Page 87 of Highlander’s Burning Touch

“Ye sure?” she asked. She felt bad for even asking it.

“Of course,” said Allyth, looking a little surprised. “Yer forgetting, Niven’s an experienced warrior… he didnae win that tournament by accident ye ken!” she said.

The look that Allyth gave her made her ashamed.

“Aye,” said Deva, “I ken. Thank ye, Allyth…”

She was grateful for her maid’s no-nonsense company. If it hadn’t been for her, she would probably be halfway back out across the glen side in a futile hope of returning.

And as she looked out at the thick snow coming down in the hills beyond, Deva realized this would be an impossibility.

“Whatever else happens, I’m sure right now he’s tucked up, somewhere warm and safe,” Allyth said.

And she was right. Consoling herself in her words, Deva shut her eyes and immediately collapsed into a black sheet of sleep.

* * *

Niven had watched the small boat sail slowly down the stream with tears in his eyes. He hadn’t wanted to show it to Deva, but he was aching inside.

Everything had built up in him, and gradually he was overwhelmed. Only finally, on the icy banks of the shore, could he allow himself to weep.

There was no-one around to see him, no-one to tell him it was going to be alright. Niven took a moment to compose himself before leaping on his horse and galloping off.

But as he charged through the icy glen side, he could only think of her. Had he done the right thing? Then, he reminded himself of the danger she was in if she stayed. Niven hadn’t wanted to spell it out too much, but Deva was at even bigger risk than he.

Word had spread all around about their affair. Perhaps no-one dared to say it to his face – and he would cut their nose off they did – but she was the one they blamed for the loss of the alliance.

Tormented, Niven rode on. Deva hadn’t understood just how deeply the upcoming wedding affected the clan. It was their peace, their lives at stake – and as far as they were concerned, she had jeopardized that.

Although brimming with fury for her being blamed, Niven knew he had to find some way through this. To reunite the clan, rescue Rory, and do his best to resurrect his dream.

He owed him that much.

So, grimly, Niven sped through the white hillside, barely caring that his fingers were freezing or that in the hail of sleet, he couldn’t see straight. The only thing that mattered was putting it right.

But first, he had to get back. The edges of the shore were a long way from the first point of call – the hunting lodge. It took Niven an hour’s solid riding to reach it, and when he got there, he was about to expire.

Every inch of him was frozen solid. Leaving his horse in the empty stable to the side, gingerly, he approached the lodge.

“Hello?” called Niven as he peered around the window. It was strange. He had thought he had seen someone move inside there. But now he looked, he couldn’t see them.

Curiously, Niven pushed the door ajar. “Hello?” he called again, his voice echoing through the room.

Nothing. No sound came to greet him.

Carefully, he wound his way through the door – carefully picking up his sgian dubh before he went.

“Uncle?” he asked. It seemed unlikely Rory was here, but what did he know. Glancing around, it seemed certain that someone was.

The room was warm, with a smoldering fire in the grate. Someone had been here, and recently. Grabbing one of the candles, Niven darted about the room.

“Fingal? Dughall?” by now, he was just pure guessing. The fact was when he decided to come back to the castle, he had no real plans.

All he had known was that Rory was riding into battle – or about to prepare for one. Where and when that might be, he didn’t know.

An edgy feeling grew inside him. What if he was too late? What if they had been slain?

A sick sensation ran through him, but Niven didn’t give his fears the upper hand. Without thinking, he ran across the lodge, shoving every door open and kicking at the drapes.