Legacy of the Mist Clans Box Set (69 page)

A sob escaped her, and her tears renewed with vicious agony. She huddled against the wall, alone and terrified. She shivered violently, a terrible chill settling in the pit of her gut. She would surely catch her death out here. She no longer cared. What did it matter if she died?

Ne’er alone, my little sparrow. I may be leaving upon the morrow, but if ye ever need me, send word, and I will be there,
Aidan’s voice whispered.

Kenna lowered her head, sobbing bitterly. Raven had mentioned there was a way to send word to Aidan, but she had never explained it in its entirety. God, where was he? She needed him now more than ever, but how could she find him? She didn’t even know where to meet Gordy.

Try as she might, she could think of nothing.

Worthless! Useless!
her father’s voice resounded in her head. She flinched, pain ripping anew at her heart.

Why did they murder Raven?

Kenna desperately wished she had been the one they had slain. But she wasn’t dead. She was the only one remaining. She was the only one who knew Raven had been murdered.

Kenna blinked and lifted her head. Except for Mairi. If Kenna could find her, Mairi would have the answers she sought.

A voice in her heart kept screaming the same question. What did it matter if she died?

Who would bury her sister?

Kenna’s gaze landed on the pile of rubble she had disturbed when she pulled the canvas from it, the rubble where they had secreted their weapons and their earnings. She would see to it that Raven was buried properly on consecrated ground.

Her gaze locked on the hilt of one of her biodags, sparkling between a gap in the pile of stones. That shimmer of steel caught and held her attention. The memory of Edana’s death hovered in her thoughts as well as her words to Aidan. She hadn’t known how to fight then . . . but now . . . now everything was different.

What did it matter if she died?

Who would avenge Raven’s murder?

A spark of anger ignited within her at the thought that these bastards would again kill a person who Kenna held dear. The anger within her burned, smoldering into fury and hate, chasing away the chill possessing her.

It mattered that she live. Aye. It mattered very much.

March 1307

W
hat?” Aidan roared, fear cutting through him. “What do ye mean neither of them arrived?”

Exactly what I said,” Gordy replied tightly. “I couldna locate Sparrow or Raven.”

Aidan shoved Gordy into his brother’s solar and slammed the door closed. Fortunately, Ronan had given Aidan leave to use it when he wasn’t, and he and Lia were in the great hall doting over their new bairn. It was the only place in the keep he could speak with Gordy with any real privacy.

“Aidan, there be more,” Gordy said softly.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered, not liking the worry he saw in the man’s eyes. He strode to the table, but instead of reaching for the wine bottle, he grabbed the whiskey and poured two small glasses. He sat at the table and gestured for Gordy to do the same.

“I waited for three days, but when neither of them appeared, I went looking.”

Terror clawed at his mind but he forced it back and downed the whiskey in one belt, pouring himself another. “And?” he asked hoarsely.

“They havena been seen at the tavern in at least a fortnight.”

“They no longer work there?” Aidan scowled. Raven would not be willing to give up such a valuable resource of information, and she would have taught Kenna the same.

Gordy shook his head. “I thought it prudent tae investigate. I heard rumor of where they lived. Aidan, the place had been burnt tae the ground.”

Aidan’s heart dropped to his boots. For a minute, anguish seized his mind so completely he couldn’t think straight. Not his beautiful little sparrow. Nay! She had overcome too much to be lost so terribly. And Raven, sweet mother have mercy, what had happened?

“Fetch Connell,” Aidan said tightly. “Tell him we leave at first light. I will need ye—”

“Tae remain and deliver news tae yer brother. But are ye certain, young MacGrigor? Now mayna be a good time tae leave. There are many who believe the Bruce has returned and will give Longshanks a run.”

Aidan downed his second drink. “I’ve got tae ken, Gordy,” he growled. “I’ve got tae ken if they be alive or dead.”

HHH

Aidan nearly killed his horse traveling to the shire south of Glen Trool. Connell kept pace without complaint, and they managed the journey in four days instead of a sennight. He arrived at the tavern and once again spoke to the owner, hearing the same story Gordy had told him. No one had seen either of them. No one knew where they were.

Before the last of the daylight abandoned him, Aidan located the burned hut Gordy had told him about. His heart twisted as he gazed upon the blackened shell. Connell scowled and prowled around the outside while Aidan entered. There was nothing left, only ash and soot. He saw a burned chemise and next to it a plaid that looked so very familiar. Crouching, he picked up a burned piece of cloak that had once been his. He had wrapped it around his little sparrow that first night. Unexpected tears blurred his eyes. Nay! They could not be dead.

“Aidan,” Connell barked.

Desperate for any sort of hope, Aidan bounded to his feet, still carrying the scrap of his old cloak. As Aidan rounded the corner, Connell’s gaze locked on the plaid, and he swallowed hard.

“Look,” he said and pointed. Next to the wall of the husk, protected from the weather, Aidan saw a faint print of a man’s boot. He crouched and studied it. “Look at the heel,” Connell growled.

About an inch behind the heel was a deep, round indentation. It took him a moment, but then he realized what it was. “A spur. Knights-errant,” he spat.

Holy hell! The bastards had returned?

“Surely, they would have pursued me for vengeance.” But his voice sounded strained and desperate even to himself.

He rose and again looked around. There had to be a clue, a sign that they had escaped. His gaze landed on a ruined keep in the distance, barely visible in the fading light.

“Connell,” he said and pointed.

Connell’s gaze followed his outstretched arm, and he arched an eyebrow. “Aye,” he said. “Seems as good a place as any tae start looking.”

The sun had set by the time they reached the keep, and the glow in the western sky was vanishing rapidly. But it was still enough for Aidan to see. He entered and started at the crows and carrion birds that exploded from the nooks and crannies of the ruined rooftop.

He looked around and at first saw only piles of rubble and broken stone, but then a dark area in the middle of the dirt floor caught his eye. He crouched to examine it and noticed the spot had been almost obliterated by the talons of scratching carrion birds. Then he suddenly realized what he stared at. “Blood,” he growled, his heart turning cold. “And a lot of it.”

“Aye,” Connell said, frowning. “But no bodies.”

“There be nothing here.”

“Wait,” Connell said, moving over more fallen debris to a canvas that had been draped over the corner. It also bore a dark stain. Connell moved it aside. There, Aidan spotted not more rubble but a tiny pallet now covered in dirt. It had not been used in some time, but judging by the amount of dirt, it had not been long abandoned either. In the dirt next to it was a small boot print, just about the size of his hand. His heart raced. Could it be? His sparrow was a wee lassie, but Raven was not much larger than she. Judging by the blood stain on the ground, he feared one of them dead, but which one? Who had survived? Where had she gone?

“Methinks at least one of them be alive,” Connell said.

“Aye, but where do we start looking?” He thought furiously for a moment, trying to shove aside his grief and fear. If one had died and one had survived . . . 

He looked up at the ruins of the keep. An idea pushed its way forward and he turned on his heel, returning to what had once been the bailey. God’s wounds! He was losing the light too quickly. But his gaze searched the area, and he spotted what appeared to be a straight line of broken stones that marked what had once been a short wall. He hurried toward it and spotted a few toppled and cracked headstones, proving his suspicions. It was the keep’s cemetery.

A pace away, he saw a lone wooden cross, the only one still standing. At its base was a handful of long dead flowers and disturbed earth from a recently dug grave. Blinking rapidly as tears threatened to blur his vision even more, he crouched before the cross and studied it. There were letters in the wood, appearing as if they had been hastily carved, perhaps with a tip of a dagger. Unable to see clearly, he touched his fingers to the wood and lightly traced over the letters.

RAVEN.

He squeezed his eyes closed as a tear escaped and trickled down his cheek. “Nay,” he murmured. A confusing maelstrom of emotions battered his heart. He grieved terribly realizing Raven was dead, but hope also grew within him. Someone had cared enough to bury her. Someone had cared enough to place her body in the consecrated ground of the castle’s cemetery. Someone had cared enough to give her a marker . . . that someone had also carved the name he had given a bonny lass with long black hair . . . and he knew...

Kenna still lived.

Connell stepped up behind him.

Aidan rose, hastily wiping away the remaining tears that had gathered on his lashes, and faced his friend. “It be Raven who died.”

Connell gripped his shoulder. “I am sorry, Aidan.”

He sucked in a deep breath, trying to master the grief within him. “Kenna,” he said hoarsely. “It had tae be Kenna who buried her.”

“Aye.”

“I promised her—” His voice cracked and he tried again. “I told her tae send word. I promised I would be there for her. Why didn’t she wait, Connell? Where has she gone?”

Connell remained silent a long moment. “The wee lassie has lost much at the hands of these bastards.”

Aidan’s thoughts scrambled. “Aye, but in her messages, Raven told me Kenna was learning well how tae fight. She had tae be the one who buried Raven, so we ken they werena able tae take her.” Suddenly, a greater terror clamped around his heart, he blinked, and his eyes widened. “Oh nay,” he whispered. “She’s gone after the whoresons.”

Connell looked at him, startled, but then he nodded.

“So if we find the knights-errant—”

“We find Kenna,” Connell finished for him.

HHH

Aidan returned to the inn hoping to learn the rumors of where the knights-errant were now. They had moved north, closer to Glen Trool, but were still plaguing the roads and not approaching the township.

He rebuked himself for failing to slay Hurstal. Now the bastard had reformed his group, and his numbers were greater than before. He had exacted his vengeance not on Aidan but on lasses who Aidan held dear. Aidan vowed to cut out Hurstal’s entrails for that.

Aidan wanted to leave immediately, but Connell proved to be the voice of reason. The horses needed to rest and so did they, especially if they were going to come face-to-face with a group of brigands who most likely outnumbered them again.

Upon the dawn, they rode north, but the weather worsened, raining heavily and turning the muddy, rutted road into a slushy, slippery mess.

Another shire lay in the shadow of the small township. The villages around Glen Trool were more like outlying farming communities. Many of them had the basics: a small market, a blacksmith, and an inn usually managed by a farming family. If the brigands had moved in this direction, Aidan would surely hear of it. The small community would have to rely solely on the justiciar from Glen Trool for protection and would likely not fare any better than Raven’s township.

Every village, no matter how small, had some sort of watering hole for the working men. Aidan and Connell found it easily enough. It was midafternoon and the rain was worsening. Aidan knew it was unlikely he and Connell could join the group unobtrusively, but if the knights-errant were proving enough of a problem, the villagers might welcome outside attention, especially since it was doubtful they had received any from the justiciar.

As it was, Aidan walked through the door and recognized two people from Raven’s village. Apparently, they had relocated to escape the trouble, but it had followed them. Still, he was grateful as he and Connell received a warm welcome, and he spoke to a few helpful souls.

The sun descended, darkness claiming the land, and the rain grew worse. “The villagers arena sure where the brigands are hiding,” Connell said.

“Aye,” Aidan agreed. “But most believe they are camped east of here.”

Connell nodded. “If not there then in a nearby glade tae the west. Heavy trees provide shelter, and the river forms a natural defense.”

“Ye check east, Connell, I’ll go west.”

“Forgive me, young MacGrigor, but I dinna think it wise we separate.”

“There’s no way tae ken if Kenna be about. I asked if any had spotted a short lad, but they hadna noticed, and Kenna wouldna make her presence obvious. So we simply need tae find the brigands, and then we can meet back here. From there, we can determine a plan.”

“Verra well,” Connell said and strode into the darkness.

Aidan watched him disappear down the trail, then he too vanished into the night.

HHH

Kenna silently opened the door to the old barn, listening intently. A few sleepy horses nickered at her and a cow lowed softly. Although it was old, at least the barn was warm and dry. Kenna quickly stepped inside and closed the door behind her, holding her lantern aloft as she searched.

She counted herself fortunate that someone had taken notice of a lassie with a bairn asking for work from some of the nearby farmsteads. With the foul weather, Kenna knew Mairi would seek shelter and had started checking barns and outbuildings.

Kenna heard Adam’s soft burble as she stepped around a corner and peered into an empty stall. Mairi, her dark eyes wide and her face pale, gazed at her fearfully. “M-milady?”

Kenna breathed a sigh of relief and lowered the lantern. “Blessed saints, Mairi, are ye all right?” She reached for her with her free hand.

Mairi rushed forward, clinging to Adam and crying. “Raven?” she gasped.

“Is gone,” Kenna said, fighting down her own grief as Mairi sobbed against her. “I had a devil of a time finding ye. What happened?”

“Hurstal returned. I vow I didna ken they followed me.”

“Slow down,” Kenna said, patting her shoulder. She moved deeper into the stall. “Sit and tell me what happened. What do ye mean they followed ye?”

Mairi returned to the straw and Kenna sat next to her. She cleared away some straw, revealing dirt, and deposited her lantern, lowering the flame so it was a soft glow.

“Not long after ye left for the inn,” Mairi said, “Raven heard the sound of horses approaching. She spotted Hurstal. Said he had even more men than before.” She drew a deep breath, tears continuing to leak down her cheeks. “She told me tae run, milady. I vow I never would have left her tae face the brigands alone. But she wouldna hear of it. She faced them on her own with nothing more than kitchen knives.”

Kenna swallowed hard, her own tears burning her eyes. But aye, Raven would not abide Mairi and her bairn in danger.

“I escaped with Adam while Hurstal trapped Raven in the hut and set it ablaze.” She hesitated, holding Adam close and rubbing her cheek against the soft fuzz of his head.

Kenna drew a deep breath into her lungs and gently gripped Mairi’s hand. “Why are they hunting ye?”

Mairi took a breath to reply when Kenna heard the distant hoofbeats of galloping horses. She lurched to her feet and hurried to the door, peering into the darkness. Lightning flashed in the distant sky, and wind from the approaching storm whipped the trees. In the distance, she saw three bobbing torches. Men on horses rode hard toward the barn.

“God’s wounds,” she snarled. If she could locate Mairi simply by asking around, so could Hurstal and his men. She could not say if Hurstal was among them but was grateful she saw only three. She turned back to Mairi. “They found us again. Move! Now!” She scooped up the lantern, doused the flame completely, and led Mairi to the back of the barn.

“Mairi, no matter what happens, ye run. Do ye hear me?”

“Please, milady,” she whispered. “Please dinna let them kill ye.”