All night Liandra struggled and stumbled along the riverbank. The ground was so uneven and slippery underfoot, that many times she pitched forward, her knees and hands bearing the brunt of her fall. Her face stung with scratches where she had collided with branches and thorns.
The moon disappeared behind thick clouds and did not reappear. That made her task even more difficult, though if any pursued her, they would be similarly hampered by poor light. Sometimes she stopped in mid-step thinking she heard stealthy footsteps following her. Her imagination, surely?
The lessening of the gloom told Liandra dawn had arrived, though the sun remained shrouded by dark clouds. Then the rain came. At first light drizzle, then as the storm hit, sheet upon sheet of rain fell, making the already spongy ground a morass of clinging mud. It caked her sandals and trousers, weighing down her cloak. She flung it aside, leaving it where it fell. The thing was next to useless in keeping her body protected from cold, her enviro belt more than adequate for the task.
Jagged lightning ripped across the sky, temporarily illuminating the gloom. What a dreadful place. The forest crowded in on her. Sometimes she had to double back and crawl through the undergrowth in an effort to maintain her direct heading towards the mountains.
Finally, exhaustion sapped her determination. She could go no further. Squatting down against a thick tree trunk she closed her eyes.
“Hoooot!"
Liandra started upright. The noise came again, followed by another, answering. Something flew nearby, the chill current of its passage swept across her face.
Seven Stars! She had forgotten about the non-human creatures inhabiting Caledonia. As she thought about them a panorama of strange and frightening beasts passed before her eyes. Subliminal tutoring had its advantages, but now it frightened her. Wildcats, boars, bears, any one of them might be stalking her at this very minute.
You'll soon be safe with the Council. Just think of that! Safe! Free of Caledonia. Going home!
Home. The thought of it momentarily renewed her sagging spirits, before hunger became her next tormentor. Her chance of escape had occurred so suddenly that she hadn't had time to slowly stockpile food. A rumbling stomach was a small price to pay to escape Caledonia. Liandra straightened her shoulders and pushed herself onwards.
It was night when the rain finally stopped. Mist swirled so thickly around her, she could hardly see an arm's length in any direction. The heavy rains had caused the river to become a raging torrent. Its churning speed threw water high into the air, drenching everything. While her enviro belt kept her warm, her saturated suit clung to her body.
Liandra crawled up the steep riverbank. She saw nothing but trees, darkness, and water everywhere she looked. About her, she heard the furtive scurrying of wild animals. A pair of orange eyes focused on her and blinked once.
Slowly, very slowly the beast crept forward, twigs snapping ominously beneath its weight. She caught its long, sleek outline against the trees.
Stepping backwards, Liandra screamed as the ground dissolved beneath her. She rolled down the steep embankment and came to rest, entangled in a thicket of reeds at the river's edge.
Sluggishly, Liandra came to her senses. So cold. She lay half in the river, the water lapping at her body. She reached down to her belt to re-adjust the setting.
Seven Stars! The enviro belt was gone!
On hands and knees Liandra searched the area. After more than an hour of digging in the mud, she had to admit defeat. With the belt lost, so too her last hope of survival. She shook her head against the thought. She must continue—somehow—must. She forced herself to stand.
So difficult to move. So cold! She shivered, hugging her arms around her body. Nothing for it, but to continue. It couldn't be much further. From memory she knew the river turned away from the forest before it disappeared into the mountains. She had only to follow it and she'd find the Council. In the warmth and security of her chamber it had been so simple. She hadn't bargained on losing her belt, nor this disgusting weather. Nor hunger, which left her nauseous and light-headed.
She steeled herself. She'd survive the cold and the hunger. She had to. For the only alternative was to admit defeat and return to Castle MacArran. Connal awaited her there. He'd be less forgiving than the monstrous wilderness.
Again struggling up the riverbank, she came to stand on the muddy ground. The trees were thinner and light glimmered in the distance, so she headed towards it.
Perhaps an hour later, she reached the edge of the forest and stared in disbelief at the wide chasm, its bottom obscured by fog. She hadn't seen this from her window! Where was she?
She wasn't lost. How could she be? Asarians had an unfailing sense of direction. Liandra turned back and stumbled through the undergrowth, twigs and branches jagging against her flesh, in her hair, hampering her. With her teeth chattering and her body shuddering in cold, she thought fondly of the cloak she had so disdainfully discarded.
Finally, the cold and exhaustion undermined her will to continue. Sinking down to the ground, she leaned against a tree trunk. Hugging her legs to her chest, she rested her head on her knees and closed her eyes. Rest. Just for a few minutes.
Warm; so warm. The bed on which she lay was so soft. Better than her crystal bed—better than anything she had ever experienced.
Liandra jolted from her sleep, shuddering with cold. A low snarl came from the edge of the forest. Moments later she saw glowing orange eyes. In the distance, she heard the sound of something rhythmically hitting the earth with dull thuds. The eyes retreated into the darkness.
The sound came closer, slower now. Alarmed, she jumped up, turning full circle, trying to locate their direction. More wild creatures? She heard a sniffing and growling. A massive shape streaked towards her. Liandra screamed and fled. Seconds later, she ran headlong into the body of a great, black beast. It snorted and reared.
“Dubhlan,” Connal soothed. “Steady, steady.”
Reeling away from him, Liandra felt something nip at her heels. She fell forward. Turning to look over her shoulder, she saw Fergus sitting back on his haunches, head cocked to one side, his tail wagging.
“Liandra, come here!” Connal jumped down from his horse.
“No!” Liandra pushed herself up and ran. Branches crashed against her, tearing at her clothes and body. She fell, picked herself up and stumbled on, only to fall again. And again. Each time it became more difficult to push herself to her feet. She could hear someone—something—following her, not quickly, just a slow, relentless pursuit. Connal, taking his time stalking her, knowing that inevitably he would capture her.
“Liandra, where are you?” His voice behind her, sounded strange, muffled by the fog and the trees.
Filtering through the tree canopy, the wan yellow light from the moon cast eerie shadows about her. She crouched in the hollow of a dead tree, shivering with fear and exhaustion. Seven Stars, nothing was worth enduring this. Orange-eyes blinked at her through a parting of undergrowth.
Pushing herself to her feet, she edged away. In response, the creature slunk low to the ground, blocking off her intended escape. Again and again, Liandra tried other directions, with the same result. The monster knew its business. Slowly, ever so slowly, it circled her, the distance diminishing between them, until it revealed itself.
Numbly, she stared at the shaggy-haired creature. It opened its mouth to reveal large fangs, much larger and sharper than Fergus’ formidable set. Perhaps she could turn it aside?
Liandra closed her eyes and tried a gentle, soothing probe. Instead, the beast screamed and reared on its back legs, shaking its head, more crazed than before.
Another shape streaked out of the shadows. In answer, the creature twisted about swatting, its claws extended. With a pained yelp, Fergus arched away, but quickly returned to run back and forth in front of the beast, trying to lure it from her. Both animals snarled, hackles raised, tails bristled.
Connal drew his horse to a halt. Across the forest clearing his eyes met
hers. “Stay very still, Liandra,” he whispered.
As if in slow motion, she saw Connal reach behind his back to draw out a bow. His eyes never left the beast as he quickly threaded arrow to bow string.
Liandra edged backwards. In a blur of speed, with claws extended, the monster hurled itself at her. She sent out another mind-command for it to leave her alone, but the beast ignored the demand. With a cry she flung herself sideways, but not quickly enough, for something raked her shoulder. The pain of her wound severed her tenuous link with the wild-cat. Howling in triumph, the beast turned. Liandra knew there would be no stopping it this time. With muscles bunched, it leaped.
In mid-flight, an arrow shaft embedded itself in the animal's chest. Warm blood spattered over her body as the creature fell beside her. She screamed once. Forcing herself to her feet, she stumbled away from the carnage.
“Liandra! Come back!” Connal called after her.
Monsters. Blood. Death ... Never had she encountered such. She had to reach safety. Run on. Must.
She came to the riverbank and before she could check her speed, she plunged over the edge, falling, tumbling before finally coming to a painful halt. She lay face down, half in the mud and half in the water. Her arm and side burned like fire. A blackness, tinged with red crept over her.
She heard the squelch of footsteps in the mud, and wearily raised her head. Connal emerged from the swirling mists, his blue-black hair plastered to his face and shoulders, his cloak flapping around his body. He looked like some winged monster. He stood above her, hands on his hips.
Liandra tried to push herself up. The weakness and the pain were too much. With a small cry she fell forward, and allowed the soothing darkness to take her away from the frightening sight of Connal MacArran towering above her.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Connal stood at the window of his study looking out.
“She is here,” Dougall said. “Are you ready for her?"
Connal smiled grimly to himself. Had Dougall deliberately used a sexual innuendo to taunt him, or was it innocently done? He glanced at his pax-man and saw the glint in his friend's eyes. The old man knew far too much for his own good!
Connal nodded, mentally and physically bracing himself, deliberately presenting his rigid back to her—a silent precursor to her of the reception she could expect from him.
“Our chieftain will see you now.” Dougall stepped aside as Liandra entered Connal's apartment.
Slowly Connal turned. She endured his perusal without flinching. To Connal's eyes, she looked much like her old self, though perhaps still too pale. At least the dark circles under her eyes were gone, so too the myriad of scratches, weals and bruises on her face and body. What she had looked like when he found her! Arran's Mercy! He still felt sick at the memory of her, lying as if boneless by the river. Before he had found the pulse beat, he had been certain she was dead.
Though ten days had passed since he had returned her to the castle, still he felt the legacy of his fear and exhaustion. And the people in the Castle bore the brunt of it, until he confined himself and his emotions to his private apartments. Only Dougall and Fianna braved his temper, to give him reports on Liandra's progress. It had been a near thing, Katrine had said.
He cleared his throat. “You look as if you are recovered. The wounds have healed? All over?"
“Yes. Thank you for what you did for me. Fianna explained."
“Thank Fianna, not me. She knows the workings of your bed. She was the one who monitored you and ensured your injuries were healed by that infairrnal contraption. What am I going to do with you, witch?"
“You could get rid of me by sending me home.”
Connal smiled grimly. “Quite out of the question. For the trouble you have caused, not only for me, but for everyone who went searching for you, I have to devise some suitable, lasting punishment. Though what you endured, by the look of you when I found you was chastisement enough. Do I have the right of it?"
“Yes."
“Next time I may not arrive in time to save you from the jaws of a javal-cat. Arran's Mercy! You fool!” He ran a hand through his hair. She had come so close to dying—from the cat, from exposure. The only thing standing between her and death had been Dubhlan's speed and stamina in returning her to the castle and the healing ministrations awaiting her there.
“You will not be tempted to brave the wilderness again?"
Liandra dropped her gaze to the floor.
“Liandra?” The first hint of ice tinged his voice.
“Once was more than enough. I want to go home, Connal. P—please."
P—please. The softly spoken word with its tremor, how it tugged at his resolve. He sighed deeply and came to sit on the edge of his ornate wooden desk. “Aye, I know. If I were in your position, I would have done as you. Your foolish actions would normally warrant a severe punishment."
He wanted to say more. How he admired her tenacity and courage for surviving and continuing where others would have laid down and died. How could he tell her that?
“Come here.” Liandra obeyed reluctantly. He reached out and cupped her chin, his fingers deliberately gentle. “I want to know what part Jenna played in your escape."
“She did not help me."
Connal shook his head. “That is not what I mean, Liandra. I have the right of it, do I not, that her taunts drove you to run away?"
“She was the final incentive."
“I know the games she has been playing with you. She can be very vicious. However, rest assured, Jenna will not trouble you again. She knows that if anything happens to you in the future, I am holding her personally accountable."
“Why do this for me?"
He raised a brow. “Every person in County Arran is protected by my laws. No less you. And if one of my people harms another, he or she answers directly to me. I am not a tyrant, Liandra. In your fever-delirium I learned where you were heading, and why. If you wanted your case decided by the Council you had but to ask. Every person on Caledonia has that right."
“I didn't know."
“You live on my world, now, so you have the same rights and privileges as any Caledonian. You also have the same responsibilities and reparations."
Connal sat down upon his chair. “Come here."
“I will not suffer this Connal."
“What?"
“You intend to spank me. I..."
“Do not make this more difficult, for either of us. Now, come here, please."
Liandra did as he bid, but she stopped just out of his range. He bit down hard on his lip to hide his smile. Doubtless she had been fretting in her apartment from the day of her recovery of the punishment awaiting her. The thought of the spanking was punishment enough.
“Hold out your hand,” Connal ordered.
“Pardon me?” Liandra whispered.
“Hold our your hand.” He placed a set of heavy keys on her outstretched palm.
“For three months, each morning, you will rise an hour before dawn and prepare the main store-room for the demands of the day.” Connal saw the dismay on her face. He knew, well, her sole self-indulgence, to sleep in when others in the castle were bustling about with their early morning duties. “In the afternoon, so that your energy is diverted from thoughts of escape, you will be under Vanora's supervision and join the ranks of the cleaning staff. You are not to argue with her authority. If I hear of any difficulties..."
“I don't know how to clean."
Connal chuckled. “By the end of three months, Mistress, you will be an expert. Of that I am certain. You made a reasonable job of cleaning up that spilt tea, and my shirt not so long ago. Now you can hone your skills."
“I'm to be a flesh and blood servitor for you?"
He nodded.
“Is that all?” Liandra asked coldly.
“Is it not enough?"
“I don't warrant any punishment for what I did, Connal. It was my right to escape..."
“That is as may be, but no
right did you have to upset Fianna. When she realized you were gone, she had hysterics. And in searching for you, my people endured danger and hardship in that accursed storm. These are the reasons for my discipline."
Liandra ran her tongue over dry lips. “I didn't realize..."
“And now you do?"
She nodded. “What happens after the three months have expired?"
“That will depend upon you, Mistress."
“Am I confined to the castle?"
“After two weeks you may have the freedom of the grounds and the surrounding field. Not a day before. And during this time no one is permitted to speak to you. We call it shunning. It shall act as a stern reminder of what you have done and the trouble you have caused."
“Dougall is guarding my door again. He doesn't have to. I won't try and escape. I know I can't survive the wilderness."
“There you have the right of it. Closer to the mountains the land is already snow-bound. Spare a thought for me, as I have to journey there within the week to the Council meeting. If you still want me to petition them on your behalf then best prepare a document. The Castellan can assist you in this."
“You're being very equitable."
Connal smiled. “Am I not always?"
Liandra regarded him, uncertainly.
“You look as if the axe is about to fall on your neck, witch."
“I don't understand."
“You look like you are going to your own execution. All things considered I would say you got off very lightly. A warning to you. Should there be a next time, you can expect more from me, the least of which will ensure that you will not be able to sit down comfortably for a week. Do I make myself clear?"
Liandra's lips drew together in a tight line and her sapphire eyes blazed at him. “Perfectly.”
The word was ground out, and Connal realized she was furious and indignant. He had won that round, at least. For once the witch was subdued. “Then leave. Remember, if you want me to plead your case before the Council you have two days to prepare your arguments in writing."
Liandra nodded. “The Castellan will help me?"
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