Chapter Thirteen #2
The colors of sunset were fading to the dull gray of twilight by the time she reached the end of the wood.
She frowned toward the hills she was supposed to cross.
Between her and them was a wide stretch of open land with only a few wind-contorted shrubs, none of which was big enough to hide her, the baby, and the goat.
The grass was long, but it would only hide her if she crawled, and the goat could not be made to do that.
She tied the goat’s lead to a low tree branch then edged forward.
There was no sign of Tavig’s enemies between her and the hills, but she knew that did not mean that they were gone.
Cautiously, keeping to the shelter of the trees, she moved to look to the west, relieved to find no signs of people there.
When she looked to the east she froze. A fire was clear to see, as were the six men gathered around it.
What held her full attention was the figure on the ground, half-hidden by a low shrub.
She was sure she was looking at Tavig’s hunters and Tavig himself.
The figure on the ground moved slightly, and she breathed a sigh of relief. Tavig was alive.
Adair shifted a little in the sling, and she silently cursed. Knowing Tavig was so close and alive had briefly caused her to forget her priorities.
“But kenning that he is in reach and alive, how can I just walk away?”
And just what do ye think ye can do? asked a snide voice inside her head.
She had no answer. As she continued to watch the men she began to have an idea, however.
Tavig’s captors were clearly not swilling water from the skins they were tipping up to their mouths.
Even from where she stood she could hear the increasing rowdiness that indicated inebriation.
If the men kept drinking as heavily as they were, Tavig’s captors would soon be aware of very little.
She came to a decision, praying that she was not allowing emotion to conquer good sense.
Returning to the goat, she untied the animal, gagged him, and started toward the hills.
Moira kept looking in the direction of the men’s fire but did not see it until she was within a few feet of the rocky base of the hills.
She covered those last several feet swiftly, anxious to get within the shelter of the rocks.
Tugging the goat along, she wended her way over the uneven ground until she found a drover’s trail.
She tied the goat to a windblown shrub then looked for a good place to hide Adair.
Although she did not plan to leave him alone for very long, she needed a place that was sheltered from the night air and any animals that might wander by.
There was nothing to meet her requirements, and she slumped against a moss-covered rock.
Moira knew she could not just tuck the child away, even for only a little while.
If something happened to her, he would die.
She was going to have to take him with her.
Even as she wondered if she had gone completely mad, she took a knife from Tavig’s sack of supplies.
“Adair, ye have been the quietest bairn I have e’er met,” she said, lightly touching his cheek and smiling faintly when he smacked his lips in his sleep.
“Please, I beg of you, dinnae change your ways now. We are going to try to save your father, or at least give him a second chance to save himself.”
Moira took a deep breath and raced back across the clearing, pausing to breathe once she reached the safety of the trees. “If Tavig escapes,” she muttered, “he is going to kill me—slowly.”
After taking a moment to bolster her courage, she began to make her way through the trees.
She could see the light of the fire again and crept along until she was directly across from it.
Easing off the sling, she gently placed a still-sleeping Adair on the ground.
She could see the bush Tavig huddled near, his long body too big to be completely hidden by it.
Once at the very edge of the trees, she clamped the knife between her teeth and dropped to her stomach.
Praying that the men were as drunk and half asleep as they appeared, she edged toward Tavig on her belly.
All she had to do was cut his bonds and hand him the knife, she told herself over and over as she inched closer to him.
Tavig winced as he tried to shift his cramped body into a more comfortable position.
He glared at his captors. The two men he had wounded had already drunk themselves into unconsciousness.
Two of the others were sprawled on the ground, soon to join them, and the other two would not be able to stay awake much longer.
Their confidence in his inability to escape or threaten them angered Tavig, especially since he knew they had every right to feel that way.
A faint tug on the ropes around his wrists caused him to tense.
He resisted the urge to jerk away, his first thought being that some animal was inspecting him for his value as food.
The cool touch of steel against his skin told him what was happening—someone was cutting him free. He knew it had to be Moira.
“What in God’s sweet name are ye doing here?” he asked in a taut whisper, keeping his gaze fixed upon MacBain and his men.
“What little I am able to do to try to keep ye alive,” she whispered back.
“Lass, I told ye to run, to flee.”
“Aye, and I was being verra obedient until I saw you. Now, cease talking, or one of those pigs may stagger over here to see why ye are muttering away to yourself.”
“Adair,” he protested, elated to have a chance to escape, yet furious that she would put herself in danger.
“He is quite safe, and as soon as I cut you loose, we will be scrambling o’er those wee hills.
I willnae do any more than cut through your bonds.
I cannae. Adair and I are crossing o’er the hills at a point where the forest is closest to the rocks.
If ye can get away, that is where ye will be able to find us. ”
“Dinnae hesitate and try to wait for me to join you.”
“I have no intention of doing that. In fact, I intend to move as fast as I dare and get as far away as possible. There,” she said as she finished cutting through the ropes binding his ankles. “Take care.”
He heard only the faintest of rustles as she left.
It surprised him that she could move with such stealth.
Still watching his captors, he subtly tried to rub the feeling back into his wrists and ankles.
He waited tensely for some outcry that would indicate that Moira had been seen.
Minutes crept by, and none of the men even glanced toward the hills.
Relieved though he was that she had escaped, Tavig vowed to rebuke her soundly for the risks she had taken. He had to admire her skill, however.
Andrew MacBain was the last man to tumble into a drunken stupor.
Tavig closed his eyes. He had been staring so long and so hard at his captors that his eyes burned.
After the stinging eased he glanced toward the men again.
He had to be certain they were past waking before he attempted his escape.
His only chance to remain free was to get as deep into the hills as he could before they realized he was gone.
Only briefly did he contemplate stealing one of their horses.
The animals were too close to the men. Tavig could not chance rousing them.
It was several more minutes before he felt confident that none of the men could move until morning.
Tavig continued to watch them closely, however, as he edged back into the forest. He nearly groaned aloud when he finally stood up.
His first steps were awkward and unsettlingly noisy as he wound his way through the dark wood.
When he finally reached the rocky base of the hills, he ached to rest, but pressed on.
Tavig was surprised at how long it took him before he caught his first hint that Moira was directly ahead of him.
He had to smile, for he heard her before he saw her.
Alone she could creep about like a ghost. Dragging the stubborn goat stole every bit of stealth from her movements.
He knew he could walk up beside her and tap her on the shoulder before she would know he was even near at hand.
That would frighten her too much to be amusing, however.
“Moira,” he called, smiling faintly at the way she gasped, spinning round to gape at him.
“Is that ye, Tavig?”
“Nay, ’tis a spirit that simply sounds like me.”
“How verra amusing. I ken it was a foolish question,” she said as he walked over to her, “but ye cannae expect a lass’s wits to be verra sharp after she has been dragging this cursed beast about all night long.”
After lightly rubbing the goat’s head, Tavig took the lead from her hands. “He wants to rest. Ye cannae fault him for that.” He glanced at the way she had secured their supplies to the goat’s back. “A good idea.”
“Thank ye. Ye dinnae think it will cause the beast’s milk to dry up, do ye?”
“It may, but not before we reach Mungan’s.” He touched a kiss to her mouth. “Thank ye for saving my fool neck.” Tugging on the goat’s lead, he started to walk. “Ye shouldnae have done it, though. I thought I had made it clear that ye should take the bairn and run—as far and as fast as ye could.”
“Aye, ye made it verra clear,” she agreed as she followed him up the rocky slope, glad to hear no real anger in his voice. “I didnae like deserting ye, but I was doing exactly what ye told me to do.”
“If ye had been, ye wouldnae have been creeping through the grass and cutting my bonds.”
“I meant I was obeying you in the beginning, but once I saw where ye were and that ye were still alive, I had to do something.”
“Ye put yourself and my son in danger. I wasnae lying when I told ye it would be dangerous for ye and Adair if Iver got his hands on you. As dangerous as it is for me.”