“I think they have found the passage,” David whispered into Berawald’s ear.
Berawald looked at David but did not ask the boy how he knew that. He could see the ghost pointing at the doorway out of the passage, silently ordering him to move. It took only one glance toward the opening to know the sun had not yet fully set, but he had no choice. He had to get David and Evanna away from here as soon as possible. He shook Evanna awake.
“We go now,” he said as he helped her to her feet.
“’Tis too early. The sun has nay set,” she protested as she tried to shake free of the weariness that gripped her so tightly. “Ye cannae go out there.”
“I can and I must. ’Tis close to the time that it would be safest for me and we arenae so verra far from Cambrun.”
“They have found your bolt-hole.”
“Aye, and I willnae risk ye and David by trying to stand and fight or buy myself a wee bit more time ere I have to leave here. We leave now.”
Evanna did not bother to argue with him. If it was just herself at risk, she would urge him to wait until the sun set or their enemies were too close; she would even fight as his side. There was David to think of, however. He could not fight and his life was as much at risk as hers and Berawald’s.
She stood holding David’s hand as Berawald carefully but swiftly removed the brush and rocks from the opening and then looked around for any sign of their enemy. She winced as they all stepped outside and her fear for Berawald’s safety returned in full force. Although she and David could bear standing in the sun when it was so low in the sky, she knew that every minute Berawald stood in it his strength ebbed. There was not even a cloud in the sky to help shelter him. She all too clearly recalled how it felt to have the strength slowly leave your body, and shuddered.
They began to make their way down the small hillside. Evanna helped David over the uneven ground and kept looking toward the trees. At least there Berawald would be able to find some shelter from the sun, and she was determined to get there as quickly as possible. At this time of day any shadow, any piece of shade would be enough to give Berawald some protection and help him hold on to enough strength to fight if he had to.
By the time they reached the shelter of the trees, Evanna was not sure she had the strength to go on, and this had nothing to do with the rapidly waning light of the sun. She was tired, tired to the bone. As she leaned against a big tree, she watched as Berawald stared up at the opening of his bolt-hole. She could barely see the place where it should be but knew that his eyesight was much sharper than hers.
All her differences, the ones she had struggled to hide all her life and had caused the death of both of her parents, were pale shadows of the ones he had. Now, as they tried to outrun an enemy intent on killing them, she could see how those differences could easily be considered a gift. Right now those differences could very well be all that kept them alive.
“There they are,” muttered Berawald, his hand tightening on the hilt of his sword. “Bastards.”
“Do ye think they will ken which direction we are going in?” she asked as she straightened up and struggled to gather what few scraps of strength and willpower she had left.
“I think it would be wise to assume that they do or can easily guess,” he replied. “Come, I ken ye are tired, but ’tis just a wee bit farther.”
“I am nay so tired that I will do anything to let those men catch me, nay e’en a wee stumble.”
Berawald nearly smiled at her words, for she was swaying on her feet, but he knew she meant what she said. “Good. If we move fast we can be safe inside the walls of Cambrun before they even discover which path we took.”
Evanna truly doubted that but did not disagree. She could see that the hearty words had given David some much needed strength and courage. Still fighting to find enough of her own to keep on moving and fulfill her boast, Evanna started off in the direction Berawald pointed her in. She ignored the icy chills on the back of her neck that told her Duncan Beaton was stalking her. She suspected she would feel that chill even if Duncan were skipping through the vineyards in France and just happened to glance toward Scotland. Until the man was dead, she doubted she would ever feel truly safe.
“There is Cambrun,” Berawald said nearly an hour later.
Evanna stumbled to a halt and stared at the huge, dark castle. It appeared as if it had risen straight out of the solid rock that seemed to cover all the ground around it. She had not seen many castles in her time, but she had the suspicion that Cambrun had to be one of the most threatening ones in all of Scotland, perhaps in several other kingdoms as well. This was to be her haven? Safety and kindness were not the first things that leapt readily to her mind at the sight of that dark, foreboding pile of stone.
“There is an awful lot of open ground to cover ere we reach the gates,” was all she could think to say.
“Aye, but my kinsmen have sharp eyes and can move verra fast.”
“So cry out verra loudly if ye think we are about to lose this race?”
“A verra sound plan. Ready?”
“As ready as I can be. I am a wee bit tired.”
Berawald smiled at her and brushed a kiss over her forehead. “As am I. As is poor David. I will carry him from here on,” he said even as he picked David up into his arms.
Evanna almost said something in protest of that plan, but one look at David made her bite back her words. The moment Berawald settled the boy in his grasp David rested his head against his broad shoulder and closed his eyes. He was exhausted and even though Berawald would be hindered some by carrying him, it was better than being slowed down even more by dragging a completely exhausted little boy along by the hand. She felt a little guilty for not noticing how weary the child had become, but her own blind determination to keep on going no matter how tired she was had held all of her attention.
They had just reached the edge of the cleared area around the keep when a cry rose from behind them. Evanna turned to look behind her in horror as men began to rush at her and Berawald through the trees. She recognized the brutish figure of Duncan Beaton and reached for David. To her surprise Berawald shoved the child into her arms and pushed her in the direction of Cambrun.
“Berawald, we must run,” she said.
“Ye run and get the boy to safety,” he said, arming himself with a sword in one hand and a knife in the other.
“But e’en with all your strength and speed ye cannae beat so many men all on your own.”
“I willnae have to. I only need to hold them back until ye and the boy can get to safety. My kinsmen have already seen us and will soon join me.”
“But—”
“Trust me, Evanna. I will nay be alone for long. Now—run.”
She gave him a fast, hard kiss and then began to run. It astonished her that she could find the strength to do so, but suspected it was the feel of her little brother’s trembling body in her arms that gave her that strength. He was terrified and this time he was too exhausted to try and run and hide without her assistance.
The gates to Cambrun were close enough for her to see the heavy carvings on their iron-banded surface when she felt as if she could not run another step. Her whole body shook from the effort it took to keep on moving and she knew that at any moment her legs would simply collapse beneath her. When the gates to the keep opened and a horde of dark men rushed out, her mind told her to run in another direction, but her body simply did not have the strength to obey. She had the chilling feeling that she had just run from one death right into the arms of another.
She tensed and held David more tightly when a tall, impossibly handsome man with golden eyes stopped right in front of her. Evanna had the wild thought that there did not appear to be such a thing as an ugly MacNachton. When he reached for David, she staggered back a step and drew her knife even though she knew she did not have the strength to stop him from doing whatever he wished to.
“Be at ease, lass,” he said in a voice that was as golden and smooth as honey. “I mean ye no harm. I am Jankyn, Berawald’s cousin. He has told ye about me?”
Relief swept through her and she almost fell to her knees. “Aye. Berawald needs help.”
“Oh, he is getting quite a lot of it at the moment.”
She shuffled around just enough so that she could look back to where she had left Berawald. One look was enough. Duncan and his men would never escape alive. All she cared about at the moment was that Berawald still stood, alive and apparently unharmed. She turned back to Jankyn.
“That is good, for I really am too tired to go back and help him,” she said, and knew she was tired when the man’s beautiful smile did nothing at all to her.
“Let me take the lad,” Jankyn said.
“Thank ye. He almost made it here on his own.”
The way the man took David into his arms and gently brushed a lock of hair from the boy’s brow made the last of Evanna’s doubts about him disappear. She was about to thank him for his help when he glanced behind her and began to reach for her. Even as his hand touched her arm a fiery pain ripped across her back. She clutched at his arm, hearing a chilling scream from behind her as she fought to stay on her feet. A little wildly she decided that Jankyn MacNachton had an admirable skill with curses as she heard him spitting out a whole river of them.
“Curse it, lass, I should have seen him coming up behind ye,” he said. “How bad is it?” he asked the man who was standing behind her.
“’Tisnae pretty. He swiped that cursed sword clear across her back. If I hadnae been already trying to pull him back he would have cut her in two.”
The words being said in the deep raspy voice did not really sink into Evanna’s mind. She heard a movement behind her that told her whoever the man was, he was about to move away from her back. If the wound was bad, Berawald would be able to see it from where he was and she could not allow that, not when he was in the midst of a battle.
“Nay, dinnae move,” she said. “Dinnae move away from my back.”
“I was going to lift ye up so we can take ye inside and see to that wound.”
“Dinnae do that, either. Is Berawald still fighting?”
“Aye,” replied Jankyn. “He is facing some hulking brute he is cursing and calling Duncan. He is the one that tried to cut ye in half from the front, is he?”
Jankyn, she decided, was one of those men women probably adored even while they wanted to slap him. “Aye. Ye cannae let Berawald ken that I am wounded, nay while he still fights someone.”
“Berawald could defeat that fat fool with both hands tied behind his back.”
“Nay if he is distracted because he sees that something has happened to me. He had to walk in the sun for longer than he liked today. We had to leave the safety of his bolt-hole ere it had fully set and it took us a while to make it to the shelter of the trees. He may nay be at his full strength. E’en if he was, it wouldnae be a good idea to let him see that I am wounded until all of our enemies are dead or disarmed.”
“Oh, there willnae be any disarming,” Jankyn said in a voice that sent chills down her spine and briefly interrupted the searing pain she was fighting against.
“Then help me to walk into the keep and, whoe’er that is behind me, ye walk so that none can see what has happened to my back.”
“’Tis Raibert,” came the raspy voice, “and we had best get moving then or ye willnae be able to get inside ere one of us has to carry ye.”
Jankyn moved to her side and wrapped his arm around her waist. The strength he revealed as he nearly carried her to the door that way astonished Evanna. All the while they walked along as if she was not leaving a trail of blood along the ground, she heard him murmuring soft, comforting words to David. Her brother had obviously seen that she had been hurt and Jankyn appeared to be doing an excellent job of calming him down.
The moment they stepped inside the keep and Evanna heard the heavy doors shut behind her, she felt the last shred of her strength give out and she began to collapse. Strong arms caught her up against a huge chest. She glanced up and through a fog of pain saw yet another dark, handsome man. A little wildly she thought it might be best for the women of the world if the MacNachton men continued to stay hidden behind the walls of Cambrun.
“I need to be cleaned up ere Berawald comes looking for me,” she told him as he carried her up a flight of stairs.
“Ye worry too much o’er the mon.”
“Nay, ye see he will blame himself,” she whispered, and finally gave in to the pain and weakness that swamped her.
Jankyn stared down at the woman in Raibert’s arms and shook his head. “She kens our Berawald verra weel. He will blame himself. Let us get some women up here and a healer and then go and make sure that fool hasnae gotten himself killed.”
By the time Jankyn and Raibert reached the battle it was over. The bodies of the hunters were already being taken away to be hidden or destroyed, whichever was easier. Jankyn frowned as he saw a rather pale Berawald slumped against a tree.
“Have ye gone and injured yourself?” he asked as he walked up and crouched down in front of his cousin.
“A wee bit,” said Berawald. “It wasnae a good time for me to fight. Nay enough sleep and too much sun. But I won and I will heal.” He winced as Raibert knelt by his side to look at the wound there.
“He still bleeds,” said Raibert and, without another word, bent his neck toward Berawald.
“Are ye certain, Raibert?” Berawald asked, deeply touched by the gesture.
“Aye, ye are going to need your strength.”
It was not until Berawald had taken all he needed from Raibert and was sitting back letting the magic of MacNachton blood do its work that the words his friend had said finally sank into his mind. “What did ye mean when ye said I will need my strength?” He saw the serious expression on the men’s faces and tensed. “Evanna?”
Jankyn caught him and held him still when he jumped up and would have raced to find Evanna. “Where is she? What has happened to her? And where is David?” He suddenly realized that it was strange that neither of them had come looking for him now that the battle was over.
“The boy is clean and fast asleep in a soft bed,” Jankyn said.
“And Evanna?”
“She was wounded.”
Berawald cursed. “How? She should have been far away from the battle.”
“She was. She was just a few feet from our gates when one of those bastards somehow managed to escape the melee, get up behind her, and slash her with a sword.” Jankyn watched all the color fade from Berawald’s face. “Dinnae swoon on me like some frail lady; she isnae dead. Badly wounded, aye, but nay dead. She made us walk her into the keep and be sure ye didnae see that she was hurt, for she feared it would distract ye and mayhap put ye in danger as ye were in the midst of a battle.”
Berawald could still hear the venom that had poured from Duncan Beaton’s mouth as they had fought. Even as his men had died screaming all around him, Duncan’s eyes had continued to gleam with hatred and fury. Berawald knew that, even a little weakened from the sun, he could have disposed of the man in a few quick moves but he had wanted to make him sweat. He had gained a few bloody wounds from the battle, but in the end he had been able to see that insane gleam turn to fear and then he had finished it, doing to the man all he had so feared. He had fed from him. Not enough to heal his wounds, for he had found the taste of the man foul, but enough to have Duncan screaming in terror before he snapped his neck. The price of that grim enjoyment now seemed too high. While he had played his game with Duncan, Evanna had been nearly killed.
“He is doing just what she said he would,” murmured Raibert.
Scowling at his friend, Berawald demanded, “What are ye talking about?”
“She said ye would blame yourself when ye found out she was hurt,” said Jankyn, easing his hold on Berawald but keeping one hand on his arm. “If it is anyone’s fault it is mine. I wasnae watching for an attack so close to the verra doors of the keep and I didnae react fast enough when I saw the mon swing his sword.”
“Nay, I—”
“Ye were in the midst of a battle and had sent her to our doors where she should have been safe. She wasnae. Now, we can all stand here and decide who is most at fault or accept that it was just one of those things ye can ne’er plan for and get ye inside and cleaned up.”
“I have to see Evanna.”
“Ye will as soon as the women are done doing whate’er it is they do. It would also be best if ye were looking less like ye were cut to ribbons when ye do.”
Berawald knew it would be a waste of time to continue to argue with Jankyn, so he followed his cousin into the keep. He bathed and put on clean clothes, even had something to drink, before he made his way to the bedchamber where Jankyn had said they had put Evanna. Afraid of what he would find, he entered the room slowly.
Evanna was lying in a huge bed, pale and asleep. He nodded at Efrica and moved to the side of the bed to brush his hand over Evanna’s forehead. She felt cold, and after listening closely, he realized her heart was not beating with the strength it usually did.
“She is verra weak,” he said.
Efrica moved to his side and handed him a goblet half-filled with wine. “Ye ken what she needs, Berawald. We felt ye wouldnae want another mon to give it to her, nay after we saw the mark ye left on her neck.”
“She isnae going to like this.”
“If ye dinnae do it, someone else will, for I fear she will die without it. And none of us will allow that. She is of MacNachton blood, Berawald. Her and the lad. I have nary a doubt about that.”
“So this should work,” he said even as he bit into his wrist and added his blood to the wine.
“Like a charm.”
“She still isnae going to like this.”
“I am sure ye can make her see the need of it.”
Berawald just snorted with a mixture of amusement and resignation as he lifted Evanna up enough so that she would not choke on the wine as he poured it down her throat.