Song of a Highlander (Arch Through Time, #11)

by Baker, Katy

  Ramsay’s eyes widened and his nostrils flared at the sight of her. He dropped his sword into the dirt with a thud.

  “Ye win,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Dinna hurt her.”

  “No!” Jess screamed.

  She was frightened and angry all at the same time. Who the hell did these people think they were? Artair and MacGregor were nothing more than bullies who thought they could get what they wanted through violence. Well, Jess had dealt with her fair share of bullies in her time. She would be damned if she’d let them get away with this! She would be damned if she would be the reason they got their hands on Ramsay!

  With all of her strength, she stamped on MacGregor’s foot. Surprised, he gave an ‘oomph’ of pain and his grip slackened. Jess tore free, dodged as he made a grab for her, and ran to Ramsay’s side.

  “Don’t come any closer!” she yelled as MacGregor’s men advanced. She pulled the keystone from her pocket, holding it up for all to see, and then moved it close to the flames of one of the burning torches.

  “You know what this is, don’t you?” she shouted at Artair. “Back off or I’ll burn it! How do ye think Fae magic would stand up to fire? Care to find out?”

  Artair’s lips flattened. He waved at MacGregor’s men to stay where they were. “I knew ye still had it,” he said to Jess. “And I knew ye hadnae gone home as Ramsay claimed. But I dinna believe ye have the courage to damage the keystone. Not when doing so would strand ye in this time.”

  “Willing to bet on that?”

  Artair hesitated. His eyes narrowed. “Who are ye?” he said softly. “There is something about ye...but I canna put my finger on it. Ye could have used that keystone to activate the arch and go home. Why did ye not?”

  “I...” Jess opened her mouth and closed it again. Involuntarily, she glanced at Ramsay.

  “Oh, I see!” Artair cried, clapping his hands together. “Ye did it for him! This is priceless! The poor, deluded girl falls for the bad guy without even realizing it!”

  “Shut yer mouth!” Ramsay growled at him.

  “Why? Because ye are afraid I might tell her the truth? Terrified this façade ye weave around yerself might come crashing down?”

  “You’re a liar,” Jess said. “I won’t believe a word you say.”

  “But ye’ll believe him?” Artair said incredulously. “Tell me, Jessica Maxwell, has he told ye how we met? Has he told ye why he was following my sister and I?”

  Jess blinked. Ramsay had avoided all her questions about Artair and Adaira. “I...um...”

  “He hasnae, has he?” Artair said. “Let’s play a guessing game, shall we? I’ll bet I can guess what he has told ye.”

  “That’s enough!” Ramsay hissed.

  Artair ignored him. His gaze was fixed on Jess. “I’ll bet he’s told ye that my sister and I are the bad guys. I’ll bet he’s told ye that he’s been working to stop us, that he is the good guy and that he needs yer help. Am I right?”

  Jess swallowed. She didn’t like this.

  “Ye shouldnae always believe what ye hear,” Artair continued. “Ramsay MacAuley isnae the man he claims. He was our ally. We trusted him but he betrayed my sister and I, as he betrays everything. As he will betray ye. He is a liar. He is a thief. And he is a murderer.” His eyes snapped to Ramsay. “Isnae that right, my old friend? Why dinna ye tell her who led us to the arches through time in the first place? Why dinna ye tell her whose plan it was to use them to bring us back here?”

  “Enough of this!” Benneit MacGregor growled, stepping in front of Artair. “I havenae come here to listen to a damned reunion! Guards, get those two!”

  Ramsay darted forward and grabbed his sword from the ground just as MacGregor’s men advanced towards them, weapons drawn.

  “Run!” he hissed at Jess. “Get to the horse and go! I’ll hold them off.”

  “I won’t leave you!”

  He glanced at her and the desperation in his eyes shocked her. “Go, Jess,” he whispered. “If ye get hurt, then this is all for naught. Go. Get away from here.”

  Clutching the keystone, Jess turned and fled. She plunged into the darkness, branches and thorns scraping at her face.

  Behind her echoed the clash of weapons and Artair shouting, “Stop her! I want that keystone!”

  As she ran, she glanced over her shoulder. In the torchlight Ramsay was just a shadow whirling and moving, his sword a lance of silver in the darkness, keeping them from following her. Panic threatened to overwhelm her. Her heart thundered in her chest and she could barely think straight. If anything should happen to him...

  He is a liar. He is a thief. And he is a murderer.

  No! Don’t think that!

  She darted through the trees, hoping she was following the right path. Everything looked the same in the darkness. But luck was on her side. She burst into the clearing where they’d tethered the horse. The mare swung her head up and snorted at Jess’s approach then watched dolefully as Jess untied the reins from the branch where she’d been tethered and clambered unsteadily into the saddle.

  Jess grabbed the reins, sawed on them heavily, and kicked Bluebell in the ribs. With a snort of annoyance, the horse broke into a canter, bouncing Jess around so hard she was sure she would lose her seat.

  Somewhere in the back of her mind a voice screamed at how idiotic it was to ride so recklessly in the dark. Jess was no horsewoman and the darkness amongst the trees meant that any branch or hollow might catch an unwary hoof, sending both horse and rider crashing to the ground.

  Jess didn’t care. Fire burned inside her. She had to get to Ramsay.

  She drove the horse towards the firelight and burst into the dell. For a heartbeat everyone paused to look at her and she saw the tableau frozen against the backdrop of the torchlight. Ramsay had been driven towards the Fae doorway. Two more of MacGregor’s men lay unmoving on the ground but now MacGregor himself had waded into the fight, hacking and slashing, driving Ramsay back towards the gaping darkness between the stone pillars.

  Artair watched from the side. His lips moved as though he was chanting under his breath. Was she imagining it or were the runes on the stones beginning to glow?

  Her blood went cold. She knew, right down to her bones, that if Ramsay was forced through that doorway he would be lost forever.

  “Yah!” with a cry, she drove the horse at the knot of fighting men.

  The horse’s shoulder caught one man, knocking him flat to the ground, and Jess sawed on the reins, pulling the beast around. Another jumped back to avoid being trampled and in that instant the space around Ramsay cleared.

  He vaulted into the saddle behind her and then kicked the horse so hard that she sprang away with a lurch, almost spilling Jess from her seat. They thundered away and as they passed the line of torches, Ramsay leaned low, grabbed one, and then tossed it to the ground. A ‘whoosh’ filled the air as the dry grass caught and a line of fire flared up behind them, cutting off any pursuit.

  Through the roaring flames she heard Artair screaming, “After them, ye damned idiots! After them!”

  Jess clung onto the saddle as they careened through the trees. Any minute she expected them to hit a tree or catch a branch or slip in the mud but Ramsay, whose night-vision was better than hers, guided the horse expertly around obstacles until they reached the edge of the woods and burst out onto open land.

  Ramsay reined in the horse and turned to peer back the way they’d come. The dell and the standing stones were lost in the folds of the land. All Jess could see was a shadowy, undulating carpet of wilderness, bathed by moonlight.

  “Are they following us?” Jess asked.

  He shook his head. “They would be foolish to try in the dark. Come morning though...”

  The adrenaline that had kept Jess going through the confrontation with Artair and Macgregor was draining away, leaving her weak and shaky. Images of the standing stones, the runes marching up their sides, and the doorway into darkness played through her head. She squeezed her
eyes shut.

  “Jess?” Ramsay asked. “Are ye well?”

  She shook her head then pulled in deep breaths through her nose. Ramsay’s arm slid around her, pulling her close, and she clung to it.

  “It’s all right,” he said by her ear. “We are safe now.”

  “Safe?” Jess cried incredulously. “We’re not safe! None of us are. Did you see those standing stones? That gateway? Did you hear what he’s planning to do?” Jess scrubbed a hand through her hair. “Dear God! I’ve never sensed anything like I did when I looked through that archway, it was... it was...” She threw up her hands in frustration. “I don’t know what it was!”

  “It was the power of the Unseelie,” Ramsay said softly.

  His voice sounded odd and Jess turned her head to look at him. His expression was bleak, his gaze unfocused, turned inwards.

  He is a liar. He is a thief. And he is a murderer. No. She couldn’t think that way. Artair Campbell was a liar.

  “What are the Unseelie?”

  “Fae,” he murmured. “Fae who are twisted and dark and full of malice. They hate humankind and take pleasure in causing torment. Irene MacAskill and the Seelie Court fight to keep the balance. It is a never-ending struggle. If Artair should open a door to the Unseelie, there will be naught to stop them rampaging through the mortal realm.”

  “How do we stop him?” she whispered. “How do we combat something like that?”

  Ramsay shook his head. “I dinna know, lass. I dinna know.”

  Chapter 11

  IT WAS NEAR DAWN WHEN Ramsay dared call a halt. Despite his assurances to Jess, he worried that Artair might send trackers to follow them. He’d done his best to obscure their trail. He’d doubled back, laid false trails, and guided the horse into the water of shallow streams in order to throw anyone off their scent.

  Now, as the gray light of morning began to filter along the horizon, he deemed it safe to rest for a while.

  Jess was dozing in the saddle anyway, her head lolling against his shoulder. For the last two hours he’d been riding one-handed, keeping his free arm wrapped around Jess to stop her falling from the saddle.

  He should never have let her come with him on this fool’s errand. It had been selfish. He’d tried to tell himself there was no other choice, but the truth was, he had allowed Jess to come with him because he wanted her close. He didn’t like being away from her. His own selfish feelings could have cost her life.

  And what else? The thought bloomed in his mind. How will she react to what Artair told her?

  He pulled up the horse in the lee of some large boulders atop the brow of a hill. From here he could see for miles and would be able to spot anyone approaching. He looked out, the wind sending his hair streaming back from his face. He saw nobody. A hawk rode the thermals but other than that their only company was the incessant wind.

  “Jess,” he murmured, shaking her gently. “We’ll rest here.”

  She came awake with a snort, looked around wildly, but relaxed when her eyes alighted on Ramsay. He jumped to the ground and helped her dismount. She all but fell from the saddle and Ramsay marveled again at how she’d had the courage to ride to his aid through darkened woodland when she was such a poor horsewoman. She was either brave or reckless. Ramsay wasn’t entirely sure which.

  He led her over to the base of the rocks. Here they found a little shelter from the wind and Jess sank gratefully to the ground, hugging her arms around herself. She had dark circles under her eyes and looked exhausted.

  Ramsay took some provisions from the saddle bags and carried them over. He dare not light a fire in case it alerted enemies to their presence so he and Jess would have to dine on hard bread, cheese and cured meat. He slumped down next to her, back pressed against the pitted face of the boulder, and ate his meager meal. Jess chewed mechanically, staring out at the landscape.

  “What are ye thinking?” he asked.

  She glanced at him and away again. “What Artair said back there—”

  “Ye shouldnae listen to Artair,” he cut her off. “Get some rest. I’ll keep watch.”

  She stared at him for a moment longer, then without a word, lay on her side and drew her knees up to her chest. She closed her eyes.

  When he was sure Jess was asleep, he rose noiselessly to his feet. He was exhausted. His limbs ached, and he had several cuts and bruises from the fight with MacGregor’s men. The wound in his hip hadn’t opened again, but it throbbed every time he moved. He wanted nothing more than to lie down and fall into dreamless oblivion.

  He marched to the edge of their hiding place and looked out. In the far distance he spotted a green blanket covering the land. It was a forest, a vast, trackless wilderness beyond the reach of the king’s men. In days gone by it had been a haven for thieves, murderers and outlaws and marked the eastern boundary between MacGregor and MacSual land.

  He and Jess needed help. He realized that now and, if the rumors were true, in that forest they might find the help they needed. He shook his head. Ah, curse it all. Jess had already suggested they seek out the Woodsmen, and he’d cut her suggestion dead. Now he realized there was no choice, despite the consequences it might bring.

  He let Jess rest for as long as he dared and woke her at mid-morning. They mounted up and went on their way.

  “Where are we going?” she asked as they reached the base of the hill and set out towards the distant forest.

  “To find help.”

  She glanced around at the endless, empty landscape and the approaching forest. “Help? From where?”

  “Ye will just have to trust me.”

  She studied him. It was there again, that flare of doubt in her eyes. The sight of it was like a knife in his guts. She was no longer sure of him. And yet, could he blame her?

  It was nearing midday by the time they neared the edge of the forest. There was evidence of recent logging and they had to pick their way through a field of felled trunks and broken branches before they reached the forest proper. Was this the work of MacGregor’s men? Were they trying to flush out the Woodsmen?

  He caught movement out of the corner of his eye and he turned, hand moving to his sword. There was nothing there, but he had the sudden uneasy feeling that they were being watched. It wasn’t a sensation he liked. It was usually Ramsay sneaking up unseen, not the other way around.

  “Where exactly do ye think ye are going?” said a voice.

  With a curse, Ramsay pulled the horse around to find two men standing not ten paces away. One held a bow with an arrow trained on Ramsay’s heart. Both men were well armed and seemed clean and well fed. The man who’d spoken—a wiry fellow with a shock of red hair that stuck out at all anglesgrinned up at Ramsay.

  “That’s better. Now we can all get acquainted—” His voice trailed off suddenly and puzzlement crossed his face. “Chief?” he said incredulously. “What are ye doing out here? Apologies, I didnae realize it was ye.”

  The second man stepped forward. He was older and had the weathered look of a veteran who’s seen plenty of skirmishes.

  “That’s not the chief!” he said to his comrade. “Are ye blind as well as daft, Iain?”

  Iain glanced from his friend to Ramsay and back again. He squinted, his face creasing up in concentration.

  “Blow me!” he shouted.

  He scuttled backwards, pulling a dagger and holding it up threateningly.

  Jess gasped and Ramsay laid a hand on her shoulder to steady her.

  “Who are ye?” Iain demanded. “And why are ye impersonating the chief?”

  Ramsay released his grip on his sword and held his hands out to either side to show he carried no weapons.

  “I’m doing naught of the sort, but I have come to speak to yer chief. I would be obliged if ye would take us to him.”

  “Why would we do that?” Iain demanded. “The chief charged us to guard this place, not to let through a pair of MacGregor spies!”

  “We are no spies,” Ramsay replied. “Yer chief w
ill confirm that.”

  Iain opened his mouth to reply but the other man cut him off.

  “I reckon we ought to do exactly what he says.” The man hadn’t taken his eyes off Ramsay and he was stroking his beard thoughtfully. “I wonder,” he muttered, almost under his breath. “There were rumors back at Dun Ringill.”

  “Rumors? What rumors?” demanded Iain.

  Jess was looking between the men and Ramsay, clearly baffled by this turn of events.

  The older man fixed his gaze on his companion. “Ye go on ahead. I’ll escort these to camp by a hidden route—just in case they are spies. I reckon the chief will want to meet this one as soon as possible.”

  “But...but...” Iain blustered. “The chief said—”

  “The chief willnae thank us for keeping this one from him, ye mark my words,” growled the older man, losing his patience a little. “Go, now. That’s an order.”

  Iain scowled, shot Ramsay and Jess an annoyed look, then tromped off into the forest, muttering under his breath.

  The remaining man watched them warily. “The name’s Dunbarr. If ye would be so kind as to dismount and follow me.”

  Without waiting for their response, he marched off into the trees. Ramsay climbed down from the horse then helped Jess dismount.

  “What’s going on?” she hissed at Ramsay. “Who are these people? And why did they think you were their chief?”

  “No talking!” Dunbarr snapped.

  Ramsay took the reins and guided the horse whilst Jess—with a disgruntled look—fell into step behind Dunbarr. She glanced around uneasily as they walked into the darkness between the trees, a hand straying to the hilt of the dagger he’d given her.

  Dunbarr set a steady pace but didn’t speak as they traveled deeper into the forest. There were no paths, but he seemed to know where he was going. Of Iain there was no sign.

  With each step they took, Ramsay’s unease grew. He felt fate tightening around his neck as though he was being herded down a path not of his choosing. The question was, who was doing the herding? Was it the destiny Irene MacAskill had talked of? Or was there some more sinister power at work? These questions gnawed at him as they walked.