The Raven's Moon

by Susan King

  Below, a dark moving shape cut through the pale foam: man and horse wading through the wild water. She gasped, fear rising as she watched Rowan and Valentine surge forward.

  "He'll drown, the fool," a man chortled.

  "He'll make it," Heckie said. "Damned Black Laird. He rode wi' Devil Davy Armstrong and Alec Scott. A floody river never held back that wild lot."

  "He's got a demon in him, to take that water," Clem said.

  "Demon or no, he'll clear the stream and be on our tail soon," Heckie said. "Ride!" He yanked the rope clutched in his fist, attached to Peg's bridle.

  Mairi gripped the saddle tightly, though her wrists ached. Her horse picked up pace beside Heckie's mount. Clem cantered briskly on her other side.

  She had been foolish to ride out—foolish to endanger Rowan further. But she had not known it would come to this.

  She glanced back, unable to see the stream now, but she was sure Rowan would clear the water. She sensed his determination like a solid strength that sustained them both, as if her spirit were linked to his somehow. The knowledge of his presence behind her gave her hope.

  "Rowan Scott will take you down before this night is through," she said. "He will not stop until he finds me. You cannot hide from Blackdrummond."

  "I do not mean to hide from him," Heckie said. "He has something that I want. But now I have what he wants. I hear he married you." He grinned. "The Lady o' Blackdrummond—a fine bartering coin!" He looked behind him. "Martin, ride ahead wi' word that we have something to trade. You ken where to go." His brother nodded and he and two others broke away from the group, galloping fast over the nearest hill.

  "Trade?" Mairi asked. "You mean ransom."

  "I have no time to wait on ransom. I mean to bargain you this night for what I want."

  "Bargain with whom?" she asked.

  He grinned and did not reply.

  "Rowan will not trade," she said. "He'll see you and your gang declared foul for this deed and all else you've done."

  "I mean to meet your Black Laird and claim that gewgaw he has. But now I'll barter you to someone who will want you and trade for something dear to me."

  "Who?" She stared at him, perplexed.

  "You'll bring me a good price, too."

  She lifted her head. "This will never work to your benefit. You may as well let me go."

  "Let you go! Hah! Hey, a lassie wi' great wit!" He grinned at his brother. Then Heckie reached out and grabbed her chin in thick fingers. "I will have something for all my trouble, lass."

  Mairi jerked her head away, heart thudding, back stiff.

  Clem sniggered. "Such a canny lass, yet doesna ken a' the answers, hey."

  Heckie glanced over his shoulder. "Damned scoundrel! He's back there. I saw the flash o' a steel bonnet on that far hill."

  "Aye," Clem said. "He's there. I've been feeling him on my back all along. Like leeches on my skin." He shivered. "I'll ride back and shoot him."

  "Wait until we have that blasted stone!"

  "Mairi Macrae might ken where 'tis," Clem said. "Hey, lassie. Have you seen a stone, round like, black as a raven?"

  She stared at Clem. "I know nothing of it. What is it? A stone? Or a jewel, like a ring or a pendant?"

  "Och, she doesna know," Clem muttered.

  "You saw no black stone among your laddie's gear, set like a mirror?" Heckie asked. "There's a good price in it for you."

  Clem nodded. "Aye. Your life." He laughed.

  Mairi scowled and looked away.

  "Bah," Heckie said, and spat. "If that blasted gewgaw had wings, it would not be harder to catch than this."

  "What do you want with it?" Mairi asked. "Do you steal jewels now, as well as cows and sheep?"

  "No Elliot would snatch a purse," Heckie growled. "Unlike some, hey, lass. Clem and me saw you one night, riding the Lincraig road, and we tried to take you down. Blackdrummond snatched you away. We ken you were one o' the highway riders." He turned. "By hell! Was that him, just there?"

  Clem turned. "My neck is a' prickles. Let me go shoot him."

  "Yammerin' like a bairnie," Heckie snapped. "I'll let you fire on him when I have that raven's moon in my hand."

  "Raven's moon?" Mairi asked. "What does that mean?"

  "Am I a damned poet?" Heckie asked irritably. "I did not name the thing. I'm paid to find it. A round black stone. Do you ken aught, you tell me now." He glared at her.

  She sent him a purposely blank look and turned away, clenching the saddle pommel. She knew about the raven's moon—too much and not enough. But she would not say so.

  For now, as Rowan searched for her, she could feel his presence behind them, far more keenly than Heckie or Clem ever could. He had the black stone with him. If there was any substance to the visions she and Iain had seen, the danger they sensed, then the black stone, with its strange power, was part of the force that led them all into danger.

  She sighed and hung her head down as they rode through the cold, windy darkness.

  * * *

  She must have dozed some—perhaps the knock on the head had done it, she thought, waking as a drizzle began, thin and chilly. Mairi hunched her shoulders against it, wishing she could pull up her hood. Clem to her left and Heckie on her right rode silently. Behind them, she could hear the fretful bleating of the sheep, the grunts of the cows and an occasional curse from the reivers who drove them forward.

  She had expected Heckie to head for Liddesdale to take his snatched cattle and sheep, and his hostage, to his robber's roost. Now she realized that they rode north into the heart of the Middle March. Puzzled, she wondered at their intention.

  "That's the Lincraig road," she said. "Where are we going?"

  "Hush up," Clem said. He looked over his shoulder.

  Heckie turned too. "I saw a shadow on the hill, there."

  "Relentless bastard. Let's ride back and find him. If he has the black moon, we'll end it there." Clem gathered the reins.

  "Halt," Heckie said. "Look ahead."

  Mairi saw a pinpoint of light ahead in the darkness. As it grew, she saw a sputtering torch held by a horseman who rode ahead of a group of men. Twenty or more came over the moor.

  "Hey," Clem said. "The warden!"

  Mairi felt relief. "Simon!" she called. "Simon Kerr!"

  "Hush up," Heckie growled. Then he paused, holding up a hand for all of them to wait while Kerr and his troopers came toward them. A few carried burning chunks of peat on the ends of their lances as a signal that the warden rode after reivers.

  The warden halted his horse, staring at them, his face under the helmet shadowed and grim. "What's this?"

  "Simon Kerr," Heckie said pleasantly. "Greetin's to ye."

  "Heckie," Simon said slowly. "What—Mairi Macrae! What the devil are you doing wi' these ruffians? Rowan Scott said he had you confined to his tower!" He shoved back his helmet and glowered at them. "What in the name of hell is going on?"

  "I've been taken—" Mairi began, but Clem reached out and yanked on her arm, and a vicious pain shot through her weak shoulder. She gasped.

  "We're out on a wee night stroll," Heckie announced.

  Simon gave him a flat glance. "I've been trying to catch you on one o' your midnight strolls for a time now," he said. "Whose cattle and sheep are those?" He gestured toward the beasts with his thumb, then turned and barked an order behind him. Several of his troopers aimed pistols and latchbows at the reivers.

  "Those, well," Heckie said, looking over his shoulder, "those are mine. We were ridin' to Abermuir to present them to you. Toward my Martinmas rent." He smiled.

  "You do not pay rent to me," Simon snapped.

  "Nay?" Heckie looked stupefied. "I thought I did." Then he grinned.

  "What jest is this? How many households have you ransacked this night? You've earned your arrest, by hell!"

  "You will not accept my Martinmas tribute?" Heckie asked, and laughed heartily. Simon snatched his pistol from its holder and aimed it at Heckie, who pulle
d out his own pistol.

  Mairi drew breath to speak again, but Clem twisted her arm so hard that she cried out.

  "What's amiss there?" Simon demanded, glancing at her.

  Heckie pushed the barrel end of his gun against Mairi's temple. "Hey, Simon," he said in a smooth voice. "I've brought you good meadow beasts, and this wee lassie."

  Simon scowled. "Let her go."

  "She's a traitorous wench. You said so y'self."

  Simon leveled his pistol at Heckie. "Now when did you ever hear me say that?"

  "I heard it," Heckie said easily. "And I heard that the summonses for truce day have been delivered. One was delivered for me. My wife was muckle upset about that."

  "She kens well who she married," Simon said. "I sent the summonses out, and truce day has been set for Friday next at Kershopefoot. You had best be there, Heckie Elliot."

  "I hear you sent a summons for Mairi to appear at court at the truce meeting also."

  Mairi squeaked at that, but remained still. The cold metal of Heckie's gun pressed her temple, and Clem's grip was painful. She glanced back and forth between Simon and Heckie.

  "I issued a summons for Mairi Macrae for her highway crimes," Simon said. "A rider took it to Blackdrummond Tower. How is it your concern?"

  "I have her. But you can take her, and this fine herd too. For a price. Or I'll fire on her and be done wi' this night's work."

  "What price?" Simon demanded.

  "You can have her whole if you cancel my summons."

  "Cancel—I will not!" Simon held up his pistol.

  "This is a wheel-lock," Heckie said. "'Tis spanned and loaded. I only need to pull the trigger. That one you hold is a matchlock. Have you got a light at hand?"

  Simon glared at Heckie, and lowered his gun.

  "This is a wheel-lock too," a voice growled through the darkness. "Spanned and loaded, and ready to fire. And aimed at your back, Hector Elliot."

  Mairi gasped at the sound of Rowan's deep voice, safe and strong and angry, behind her. She turned, but the threat of the gun against her temple stopped her.

  "Damn it," Heckie muttered, and twisted in his saddle.

  "Let her go," Rowan said. She heard him ride forward, and heard the sheep bleating and shoving around him. Neither Clem nor Heckie released her, and Clem's grip tightened so that she feared he would pull her shoulder out of position again.

  "You have twenty troopers at your back, Sir Warden," Rowan said. "Will you let these scoundrels threaten my wife?"

  "Your wife!" Simon jerked as if he'd been hit.

  "Twenty troopers, sir," Rowan said. "Or I can shoot this ruffian here and now. And arrest you, on my authority as council-appointed deputy, for neglecting your duties."

  Simon turned to Hepburn, who sat his horse beside him. "Take them, then," he grumbled.

  Hepburn motioned to the troopers, who stepped their horses closer and raised their weapons. Mairi felt Heckie lift the gun barrel away from her head, though Clem kept his hold on her arm. But she spun in her saddle.

  Rowan sat Valentine a few feet behind her, the horse's legs immersed in sheep. He aimed his pistol at Heckie and glanced toward her for an instant, his gun never wavering.

  "Are you harmed?" he asked. She shook her head. He jerked his chin toward the open, empty moor. "Go over there."

  "I'm tied," she said. "I cannot guide my horse."

  Rowan edged Valentine forward, cleaving a path through the sea of sheep.

  "Cut her loose," Heckie muttered. Clem bent down and sliced a knife through the ropes that bound her ankles. She shifted her stiff legs in relief, raising her knees, and suddenly felt Clem tighten his grip on her arm.

  He yanked her off the horse violently, flinging her toward the clustered sheep. She fell into their midst, her landing cushioned by shifting, woolly backs. As she went down, she heard a pistol shot rip through the wind.

  Rolling, she dodged hooves as the sheep scattered. She heard bleating mingle with shouts, and saw, through a screen of sheep, several troopers gallop away. Heckie and Clem had used the distraction of her fall to escape.

  Dazed, she sat up in the darkness, hearing shouts, distant now. Sheep butted into her, knocking her over again, for her wrists were still bound and she could not use her hands for balance.Wearily, she just sank into the sea of sheep and sat on the road, drawing up her knees.

  Moments later, hearing the thud of hoofbeats, she looked up. The sheep parted to allow a horse through, and then booted feet stepped into the midst of the flock. A hand reached out.

  "Mairi—" Rowan took her into his arms, lifting her to her feet. She leaned against him as relief poured through her.

  He took her hands and began to slice at the ropes with his dagger. "Are you harmed?" he asked, just as softly.

  "I'm fine," she said. "My shoulder aches. I'm fine."

  "I would have killed them, Mairi," he murmured as he worked the blade. The intensity in his eyes, glinting in the darkness, made her catch her breath. "God help me, I would have killed them if I had caught them."

  She nodded. "They got away, then."

  "Aye," he said curtly. "Simon and Hepburn gave up the chase. I did too—I wanted to make certain you were safe." Mairi felt the rough bonds release, felt his fingers surround hers. He took her in his arms while sheep surged and swelled around their legs, a bleating, foaming ocean of heat and wool.

  He kissed her in the dark, his lips soft and quick over hers, taking away for a moment the pain, the cold, the fear.

  A few troopers rode back and began to herd the sheep away. Mairi watched them. "What about the men who were herding the beasts—Heckie's men?"

  "I cracked one on the pate wi' the butt of my pistol," Rowan said. Mairi laughed. "I caught the others wi' my ax. I was saving the lead ball for Heckie," he added quietly. "But I missed the rogue. Can you ride?"

  She nodded and turned toward Peg, who waited placidly. Rowan helped her mount, then leaped onto Valentine's back. Mairi looked around and saw Simon, on horseback, wading through the teeming sheep toward them. A trooper beside him held an upright lance that impaled a burning chunk of peat, its scant light glowing overhead.

  "Heckie and Clem have escaped into the hills. They're slick rascals. Martin Elliot and two others came across the moor to fight off my troopers wi' pistols and arrows. Hepburn turned back."

  "Your land sergeant is a fool to lose them so easily, Kerr," Rowan said fiercely. "No reason to let them go."

  Simon sputtered. "We'll find them again. I'm already in pursuit o' three English outlaws who took a dozen cattle and a horse from Nebless Will tonight. You, you're my deputy. You take some troopers and ride patrol after Heckie."

  "First I must take my wife home to Blackdrummond." As he spoke, he reached out to take Peg's bridle.

  "How is she your wife? Days ago she was your prisoner!"

  "We got married," Rowan said simply.

  "Hah!" Simon stared at them. "By hell! You let lust blind you to her guilt and your duty!"

  Mairi began to reply, but Rowan held up the palm of his hand for her silence. She subsided reluctantly.

  "I see matters more clearly than before," Rowan said. "Good night, Warden." He nudged Valentine forward. Mairi followed, sliding Simon a scowl as she passed him.

  "You're deputy to me," Simon called out, moving after them. "You'll do as I say. Ride out now after Heckie. You want him as much as I do."

  "More," Rowan said. "Much more. But first I'll go to Blackdrummond."

  "Scott!" Simon bellowed. "Take Mairi to Abermuir."

  Rowan turned, his glance cold. "Abermuir?"

  "She'll be confined there for her crimes until truce day," Simon said. He called over his shoulder to a couple of his troopers, who moved forward.

  Mairi drew in her breath, watching as they came toward her. Bleating sheep milled about the horses' legs, impeding their advance. Simon kicked at a reticent ewe.

  "Peace!" Rowan called to the troopers, holding up a hand. "The lass goes wi' me."
His voice was low and dangerous.

  "I've served a complaint against her," Simon said. "I sent the summons to Blackdrummond Tower. You said the lass was there. You must have known about the summons." He paused. "But the runner said you were not at Blackdrummond. Where have you been?"

  "I rode south on an errand," Rowan said succinctly. "Mairi went with me in custody. When is the truce meeting?"

  "Friday next. Kershopefoot at sunrise."

  "Consider your summons served. She will be there." Rowan stepped the horse forward.

  "Halt!" Simon roared. "She goes wi' my troopers now!"

  Rowan turned once again, patiently, coldly. "Scots law is based on trust. Have you forgotten? She will be there on the day of truce. I am her husband, and I give you my word. The summons requires only that. 'Tis not an arrest warrant."

  "I do not trust you, Blackdrummond," Simon growled.

  "We will see you then," Rowan answered smoothly. He spurred his horse and Mairi followed alongside.

  "Rowan Scott!" Simon bellowed across the waving sea of sheep that separated them.

  "Friday," Rowan called over his shoulder. "At dawn."

  "I'll serve a summons to you as well for taking a prisoner unlawfully!"

  "We'll both be there," Rowan called. "Have your troopers escort these beasts back to Jean Armstrong at Roan Fell."

  He rode on, and Mairi pressed her heels to Peg's sides to catch up. A glance over her shoulder showed Simon glaring after them. His troopers gathered around and they rode off across the moor, the burning peat brick still glowing on its lance like an amber star in the darkness.

  Rowan glanced at her. "Let's home to Blackdrummond," he said quietly. She smiled wearily and nodded. They set a steady pace across the moorland and over to the Lincraig road.

  Her arm and shoulder ached with every footfall her horse made, and she held the reins in one hand to shift and ease the discomfort. Beside her, Rowan rode with his helmet pulled low over his eyes, one hand on his thigh. She glanced at his profile beneath his steel bonnet, wondering what he was thinking.

  "You did not ride after Heckie, though you could have caught him," she said.