at angles. “There,” Gregor said, pointing up. He marched forward, then studied the ground beyond where he stopped. “The horse was here, but the branches start too high to jump safely from here. That’s why he went back where we saw the boot prints. Aye, he’s gone. The horse tracks go that way.”
Stellan nodded. Toward Dunrobin. “Ye two follow his tracks. Find him. Capture him if ye can. But kill him if he gives ye nay choice. I’ll no have ye harmed. Or Mariota having to bear any more of this.”
“Where will ye be?”
“I need to follow Mariota and her guards. She is on her way to Dunrobin, and so is Alber, by one path or another. I have to find her before he does. Ye find him.”
The need tocatch up to Mariota and make sure she was safe burned in Stellan and drove him to run his mount faster and farther than he should have. It was showing lather by the time he reached a fast-flowing burn to rest and water his horse. He chafed at the delay, but pushing his horse until it dropped would not get him to Mariota— or get him home —any faster. Likely he’d miss her altogether, something he could not tolerate. She was in danger, and he was not with her, not able to protect her. That was not something he would tolerate for a moment longer than he had to.
He walked his mount to cool it, then let it drink before walking it a few minutes more. Satisfied that it was ready to continue, he mounted.
The first arrow caught him in the upper arm, the second in his shoulder. Shocked to have been unaware of someone nearby more than by the pain of his injuries, Stellan wheeled his mount to face the shooter.
Alber walked out of the tree line upstream. “Ye’re no’ much of a threat now, are ye? Ye’ve stood between me and that lass too many times, but nay more.”
Fury tightened Stellan’s gut. Apparently Alber had missed earlier shots on purpose, to panic Mariota and her hawk. He could shoot well enough to injure Stellan without killing him. He gritted his teeth, reached up with his good hand and snapped off the arrow shafts. “I can fight ye with one hand.”
From the feral glint in Alber’s eyes, that was exactly what the man wanted. To fight, and to kill. To pay Stellan back for protecting the woman he wanted to harm. “Ye didna have the courage to fight me without trying to weaken me. ’Twas yer first mistake.”
