Maeve nodded and stepped back, Uncle Connor wrapping his arm around her shoulders. “I trust them, Maeve.” She turned around and buried her face in her brother’s chest.
Logan came over to Broc and whispered, “Make that bastard hurt, but keep him alive. I have questions for him before you finish him.”
Alaric and Broc both nodded. Broc decided he’d save his questions for later.
The group headed out, everyone quiet as they approached Drimnin.
They came to a fork in the road, so Broc pulled his horse back. “Check for us, Maitland?”
Maitland led his horse down the choice he wouldn’t have picked, and Grant let out a squeal and a cry. They took the other path and Grant reverted to his happy self, his fist now in his mouth, his legs kicking with excitement.
Broc looked back over his shoulder. “Do you wonder why he says Lia instead of John?”
Maitland said, “I’ve given it some thought, and I have concluded that Lia represents whatever special power my son has. The same type of magick or power that John holds with the sword. To me, I would betWiastands for John’s sword. I think he’s drawn to that. After all, we left Lia with Maeve, and he’s still saying her name.”
They reached Drimnin, the beach up ahead, so Lennox and Meg led the way. Lennox explained their goal. “We’ve discussed this with the local people. They directed us the last time to Egan’s place. I’ll see if they can help us.”
He and Meg spoke with the villagers, then they returned, pointing back into the woods.
“Two of them said the men come and go from Egan’s old place over there, but they don’t go to Egan’s hut, instead to adifferent spot back in the woods. In fact, they said they’ve tried to locate the exact spot, but they can’t find anything.”
Broc asked, “Which way?” While the coastline and the small village’s well-kept huts were inviting, behind them sat nothing but thick woods with two paths, probably used by the locals for hunting.
“That way.”
Broc and Alaric headed in that direction, following the indicated path. Wee Grant agreed.
But they didn’t travel far down the path before it seemed to come to an end. “What the hell?” Alaric asked.
There was nothing but an endless forest in every direction.
“Maitland?”
He led his horse in three different directions, but only the fourth one pleased Grant. He pointed to a pile of brush that they hadn’t noticed.
Maitland declared, “My son and I will not be the first ones. You and Alaric check. This is as far as my son goes.”
Broc jumped down, glancing over at Merryn to make sure she was handling everything well. His hand checked for his dagger, pleased it was still attached to his belt. He wished this entire situation were over, that his mother was home with the others so he and Merryn could enjoy their new love.
Love it was, indeed. He adored Merryn.
Broc and Alaric approached, Lennox behind them. He said, “That pile is hiding something. Alaric, you grab that end. Broc, you over there.” The three found branches to grab, lifting the brush, surprised to discover it was all tied together and lifted easily.
As soon as they tossed it aside, Grant giggled and pointed to the door in the ground. Maitland moved his horse back, but then said, “Wait. I wish to position the archers first.”
Simone said, “I’ll arrange us. We need to cover each angle for whoever comes flying out when you release the door. Open and stand back. I’ll hit them.”
The group situated themselves, archers in the trees, then Maitland stepped far enough away and said, “Unbolt it.”
Broc pulled on the handle, lifting it easily, then dropped the door off to the side before jumping back.
Nothing there but a staircase.
“I’m going down,” Broc said, Alaric following him, both with swords drawn. They weren’t down long before they returned.
“What’s wrong?” Maitland asked.
Grant began to wiggle and kick, whining and pointing at the staircase. “Wia, Wia.”
