“What’s wrong?” Alan rested a hand on his shoulder in concern.
“It hurts,” Sean said, half to himself. “They cut him in the same place.”
“So you think—?” Alan cocked his head, brow furrowing in confusion.
“Maybe. Remember the tale of Léan the Seer?”
Alan nodded. “She was the most powerful Seer the Clans ever had.”
“Aye, but her visions were never the same after her brother was killed in battle with the Highlanders.”
“What does the legend call them? ‘A brother and sister knit together by the strands of their souls,’” Alan said. “You and the Baron were close.”
“Aye, before he shut me out.”
Alan’s fingers tapped faster. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Sean, but why would he be letting you in now? He doesn’t want you knowing anything about him.”
“You didn’t see him, Alan. It’s bad. I don’t think he was strong enough to keep me out.” Sean’s gut twisted at the memory of Rhys laying sprawled on the cot.
Alan softly cursed. “What do we do then?”
“I told him his men would come for him. That we would come.”
“We should tell them.”
“Bryn isn’t back. They won’t leave yet.” Frustration welled in Sean at the unyielding obedience to the Baron’s rules.
“This might change things. It shouldn’t be long before he’s back anyway. When he comes, Brogan and the rest of the Clans won’t be far behind. That means we could be at war next week.”
“Your point?” Sean snapped.
“I know you want to go find him, Sean, but Brogan will keep you here. He can’t risk you now.”
“He’s my brother!”
“But in the Clans’ eyes, he’s not, and Brogan won’t let either of us go to find an outcast.”
Sean leaned forward. “So you want to leave him again, just like seven years ago?”
Alan shot to his feet. “You know I don’t!”
Sean let his head fall into a hand, taking a breath to calm down. Alan began to pace in short, choppy strides, dragging a hand through his dark hair as he muttered under his breath.
“I’m sorry,” Sean said.
Alan halted mid-stride. “His men will have the best chance of getting him out. And—and you have to think of your family, Sean. MacTavish is the Chieftain now. He won’t be as forgiving as my uncle could be. If you go after the Baron, you’ll suffer the same fate.” He stretched out a pleading hand. “You can’t do that to them. I can’t do that to Caitlín and the babe. I can’t.”
A haunted look shone in Alan’s eyes and Sean knew he felt the weight of the old excuses the same way Sean did.
“Maybe I’m just a coward,” Alan finally murmured.
“No, you’re right.” Sean rubbed a hand across his mouth as if to wipe away the bitterness of the words. “I told Fulke he’d be the first to know if I saw the Baron. They’ll find him, and then we make sure everything gets put right.”
A faint smile appeared on Alan’s face. “I’ll find Jes.”
Sean stood, ignoring the ache that still lingered in his joints. “I’ll go with you.”
Alan nodded once and led the way from the room. A servant directed them towards the training courts. Jes leaned against a wall in the shade, watching as Damon sparred. The prince had been relentless in his training since the first day they’d begun, spending as much time as he could outside or in the stables.
As soon as Jes caught sight of them, he came over, interest brightening his stoic face.
“We need to speak to Fulke,” Alan kept his voice low.
Jes glanced sharply to Sean. “You have seen the Baron then?”
Sean nodded, forcing away the image of Rhys’s bruised and bloody face. Jes flicked one look back at Damon, then nodded to himself.
“I will take you there now.”
But their arrival had not gone unnoticed by Damon. “What’s going on?” He jogged over, wiping sweat from his forehead.
“Sean saw something. We’re going to meet with Fulke,” Alan said.
“The Baron? I’m going—”
“Absolutely not,” Alan interrupted. “We’re going to their camp and that’s the last place you need to be. I shouldn’t even be taking Sean.”
Except I had the vision. Sean shifted in mild irritation.
Damon snapped his mouth shut with a glare, still regal enough to show that he had rarely been so abruptly refused. But he stayed behind as Jes pushed through them and headed towards the main gates. Sean cast a quick glance behind to let him know that they’d talk later. Damon still deserved to know.
Sean followed Alan and Jes across the bridge with some trepidation. It was one thing to speak with Fulke in the castle, and yet another to walk into a camp of outlaws and criminals willing to do anything to get their Baron back. By the way Alan clutched the hilt of his sword, he clearly had the same misgivings.
Jes led them down the road until a slight bend obscured the vision of the Carraig’s wall guards. They cut off into the rustling pines, a thick coat of fallen needles and stray leaves softening their footsteps. Sean glanced back through the weathered trunks, noting that no matter the winding trail they took, they never lost sight of the impressive Carraig.
Jes stepped over a fallen trunk and motioned for them to stop as he let out a whistle that lilted over three notes. A shadow emerged from ground, and a slender man glanced at them with cold green eyes.
“Jes.” His voice came flat and hard. “We weren’t expecting you this early. Or with guests.” He crossed his arms.
Jes’s nose twitched slightly at the challenging tone in the man’s voice, the only mark of Jes’s irritation that Sean had ever seen.
“They have business with Fulke.”
“We’re letting outsiders just wander in now, are we?” The man fingered the two daggers sheathed in his cross belts that seemed to be his only weapons. Alan tightened the grip on his sword in response.
“They have information about the Baron,” Jes said.
The man shifted his gaze back to them and settled on Sean with a sneer. “You the one that caused all this trouble then?”
“Remember the last time you questioned the Baron’s decisions, Rake?” Jes asked.
Rake scowled again, jerking his head to motion them past.
“Charming,” Alan muttered under his breath as soon as they were several safe yards away.
Jes smiled. “The mountains host a different people than you are used to. Until you know how to walk among us, tread carefully,” he warned.
“Perfect.” Alan glanced over at Sean with a wry look.
Sean swallowed against a sudden dryness. Jes, Bryn, and Rorie hadn’t been so bad, but suddenly some of the tales of the Cairns resurfaced. They had a reputation for a reason.
Too late to turn back.
They rounded a rocky outcropping and clambered through a narrow opening down into the camp.
They came out below the ledge. It pushed itself out at an angle, allowing shelter under its bulk. A smaller, but no less impressive, set of ridged rocks grew opposite it creating a protective alley between them, funneling towards the sheer drop of Devil’s Gorge. The thunder of the river sunk deep into the spiny gorge gave a constant rumble interspersed with the occasional crack of a stone smashing against the granite walls as the water carelessly threw it downriver.
Sean glanced at the men that lounged around other fires, an assorted variety of weaponry among them—knives, swords, bows, and at least one hand-axe. Curiosity and some unfriendliness shone back in their gaze.
“Alan! Sean!” Rorie’s voice boomed over the river’s noise and the Highlander rose from a smokeless fire to come greet them with a wide smile. “Should I hope you have good news?”
“Where is Fulke?” Jes asked.
“Down the way a bit.” Rorie nodded towards the narrow space between the rocks.
“Stick close,” Jes told him and set off through camp.
Sean and Alan followed him after a second’s hesitation. Sean wisely did not stare at the Cairns, instead focusing on the broad figure of Fulke appearing out of the rocky passageway. The outlaws didn’t move from their relaxed positions, but new interest sharpened their gazes as they tracked Fulke’s path.
“You saw him?” Fulke stopped a scant pace away from Sean. It took all Sean’s self-control not to step back.
He nodded, and relayed some of what he had seen. “He’s in the dungeons at Castle Bright. They’ve been torturing him.” The words burned in his chest, remembering how bad Rhys had looked.
“How is he?” Fulke drew out each word.
Sean swallowed. “Weak. The druids have been bleeding him.”
A wild look crossed Fulke’s face.
“Fulke,” Jes cut in. The look passed and a calmness came back to the man. “The Baron is running out of time. Do we go now or wait?”
The lieutenant rubbed the bridge of his nose, frowning past them. Sean half-turned to see that most of the men had risen and ranged behind them, standing with hands close to weapons. Alan stiffened beside him.
“Fulke,” one of the men spoke. “What do they say about the Baron?”
“It seems Barkley and the druids have laid their hands on him,” Fulke said.
Murmurs of anger rippled through the men.
“Do we wait for Bryn or ride?” the same man asked.
“We never leave a man behind,” another said.
“It’s the Baron,” the first speaker argued back. “Bryn wouldn’t want us to wait.”
“We’ve waited too long already,” another complained.
“Enough,” Fulke growled and a hush fell. Sean shifted restlessly, praying the man would order them to ride for Castle Bright that second. “If Bryn does not return by the next sunset, we ride.”
Discontented agreement grumbled from the men, but no one openly argued.
Fulke turned his attention back to Sean and Alan.
“Thank you for bringing the message yourself,” he said. “Jes and Rorie will escort you back.”
The Cairns shifted back meager paces to allow them a path out. A few glares were thrown Sean’s way. Did they blame him for Rhys’s capture like Rake did?
They turned back to the rocky entrance, Jes in front and Rorie in the back, walking slowly through the unfriendly crowd of mountain bandits.
“You’ve got some nerve bringing that Clan cloak up here.” A man leaned in close to Alan. “You just waiting to turn on the Baron again?”
Alan pivoted, drawing a knife in the same motion. He grabbed the man’s stained jerkin and pressed steel against skin.
“I’ve known the Baron longer than you.” Alan growled. “I was there at the beginning.”
Sean tensed at the sight of the reckless anger in Alan’s face. His eyes held a dangerous tint that prompted a deeper unease in Sean. It was easy to forget that the normally cheerful Alan held a deep wrath and anger that would manifest in battle.
Or apparently whenever someone manages to really flame him off in an already-bad week.
A thin smile crossed the man’s face. “You want to know how he curses you then?”
“What he does is his business. And he’s never liked anyone interfering in it.” Alan pressed harder on the knife. “Keep out of ours, and you won’t get hurt.”
For the first time in his life, Sean wished he carried a blade. The Cairns around him hadn’t moved, just watching in alert interest, but their hands remained on their weapons.
A scowl darkened the man’s face as the blade nipped skin. “Think you threaten me? I’ve killed your kind before.”
“Keep talking and I’ll be the last one you ever see,” Alan replied in a cold voice.
“Back off, Luca,” Fulke growled.
Luca raised his hands in angry surrender, and Alan shoved him away.
“Isn’t he the fortune teller?” another man piped up, turning the attention to Sean. “We could find a use for him ‘round here.” The speaker garnered some uncomfortable murmurs of interest at his words.
“Hands off.” Jes broke in. “Baron’s orders.”
“We’d keep him safe.” The man snickered.
Sean narrowed his eyes. I’m tired of men trying to take advantage of the Gift. He grabbed a knife from Rorie’s belt and threw.
The blade bit into the dirt between the enterprising outlaw’s boots with a satisfying thud. The man took a full step back and the camp erupted in laughter. The tension rushed away like the river. Even Luca allowed a grudging smile.
“You forget he’s of the Baron’s blood.” Rorie clapped Sean’s shoulder, nearly knocking him off balance.
Sean caught Alan’s surprised look and smirked. There was one thing from his training he had kept up with, somewhat to Sarah’s chagrin.
“Anyone else?” Fulke asked, a rumble of amusement in his voice.
“I think they’ve proved why the Baron would ride with them,” a man with X’s burned into both hands said. Sean recognized him as the man who had advocated for riding immediately. The way opened up, and they continued without further incident, catching a few approving glances.
Once safely away from the camp, Alan nudged Sean’s arm. “Nice throw.”
“Thanks,” Sean replied.
“This isn’t the part where you tell me you were aiming for his head, is it?”
“No, I meant to put it there.”
“Oh, can’t keep up with the sword practice, but you keep the knife throwing?” Alan rolled his eyes and Sean chuckled.
“It was the one thing I could beat him at.”
Alan laughed. “He used to hate that, too.”
Sean smiled, wishing the memories wouldn’t surface. The man Rhys was now had little left of the boy he used to be—the one who would tackle his little brother with a laugh whenever he lost again. Sean just hoped he’d have a chance to reach that person again.
Chapter 31
Bryn checked his horse briefly as the tower of the Carraig appeared through the trees in the early dusk. The long files of horsemen beside him, led by Brogan, kept moving. He’d kept close to the Laird and his retinue, gathering what information he could. No one paid much attention to him, probably thinking he was just a messenger from the Carraig.
He’d considered just giving up multiple times over the last three days and riding ahead to rejoin the rest of the Cairns who should have already arrived.
The journey from the Wolf’s Head had taken four days, but he’d skirted the tumbling hills and rode across the flatlands, pushing as fast as he dared. But hundreds of horsemen did not travel as fast as a lone rider, and the most direct path from the Clans’ lands to the Carraig required them to wind through the wild foothills.
A low trill drove his gaze upward. In the fading light he caught the red chest of a Cardic Falcon perched in a pine tree a few paces ahead. It ruffled brown feathers with its short beak before taking flight, darting away from the path, tresses dangling from curved talons.
Bryn smiled. Only one person tamed the small falcons. He glanced up and down the line of horsemen, but they were focused only on the path ahead.
Good thing the lookout was only for me and not to ambush them. They’d never see it coming. He nudged his horse off the path and disappeared into the pines.
The falcon flashed by, causing him to duck.
“Milo, what have we told you about that!” Bryn hissed in annoyance.
Milo stepped out from behind a lichen-spotted rock. He shrugged and the falcon latched onto his protected arm. A massive black mastiff padded forward to join Milo, the leanness of a mountain timber wolf in its chest and long legs.
“Where is everyone?” Bryn asked as he dismounted.
Milo pointed east, further into the trees. He never spoke, so how he trained the falcons or controlled the mastiff in the Baron’s absence was a mystery.
“Jes make it here?”
A nod.
“Any word on the Baron?�
�
Milo frowned. The mastiff perked up at the sound of the title but huffed when his master didn’t appear.
“Not good then.” Bryn bit back a curse. I should never have left him.
They didn’t have far to go before Luca stepped out of the falling darkness to lead him into the camp. Milo silently took his horse. Bryn clambered down the rocky stairway and strode past the glowing fires to the far end of camp where Fulke waited.
They clasped hands and Fulke’s clap to his shoulder threatened to bruise. They sat down at the fire for Bryn to make his report.
“Rorie says the Baron charged you to protect the Seer’s family,” Fulke said.
“Aye, Lord MacDuffy sent them north with a four-man guard. I saw them off myself.”
“Good. What else?”
“Lord MacDuffy is arriving at the Carraig. He brought three hundred horsemen. The rest of the Clans and Highlanders will march to meet them outside the hills. What do we know of the Baron?”
The fire reflected a dangerous light in Fulke’s eyes as he relayed what Sean had seen the day before.
“You knew that? Why did you wait for me then, Fulke?” Bryn hissed, barely noticing Rorie ghosting in to join them.
“We follow his laws, Bryn,” Fulke replied.
“I would have caught up with you. We need to get him out. His laws will be meaningless if he’s dead.” Bryn flicked a knife on his crossbelt in and out of its sheath with his thumb.
“I made the decision, Bryn,” Fulke said. “I’ll answer to the Baron for it.”
Bryn cursed. “I should never have left him.”
“You followed a direct order.”
“And that’s supposed to comfort me?”
“Jes and I made the same decision,” Rorie broke in.
“How fresh is your horse?” Fulke asked.
“Give him a few hours to rest, and then we ride.” The troop’s pace hadn’t been grueling all day, but the next days would be. He wouldn’t push his horse into that without a brief reward first.
Fulke rubbed his nose and nodded. “Three hours.”
Bryn threw a stray leaf into the fire, watching the edges glow and curl in the flames before he stood. “I have a message for the Seer. I’ll be back later.”
Oath of the Outcast Page 20