Highland Shifter
Page 69
Half a mile later, the stone went cold and a chill went up her spine. “Stop.”
Simon reined in his horse. “What is it?”
Something was wrong. They were headed in the right direction, but the air changed and every fiber of her body told her to stop.
“Shhh,” Fin whispered.
Everyone stilled. Even Philip had the good sense to hold perfectly still. Ian waved his hand to the East. Todd and Fin urged their horses forward slowly.
Simon moved Kong to the nearest patch of trees and grasped the reins of Philip’s horse from Fin as he rode by.
Ian and Duncan circled around the opposite side of Fin and Todd. Ian’s falcon soared into the sky. The men in stealth mode was staggering, quiet. They knew something was coming. Like waiting for an earthquake, but having no idea when it would strike.
When the ground shook, it came by way of horses. Over two dozen riders, all split up to attack each party.
She’d led them to their death, Helen was sure of it.
Huge, fierce men with raised swords and shields to protect their bodies screamed out as soon as they were spotted.
Simon’s arm squeezed her even tighter.
Philip wiggled on top of the horse, his eyes big as saucers.
Helen leaned forward, watching what was sure to be a massacre. They were outnumbered.
Behind her, Simon murmured under his breath. Suddenly a few of the horses charging Fin and Todd abruptly stopped, tossing their riders to the ground, evening their odds.
Simon shifted his attention to Ian and Duncan, and again half a dozen riders were thrown. The men scrambled to their feet and lightning split the sky.
Duncan sliced his sword over the head of his enemy. Blood sprayed in an arch over his head.
Helen squeezed her eyes shut against the brutality of the field, but couldn’t sit in darkness long. Though she shuddered, she had to keep watching. The falcon screeched and dove at one of the enemies.
Simon kept to the shadows of the trees, keeping her from harm’s way. He helped in the way he could. Helen noticed his body flinch and his eyes focus on the horses their enemy rode.
One by one, each man fell from his mount, whether by Simon’s hand or one of the MacCoinnich’s, Helen didn’t know. Everything was moving so fast. Men were bleeding everywhere, bodies falling to the cold, wet soil to die a slow and painful death.
Bile rose in her throat and threatened to erupt. This was medieval life and the death Simon had spoke. How did he live with these memories so vivid in his mind? How would she?
Fin yelled above the striking steel. “Hold on,” he warned.
Simon grasped her tighter. “Hold, Kong,” he muttered to the horse.
The ground shook under them with the earthquake Helen anticipated.
The horses that no longer carried riders, bolted away from the fight. The others attempted to follow, some with riders successfully, unable to gain control.
Bodies littered the ground and a paltry few warriors remained. Sword met sword, then flesh until only two men stood. Their retreat was swift.
Only once they rode over the western slope did Helen breathe a sigh of relief.
Her whole body shook as she watched the men who had somehow become part of her family return to their side.
Duncan rode his horse their way and bolted past them. Kong sidestepped and Helen grasped Simon’s waist.
Behind them, Duncan drove into the trees and returned fifteen seconds later with Philip dangling off the ass of his horse. Throughout the battle, Helen hadn’t noticed that Philip had fallen from his horse and was attempting to get away with bound hands.
Duncan tossed him to the ground after stopping among them. He hit hard, his head shot up and he glared at all of them.
“We need to follow those who fled,” Ian told them.
“Isn’t that dangerous?” Helen asked.
“Aye. They’ll likely lead us to the man we seek. The risk is one we must take.”
* * * *
Philip was losing his mind. His stomach was pushed up against his shoulders and his right eye was swollen shut. Death would be a better companion then this. After the brutality of watching men running other men through with swords, he didn’t think things could get worse. Then, for a brief moment after he’d slid from the horse, he thought he’d find freedom. Not that he’d know where to go or had a clue as to how to survive, but it had to be better than this pack of barbarian men were.
Helen sat beside her lover smug and content. Philip wanted to tear her to tiny pieces. She was the reason for his pain. The reason he’d fallen into the strange world. He’d heard only tidbits of information from his wardens. He knew they were searching for someone and they thought he’d be useful when they found them. It was safe to say the small army of men with their guts spewed all over the wet hills were part of the other man’s army. He hoped the rest of the army was better skilled.
It didn’t escape Philip’s notice that these men had other tools at their disposal. A magical arsenal. He’d seen the large man, who’d lifted him as if he were nothing, shoot fire from his hand. How the hell was Philip going to combat that? Earthquakes and perfectly timed lightning only happened on the silver screen. He was f**ked with a capitol “F”.
“We’re almost there,” Helen announced. “Over that hill.”
One of the men broke away. Philip managed to see him gallop by before holding his head up to watch became too much trouble. Either he blacked out or had managed to fall asleep, when the horse he rode on came to a sudden stop.
Two of the riders, the leader and one of his sons, rode ahead while the other two took the opposite direction.
Smoke billowed from a short distance away, providing proof of a camp.
Simon helped Helen off the horse and she stood a short distance away. Without ceremony, Simon pushed Philip until he hit the ground, jarring his hip and causing pain to shoot down his thigh.
Above them, the predatory bird Ian carried like a weapon, soared. Simon stood still, staring at the animal as it flew toward the smoke filled camp.
Helen’s gaze shifted from Simon to Philip and back again. She glanced at the sky but kept quiet.
Without words, Simon left the horses standing alone, grasped Philip’s arm and pushed him forward. “Move,” he yelled, forcing Philip to walk in front.
Helen walked behind Simon, her eyes searching the horizon.
“Is he there?” Helen asked.
“Aye. Ian is explaining his options.”
They walked a few more yards, each step jarred Philip’s sleeping limbs.
“We’ve come to negotiate. End the bloodshed.” Ian’s voice penetrated the damp Highland soil.
Simon reined in his horse. “What is it?”
Something was wrong. They were headed in the right direction, but the air changed and every fiber of her body told her to stop.
“Shhh,” Fin whispered.
Everyone stilled. Even Philip had the good sense to hold perfectly still. Ian waved his hand to the East. Todd and Fin urged their horses forward slowly.
Simon moved Kong to the nearest patch of trees and grasped the reins of Philip’s horse from Fin as he rode by.
Ian and Duncan circled around the opposite side of Fin and Todd. Ian’s falcon soared into the sky. The men in stealth mode was staggering, quiet. They knew something was coming. Like waiting for an earthquake, but having no idea when it would strike.
When the ground shook, it came by way of horses. Over two dozen riders, all split up to attack each party.
She’d led them to their death, Helen was sure of it.
Huge, fierce men with raised swords and shields to protect their bodies screamed out as soon as they were spotted.
Simon’s arm squeezed her even tighter.
Philip wiggled on top of the horse, his eyes big as saucers.
Helen leaned forward, watching what was sure to be a massacre. They were outnumbered.
Behind her, Simon murmured under his breath. Suddenly a few of the horses charging Fin and Todd abruptly stopped, tossing their riders to the ground, evening their odds.
Simon shifted his attention to Ian and Duncan, and again half a dozen riders were thrown. The men scrambled to their feet and lightning split the sky.
Duncan sliced his sword over the head of his enemy. Blood sprayed in an arch over his head.
Helen squeezed her eyes shut against the brutality of the field, but couldn’t sit in darkness long. Though she shuddered, she had to keep watching. The falcon screeched and dove at one of the enemies.
Simon kept to the shadows of the trees, keeping her from harm’s way. He helped in the way he could. Helen noticed his body flinch and his eyes focus on the horses their enemy rode.
One by one, each man fell from his mount, whether by Simon’s hand or one of the MacCoinnich’s, Helen didn’t know. Everything was moving so fast. Men were bleeding everywhere, bodies falling to the cold, wet soil to die a slow and painful death.
Bile rose in her throat and threatened to erupt. This was medieval life and the death Simon had spoke. How did he live with these memories so vivid in his mind? How would she?
Fin yelled above the striking steel. “Hold on,” he warned.
Simon grasped her tighter. “Hold, Kong,” he muttered to the horse.
The ground shook under them with the earthquake Helen anticipated.
The horses that no longer carried riders, bolted away from the fight. The others attempted to follow, some with riders successfully, unable to gain control.
Bodies littered the ground and a paltry few warriors remained. Sword met sword, then flesh until only two men stood. Their retreat was swift.
Only once they rode over the western slope did Helen breathe a sigh of relief.
Her whole body shook as she watched the men who had somehow become part of her family return to their side.
Duncan rode his horse their way and bolted past them. Kong sidestepped and Helen grasped Simon’s waist.
Behind them, Duncan drove into the trees and returned fifteen seconds later with Philip dangling off the ass of his horse. Throughout the battle, Helen hadn’t noticed that Philip had fallen from his horse and was attempting to get away with bound hands.
Duncan tossed him to the ground after stopping among them. He hit hard, his head shot up and he glared at all of them.
“We need to follow those who fled,” Ian told them.
“Isn’t that dangerous?” Helen asked.
“Aye. They’ll likely lead us to the man we seek. The risk is one we must take.”
* * * *
Philip was losing his mind. His stomach was pushed up against his shoulders and his right eye was swollen shut. Death would be a better companion then this. After the brutality of watching men running other men through with swords, he didn’t think things could get worse. Then, for a brief moment after he’d slid from the horse, he thought he’d find freedom. Not that he’d know where to go or had a clue as to how to survive, but it had to be better than this pack of barbarian men were.
Helen sat beside her lover smug and content. Philip wanted to tear her to tiny pieces. She was the reason for his pain. The reason he’d fallen into the strange world. He’d heard only tidbits of information from his wardens. He knew they were searching for someone and they thought he’d be useful when they found them. It was safe to say the small army of men with their guts spewed all over the wet hills were part of the other man’s army. He hoped the rest of the army was better skilled.
It didn’t escape Philip’s notice that these men had other tools at their disposal. A magical arsenal. He’d seen the large man, who’d lifted him as if he were nothing, shoot fire from his hand. How the hell was Philip going to combat that? Earthquakes and perfectly timed lightning only happened on the silver screen. He was f**ked with a capitol “F”.
“We’re almost there,” Helen announced. “Over that hill.”
One of the men broke away. Philip managed to see him gallop by before holding his head up to watch became too much trouble. Either he blacked out or had managed to fall asleep, when the horse he rode on came to a sudden stop.
Two of the riders, the leader and one of his sons, rode ahead while the other two took the opposite direction.
Smoke billowed from a short distance away, providing proof of a camp.
Simon helped Helen off the horse and she stood a short distance away. Without ceremony, Simon pushed Philip until he hit the ground, jarring his hip and causing pain to shoot down his thigh.
Above them, the predatory bird Ian carried like a weapon, soared. Simon stood still, staring at the animal as it flew toward the smoke filled camp.
Helen’s gaze shifted from Simon to Philip and back again. She glanced at the sky but kept quiet.
Without words, Simon left the horses standing alone, grasped Philip’s arm and pushed him forward. “Move,” he yelled, forcing Philip to walk in front.
Helen walked behind Simon, her eyes searching the horizon.
“Is he there?” Helen asked.
“Aye. Ian is explaining his options.”
They walked a few more yards, each step jarred Philip’s sleeping limbs.
“We’ve come to negotiate. End the bloodshed.” Ian’s voice penetrated the damp Highland soil.
