Ian (9 page)

Chapter 9

They would have made good time riding back to camp, but Ian saw his hound spot something in the thicket and he knew he needed to go back and investigate.

“We’re stoppin’
,” he called to Kyla who was up ahead. She heard him and doubled back on her horse.

“Why?” she asked. “If we’re goin’ te get there in time te help, we need te keep movin’.”

“Me hound spotted somethin’ in the thicket and I’m goin’ te go back and see what it was.”

“Another straggler?” she asked with wide eyes.

Ian had seen what he thought was an arm sticking out of the brush, and knew it had to be a body. He didn’t really want her to have to witness another dead body today, so he decided to send her in the opposite direction.

“Go water yer horse in the stream and wipe it down. We’ve been ridin’ hard and the horses need te rest.”

Kyla looked at the horse she was riding and ran a hand over its neck. “Nay, it’s fine,” she said.

“Jest do as I say,
Kyla. And keep yer ears and eyes open. Take Kyle with ye fer protection until I return.”

“I’ll come with ye.”

“Nay. I’ll be right across the road so jest shout if ye sense any trouble. Now jest do it already,” he growled, tired of her constantly challenging every decision he made.

“Fine,” she said
, then looked over to his hound. “Come on, Kyle, let’s go.” The hound looked up to him in question and Ian nodded his head.

“Go on, boy. Watch o’er her,” he said
, and the dog turned and led the way as they headed toward the creek.

Ian took off on horse
back to the spot he’d seen the dead body. He crossed the road and went a short distance into the woods and dismounted. Going to the spot his hound was sniffing earlier, sure enough he found a dead man behind a rock. His throat was slit. And then he saw something that had him very concerned. He gently turned the man’s head and saw the x on his cheek. It was the mark of the MacTavishes, not the MacGillivrays. He was sure of it. After all, he’d used it many times himself when he was living with the MacTavishes and went out on raids with them. It was the mark they’d used to instill fear on others.

His mind flashed back
to three years ago and the very last time he’d marked a body with this x. It was the day the darkness got so bad inside of him that he knew he had to leave the clan. That was the day he decided he never wanted to face the demons inside of himself again.

His mind took him back to Clan MacTavish. It was the d
ay after Tearlach had killed Ian’s wife and unborn child. He’d been released from his chains after his wife’s death, and he set out with revenge in his heart to kill the bastard who’d done this to him. He’d found Tearlach by himself. His back was toward him, and Ian hadn’t hesitated to plunge a sword into him, not even waiting for him to turn around so he could kill him face to face.

It was something he’d never done before, as Ian was a warrior and didn’t attack men from behind
who did not even have the chance to defend themselves. But then again, with the way Tearlach had killed Daghda, she hadn’t been able to defend herself either, so he figured the man deserved this. And then he’d flipped the bastard over and marked his cheek with the MacTavish x. And when he’d done that, he realized just what he’d become. No better than the rest of the clan. And he wasn’t proud of it by any means. He knew he’d made a mistake by marking him with the x, and also that if the clan found him, they’d kill him for what he’d done. He didn’t really care about his own life anymore, but he heard a voice in his head telling him that there was a clan who needed him. A place where he’d be welcome, and with people who saw the good in him, though he doubted that side of him had even existed anymore.

But the feeling was so strong that he needed to go back to the MacKeefes and the people he truly cared a
bout. He now regretted ever leaving them in the first place, searching for his roots and where he’d come from. So he’d buried Tearlach MacTavish’s body in a shallow grave, and left the clan that day, never looking back. And he’d been only too glad he hadn’t worn the MacKeefe tartan at the time, nor told them from where he’d come. And because of that, he knew the MacTavishes would have no reason to come looking for him at the MacKeefe camp.

He
was deep in his thoughts or he would have heard someone coming up behind him sooner. When he realized this, he jumped up and drew his sword. There, at the tip of his blade was a woman holding a young child to her chest, hiding the little girl’s eyes from the gruesome scene.

“Dinna hurt us,” the woman cried out. “Please, I beg ye, dinna kill us like they did te me husband.”

“I’m no’ goin’ te hurt ye,” he said, putting away his sword. “Who are ye and who did this?” he asked.

“I
am Annabel and I dinna ken who they were. I didna see them. But they jest came through the forest minutes ago.” The woman was young and very frightened and tears flowed from her eyes down her cheeks. “They took e’erythin’ o’ value and slit me husband’s throat. They woulda killed us too if we hadna been hidin’ in the woods. Me husband sent us there as soon as he heard them comin’.”

“I think I ken who this was,” said Ian. “Are ye or the bairn hurt?”

“Nay,” she said, her eyes settling on her husband once again. Such a look of sadness and despair he’d never seen. “I dinna ken what we’ll do without him.” She started crying again, and so did the little girl. It was obvious how lost they were now, and although he didn’t have time for this, he knew he couldn’t just leave them there, unprotected. He looked up and saw their small hut in the distance.

“Is there anyone else in there
?” he asked.

“Nay,” she answered. “We live alone in
the woods. I told Fergus it wasna safe, but he insisted we were.”

“Nay, ye’re no’ safe any more. No’ with t
he MacGillivrays on a rampage. Do ye at least have a horse, lassie?”

“Nay.
They stole thet too.”

“Is th
ere anyone close by ye can go stay with?”

“Nay.
No’ a soul.”

“Then
ye’ll come back with us te the MacKeefe camp,” came Kyla’s voice from behind him. He turned on his heel to see Kyla leading her horse straight for them, crossing the road. Her focus settled on the dead man and she stared at him for a moment and then looked away quickly.

“Aye,” Ian agreed, knowing he had no other choice.
“They’ll come with us. Kyla, get her and the bairn somethin’ te eat from our travelbags while I bury the body. As soon as I’m finished, we’ll continue on back te the MacKeefes.”

He looked down to the x on the man’s face again, not understanding any of this. Then he heard the call of the raven above him in the trees and a shudder ran through him. He felt that somehow this was only a sign of what was yet to come. And he knew deep down that though he’d ignored the demons in his head that had haunted him for the last three years, that somehow he once again was going to have to face them.

They’d had to travel much slower with the woman and
child along. And once again, Ian found himself sharing a horse with Kyla, as they’d let their new guests ride the other.

“So, Annabel
,” said Kyla, talking to the woman as they rode. “Dinna ye have any family or belong te a clan?”

“Nay, no’ any more,” she said from next to them. “
’Tis jest me and me daughter, now. A few years ago, me village was attacked and me husband decided we would go off on our own. Then Anna was born, and I started to be afeared thet we needed te be around other people. But me husband, Fergus, ne’er got o’er the fact o’ seeing all o’ our loved ones deid.”

“Who attacked yer village?” asked Kyla.

“I’m no’ sure who they were, but they marked the faces of the deid with an x, jest like they did te me husband.”

“I’ve seen thet same x afore,” said Kyla. “On the
face I saw in the Samhain fire.”

“Then ye’ve seen the face o’ the d
evil,” the woman told her, blessing herself as she said it.

“Nay,” said Kyla. “I’ve seen the face o’ the man I’m te marry.”

“Enough with all this clishmaclaver,” said Ian. “Do ye women always have te be talkin’?”

“I’m jest tryin’ te get te ken her, Ian,” said Kyla.

“What aboot yer family?” the woman asked.

“Well,” said Kyla, “
I have a brathair named Aidan. And I barely kent me parents, as me mathair died from fever when I was only six and me faither died a few years after thet when he fell from a horse.”

“I’m sorry,” said Annabel
. “And what aboot yer family, Ian? Do ye have any siblings and are yer parents still alive?”

“Enough o’ this noise,” Ian ground out, not wanting to be a part of this conversation.

“Ian ne’er kent his true family,” Kyla blurted out, answering for him. “He was raised by the MacKeefes when they found him as a bairn in the ruins o’ an auld castle. It seems his own mathair didna want him. And me mathair took a likin’ te him and raised him as her own, along with me and me brathair.”

Ian didn’t want to he
ar this story. Especially the part where his mother must not have wanted him and left him alone to die. This made him very upset, because though he was too young to remember what happened, he just couldn’t believe this could be true.

“Kyla, haud yer wheesht,” he warned her, but she just kept on going.

“So while we all grew up together, Ian always wondered aboot his true family, but he’s ne’er found out.”

“So ye’er like brathair and sister the two o’ ye?” the woman asked, only making him feel worse for what he’d done with Kyla.

“Nay,” said Kyla, looking up at him from the corner of her eye and grinning as she obviously thought about their secret. “We are no’ like brathair and sister at all.”

“Aye,” Ian
spat. “We are like brathair and sister and nothing’ more. Now I dinna want te hear another word aboot families or siblings again fer the rest o’ the journey.”

They were approaching MacKeefe territory and Ian knew it could be dangerous. The MacGillivrays could be there and in the midst of ra
iding them. It was too risky for him to just ride into camp with two women and a bairn. He knew he would have to continue alone until he found out if it was safe.

He stopped the horse. “Kyla, get off,”
he said. “Ye wait here with Annabel and the bairn. I’m goin’ te go ahead and make sure it’s safe afore I bring ye in there.”

And when he knew she was about to object, he put his hands around her waist and slid her off the horse himself.

“It’s no’ safe fer ye, either,” she told him.

“Jest wait here and keep me hound with ye,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”

Ian fully expected to see a battle taking place when he rode into camp, or mayhap the huts burned and the place ransacked. But it seemed to him that it was all still intact. And the MacGillivrays were nowhere in sight.

But then he looked over to the winte
r pasture and realized the thirty head of long-haired sheep were gone. His eyes shot upward toward the grazing hill, and he was relieved to see that the cattle were still there. Ian was going to bring them from pasture as soon as he’d returned from Glasgow. Now he was glad that he hadn’t done it yet, as if he had, they would have no livestock at all right now.

He dismounted, looking around carefully, seeing some of the MacKeefes in the distance and others around the fire. Clarista, their chieftain’s wife
. looked up and ran over to greet him.

“Ian, Kyla, I’m so glad to see you are not harmed.”

Hearing her say Kyla’s name, he turned to find Kyla once again disobeying his orders and leading the horse with Annabel and the bairn into camp. His hound was following at her side.

“What happened
here?” Ian asked, looking back toward Clarista.

“We were attacked by the MacGillivrays less than an hour ago,” she said.
“They had wagons and loaded them up with our supplies as well as stole all of our sheep.”

“We saw them on the road
heading this direction,” said Ian. “Has anyone been killed?”

“Nay,” said Clarista, “but we do have many wounded, so I am glad you’re here
. Kyla, we’re going to need your skills in healing.”

“I’ve brought a new bag o’ herbs,” she said, patting the bag slung over her shoulder. “I’ll get right to it.”

“I’ll help,” said Annabel, dismounting and taking her child with her.

“Who are you?” asked Clarista.

“This is Annabel and her daughter, Anna,” said Kyla. “Her husband was killed and she and her child have nowhere to go.”

“You’ll stay with us
then,” said Clarista, walking over and running a hand over the child’s hair. Clarista was the mother of the entire clan more or less, and welcomed anyone who was in need, with open arms.

“Clarista, where’s The MacKeefe?” asked
Ian, referring to the woman’s husband, and Storm’s father – the chieftain of the clan.