“And let ye have all the fun?” Robert shook his head.
“If we’re both taken?—”
“Then I’ll trust Todlaw to bring us home. And pity Stephan if my father hears of it.” He clapped Flanders on the back. “Now quit thinkin’ so hard and get in the saddle. We’ve already wasted enough time.”
Flanders smirked. "I hope James Duncan never finds out what a terrible influence he’s been on us."
"Aye, well, we shall lay that at his feet if we ever see him again.”
9
WITCH HUNTING WITH FRIENDS
* * *
The rain came down like icy needles, soaking into Flanders’ woolen cover despite the tight weave. It was fitting, this weather, because it mirrored his mood to a fine point. Relentless rain, relentless rage, relentless sorrow.
The trail was little more than a ribbon of mud and pine needles winding through the trees not far from their own watchtower. But each step forward brought him and his sword closer to the Rat Laird. And closer to rescuing Brigid’s sister. It was the least he could do for her now.
A long two hours after they left Todlaw, they left their horses hidden in a copse of trees on the southern slope that faced the enemy’s fort. From their vantage point, it was clear to see that the witch-hunting party was searching west and north. More than a hundred torches flickered inside the tree line and moved in slow, steady waves. And on the distant mountain, men on horseback moved south, hemming in woman and animal alike.
How had they not found her by now?
Flanders soothed his nervous horse with a pat and a quiet word, then turned to Robert and Mael.
“Keep yer chins down,” he warned. “If anyone recognizes me, this will be over before it begins.”
Robert adjusted his wet covering to keep his face further away from the dripping edge. “No one here kens my face. And Mael’s known to them. We’ll get through. Ye just follow behind us like an obedient laddie, aye?”
Mael nodded, his face pale with worry. He hadn’t planned to return at all, so it was a brave service he did now. Hopefully, they wouldn’t come across any man who suspected him, and if they did, perhaps the excitement of the day would make them forget.
They moved carefully down toward the main road, picking their way through the mud and underbrush. The rain had lessened to the odd drip and a fine mist that muffled their footsteps, but Flanders’ heart pounded loudly enough to betray them. He forced himself to breathe slowly, evenly, as they reached the edge of the trees and stepped calmly across the wide road.
A voice called out sharply, and three soldiers appeared from the west, torches sputtering. “Who goes there?” demanded the lead man, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.
Mael stepped forward and pulled back his hood enough to be recognized. “Only me. Mael. Come to join the hunt.”
The soldier’s expression softened with recognition. “Aye, a familiar face, then, but who are these two?”
“Friends from the south. Eager to see a witch burn. They were too late for the first.”
The soldier eyed them briefly, then nodded. “Then they’ll have to help find her first. Can’t be long now. She’s surely cornered.” He gestured to the west and north, then he and his fellows moved back to watch the road from the shelter of the trees.
Flanders clenched his jaw against the fury that threatened to escape from his mouth and forced himself to walk steadily in the direction they’d been given. He kept his eyes fixed on the muddy ground until they were well out of sight, resisting the urge to slit all three throats.
A woman’s scream stunned them to a stop. From due north, it had come, followed by the sound of a hundred men rushing through the forest in that direction. There would be a mob, soon, full of men who would recognize him.
He nodded to Mael. “Go. See what ye can learn. We’ll wait here, or very near. Return to us if ye can.”
Without hesitation, their devoted spy hurried off toward the scream, along with half the mountain. Staying put and not rushing to Bella’s aid was torture, but he could help her better if he weren’t taken in chains himself.
He and Robert moved deeper into the trees to avoid notice. When they heard others moving close, they inserted their swords into shadows and bushes, pretending to be searching. Each moment dragged slowly as they strained to hear.
God’s ears, what is happening?
A second, piercing scream shattered the air. This time, from well to the east.
Men shouted and the cacophony of breaking branches shifted that direction, along with the sporadic flicker of distant torches.
