The Warrior Trainer (30 page)

   "What did he say?" Ian prompted.

   He brought his gaze back to Ian's. "He said, 'Give me the Stone and the woman who guards it. The terror will end only when I have the Stone.'"

  
The woman who guards it. Scotia
. Ian frowned, suddenly not liking the progression of his thoughts.

   "What direction did they head when they left here?" Griffin asked.

   "North."

   North. Toward Scotia. And south. Toward his clan.

   A fist of fear closed around Ian's heart, making it difficult to breathe. Scotia was alone in her castle without seasoned warriors to protect her. His clan would be attacked.

   Two places he needed to be, and at the very same time. But how? He was only one man. How would he ever choose between them?

   He clenched his fists at his sides as the image of his hands ripping apart the Horsemen, flesh from bone, filled his mind.

  
Perch like a bird
. The thought came out of nowhere, acting like a salve to his tormented soul. One of Scotia's earliest lessons. Sometimes a warrior must perch and think before he reacts. Ian closed his eyes in an effort to block out the disquiet of his mind. He needed to think clearly. To find a solution.

   A hand came to rest upon his shoulder. "Are you all right, Ian?" Griffin asked.

   With sudden clarity, Ian knew his answer. He opened his eyes and turned to face his brother.

   Griffin stared at him with concern. "Ian?"

   The two had been lifelong rivals, but this day would change all that. This day they would join forces and let the past blur into utter insignificance. "Griffin, you must journey on to the clan. You are their hope, and their protection. Take all of the Ranald warriors with you except Keith and four others. The rest will help you to keep the clan safe."

   His brother's eyes widened. "And what about this revenge of yours?"

   "Avenging a dead man hardly seems more worthwhile than protecting the living."

   Griffin's brow shot up. "All the living, or one woman in particular?"

   "She is alone in her castle, Griffin. Unprotected except for a few inexperienced warriors. I want to offer what little help I can to keep her safe."

   "I know we have had our differences, and for that I apologize," Griffin said, his voice uneven, his gaze troubled. "I know now that you are as good, or better, than any man in Scotland."

   "There is no time to explore those dark roads now, Griffin."

   Griffin regarded him with something close to fondness. "You are a good man, Ian."

   "As are you. Now go." Ian turned the conversation away from himself. "Return to the clan. I trust you to do what is needed for our clan. You have studied with Scotia. You know her lessons. Protect them well. And if there is time, teach the others as she has taught you."

   Griffin's expression turned from surprise to sadness before he dipped his head. "I did not learn the lessons well. I fear I let my pride rule my head."

   "Sometimes those things that make us weak are also the things that make us strong. Remember that. This is your time to prove yourself, Griffin. Make it count."

   Griffin studied Ian's face in silence before a slow and thoughtful grin came to his lips. "I think I finally understand why I disliked you for so long." He sighed, the sound filled with a touch of humor. "You always accepted your weaknesses, where I could not accept mine. It seems so simple now." His gaze changed, filled with remorse. "All those years ..."

   "They matter naught," Ian said.

   Griffin pulled his shoulders back, his bearing tall and proud. "I shall guard Father, and all the clan, with my life."

   Ian smiled. "I know." And he meant the words.

   Griffin returned his smile. "Go to Scotia. From the beginning it was obvious Father picked the right man to send to her for training. She needed you as much as you needed her."

   Ian's smile faded. She needed his help right now to protect her from the White Horseman; he would not deny that truth. But anything more ... He could not consider anything more. "God be with you, brother," Ian said, anxious now to be on his way.

   Griffin reached out to clap Ian on the shoulder. Their first physical contact that had not come from anger. Griffin did not pull his hand away. Instead it lingered there. His features became pinched, then eased as if he had wrestled with something and come to a decision. "God be with you, brother," he said slowly, emphasizing the last word.

   The word brought a flush of warmth to Ian's soul. He put his hand over Griffin's. "Until we meet again."

   Griffin nodded, then turned away to mount his horse. Ian watched as his brother, followed by thirteen of the Ranald men, disappeared through the smoky haze of the burned-out village. The MacKinnon clan would be safe in Griffin's care.

   The two men from the village watched as Griffin and the others rode away. "They'll need God's mercy and His help to overcome the demons like those that rode through here," the younger man said.

   Hector faced Ian. "Are you heading to the northwestern isles to face the Horsemen there?"

   "Aye." Ian nodded to Keith Ranald and the other four warriors who had remained with him. Together, they strode to their horses and swung up into their saddles, united by their purpose. They would return to the Isle of Skye to help defend Scotia and her people. But would they be enough to defend a whole castle from even two of the notorious Horsemen? Could they gain the edge they needed to win in battle?

   His chances would be better if he had just a few more men. Ian turned to Hector. "Would you and the others be willing to go with me, back to Glencarron Castle, back into battle with the Horsemen in order to end their tyranny, once and for all?"

   Hector paled. "Nay. I must try to help those who are injured and rebuild what we can."

   "I'm with ye." The young man beside Hector unsheathed his sword. "There are others here who will help put an end to their destruction."

   "I am grateful for your help," Ian said. "How soon can you be ready to ride?"

   "Not long. We have no supplies to gather, only ourselves and our horses."

   Ian nodded as the younger man hurried away. He would return to Glencarron Castle to fight his enemy. But it was not the only reason for going back. He had tried his damnedest to ignore the power Scotia held over him. But no matter how hard he tried to remove himself from his feelings, she pulled him back.

   There was no other woman like her in all of Scotland. Ian smiled wistfully at the memory of their first battle. Within the space of two heartbeats he had found himself wrapped in her cords of leather, flat on his back with her sword at his throat. Truly a prize among women.

   When the men were ready, Ian turned his horse around and led the fifteen men who had joined him along with Keith Ranald back down the path he and Griffin had traveled a short while ago. Encouraging his horse into a faster gait, Ian scanned the glen ahead for signs of the Horsemen. He and Griffin had seen no evidence of their presence when they had traveled this way before. But they could have missed their approach between the rugged terrain that stretched across the Highlands.

   He had to hurry back to Scotia as quickly as possible. He never should have left her. He knew that now. He would have spent every moment of every day for the rest of his life thinking about her, worrying for her safety, wondering how she fared in these troubled times. Why had it taken a threat from the Horsemen to make him see that revenge was not as worthy a goal as protecting those you cared about?

   He did care. Perhaps a bit more than he should, given who he was when compared to the enormity of Scotia and her role as guardian of the Stone.

   Her role as guardian put her at risk now, not her role as the Trainer. Ian dug his heels into his horse's sides, impatient to go faster. Time was of the essence if he was to get to her before the White Horseman did.

Chapter Twenty-five

   A rush of joy filled Ian despite his weariness when the pale gray towers of Glencarron Castle came into view against the backdrop of the morning sky. He and the warriors with him had ridden hard all night to reach Scotia as fast as possible. With a hungry gaze he searched the parapets for a glimpse of her. He cared not whether her face filled with anger or delight when she saw him. Just to see she was safe would be enough for him.

   Yet he caught no sight of her reddish-brown hair. Or any of the guards, for that matter. The towers of the castle appeared as deserted as they had when he had first approached her castle. Ian dropped his gaze to the gate. It stood wide open, with no one in sight.

   Alarmed, he pushed his horse into a full gallop. The thunder of hoofbeats matched the pounding of his heart. Had they arrived too late?

   At the gate, Ian dismounted before the horse came to a full stop. The other men followed suit. Everywhere there was silence. Ian's heart seemed to freeze, but not his feet.

   He was running even before the thought to do so formed in his mind.

   "Scotia!" The exclamation was part greeting, part battle cry.

   He skidded to a halt just inside the door of the great hall with his men at his heels. Their breathing seemed overly loud and out of place in the emptiness of the chamber. "Scotia!" Ian searched the room for signs of struggle, conflict, blood, anything to indicate what might have happened.

   "Ye will not find her here." Maisie's voice came from behind him.

   Ian spun around, his heart in his throat. "Where is she?"

   "Fulfillin' her obligations." A deep sorrow weighed down Maisie's appearance, making her look older, more tired, more feeble than ever before.

   "Speak plainly, I beg you." Ian strode toward Maisie and took the older woman's chilled hands in his own. "Where has she gone?"

   "To a village nearby to set a trap for the Horsemen."

Ian's breath stilled in his chest. "Alone?"

   "Nay," Maisie said as she pulled her hands from his. "She took many of the guards, one of her scoutin' patrols, and Burke."

   Ian shook his head as he tried to make sense of this turn of events. "Why?"

   Maisie's look darkened. "When ye left, she decided she belonged among her people, not locked inside a castle any longer."

  
Ian released an inarticulate sound. "Damn her bravery. The White Horseman could be anywhere."

   Maisie's brow shot up. "Such concern from a man who passed her love over for the sake of revenge."

   "I had no choice," Ian said through gritted teeth. "But I have returned."

   "For good?" Maisie's face brightened as her mood shifted from accusing to curious.

   "I cannot tell the future, Maisie. None of us can." Ian pushed his fingers through his hair, suddenly feeling restless, filled with the need for action despite his exhaustion. "Where has she gone? Do you know?"

   "Aye. She has gone to a small village nestled at the base of the Cullin Hills just across the isle to the south."

   And most likely in the direct path of the White Horseman's approach. "How long ago did she leave
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