Page 89 of Highlander’s Burning Touch

It was too late for Sachairi, but there was still a chance to save Rory.

* * *

All the way back to the castle, Niven prayed. It couldn’t be too late, could it? It took an effort to keep his eyes on the route ahead. His horse was tiring, and so was he. But sheer fury kept him going.

How dare they! How could they do this to them? The harder the snow fell, the faster Niven was determined to surge through it. He didn’t even care that he only had a hazy idea of where he was going – his anger made him fearless.

“Come on, Odin,” he coaxed. It wasn’t like his capricious horse to turn down going faster, but that was what seemed to be happening.

It took some time for Niven’s heart rate to slow enough for his brain to act. For the last hour, he was so full of panic that he could not think. It was only now, at the halfway point – a handful of cottages in the midst of the valley, that he realized something.

No-one was around.

Not that he would have usually expected there to be. Not on a wild night like this, when most folk would normally be abed. But today wasn’t a normal night.

There was anarchy in the land and the threat of battle. That would usually get the locals out, or at least make them wary of passersby.

One way or the other, he expected to see someone. Or even just signs of life. But now, as he cantered around the small hamlet, he realized something else. There were no fires burning from the houses.

Now actively worried, Niven dismounted his tired horse and went up to one of the cottages. Peering through the window, he tapped on the door.

There was no reply. Once again, maybe this would not be unusual, it was midnight, but normally he would have expected someone to be around.

He saw nothing. Staring frantically through the opened window, Niven could just about make out the beds in the corner of the room. They were empty.

A cold chill took Niven, and it wasn’t just the savage winds raging around the glen. Something was wrong here.

Where before he had hesitated from going inside, Niven now pushed at the door and raced around the small room. There was no-one there, but judging by the warmth from the grate, they hadn’t been gone long.

A quick look in the other windows confirmed this was the same there. They had gone. Everyone had gone.

Inside, Niven felt his spine prickle. A sick feeling slid up his throat. When his uncle had sent them away, he hadn’t realized just how imminent the danger was.

Now it seemed Deva had escaped just in time. Niven shivered; it didn’t bear thinking about what would have happened if she had still been around.

By the looks of it, the little village was abandoned, which meant only one thing – that Rory had taken them into battle.

Or, at least, that was what Niven hoped it meant.

He was just about to mount his jaded horse again when a thought hit Niven. The tunnel – the one that led to the castle. It had an opening around here.

Ah, a shot of recognition ran through Niven. The tunnel, of course.

In an instant, he had delved into the middle of the group of houses, trying to distinguish between them in the dark. It was hard, the moon was playing hard to get behind the clouds, but eventually, Niven found the right one.

Without knocking, he pushed through to the center of the room. Pulling up the rug, he ran his hand around the dusty wooden floorboards, hunting for the catch.

It was in here somewhere, and finally, in the light of a single candle, he saw it. Releasing the catch, he tugged at the handle.

Swiftly, he lowered himself down into the shaft until his feet located the footfalls. Then, grasping tightly to his candle, he made his way beneath, hoping that his candle would last the duration of the long walk to the castle.

But deep down, despite the thundering of Niven’s heart, he was hopeful. Until he had remembered about the tunnel, he had feared the worst for the villagers. Now, he hoped to see them somewhere down here in the tunnel.

Surely, this meant that Rory had led them to safety. Or, at least, that was what Niven hoped it meant.

But try as he might, Niven couldn’t get the picture of Sachairi’s face out of his mind.

* * *