For the second time in twenty-four hours Mairi found herself sneaking away from Dun Ard.
This time it had been remarkably easier, she thought, as she kicked her horse, urging him to hurry in spite of the snow.
When she’d gone back to Caden’s room to return the leather pouch to Ramos’s bag, she’d helped herself to a pair of his pants and a shirt. After changing into his clothes, she’d bundled an old plaid around her, marched out to the stables, taken a horse and demanded exit at the inner gate.
The snow fell steadily, already blanketing the ground in spite of the fact that she’d taken as little time as possible to head out. She hadn’t even eaten, she realized with dismay as her stomach rumbled.
No matter. Her goal now was to catch up with Ramos. Once she reached the meadow where they’d split up, she should be able to follow his tracks. The nearly full moon reflected off the snow, casting more light than she would ordinarily expect at night. That, at least, should help her find him.
She might not be a huge help, but she would be better than nothing when he reached the men who held Sallie.
There were too many of them for him to face alone.
And if something happened to him…
She shook her head, hunkering down closer into her horse. She wouldn’t allow herself to think about that possibility. Instead she’d concentrate on finding him.
Again she urged her horse to greater speed, trying to keep the fear at bay as she rode.
The silently falling snow had obliterated all tracks.
Ramos pulled his horse to a stop and reached out to touch his fingers to the branch of the tree he passed. Twigs were broken and bent, all leaning forward as if someone had passed through them.
Someone had. Seven men, two Fae, and one unwilling woman.
He’d followed their tracks from the meadow, finding the spot where four additional riders had joined them. Their eastward progress had held, but now he could no longer count on the prints of the horses to follow.
Their tracks might be hidden, but Ramos knew there were other signs of their passing. He had only to look for them. He’d lost the trail once today. He didn’t intend to let it happen again.
Fortunately the eerie glow of the moon as it danced in and out of the clouds reflected on the white landscape, providing him light to hunt his prey.
He just wished he knew this part of Scotland better. They would be headed for a likely Portal site. Standing stones would be the obvious, unless Sallie offered information about Pol’s Glen. And from what he knew of Sallie, that didn’t seem at all likely.
The thought of how frustrated his father must be with the headstrong young woman very nearly brought a smile to his face until he remembered how his father dealt with anyone who displeased him.
“Hang on, Sallie,” he whispered. “I’ll find you.”
He had only to figure out where Reynard would go.
Standing stones. His mind raced. There were hundreds in Scotland, but how many were excavated now, in this time?
There was, of course, the Portal on Ian McCullough’s property in southern Scotland. Ramos considered for the briefest moment seeking Ian out and asking his help. The man had been a Guardian for centuries.
Still, on horseback it would be a journey of several days, and Ramos didn’t have several days. He would be lucky to have forty-eight hours. And who knew what sort of problems he’d create by meeting up with someone he knew from the future, more than seven hundred years before he should know them.
He rubbed at his forehead, squinting through the snow as it slanted to the earth. No wonder time travel was forbidden.
This was one he’d have to figure out on his own.
Too bad he didn’t have a connection to Sallie similar to the one he had with Mairi. That would certainly make tracking an easier task.
At the thought of Mairi, he felt the familiar twinge of her in that unusual corner of his mind. Almost like she was drawing closer to him.
That, of course, was impossible. Caden would have her safely back at Dun Ard by now.
Ramos shook his head and prompted his horse forward, dislodging the wet snow that had collected on them as they’d sat still.
This was no time to think about Mairi. He needed to concentrate on the task at hand, needed to stay alert, following the signs he found.
Sooner or later, something would show up to point him in the direction he needed to go.
So cold.
Mairi flexed her fingers and wiped at the heavy snow coating her eyelashes and forehead before wrapping the edges of the thin plaid over her hands again. She captured her reins within the wool, her shivering fingers cramping and burning with the contact. Once again, she urged her horse forward.
Poor creature.
Snow beat against them, hanging in frozen lumps from the animal’s mane. He must be every bit as miserable as she.
Have to keep going.
She’d passed through the meadow hours ago, it seemed, and although the heavy snow obscured any tracks Ramos might have left, Mairi knew she was on the correct trail. He was somewhere up ahead.
He’d be moving slowly, hunting for whatever signs he could find of the Duke’s party having passed through the area. She, on the other hand, had ridden hard knowing at least in the beginning where she headed.
Even beyond the meadow, she’d forced her mount to keep up his pace, ignoring the dangers inherent in the snow-covered terrain. Guided by nothing more than feelings, she made her way forward. It was the slight tingle in her chest that led her. The one she felt every time she was around Reynard Servans.
Some sort of Faerie danger signal, she supposed. The feeling had grown more pronounced the farther she’d gone. She simply continued to rush headlong in the direction that made the feeling stronger.
East. Is this east?
She looked up to find the moon, but it had skittered behind the clouds again. Snow pelted her face, forcing her to close her eyes.
The direction didn’t matter.
Follow the feeling.
She didn’t need to see where she headed. The burning tingle over her heart was all the trail she needed.
She would trust Ramos to track Servans. Sooner or later, if she maintained this pace, she would catch up with Ramos.
She kicked and her horse lurched forward, trying to give her the speed she demanded. Across this low area she would make up even more time. Surely her mount could go faster than this. Another kick and he picked up his pace, snow flying up from the flat ground as his hooves flew over it.
Unfortunately the ground wasn’t as flat as the snow made it appear.
Mid-stride the horse stumbled, struggling to keep himself from falling. Mairi’s cold, cramping fingers couldn’t hold the reins when the animal stopped and her momentum carried her forward, over his lowered head and through the air.
When her body hit the ground, the thud sounded muffled to her ears, and she slid until something stopped her.
She opened her eyes to see the barrier she’d ended up against was a bush. She blinked, trying to focus on the twigs sticking out around her. Dark, snow-covered berries held tightly to the branches.
A witchwood, of all things.
She’d found Sallie’s berries at last, though she didn’t need them anymore. Oddly she couldn’t remember why not.
Need to get up.
She couldn’t lie here on the ground, but it was so hard to move. The snow wrapped about her like a reassuring blanket. There was some reason she shouldn’t remain as she was, but for the life of her, she couldn’t remember what that was, either.
So quiet. So tired.
Only the sound of her horse’s heavy breathing somewhere nearby disturbed the night.
She wanted to reach out, to make sure the animal was unharmed, but she hadn’t the strength to lift her hand. Couldn’t make her eyes open to look at him.
Only her mind seemed to work, guilt pressing in as she thought of Ramos. Of how angry he would be when he found out she hadn’t stayed at Dun Ard as he’d told her to.
“I’m sorry, Ramos,” she tried to whisper, her lips too cold, too heavy to form the words.
His face was the last picture in her mind, his name the last sound she made before the cold black closed in around her.
If Reynard’s party had stopped for the night, there was still a good chance Ramos would catch them soon. If he was headed the right direction. There were no signs of their passing, the heavy, wet snow obscuring everything. And the time he’d spent taking the wrong trail earlier hadn’t helped.
Ramos squatted next to his horse, running his fingers over the low branches of a large bush. The wind swept up in gusts, buffeting his body with great swirls of snow, but the heavy plaid he wore bundled around his head and shoulders, in the way Mairi had shown him, protected him from the worst of this weather.
Somehow he would find them. He would rescue Sallie, just as he’d promised Mairi he would. And then…Then he would deal with his father. He would find a way to keep Reynard from hurting anyone ever again.
To hell with the Fae rule. Both worlds would be safer without Reynard Servans.
Ramos had just risen to his feet when the pain hit. A spasm so intense it knocked the breath from him as he leaned against his horse to keep himself upright.
“Mairi.” Her name was wrenched involuntarily from his lips.
With his eyes closed, he could see her lying in the snow. Long, thick lashes lay dark against her pale skin, her lips an unhealthy cast of blue. Limp locks of golden hair, caked with snow, fell against the side of her face.
“I’m sorry, Ramos.”
Her words floated to him as if she spoke them in the air next to his ear.
The sound of her voice jolted him, snapping him out of whatever trance he’d fallen into.
He pulled himself up onto his horse and tapped deeply into that space in his mind where Mairi dwelt.
Once again, his father would have to wait.
Turning his horse back to the direction he’d come from, he leaned low and drove the animal to move as fast as it could.
He didn’t know how it was possible, but Mairi was out here somewhere. And she was in trouble.
Backtracking should have been much faster, but the snow had begun to cover even the trail he had left a short time ago. Before long, the small corner of his mind that resonated with Mairi was his only means to find her. The closer he got, the more she filled that spot.
But something was very wrong.
Her presence felt different somehow. Before, when he had looked in that little corner within himself, he could see all the colors of the rainbow sparkling, dancing, cascading around the sheer white luminance that was Mairi. Now the colors were subdued, as if he looked at them through dark glasses. Or as if they were fading.
Reaching the bottom of a particularly steep slope, he pulled up on the reins to slow his mount as he came out of the forest onto a deceptively flat-looking area. From his earlier passage he knew that to be misleading. The ground here was fraught with rocks and dips, hidden now by a smooth white blanket.
He’d lost the trail here earlier today, being drawn off to the west a bit. There he’d found a small herders’ hut, likely one of those Caden had established for the local shepherds. He’d turned back shortly after that, realizing he was heading the wrong direction when all the undergrowth appeared untouched.
Peering out through the blowing snow, Ramos caught sight of a riderless horse, head bowed low to the ground. He fought down the impulse to kick his mount to a full gallop, and slowly made his way toward the lone animal.
As he drew close, he could make out a dark shape on the ground at the horse’s feet. Every fiber in his being knew what—who—that bundle was.
Mairi.
It took only a moment more to reach her side.
The bush she lay against had given her some protection, though precious little. Still, the wind had blown around it, drifting the snow about her but not covering her completely.
Ramos slid his hand inside her woolen wrap and placed two fingers on her neck, refusing to believe the worst.
Her pulse beat under his touch, slow but steady. Her skin, even under the plaid, felt icy.
Hypothermia was the enemy now.
He had to get Mairi out of the cold as soon as possible, but where?
The herders’ hut.
Gently Ramos gathered her up and mounted his horse, trying to jostle her as little as possible. He was keenly aware that, depending on the degree of hypothermia, any rough movement could lead to cardiac arrest. And he had no way of assessing how far her body temperature had dropped.
Laying her head against his chest, he covered her completely with his plaid as he rewrapped it around his body. He kept his mount to a slow, even pace, her horse following along behind.
Though the hut wasn’t far, the journey there seemed interminably long. Ramos used the ride to reassure himself he’d reached her in time. She was, after all, of the Faerie blood. She was resilient and would heal quickly.
Like the wound to her foot.
Fast healing was normal for their kind.
And it wasn’t like he was without resources of his own. After all, he’d spent one whole ski season working with the volunteer rescue patrol just after his twentieth birthday. He was trained to deal with cold-weather emergencies exactly like this.
Like hell I am.
He knew how to get on a radio and call for help. His training only covered that period of time until the helicopter arrived to airlift the victim to the hospital.
No sign of a radio here. And there certainly wouldn’t be any airlift.
This rescue was up to him.
Ramos tightened his hold on his precious bundle and sighed in relief when the hut came into view.
He just prayed he was up to this.