The Lady and the Knight (Highland Brides)

by Greiman, Lois

  He must stop her. He set his spurs to Mettle. The horse leapt ahead.

  Terror stabbed Boden's heart.

  "Sara!" he screamed, and then, as if through a haze, he saw her. She was on the ground, trying to rise, to escape, but someone stood over her.

  "Sara!" Sweeping the sword from his scabbard, he thundered toward them.

  He saw her turn her hooded head toward him. He could not fail her. He swung his sword at the man standing over her. The brigand screamed and fell. In an instant Boden was off his horse.

  "Sara!" He reached for her and she turned.

  But it was Warwick who stared at him from the dark hood.

  Boden reared back in horror. The black haze fell from his mind. Dear God, twas not Sara at all.

  He'd been tricked. He spun away, but it was too late, for something crashed with white hot pain against his skull, and the darkness found him.

  Boden awoke slowly. Cold fog filled his mind, and his head throbbed. He felt sick to his stomach, and within him there was a dread so deep it threatened his very existence. Better surely to die than to awaken, he thought. Better to die, but he could not. Not yet.

  "So you are awake."

  The voice sent a sliver of raw terror down Boden's spine.

  "There is little need for you to feign sleep," the voice said. "Surely you must know that."

  He did know it, for Warwick had captured him, and Warwick would realize the truth. Somehow he would know.

  Boden lifted his head, then propped it against the tree behind him as he skimmed the area with his gaze. They were in the forest, that much he knew, though it was dark but for the fire that glared red and evil beneath the leaning branches. And then, right before him, out of thinnest air, Warwick appeared, nothing more than a narrow, dark shadow in the night.

  Terror slapped Boden hard enough to make his head reel with it. But his hands were bound to the tree behind him, keeping him from escaping.

  "Fear?" Warwick chuckled. "Already? And I have not yet begun. But what can one expect from a tanner's son?'' The dark figure turned. Boden drew a breath, finding he could only do so when the wizard's back was turned. "You were not meant to be a warrior," he said. His voice was soft now, soothing. ' 'You were not meant to be a knight." Boden's muscles relaxed as the wizard crooned on, his tone soothing, entrancing. He was not in danger. And no, he was not meant to be a knight. "You were meant to be a tanner. From this close distance I cannot fail to read your thoughts. You are a gentle man. A craftsman."

  He was. He'd always been good with his hands, though his father had never known it.

  "You want to return to your home, make useful things. Not..." The shadow turned.

  Boden held his breath, but the wizard only chuckled. The sound was calming.

  "You were not meant to kill, but to create," he said. "Is that not so?"

  Boden nodded. They were alone, and he felt strangely small and helpless. But he was in no danger and the wizard was right.

  "But of late, evil things have happened."

  Yes, there had been evil. Boden scowled, trying to think. Hadn't the evil been somehow connected with this man, this wizard?

  "I have tried to prevent them," Warwick said quickly. "I have done my best, but the woman..."

  His tone was suddenly harsh. Boden hunched his shoulders and pressed against the tree. "The woman is wicked. She is wicked. Do you see that?" Warwick asked, striding quickly to him. "She has taken your lord's babe. Your lord to whom you have vowed fealty. And she will do evil things to the child if we do not stop her."

  Evil! Yes! He could feel it!

  "So you must tell me where to find her," Warwick crooned. "You must tell me before tis too late—for the babe. For you," he whispered.

  Yes. He would tell.

  "Good lad," Warwick purred. "Where has she gone?"

  Boden opened his mouth. But suddenly he remembered her eyes. Heavenly blue, they were, the window to a soul so pure that even now he could feel the soothing effect of her presence. "I don't know." The words came unbidden. He watched the wizard's blue-white hand clutch to a fist, but when he spoke his voice was still soft.

  "Oh but you do, Boden my lad. You wished to protect the babe. Twas your vow, your task. But she would not have it. Tell me, Boden. Tell me, and I will help you find her. You want to find her, don't you?"

  Boden scowled in confusion. His head throbbed and felt strangely disembodied, as if he were dreaming, as if his thoughts were not his own. Yes, he wanted to find Sara. Needed to find her, though he couldn't remember why. And Warwick could do anything he set his mind to. Surely he could locate her.

  "She left," Boden said, but his own voice seemed to come from far away. "She left."

  "Aye, but where did she go?"

  "She went..." Boden began, but the niggling of a memory stopped his words. Her voice...

  "Where did she go?" repeated the wizard, his voice rising.

  "She would sing to the babe," Boden whispered.

  "She lied to you," hissed the wizard, his white fingers curled into fists. "She made you believe she cared for you. She used your body as a shield. She's a witch, trying to steal your soul. But tis not too late for atonement, not if you tell me where she is."

  Boden opened his mouth.

  The wizard leaned closer, waiting, his face shadowed by his hood. The silence continued. He hissed with impatience. "She lied to you. Used you. Left you to die."

  She had. Twas all true. "She went—" Boden began, but again the sound of her song rang in his head. Like silvery bells. Like the first light of dawn.

  "Where?" asked Warwick.

  And suddenly the song ended. Her fear slashed across Boden's soul. Reality warred with twisted confusion, goodness with evil. "She went... to Knolltop," he said. "To take the babe to his sire."

  The wizard's fist clenched again, but he smiled, curling his lips above his teeth. "She did not go to Knolltop," he said patiently. "You are mistaken, Boden," he said, and stepped forward a pace.

  Fear came again, but just a corner of it. Still, Boden felt his heart pick up speed. "Nay," he said, his gaze still riveted on the wizard. "She knew the duke could protect—"

  "Lies!" Warwick screamed, and suddenly the mask of goodness was torn away. He was directly in front of Boden, his face twisted with hate. One long curved nail reached out to scrape his cheek, but when he spoke next he had gained his composure once more. "You are mistaken again, my dear Boden, but I will give you one more chance to make me happy. After that, I fear I may not be so pleasant."

  He was a knight, controlled, disciplined. But dear lord, fear gnawed at his belly, threatening to spill his meal, to loosen his bladder. He marshalled his senses. He was a knight.

  "I wouldn't lie to you." His voice was soft, sounding pathetically childish to his own ears. "She went to Haldane."

  The wizard swung away with a scream of rage, and when he pivoted back around, he gripped a wooden staff. It glowed red at the end. ' 'Have you ever wondered how it feels to have your eyes burnt from your head?"

  Dear God! Oh, sweet Jesus! Terror erupted like a hurricane wave. The wizard stepped closer.

  "It feels..." Warwick stopped.

  Boden stared at the burning tip, mesmerized, terrified to immobility.

  "It feels something like this," he said softly, and thrust the tip against Boden's arm.

  Agony seared him. His scream shrieked through the night. The smell of his burning flesh twisted his stomach. He yanked at his bonds in wild desperation.

  Warwick pulled the staff back a scant inch and smiled. A bit of charred wood crumpled from the end and fell out of Boden's sight. "It feels like that, Sir Knight," he sneered, then turned to thrust the staff back into the fire. "But worse. Much worse," Warwick said, approaching again, staff in hand.

  "Unless you tell the truth."

  Sobs threatened. Pleading! What would work? He hurt, everywhere, as if his whole body burned.

  "Where is she?" Warwick asked in his melodious voice.<
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  Dear Jesus! The staff was coming closer. Boden watched it, hearing his own breathing, harsh as a dying beast's as he struggled with the ropes.

  "Where is she?"

  "Haldane," he said.

  "I wonder who would keep a blind knight?" Warwick said. The staff lifted, still glowing to wave before Boden's eyes.

  His stomach knotted, rose, threatened, and suddenly spilled its contents forth. He wretched, fought for breath, then wretched again.

  "Oh, knight," Warwick said, bending forward to stare eerily into Boden's face. "What an ignoble thing. And so soon into the proceedings. Your lady would be re-vulsed. But you need not worry, for she'll not want a blind knight anyway, and when I finish with her, you'll not want her either.''

  Rage roared suddenly through Boden like a windswept inferno. There was no longer any thought. He shrieked like a wild beast and yanked at his bonds. One hand slipped free and crashed into Warwick's face. The wizard screamed as he fell.

  And then Boden's legs burst free. The rope had burned through from the fallen ember. He was almost loose. He yanked at his hand even harder.

  "Seize him!" shrieked Warwick.

  He was almost free. Men swarmed into view. Only his fingers were caught. And then the rope gave way. Boden launched himself from the tree, but something hit him.

  He staggered back, swinging wildly. A man went down. He swung again, but suddenly something struck him in the face and he was flung backward.

  Almost free, his mind said, but the thought was slow and foggy, and as he fell, just before the darkness took him, he saw the heaven-bright blue of Sara's eyes.

  Chapter 26

  "Awake!" Warwick ordered.

  But she was there! So near, her voice like music, her hands like magic. Boden struggled to hold the dream, to immerse himself in its cushioning blanket.

  "Awake!" screamed the wizard. Pain seared through Boden's hand, jerking him into reality.

  He was back at the tree. But daylight had come, suffusing the world with gray, hopeless light.

  "Let us start anew, dear knight," Warwick said, his voice a soft hiss. There was a purplish bruise above his left eye. Had he had the balls of a squirrel, Boden would have smiled at the wounds the wizard had sustained last night. "Where is the maid?"

  "Why do you want her?" Boden's voice didn't sound so good, muffled, as if his lips were swollen, as if his brain had swollen, but the fear had dulled, like stale beer.

  The wizard smiled. "I do not want her, but I believe she has something I do want."

  "Haldane's heir?"

  The dark wizard laughed. "Nay, it is not I that wants him. But that is how I learned that the amulet had resurfaced. Find the babe and you'll find the dragon, I was told. Twas far too tempting for me to resist."

  "You're after Dragonhead?" Boden asked, but Warwick only grinned, curling his pale lips up evilly.

  "I have answered enough questions, Sir Knight," he said, stopping only inches away from Boden. "Now you will answer mine. Where is she?"

  "I told you. She goes to Knolltop."

  The staff burned into Boden's right hand. Jesus! All right, the fear was back. His mind was bright with it. He would tell! He would tell the truth.

  "There's a lad!" Warwick crooned, drawing the staff away. "Where is she?"

  Blue eyes. Dear God, so blue! "Go to hell!" he muttered, and screamed again.

  Oblivion. It was a nice, safe place, but Boden could feel it withdrawing. He tried to pull it back, to slip into the soft folds, to ignore the voices that argued by the fire.

  "He ain't about t' tell, little matter what we do."

  "He will tell." Warwick's voice seared away the soft fog of Boden's unconsciousness.

  "Then why ain't he spoke yet?"

  "Because we have not used sufficient incentive. He passed out too quickly."

  Thank God for a weak stomach. Darkness had come again, Boden noticed through closed lids.

  "He'll be lucky t' live out the night," said another voice.

  "He will live. If I allow it. In fact... he is awake now."

  Boden hadn't opened his eyes, and yet he felt Warwick's approach. He tried to keep his lids closed, but there was no hope. The fear flooded back.

  "He is awake, and he is prepared to tell all, is that not right, Sir Knight?"

  Dear God, already he had the burning staff!

  "Is that not right?" Warwick asked again, lifting the brand.

  Nausea swept through Boden as he watched the burning stick. Yes! Yes! He would tell.

  "Yes?" Warwick asked.

  "Go to hell!" Boden muttered through swollen lips.

  The wizard shrieked. The brand stabbed for Boden's eyes.

  "I'll tell!" rasped a voice from the woods. The brand stopped. Warwick jerked around.

  Boden jerked too, his stomach clenching. He was dreaming again. The voice had sounded small, like a child's, like Maggie's. But she couldn't be here. She had been left in the safety of Avian.

  He skimmed the area within his sight, trying to find her, while hoping he would not. She wasn't there. He was dreaming. He must be. Dear God, don't let her be here!

  "I know where she went," lisped the voice, soft and earnest in its childish intensity.

  Warwick's gaze swept to his men, hard and searing, promising dire punishment for missing such a waif in their midst. But when he spoke his tone was soothing. "What a clever child to have found us.

  But how I wonder? And you say you know where the maid went?"

  There was no answer.

  "I'll not hurt you, child." Warwick's voice was mesmerizing again, crooning. ' 'Come out into the light where I can see you. Do not fear. Come out."

  "No, Maggie! Don't!" Boden tried to scream the words, but they came forth as no more than a raspy whisper.

  "Come out, clever child," Warwick crooned.

  The girl stepped forward, appearing magically from the woods like a fairy child. Her golden, coiled plait had come loose. There were streaks of dirt down her cheeks.

  "Run," Boden yelled. She could get away. She had survived this long, had learned to be invisible. "Run, Maggie."

  But she didn't. Instead, she turned her solemn gaze on him. "Let him go!" she whispered. "And I'll tell you."

  "Will you now? Will you tell me if I set him free?'' Warwick asked.

  She nodded again.

  "Then of course I will. Simon, cut the good knight free."

  Simon stepped forward. A blade gleamed in his hand.

  "Where did the woman go?" Warwick asked her.

  Maggie caught her lip in her teeth as she watched Simon, for he had stopped, bare blade shining in the fire's glow.

  "Why do you wait?" Warwick growled, not turning his gaze from the child. "Cut him loose."

  Simon stepped forward and bent.

  Boden felt the blood rush back to his feet as the bonds fell free, but he didn't look down.

  "Run, Maggie. Run now!"

  "Nay," said Warwick, stepping slowly forward. "She will not run. Will you, child? You know you can trust me, for we are kindred spirits, are we not? I will not hurt you, or Sara. Where is she?"

  Maggie stood transfixed, her huge eyes caught on the wizard's. "She went to the high lands."

  "To the Highlands? But where in the Highlands, little one?"

  She paused, her small face scrunched in thought. "Deermore."

  "Deermore?" Warwick shook his head. "Deer— Hart! Hartmore Castle! She has gone to Hartmore! Grab the child!" shrieked the wizard, but just then the fire exploded.

  Maggie screamed and wheeled away. Boden kneed Simon in the groin. The villain fell with a gasp, dropping his dagger.

  Off to the right hell boomed, and a man shrieked.

  Boden tried to reach the dagger with his foot, dragging his bonds forward as far as he could.

  But the brigand had rolled to his knees. Boden kicked him in the head, and he went down again.

  But in that moment, Warwick advanced with the flaming brand.


  Boden strained again, trying to reach the knife. Fear was like an inferno, burning his senses.

  "Warwick!" The name was screamed.

  The wizard spun about, searching for the source. "Liam." He chanted the name as he skimmed the black curtain beyond the fire's light. "Show yourself."

  The night was as silent as death.

  "Show yourself!" Warwick ordered, reaching the brand back toward Boden.

  Liam stepped into the light.

  "You have come." The wizard's tone was quiet, almost reverent.

  "Aye. I have."

  "So you finally know the truth."

  Silence again, deep and eerie.

  The villain at Boden's feet groaned, and then, gentle as a field mouse, Boden felt a tug at his wrists. Someone was behind him.

  Sara. He didn't turn, didn't speak, and yet he knew it was she, and his soul wept, for she'd been safe. Far out of Warwick's grasp.

  Go away, run, hide, he wanted to plead. But it was too dangerous. He dared not speak. His hands were freed, but he remained as he was.

  "Aye." Liam looked only at the old man, though a half score of men closed in behind him. "I know the truth."

  "And have you come to join me... or to hinder me?''

  Liam shrugged, still not acknowledging the men that moved closer. "You may think me a good deal of things, Warwick, but dunna think me such a fool as to underestimate your powers."

  "Then you come to ally yourself with me."

  The silence was as heavy as hell.

  "It seems the past has written my future," said Liam, his expression grim.

  "Tis the truth," said Warwick, and in that instant, the closest man grabbed for Liam.

  But just as quickly, Liam ducked. "Run!" he screamed. The brigand closed his arms on nothing, stumbled to a halt, and turned.

  Liam scrambled away, but a dozen others were after him.

  Boden snatched the dagger from the ground, prepared to launch himself into the fray, but in that instant two horses burst from the darkness.

  "Come!" Sara screamed from the first.

  Warwick wheeled about as Boden lunged toward Mettle. His leg gave way and he stumbled, then managed to nab a stirrup. He was whipped forward with the charger's lunge. Warwick reached for him. Boden felt bony fingers graze his tunic, but he had his fist wrapped tight in the stirrup.