Chapter 26

Chapter Twenty-Six

A ihan set the mare on the road south of Edinburgh with a heavy heart. The pain in her chest wracked her. Liang is dead! The reality of it battered at her. Rage and sorrow fought for the upper hand in her heart. She would avenge his death; she could do nothing less.

She was tired, but she pushed on in the dark, driven by her need for action, for revenge. But with every step that the horse took her away from Mac and the boys and the life she had begun to forge with them, a deep sorrow of a different kind took root in her soul. That Mac’s brother should be the instrument of her brother’s death broke her heart into a million pieces. For if she took her revenge, Mac would never forgive her.

With a tight ball of anger and pain in her chest, she moved ever forward. And she whispered into the dark, “I’m sorry, Mac! I’m so sorry!”

Tears slipped down her cheeks, mingling with the drizzling rain that that had begun to fall.

Col and the boys reached Edinburgh in just under three hours of hard riding. They stopped to eat and rest the horses, and Col took the opportunity to enquire if anyone had seen a Chinese lass. He couldn’t ask at every hostelry in Edinburgh—there were too many of them—but he trusted to the power of gossip that if anyone had seen her, it would be known.

And sure enough, he discovered that a foreign-looking lass with long dark hair and a strange accent had taken a meal last night at the White Hart Inn. She had not stayed the night, however.

Fed and watered, they pressed on. It was three days hard ride to Carlisle. She would need to rest her horse eventually, as would they. She couldn’t keep riding without a break. He fretted at the notion of her riding alone at night on the road. Anything could happen to her.

When they reached Penicuik two hours later, he was relieved to learn that she had stopped for the night there and left in the early hours of the morning. They stopped for another meal and pushed onto Peebles, a further two hours ride. By this time, the horses were well and truly done in and the lads not much better. Worryingly, Col could glean no knowledge of her in Peebles, but both horses and the lads could go no further, and he elected to stay the night at the better of Peebles’ two hostelries.

Aihan shifted in the bracken, trying to get comfortable. It had stopped raining, but the ground was still wet and there was a stiff breeze if she poked her head up to get a good look at the road below. She had tethered the mare in the stand of trees behind her hiding place and hoped she would not give away her position. The group of men had been tailing her since Teviothead, and she’d left the road in an effort to lose them.

Their leader, a big burly fellow with dark, wiry hair and beard, had accosted her in the yard of the inn where she was about to order a meal. When she pulled a dagger on him, he backed away with hands raised. But the whole time she sat and ate her meal in the tap, he kept looking at her, and there was much low talk among him and his compatriots. While she only a caught a few words, she was not fooled into thinking the talk was anything but bawdy and all pointed in her direction.

When she had finished her meal, she slipped out the back to the privy and hid there until the men emerged, looking around for her. They paced about a bit and then mounted their horses and left. She followed a little later, hoping she had lost them, only to discover about an hour later that they must have hidden somewhere and emerged when she went past them. She spurred the mare to a gallop to outrun them and, having crested a rise out of their sight, she plunged off the side of the road and up a slight incline to hide amongst the bracken and trees at the top of the rise.

The problem with her plan was that as soon as they topped the rise, they would see the road ahead was empty and realise she had gone off into the fields. It wouldn’t take them long to find her hiding place if they were persistent enough to track her, and then she would be trapped. Her hope was that they would go a little further down the road before commencing to look, enabling her to remount and make a getaway.

It seemed, though, that her luck had run out this day. So far, her journey had been relatively uneventful, if tiring. She had attracted some attention and a bit of suspicion, as Mac had warned her she would, but none had refused to serve her when it became clear that she spoke English and had coin to pay her way.

As the pack of them topped the rise in the road and saw no sign of her ahead, the leader signalled to his men to spread out and look for her. He himself came off the road, heading straight in her direction. Cursing under her breath, she backed out of her hiding spot and ran to the mare. She unlooped her rein from the tree branch, mounted swiftly, and kicked her into a canter, heading deeper in the trees.

It was darker under the canopy, filtering out most of the meagre daylight from the cloudy sky, and heavy drops of water dripped from the leafy branches overhead. Soft tree mulch muffled the horses’ hooves, and she urged the long-suffering mare forward, bending low to avoid tree branches getting in her face. Zigzagging through the trees, she soon lost her bearings and was alarmed to hear the crack of a tree branch behind her. Glancing back, she saw her pursuer bearing down on her like a black devil from Diyu—the prison below the earth where the souls of the dead go to atone for their sins.

They left at first light, and Col was impressed with his boys who, despite being tired and sore, did not complain. Their objective was Teviothead, but the fact that he had not been able to glean any word of her in Peebles had him concerned. He stopped briefly at each village they passed through to try to pick up her trail. Stopping so frequently slowed them down, and his worry mounted as he was unable to find any trace of her. He was torn by wondering if she had taken a different route or, more worryingly, that something had happened to her. But they pushed on and reached Teviothead by late afternoon.

He at last got news of her from the village’s only inn. The landlady, Molly George, wiped her hands on her apron and nodded. “Aye, a lass of that description stopped here a few hours past. She ordered a meal and ate in the tap. I didn’t see her leave, but she may have hid to avoid the attentions of a group of men who seemed mighty taken with her, if ye know what I mean. Quite rough looking they were, a deal of bawdy talk they made in her direction. If my husband had been here, he might have warned them off, but I’ll admit I wasnae game to interfere.”

“How many men?” he asked, his heart thudding with sick force in his chest.

“Half a dozen?” she guessed. “Their leader was a big swarthy fellow. They looked like soldiers to me, or perhaps mercenaries, as they wore nae uniform.”

“Can I pay for two rooms for the night and a meal, please? I’ll be leaving my lads here and going after the lass. She’s my wife, ye ken.”

“Oh, aye?” She looked at him suspiciously. “Then why might she be running away from ye?”

Col flushed. “It’s nae what it looks like. She had bad news of her brother and took off when I was from home. As soon as I learned she’d gone, I followed, fearing exactly what seems to have occurred. Please believe me, I’m worried sick about her.”

She nodded slowly; seemingly, his evident worry was convincing. As it should be, for it is the truth.

“Do ye have a horse I can hire? Mine is fair spent.”

Col explained what had happened to the boys, and that his intention was to return with Aihan, emphasising that they should remain here until he returned.

“Can I trust ye to be sensible and do as I say?” he asked.

“Aye, Athair, fetch Aihan and give her our love. We’ll await ye here,” said Rory firmly with a look at Callum, who nodded. Mrs George would keep an eye on the boys for him, she was a good woman.

“Aihan knows how to fight, Athair,” said Rory reassuringly.

“Aye, I know, lad, but I’d be hard-pressed to hold my own with a half-dozen men, and she’s a sight smaller and lighter than I am. Ye ken the danger she’s in. It’s a mite different from what any man would face from a bunch of thugs.”

Rory nodded. “Ye’ll find her and bring her back safe.”

Col wasn’t sure if that was a statement or a question, but took it for the former, wishing he had Rory’s confidence.

He hugged both boys and went to change his sodden clothing. With a fresh mount, some bread and cheese, and a skinful each of water and wine, he set off south. He had brought a pair of pistols and two knives with him and hoped that he wouldn’t need them.

Aihan urged the mare on, ducking and weaving through the trees, but the man behind her had a larger, faster horse, and he was gaining on her. Her breath came in short pants and her heart beat a loud tattoo in her chest as she looked for a suitable place to take a stand and fight the wretch off. But there was little to recommend itself that she could see. Another glance over her shoulder showed him closer still, and she shuddered. She had no illusions about what he wanted with her.

She turned her head to face forward again, and her blood ran cold. A fallen tree lay across the path in front of her. There was nowhere to go to avoid it as other trees crowded in on either side and the mare was flying too fast to check. The animal gathered and bunched and went over the obstacle, but she landed awry and Aihan felt herself pitched forward out of the saddle and straight over the horse’s head. She curled herself and rolled to minimise the impact and chance of injury; even so, she was winded and disoriented by the tumble, and jagged branches from the fallen tree tore at her clothing and flesh as she rolled. Coming to a bruising stop against the trunk of another tree, she lay winded a moment, trying to catch her breath and gather her wits.

It was a moment too long, as her pursuer loomed over her.

“Got ye!” he said with a broad toothy grin. Dropping to his knees, he grabbed her hands as she raised them to try to fend him off, wrenching at the ties of his breeches with his other hand. “I’ll have first taste, and the lads can have a go once I’ve sapped yer strength, lassie!”

Oh nae, ye won’t! Taking aim with her knee, she jerked it upwards between his legs and got him hard in the gāowán. He doubled up with an oath, his face going red.

“Ye fooking bitch!” he screamed and lunged at her, but she rolled away and scrambled to her feet. With a quick look around, she sank into a crouch and waited as he clambered to his feet clumsily and lumbered at her with a howl of fury. She grabbed his flailing arm and flipped him onto his back hard enough to wind him. As he came down with a heavy thud, his head hit a large tree branch with a severe crack, and he lay still.

Breathing hard, she waited a moment and then approached him cautiously. His head lay at an odd angle and his eyes were open, staring sightless at the canopy overhead.

Her stomach turned over, and she backed away with a whimper.

The mare was standing a ways off, her withers shivering and her head down. Aihan caught her bridle, did her best to sooth the beast, and mounted, her limbs shaking with shock and reaction. It had become very dark under the canopy, and a loud crack of thunder overhead was the only warning she got before the roar of heavy rain hitting the trees shrouded her in a wall of sound.

The rain was so heavy it penetrated the canopy, and she was soaked in minutes. It was so dark she could barely see with the lack of light and the blinding rain. She had little idea in which direction the road lay, nor if more of the men might stumble across her as she tried to navigate her way through the maze of trees, and prayed to the Great Spirit that the mare would not sprain a leg in a hidden pothole or stumble over a fallen branch.

It felt like over an hour later that she finally emerged at the edge of the forest into open fields. The light was grey, and great heavy clouds loured overhead, still disgorging rain, although the intensity had eased back a bit. It made no difference; she was soaked anyway and shivering with cold and shock. Her hands and feet were numb, and even her face, into which the rain pelted, felt numb with cold.

She pulled the mare up for a moment to try to get her bearings. She was on the crest of a ridge which dropped away to the right and left. Ahead the ground rose higher, and the trees were behind her. By her best guess, the road should be to her right. She turned the mare and began the descent down the slope, hoping to find the road and not the remainder of her pursuers.

She found both. Emerging out of the rapidly worsening light, the shapes of two riders moving down the road brought her up short. There was nowhere to hide, and if she could see them, surely, they could see her if they turned their heads and looked. As she sat there, two more emerged from the gloom on the other side of the road, and one called out to the others something in Gaelic that she couldn’t understand.

The two on the road paused for the other two to catch up. All four of them then continued on the road, talking among themselves, seemingly oblivious to her presence. She was just beginning to relax her tense muscles when a prickle down her spine alerted her to danger. She turned in the saddle as a fifth horseman loomed up out of the dark behind her and shouted to the other men. For a moment she thought it was the one she had done battle with under the trees come back to life, but then she registered that this one was of slimmer build and lacked the bushy beard of the group’s leader.

She had little time to react, as his shout had alerted the others to her presence, and they swarmed up off the road to surround her with their horses. She was penned in by five men closing in on her.

She pulled the mare up into a rear. The beast kicked out with a loud whinny, then charged through the gap between two horsemen as Aihan urged her on with violent kicks, riding hard down the remaining slope for the road and disappearing—she hoped—into the gathering gloom as the men behind her shouted in confusion and gave chase.

Damn it, she couldn’t outrun them, their horses were bigger. She dived off the road on the other side, plunging into a thicket of brambles that scratched both her and the mare, causing the mare to scream in pain. She winced, but forced the mare forward through the brambles and out the other side. The mare could break a leg in the dark like this, but perhaps the men would hesitate to follow her for the same reason.

She heard their shouts behind her as they hit the brambles and, judging from their curses and the receding sounds, they had decided to pull back. With a sigh of relief, she slowed the mare to a walk and plodded forward for some distance, shivering in the saddle. The rain had eased, but it was full dark now, and she had little idea where the road was from here.

A sharp wind cut an icy swathe through her wet clothing, and she huddled over the mare for warmth. Reaction was setting in and fatigue sapped her strength. Her numb hands had trouble gripping the reins, and they slipped from her fingers. She tried to grasp the pommel, and she felt her body slipping in the saddle. The little burst of fear woke her up and she jerked upright in fright and stared into the gloom, trying to penetrate the darkness.

She looked up and saw a pale bit of cloud above, a thin wisp covering the moon; as she watched, it dissipated and the moon, round and majestic, peeked through the clouds and shed a silvery light over the rain-soaked landscape. Deep shadows thrown into strong contrast with the silvered highlights of glistening tree branches to her right and up ahead told her she was heading for another stand of trees.

She turned to the left, which was, she hoped, the direction of the road. Praying that the light would continue long enough for her to find it again, she pushed the poor mare forward. Clinging stubbornly to the pommel with her numb fingers and keeping her back straight, she peered ahead. When she hit the road again, she sagged in the saddle with a relief so strong it brought tears to her eyes. She kept moving forward, swaying in the saddle with fatigue, her only thought to keep moving until she found some form of civilisation. Out here in the cold and the dark in the soaked terrain, smelling strongly of earth and water, she felt as if she were the only person alive in the world.

She had been alone a lot in her life, but she had never felt so lonely as she did in that moment. The knowledge that Liang was dead bit deep, and the pall of grief that had receded while she fought for her life came creeping back, enveloping her in its dark embrace. A fierce longing for the warmth and strength of Mac’s arms swamped her and her throat tightened, but she swallowed the ache, refusing to give into the tears that threatened. Thinking of him only underscored her loneliness out here in the dark and wet and cold. Lost and alone in a foreign land. She blinked, her vision blurring, her senses swimming.

The moon’s cold light continued to illuminate her path forward, and she just held on, swaying in the saddle, her heart beating in time with the mare’s steps.

A shout from behind her jerked her out of her daze, her heart jolting into a race, and she looked back over her shoulder to see a figure on horseback getting closer. Terror gripped her, and she urged the poor mare forward. But the animal was spent and could manage no more than a limping trot.

Then her ears caught the content of the shout: “Aihan!”

Mac! Had her longing conjured him? Or was she asleep and dreaming? Her heart clenched, and she scrabbled at the mare’s reins and pulled her to a standstill. The animal gratefully stumbled to a stop and stood, her withers shivering and legs trembling, her head down, blowing through her nose. Aihan clung to the pommel, trying to fathom how he could be here in the dark and the cold and the wet miles from home. How has he found me? She swayed, tears of relief stinging her eyes and clogging her throat.

“Aihan!” He brought his horse alongside hers and then his arms were round her, and she collapsed against his solid warmth. She was shaking with cold, shock, and relief, shedding wracking sobs into his chest as he hauled her bodily from the mare’s saddle into his lap.

“I have ye love, hush!” he soothed. “It’s alright, Hana, I have ye!” His lips pressed kisses to the wet hood of her cloak, and his hand ran down her back as his arms held her tight.