Shadow Music (6 page)

“Laird MacHugh is a dangerous man,” Faust said.

“Aye, we have heard the MacHugh clan is quite fierce, and their leader is a savage,” Christien told her.

She shook her head. “I would not be so quick to judge a man because someone has spoken ill of him.”

“What is your pleasure then, Princess?” Stephen asked. “How would you have us proceed?”

“We’ll walk through the forest directly ahead of us,” she said. “It is the fastest route, is it not? And it will be good for us to stretch our legs.”

Stephen bowed his head. “As you wish, Princess. I would suggest that we ride as far as we can into the woods so that our horses will be hidden from the curious who happen by. Faust, you will stay with the mounts when we are forced to walk.”

As it happened, they were able to ride a fair distance into the woods, though there were a few tight squeezes through prickly brush. Twice they had to backtrack to find another way around, but once they had crossed a narrow creek, they were able to gather speed. When they reached the last crush of trees, they dismounted. Handing over the reins of her horse to Faust, Gabrielle followed Stephen who parted the brush ahead of them.

The clearing was only a few yards away when Stephen suddenly stopped and put his arm out to block Gabrielle from going any farther. She stood beside him, straining to hear the sounds of the forest. As she waited, she silently adjusted the strap holding her pouch of arrows over her shoulder and shifted her bow to her left hand in preparation. A few seconds later she heard a harsh bellow of laughter followed by a loud blasphemy.

She stayed perfectly still. She heard men talking, but their voices were muffled and it was impossible to understand the conversation.

Raising her hand to her guards so that she would get no argument, she slowly crept forward. She was well-hidden by the trees, but when she shifted ever so slightly to the left, she had an unobstructed view of the flat land beyond. She spied seven men, all dressed in monks’ garb with their brown hoods pulled up over their heads.

For a moment she thought they were standing over one of their own, praying for his soul before they buried him. They were clustered together near what appeared to be a pit. Near the hole was a fresh mound of dirt. When their true intentions became clear, she nearly gasped. An eighth man was on the ground. He wasn’t dressed as a monk but wore a muted plaid. His hands and feet were bound, and he was covered in blood.

Gabrielle moved closer. She felt Stephen’s hand on her shoulder, but she shook her head and continued on. Still shielded by the trees, she watched and listened to the discussion under way.

The men were arguing over which way to drop the bound man into the hole. Three wanted him to go in headfirst. Others vehemently disagreed, wanting the captive tossed in feetfirst. The one who had been silent, most likely their leader, made the final decision.

All were in agreement on one issue: they wanted their captive to wake up so that he would know what they were about to do to him.

Gabrielle was sickened and appalled by the snippets of conversation the wind brought her. What sin was their captive guilty of? What was his transgression? She decided that it didn’t matter what he had done, for no crime, no matter how heinous, deserved such a sadistic punishment. It was inhuman.

As she listened to their escalating argument, she discovered the truth. The only sin their captive was guilty of was one of association. He was Laird Colm MacHugh’s brother.

The leader finally spoke. “Hamish, keep your eyes on that ledge. We can’t put Liam MacHugh in the ground until we see his brother.”

“Gordon, I ain’t deaf. You already told me what to do, and I’m doing it. I got my eyes peeled on that ledge. I’m still wanting to know what we’re supposed to do if Laird MacHugh don’t come to save his brother.”

“He’ll be coming all right,” one of the others answered. “And when he makes the turn at the lookout, he’ll see what’s happening, but no matter how fast he rides, he won’t get here in time. His brother will be long dead, and we’ll be long gone back to the border.”

“And how will he be able to tell it’s his brother going in the ground?” yet another asked.

Gordon answered. “Word’s reached him by now that his brother’s in trouble. He won’t be able to see his face from such a distance, but he’ll recognize the plaid.”

“What if he don’t recognize the plaid from so far away?” Hamish asked.

“He’ll still see us dumping Liam into the hole and burying him. He’ll know.”

“If he can’t see his face, then he can’t be seeing our faces, either. So how come we have to wear these robes? They’re scratching my skin. I feel like I got bugs crawling on me. It smells, too, like pig swill.”

“Quit your complaining, Kenneth,” Gordon ordered. “We’re wearing the robes we stole because we aren’t going to take any chances MacHugh might see our faces.”

“If he ever finds out we did this…” Hamish visibly shivered. “He’ll do worse than bury us alive.” There was a grumble of agreement. “Maybe we ought to just leave him and take off now,” Kenneth said. He was nervously backing away from the hole.

“Don’t talk stupid,” Gordon said. “Laird MacHugh is never going to find out who we are. Why do you think we were brought up from the lowlands?” He added in a rush before there could be another complaint, “And paid handsomely. Are you willing to give that up?”

“No, but—” Hamish began.

“Enough talk of running away,” he snapped. He turned to the soldier standing over the unconscious warrior and said, “Kick him, Roger. See if he stirs. I want him awake when he goes in the hole.” Roger did as ordered, swiftly kicking him in his side. Liam didn’t move.

“I don’t think he’s going to wake up this time,” Kenneth said. “I’m guessing he’s dying now.”

“You shouldn’t have beat him so hard, Gordon,” Hamish muttered.

“We all took a turn,” Roger reminded him.

“We only did what we were told to do,” another interjected.

Gordon nodded. “That’s right. We were only following orders, like the good soldiers we are.” Kenneth pushed the hood on his robe back, scratching his ear. “Tell me again. What did Liam MacHugh do?”

“I’ve told you ten times already,” Gordon shouted as he gave Kenneth a mighty shove, nearly knocking him into the hole.

The soldier scrambled to regain his balance. “Tell me again,” he said.

“We caught Liam, and we’re killing him to bring his brother down off the mountain so the soldiers hiding in the east woods can catch him unawares.”

Kenneth scratched his ear again as though to remove a pesky bug. “What are they gonna do with him when they catch him?”

Gordon shook his head. “Kill him, you simpleton, and bury him next to his brother.” Kenneth wasn’t offended by the name calling. “What clan are the soldiers from? You know, the ones hiding over there.” He waved his hand toward the east, squinting to see if he could spy any of them.

“Never you mind what clan they belong to,” he answered. “The less you know, the better for you.”

“Look! Liam might be waking up,” another soldier announced, nudging their captive with his foot.

Roger cackled with delight. “Good. He’ll be knowing what’s happening when we dump him into the hole. Have any more water to throw on his face, Manus? Get him good and awake.” Before he could get an answer, Kenneth said, “He never waked up. I’ve been watching his face, and his eyes haven’t even fluttered open once. He’s as good as dead.”

“But maybe like Gordon said, if we threw water on his face…” another soldier suggested.

“I used up the last of it,” Manus said. “We could spit on his face.” The men thought that was a fine idea and began to laugh. Gabrielle heard the last two names as they pushed and shoved one another, acting like they were at a festival. Fergus and Cuthbert. She knew it was important for her to remember all seven names, for one day there would be retribution.

Hamish’s snorts of laughter stopped when he happened to look up and spot Laird MacHugh.

“There he is! There he is!” Hamish shouted as he struggled to get his hood up over his head. “There’s the MacHugh!”

Everyone, including Gabrielle, looked to the ledge. A silhouette of a warrior on horseback moved like a golden blur against the sun.

“We’ve got plenty of time,” Kenneth said. “The MacHugh can’t fly down here.”

“Look at all the men following him. I’m counting up to twenty already,” Manus shouted, his voice trembling with fear.

Gordon was getting jumpy. He thought he’d heard a noise behind him. He whirled around, his hand poised on the hilt of his sword. When he couldn’t see a threat, he turned again to look to the east and then the west. Nothing.

“We’ve wasted enough time,” he said. “Get him in the hole. We’ve got to cover him with dirt and be on our way.”

Roger and Cuthbert rushed to Liam and hauled him to his feet. The captive’s head dropped forward.

Fergus grabbed him by his hair and jerked his head back. “His eyes are closed again,” he said, obviously disappointed.

“His eyes were never open,” Kenneth replied.

They were dragging Liam to the hole when a far-off rumble caught their attention. In unison all seven turned just as warriors on horseback broke through the trees at the far end of the glen. Their horses pounded the ground as they closed the distance. So far away, they were but dots on the horizon.

“It could be the Buchanans,” Manus shouted. “Can’t see them good at all yet, but I’m guessing it’s them.”

“They’ll kill us! They’ll kill us all!” Hamish screamed. He twirled in a circle like a cornered wood mouse trying to decide which way to scurry. “Where can we hide? Where?” Cuthbert and Manus dropped Liam’s limp body. Urgency cracked Gordon’s voice when he ordered,

“Get him up. Hurry, damn you. Get him up. When I was pulling him off his horse, his eyes opened, so I’m the only one he’s seen. I’ve got to kill him before he goes into the hole. There isn’t time to bury him and let him suffocate.”

Cuthbert and Manus didn’t obey the order. Neither did Roger or Kenneth or Hamish or Fergus, for all of them had already run for cover.

Gordon drew his sword. At the same time, Gabrielle reached for an arrow and notched it to her bow in anticipation.

The Buchanan warriors were still too far away for their arrows to reach the seven men, and the MacHugh warriors racing down the mountain were also too far away to save one of their own.

Suddenly, there was another commotion. Soldiers waiting to ambush the MacHugh broke through the trees and headed across the flats toward the Buchanans. A full-scale battle was about to erupt. If they didn’t hurry, Gabrielle and her guards would soon find themselves in the thick of it.

Gabrielle kept her gaze locked on Gordon, the leader of this pack of rats. His captive wasn’t moving.

Liam was down on the ground, lying on his side, and Gordon kept nervously glancing to the north. He took a couple of steps back, hesitated, and then moved forward again. Gabrielle knew Gordon couldn’t run away and leave Liam, who had seen his face.

“Stephen,” she whispered. “If I miss—”

“You won’t.”

“But if I do…be ready.”

Gordon made up his mind. Turning in her direction, he swung his sword back, his intent to slice Liam in half.

Gabrielle’s arrow stopped him. Her aim was true, and the tip of the arrow cut through flesh and rib, piercing his black heart.

Seconds later the ground seemed to buckle beneath her feet as the Buchanans and their enemies clashed on the battlefield. The sound of metal slamming into metal was earsplitting. The killing had begun.

The pandemonium moved toward her. Gabrielle prayed that Liam MacHugh wouldn’t be trampled by horses or men before she could get to him. Blessedly, Christien and Faust made quick time and arrived at her side with the horses. Gabrielle climbed onto Rogue’s back and started toward the open field, pulling her cape over her head, hoping in the chaos that no one would see her.

Stephen blocked her. He knew what she wanted done. “Christien and I will see to the task. Lucien and Faust will take you back to the stream we crossed. Hurry, Princess. You must get away from here.” She didn’t waste time arguing. She prodded Rogue with her foot and headed back through the forest.

Moments later at the stream, Stephen and Christien caught up with them. Gabrielle thanked God they hadn’t gotten trapped by the battle.

“Is he alive?” She dismounted and rushed to Stephen’s side. Liam MacHugh was draped over his

steed’s saddle.

“He’s still breathing,” he answered.

“Hurry then. I know where we can get help.”

A
NOTHER GRISLY BATTLE CRY RENT THE AIR.TORTURED screams followed.

The MacHughs had joined the fight. Forming an impenetrable line, they advanced. The Buchanans followed their lead, and within minutes the two clans had trapped the enemy between them. They showed no mercy. It was an eye for an eye, and when it was over, the field was littered with bodies.

The frantic search for Liam MacHugh began then. Colm MacHugh leapt from his horse and ran to the hole the enemies had prepared for his brother. His relief was great when he saw the hole was empty.

There was only one body on the ground near the mound of dirt. Colm didn’t recognize him. He was studying the unusual markings on the arrow embedded in the man’s chest when Laird Brodick Buchanan joined him.