Chapter 18

I zzy’s throat was sore from bellowing at Emeric to stop the horse. So far, her hollering had had no effect and the dratted man had resolutely kept the horse galloping away from Eamon McRae and his men.

Away from Magnus.

She’d tried to squirm her way free. She’d tried fury. She’d tried tears. Nothing had worked. Though not as big as Magnus, Emeric was almost as strong, and the arm he kept clamped around her middle felt like iron.

“We can’t just leave him!” she cried, desperation in her voice. “Please stop!”

She expected to be ignored as she’d been for the duration of this hellish dash, so she was mighty surprised when Emeric yelled a command to his men and they guided their horses from a gallop to a trot and then finally to a halt. Emeric pulled his horse around and stared back the way they’d come. There was nothing in sight. Around them, the valley through which they’d been traveling seemed empty of life except for a flock of wooly sheep grazing high on one of the valley’s steep sides.

Izzy stared into the distance, hoping against hope to see Magnus come riding after them. But he didn’t. The road behind remained stubbornly empty.

Emeric swung his leg over the horse and then jumped to the ground. He held up his hand to help Izzy down and she did so gratefully, her legs buckling as she hit the ground. She landed in a heap and made no move to get up. She felt like she had no strength left.

Snaffles, hot and panting from his efforts to keep up with the horses, flopped down next to her, tongue hanging out and lips pulled back as he tried to catch his breath. With his injured leg and bandaged middle, he’d fallen behind many times, but he hadn’t given up and managed to catch them during the brief moments when they’d stopped to rest the horses.

“You’re a good boy,” she murmured, stroking his head. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

Behind her, Emeric was busy giving orders. Some of his men had dismounted but two others had ridden ahead and more were busy scanning the ground, just as Izzy had seen Magnus do.

She heaved herself to her feet. “We have to go back,” she said, grabbing Emeric’s arm. “We can’t just leave him there!”

Emeric turned to her. His eyes were bright with anger and pain and she realized that she was not the only one torn in half by leaving Magnus behind.

“I’m sorry, Isabelle,” he said. “But we canna go back, not yet.”

Izzy pulled away from him, wrapping her arms tightly around herself as if the cold wind had finally started to seep into her bones. “You’re abandoning him,” she accused, her voice choked with tears.

“I am not abandoning anyone!” Emeric’s voice was sharp. “Magnus made his choice, Isabelle. He stayed back to give us a chance to escape. ”

“He did it for me,” Izzy whispered, heart heavy with guilt and sorrow.

Emeric placed a rough hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently. “Aye,” he confirmed. “He did it for ye—and that was his choice.”

“But...but...” Izzy said, wringing her hands with helplessness. “McRae will hurt him, I know it. He hates Magnus for what he did to him.”

“What Magnus did to him ?” Emeric said, looking startled.

Izzy nodded. “Magnus told me everything. How he hurt McRae and so his old mentor turned against him and wants revenge.”

To her surprise, Emeric let out a harsh laugh. “I’ll bet he did! Oh, Magnus, will ye ever stop blaming yerself for other people’s decisions?”

“What do you mean?”

Emeric sighed, shaking his head. “I’m sure Magnus told ye a version of what happened between him and McRae, the events as he sees them. But that isnae the only version, and certainly not the version that myself and others who were there saw.” He cocked his head at Izzy. “He told ye of how his parents died and he was taken to the monastery, aye?”

“Yes, and how Eamon McRae took him in.”

“Aye, he did, and for that Magnus worshipped him, felt he owed him a debt, and refused to see the truth.”

“The truth?”

“That Eamon McRae was never the benevolent savior that Magnus thought he was. Eamon McRae was always a ruthless bastard and when he saw Magnus at the monastery, he saw a lost lad with unusual strength and skill who needed guidance. Someone who could be molded to his use. Eamon McRae didnae take Magnus in from the goodness of his heart but because he wanted to use him. He wanted to turn him into a killer, a thug who would do his bidding without question.”

“But...but that’s not what Magnus says,” Izzy replied. “He says McRae was a good man right up until the accident.”

Emeric snorted. “Like I said, Magnus’s view is distorted somewhat. He was so grateful to McRae that he was unable to see the truth. McRae’s plans didnae work out the way he wanted. Aye, Magnus became the formidable warrior that McRae wanted him to, but obedient thug he was not. He wanted to go another way. He wanted to join the Order of the Osprey.”

Izzy frowned, thinking this through. “Magnus said he and McRae argued. Is that what they argued about? Him joining the Order?”

Emeric nodded. “Magnus left Dun Crogan and came to Dun Saith where he met myself and others who were new to training. We bonded immediately and when we were informed by our commanders that we’d passed all the tests and would be admitted into the Order, it was the proudest day of all our lives. Magnus wished to ride home to Dun Crogan to tell Eamon McRae, certain he would be pleased. Myself and Kai Stewart, our sword-brother and commander, went with him.”

“As we approached the castle, Magnus was all excitement and joy. He expected McRae to be proud, perhaps even share a toast in celebration of his achievement. But when he told McRae that he was joining the Order...” Emeric’s voice trailed off, and for an instant, he seemed lost in memory.

“McRae couldnae believe that Magnus had chosen the Order over him,” Emeric continued. “He had planned to use Magnus as his personal weapon and suddenly here he was, slipping out of his grasp. To McRae that was the ultimate betrayal. In a rage, McRae attacked Magnus. It was a brutal fight. McRae was an experienced warrior, skilled and cunning. He had taught Magnus much of what he knew but not everything. Magnus was younger, faster, stronger. And he fought with the desperation of a man who had just found something to live for. I remember his face during that fight—fierce, determined, yet filled with sorrow for having to raise his sword against his mentor.

“Then it happened. In the midst of their duel, McRae lunged towards Magnus but he parried the attack and it threw McRae off balance,” Emeric’s voice dropped low as if the memory was still painful to recount.

“McRae stumbled backwards...right into one of the old wooden beams that supported the ramshackle barn that once filled the northern quarter of Dun Crogan’s bailey. I still remember the noise as McRae hit that beam—it isnae a noise ye are likely to forget. It snapped and brought the roof down—right on top of McRae.”

Izzy gasped, her hands going to her mouth. She had seen no barn in Dun Crogan’s bailey and now knew why—it had been destroyed in the accident that crippled Eamon McRae.

“We all helped in digging him out,” Emeric continued. “And for a wonder, he was pulled out alive. It might have been better for everyone if he hadnae. ”

“So that’s when Magnus left? He went back to Dun Saith with you to join the Order?”

Emeric shook his head. “Nay. Magnus was riddled with guilt and insisted on staying at Dun Crogan and nursing McRae back to health. And he did. The man was unconscious for weeks but Magnus didnae leave his side. We all thought it futile. We all thought McRae would die. But it seems Magnus knew the old bastard better than any of us and he finally woke up and began to heal. But he was different. The head wound changed him. He had been a bastard before, but now he was twisted and cruel as well. When he was well enough, he threw Magnus out of Dun Crogan and swore vengeance against him for his betrayal. It’s only then that Magnus came to Dun Saith and joined the Order.”

Emeric fell silent and Izzy blinked, trying to process everything she’d just learned. Her heart ached for Magnus, for the boy he’d once been. He’d desperately been looking for a home since he’d lost his parents, first at the monastery and then at Dun Crogan. What must it have been like for him to feel he was responsible for losing that too? How must it have been for him all these years seeing the man he regarded as his foster-father become someone he didn’t recognize, someone who hated him? She couldn’t imagine. Her own family were distant and disinterested, but they were not cruel.

“He still blames himself,” Izzy said, remembering him taking a beating from that villager. “He thinks he’s responsible for what McRae is doing now.”

Emeric nodded. “I know. Nothing else could drive him to abandon the Order the way he did.” He looked away as one of his men came riding up. “Well?” Emeric demanded as the man pulled up his horse. “Any sign?”

“I doubled back as ye commanded,” the man said. “They aren’t following or heading back to Dun Crogan. I followed their tracks until I was sure where they were going.”

“Wait,” Izzy said. “You’ve sent out scouts to track Magnus? You were planning on rescuing him all along?”

“Of course,” Emeric replied. “Do ye think I would leave my sword-brother in McRae’s hands?”

“Then I’m coming with you!”

“Ye are not. I have another squad riding to meet us as we speak. When they arrive, some of them will take ye to Dun Saith. The rest of us will go after Magnus.”

Izzy ground her teeth in fury.

“Where are they headed?” Emeric asked his scout.

The man shifted uncomfortably. “They’ve taken Magnus into the Dragon’s Back.”

Emeric cursed under his breath. “That’s the last thing we need. We canna track them there—the terrain is too difficult.”

The rider shrugged, a grimace of resignation on his face. “Aye,” he agreed. “But it’s clear that’s where they’re headed. I saw signs of a struggle at the foot of the pass—it seems Magnus didnae go willingly.”

Izzy felt a sick knot of fear in her stomach as Emeric stared into the distance, towards where the ground began to rise into the formidable peaks and ridges of the Dragon’s Back.

“Then we have to go in after him. ”

“McRae isnae stupid,” Emeric replied. “There’s a reason he’s taken Magnus there. It’s because he knows we canna track him. That place is a maze to those who dinna know it. We’d never find them. The Order has only a handful of trackers who know the Dragon’s Back well enough to travel there safely—and none of them are here.” He shook his head. “We’ll have to send word to Dun Saith to send one of those trackers to us.”

“But that will take too long! Anything could have happened to him by then!”

“There is no choice, lass.”

“Yes there is. I can do it.”

Emeric blinked. “Ye can do what?”

“Lead you into the Dragon’s Back. I know it. I hike up there regularly.”

Emeric frowned, studying Izzy’s face, the dubious flicker in his eyes deepening into a puzzled curiosity. “Ye’ve been to the Dragon’s Back? Lass, the Dragon’s Back is no place for—”

“I know what it is!” Izzy snapped. “I know the Dragon’s Back better than anyone else here. I’ve been exploring it for the last year or more.”

There was a long pause as Emeric studied her, his gaze indecipherable. Then he drew a slow breath and exhaled. “McRae will have his best fighters with him. We canna move until our reinforcements reach us.”

“There isn’t time to wait!”

“Then what do ye suggest, lass? I wish to save Magnus as much as ye do, but engaging a force with far superior numbers on hostile territory is madness. Unless ye can magic fifty fighters out of thin air, then we wait until our reinforcements arrive. They should be here by tomorrow morning.”

Izzy clenched her fists. Tomorrow morning? It might be too late by then! They might be hurting Magnus right now! She had to do something!

A sudden thought flashed through Izzy’s mind, an idea so audacious it made her heart pound. She turned away from Emeric, her gaze sweeping over the landscape, a panorama of undulating hills and heather-clad moors, until she spotted what she was looking for—a distinctive rocky outcrop and the settlement that nestled nearby.

Yes. There it was. Her plan solidified in her mind.

Emeric wanted fighters? Well, what better fighters than ones who’d already been victims of McRae’s brutality and would want revenge? What better fighters than those who lived close to the Dragon’s Back and so would know it as intimately as McRae’s outlaws? What better fighters than those who would be fighting for their homes and loved ones?

“I know where we can get some fighters,” Izzy said, surprising herself with the calm steadiness of her voice. Emeric looked at her quizzically and Izzy quickly explained her plan.

Emeric looked skeptical. “They are not trained warriors.”

“No, but they’re strong and brave. And more importantly, they’re angry. They’ll fight to protect their homes and loved ones. And if its numbers superiority you want, this is how to get it.”

Emeric was silent. His gaze was still skeptical, but there was something else in his eyes now, a hint of consideration .

“It’s a risky plan,” he said at last. His tone was not dismissive, though, but thoughtful. “But desperate times call for desperate measures.”

“Exactly,” Izzy pressed on. “We need more men and we need them fast. This is the only way.”

Emeric sighed heavily, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “All right,” he said at last. “We’ll try yer plan.”

He called over the scout and quickly outlined the plan. The scout would ride to the settlement Izzy had pointed out and pass on a message Izzy made him memorize. If all went well, the scout would meet them in the Dragon’s Back.

“We’ll leave markers so ye can follow our trail.”

“And Snaffles can track Magnus,” Izzy added.

Emeric looked taken aback. “Snaffles?”

“He might not look it, but he’s an excellent tracker and he already knows Magnus’s scent. I’ll be your guide. Snaffles will be your tracker. What else do you need?”

“My head examining for even considering this,” Emeric growled. Then he sighed and threw up his hands. “Fine. Mount up, everyone! We’re heading out!”

MAGNUS’S GUARD PRODDED him in the back with the butt-end of his spear so hard that Magnus stumbled. He whirled. “Do that again, and I’ll ram that bloody spear up yer arse!”

The McRae guard grinned. “Aye? I’d like to see ye try.”

Magnus ground his teeth, turned around, and carried on walking. It was an empty threat and they both knew it. Magnus’s hands were securely bound in front of him and this time he couldn’t snap the thick ropes, no matter how hard he tried.

To calm the fury rampaging through him, he concentrated on his surroundings. They had left the horses and wagon some time ago as the terrain was not fit for either, and had begun steadily climbing into the troughs and gullies, the rocky ravines and cliffs of the Dragon’s Back.

The terrain wasn’t fit for an aging, half-crippled lord either, Magnus reflected. He had been as surprised as anyone when the seat of McRae’s wagon had been lifted out, long poles slotted into either end, and MacRae had been lifted up like some king, carried on the shoulders of two of his burliest men.

Right now, his old mentor was being carried over the rough terrain some way ahead of Magnus. He sat hunched in his carry-chair like some despot king, head swiveling from side to side as he surveyed their surroundings just as Magnus was doing.

The fury in Magnus’s gut tightened into a point, all aimed at the man in the litter. Whatever vestiges of misplaced loyalty he’d felt to the man had evaporated the moment he’d threatened Isabelle.

He’d left Dun Saith on this personal mission in order to bring Eamon McRae to justice. Yet, if he was honest with himself, there had been a tiny part of him, the lost teenage boy that still lived inside him, that harbored a hope that Eamon might still be in there somewhere. He’d hoped that the man who’d sheltered him and given him a home might still reside deep inside the man who’d emerged from the accident .

It had been a fool’s hope. There was nothing left of his mentor in the man before him now. In fact, he was beginning to wonder if Eamon McRae had ever been the man he remembered, or if his recollections were skewed by the crushing loneliness he’d felt after his parents had died, and by his desperation to have a home and somebody to take care of him.

It didn’t matter. What mattered now was that somehow he find a way to complete his mission and bring Eamon McRae to justice. Although, looking around at the ranks of McRae guardsmen that surrounded him, he had no idea how he was going to do that.

McRae’s scouts led them through a twisting labyrinth of jagged rocks and thorny underbrush until eventually their path descended into a gully, the sides of which were so steeply sloped that they had to lean back to keep from tumbling forward. The ground was scattered with sharp stones and dry twigs that cracked and crunched beneath their boots, echoing off the enclosing walls.

Finally, nearing the bottom, he caught sight of their destination—a camp nestled in the heart of the ravine. It was an impressive setup for such rugged terrain. Tents made from coarse, weather-worn fabric were scattered across the ravine floor. A large firepit sat in the center, crackling embers glowing under a pot that exuded an aroma of simmering stew, the scent of which momentarily distracted Magnus from his grim thoughts. Surrounding the fire pit were several roughly hewn wooden benches, upon which sat men with gruff faces and hardened eyes, idly whittling at chunks of wood or sharpening their weapons .

Magnus’s stomach tightened as he recognized them. They were the outlaws who’d attacked Morwenna and Able’s village. One figure detached from the rest, striding toward them with an unmistakable swagger. The man’s face was cast into shadow by the brim of a sagging hat, but Magnus didn’t need to see it to know who it was. The long red plait was unmistakable.

He swaggered up to where McRae’s litter had been lowered to the ground. McRae himself didn’t bother to get up, but waited for the outlaw leader to come to him.

The redhead spread his arms wide and gave a gap-toothed grin. “To what do we owe this honor? Ye should have sent word—we could have put on a spread for ye.”

McRae’s mouth curled into a sneer. “Enough with the sarcasm, O’Connell.” He motioned towards Magnus with a dismissive flick of his wrist. “I’ve brought ye a prize.”

O’Connell’s eyes swept over Magnus, a gleam of recognition lighting up his features. “Well, well,” he drawled. “If it isnae the mighty Magnus Kerr. Never thought I’d see ye trussed up like a hog.”

Magnus met his gaze squarely, refusing to be intimidated. He could feel the weight of every eye in the camp on him, their hostile gazes burning against his skin.

“Bring him here,” McRae ordered and Magnus was roughly pushed forward, causing him to stumble to his knees in front of McRae’s makeshift throne.

O’Connell sauntered over, taking his time as he circled Magnus, studying him from every angle. “He looks as strong as the stories say he is,” he noted, reaching out to prod Magnus’s arm .

Magnus jerked away from the touch and growled, his eyes flashing with warning. O’Connell only laughed again, finding amusement in the display of defiance.

“We’ll see how strong he really is. I know a few of my boys would like to test their strength against this one. Aye, he’ll give us some sport before he dies.”

“No,” McRae said. “That isnae why I’ve brought him here.”

Magnus was as surprised as O’Connell to hear this. Both men turned to look at McRae.

“Then what do ye want us to do with him?” O’Connell asked.

“I want ye to take him into yer band. He’s yer new recruit.”

O’Connell stared at McRae in disbelief and Magnus let out a low laugh.

“Ye are insane, McRae. Ye really think I would ever join this bunch of cut-throats and murderers?”

McRae’s dead eyes swung to him. “Does it look like ye have a choice?” He leaned back in his makeshift throne, his fingers steepling together.

His voice was cold and emotionless as he addressed O’Connell. “I’ve brought him here so that everyone will see Magnus Kerr for what he truly is—a traitor. He will ride with ye when ye make yer raids on the local villages. Let him be seen in the company of murderers and outlaws. Make it seem like ye do his bidding but keep him at a distance so nobody will see that he’s bound and gagged.”

The camp fell silent, surprised at McRae’s words. The sneer on O’Connell’s face slowly faded into a thoughtful expression. He seemed to be considering McRae’s proposition, weighing it against some internal scale.

“So everyone will think Magnus Kerr is our chief? And our raids are on his orders? Why?”

McRae’s eyes flashed. “Because I want him destroyed, that’s why. I want his reputation in tatters, and that of the Order of the Osprey along with him. Who will ever trust them again when it’s learned what one of their own is responsible for?”

The weight of his words echoed around the campsite, a testament to the depth of McRae’s hatred.

Magnus felt a chill that had nothing to do with the cold upland air. He’d known McRae despised him, but this was beyond anything he’d imagined. The sheer venom dripping from McRae’s tongue shocked him to his core.

“Why?” Magnus found himself asking, his voice barely audible over the crackling fire. “Why do ye hate me so much? What I did to ye was an accident!” His voice cracked, sounding once more like a sixteen-year-old boy desperate for acceptance.

McRae’s expression was cold and dead as he looked at Magnus. “Why? Ye ask me why? Look around ye, Magnus. Look at what I’m reduced to. Consorting with outlaws and resorting to petty criminality to survive. But I used to be so much more. Once, I was on the cusp of everything I’d worked for. Dun Crogan was mine and the lands around here were going to follow suit. Ye were to be the key to that. With the north’s most powerful warrior to lead my warband, all would have submitted to me. But ye ruined it all. The damned Order of the Osprey took ye away from me and ye went all too willingly didnae ye? Ye threw everything I’d done for ye back in my face! And not content with that, ye did this to me!”

He gestured at his crippled body and the scar running down his head and beneath the collar of his tunic. “Ye reduced me to this! Ye took everything from me! So now I’m going to take everything from ye in return. I told ye there is more than one way to destroy a man, Magnus. Ye dinna need to kill someone to do that.”

“Ye are insane,” Magnus breathed. “How did I not see it? How did I not see what kind of man ye really are?”

McRae’s lips pulled back from his teeth in a snarl. “I am what ye made me!”

“Nay,” Magnus said, shaking his head. “That’s a weight I’ve carried around my neck all these years but now I realize it wasnae mine to bear. Ye made yer choices, McRae, just like we all do.”

Choices weave our fate, Magnus Kerr. And ye are at a crossroads. Those were the words Irene MacAskill had spoken to him and, for the first time, he understood what she’d been trying to tell him. He could not take responsibility for other’s choices. Only his own.

“Pah!” McRae hissed. “Enough of this!” He turned to O’Connell. “Yer next target will be Talbrook and ye will take Magnus with ye.”

“Talbrook? Where Morwenna and Able Dunnock have their farmstead?” said O’Connell. “But we’ve already hit that place. Burned a lot of it, just like ye ordered. ”

“Aye, and so they will just be starting to rebuild. Imagine their distress when they’re attacked a second time and realize it’s Magnus who’s leading that attack!”

O’Connell’s eyes widened, a flicker of understanding dancing in their depths. A slow, sinister smile curled his lips, and he let out a harsh laugh that echoed through the eerie silence of the camp. “Ye’ve got an interesting mind, McRae,” he said. “I’ll give ye that.”

McRae tapped the side of his head. “Oh ye have no idea, my friend. Ye have no idea.”