Chapter 16
Logan must have been in a rush, Beitris thought, because he had been careless with his tracks.
Hoofprints were visible in the mud. Trampled plants showed where he had gone off the well-trodden path.
Beitris even felt that she could catch the scent of him in the air, although she thought this might have been a product of her imagination, forged from the closeness of them the previous night.
When she closed her eyes she could still feel him, his fingers pressing into her supple skin, the rhythmic movements of his body, the undulating waves that pulsed and crashed and left her reeling.
She bit the inside of her lip, trying to focus her attention because last night was last night, and until she found Logan she didn’t know what to make of it.
Would it eventually be something to regret, or would it be a cherished memory?
Would it truly be the last time they met?
It could have been so many things, but all the possibilities hovered in the air like leaves caught by the wind, and they were yet to fall to the ground.
Beitris slowed her pace, not wanting Logan to detect her presence. He might have been in a hurry, but she was never going to underestimate him. She bent low and searched the horizon for any movement. She lost the tracks for a moment before she noticed them continuing on the other side of a river.
She guided the horse back, then drove it forward, leaping over the crystal water, kicking up mud as the horse landed on the other side. The impact almost threw her from the horse’s back. She kept hold of the reins, being lifted into the air for a moment. The horse whinnied.
“Good lad,” Beitris whispered, patting the horse’s neck.
She slowed the pace again. The tracks were fresher here, and she suspected that she was closing in on her quarry. Her fingers twitched, ready to grab an arrow and her bow. She didn’t like the thought of shooting Logan, but it might be the only way to get him to talk.
Amid the trees she could see shadows moving. Beitris slipped off her horse and crept low, using the plants and trees to hide her advance. Her boots sank into the mud and as she grew closer the voices became audible.
One of them was unmistakably Logan.
“I ken what he wants, and he can hae it,” Logan said.
“Why now? Why after all this time? Ye fight under the enemy banner. How can he trust ye?” the other man said.
Logan scoffed. “He never trusted me before, why start now? I just need a guarantee. I will return tae him as long as he agrees tae keep Beitris Knox safe. Nae harm must come tae her. Those are my terms.”
“Ye are nae in a position tae hae terms. Yer place is with him, and why should he care about that lass?”
“He should care about haeing me, because if ye cannae give me what I want then I’ll send ye back with one less hand.”
“There’s nae need tae take yer anger out on a simple envoy.”
“I will add something tae sweeten the deal. Ryan Knox’s life. My return. Both of these things in return for Beitris’ safety. That should be more than enough,” Logan said,
Beitris couldn’t believe what she was hearing. The contents of her stomach turned to liquid and she shuddered all over. Her face paled and a scream started to form in her throat, but she was so stunned it was not given life.
Logan wasn’t a hero. He wasn’t devoting himself to the cause, nor did he want to avenge his family. He just wanted to kill. Why? Why her father? Of all people… and he dared claim that he did this to protect her?
No… no, she was not going to stand by and allow him to plot the demise of her father. She and Ryan had their disagreements, but she loved him and she would never want him dead.
Hatred burned like fire, both towards Logan for betraying her and towards herself for allowing it. She should have known better. All the warning signs were there, but had she listened? No, she had let her feelings get the better of her.
Well, no longer. It was time to show Logan just how good a shot she was.
She grasped her bow and found an arrow. Whoever she thought Logan was, it had been a lie.
He was the enemy, and enemies needed to be killed.
But before she could loose the arrow she became aware of movement from the trees. Half a dozen men emerged, all wearing mean looks and Warnock colors, brandishing heavy axes and short swords.
“Put that down, lass, ye cannae shoot all of us,” one of them rasped.
Beitris frowned, annoyed that she had been so focused on finding Logan she hadn’t thought about the possibility that there were others.
“Aye, but how many dae ye think I can get?” she said and quickly fired.
The arrow flew through the air and slammed into a throat.
The warrior went down gurgling. Beitris was already grabbing another arrow, her arm moving with expert speed.
She turned. The men were advancing. She fired again.
This one crunched against a leg. A few other men called out from the trees.
Reinforcements. Beitris tried to make a hasty retreat, but they formed a circle around her.
They were like prowling wolves, but she was no rabbit or sheep.
She bared her teeth and fired a third arrow.
Another pained cry shot in the air like thunder, but Beitris’ hands couldn’t move quickly enough before the men were upon her.
Swords and snarls filled her vision. Grunting, she slung her bow over her shoulder and unsheathed her sword, sweat stinging her eyes, a scream stinging her throat.
None of the attacks would hurt as much as what Logan had done. Beitris wanted to survive almost solely to confront Logan.
Where is he?
“Get away from me ye curs!” Beitris said.
There were so many of them that there wasn’t any point in practicing the techniques she learned.
The sword was swung around wildly, as though she was swatting flies.
There was a thick herd of them around her, suffocating and stifling the air.
She saw Logan in each of their eyes. There was a cut on her arm, her leg, someone stamped on her foot.
Pain throbbed and thrummed and she felt blood oozing out, but she would never yield.
For she was a Knox.
Logan turned sharply.
“What is this?” he rasped.
Caesus, the envoy, smiled a deathly smile.
“Did ye forget that yer Da plans for everything? We suspected she might be with ye. Now we hae ye both, but ye will still dae what he wants.”
“Never,” Logan thundered, his words laced with regret and anger. He should have known it would happen. He should have known her.
His sword was drawn in a heartbeat. His feet slammed against the ground as heavy as the hooves of a horse.
His eyes narrowed. For years he had drawn on his anger and love for Abigail.
It was with that strength that he had swung his sword, but today he felt something different.
He fought for Beitris. It was she who loomed large in his mind, for he could not lose someone else he…
He dared not think the word, even if he felt it. Instead, he roared as he chased at the back of the crowd, the tide of men who stood between him and Beitris.
“I’ll kill ye all!” he cried as he plunged his sword into the back of the first man.
It might not have been honorable, but it was effective, and Logan was nothing if not effective.
The surrounding men turned, but not quickly enough.
Logan pulled his sword out and slashed it angrily through the air, the blade cutting a throat.
With his left hand he grabbed a fistful of hair and wrenched it so hard the villain screamed.
Logan dragged him to the ground and stamped on his throat, grinding his heel for good measure.
Then they came; swords and axes crashing down upon him like fatal raindrops. Logan’s sword was broad enough to catch them all, but the pressure pushed him down. He could feel his feet sinking into the ground and the throat. He gritted his teeth so hard he was certain they would crumble.
Then, amid the gnashing of teeth and vile curses he heard Beitris’ voice. Emboldened, he found strength from somewhere and pushed them away. He cut a stomach, stabbed a leg, kicked a face, but there were still more, and there was only so much he could do.
Someone grabbed his arm. Someone hit him in the wound that hadn’t quite healed yet. The pain caused a flash in his eyes and he staggered.
A sword thrust forward and it almost found his flesh, but he just managed to twist his blade in time. He wasn’t making any ground though, and the longer they kept him here, the more chance there was that Beitris would die.
Suddenly he felt a presence behind him.
“Ye are nae good by yerself,” Brody said, pushing back the warriors before him. If Logan had had time, he would have grinned.
“What are ye daeing here?”
“Saving yer hide, as always. What were ye thinking gaeing off by yerself?”
Logan pressed his lips together. He wasn’t sure he had been thinking. They fought as they had so many times before, at each other’s backs, by each other’s side. Their blades moved in harmony, and bodies fell at their feet.
“I was trying tae keep her safe,” Logan grunted.
“Aye, and look how that turned out.”
“She is impossible,” Logan grunted.
Brody chuckled. “Something ye hae in common.”
The men were turning now, their eyes lighting up as they realized the prize that stood before them. Aye, Warnock would pay well for the capture of his wayward son. Logan could see them calculating how many wenches they could buy with the reward.
Brody was distracted for a moment. Logan was overwhelmed by four men. They caught his arms and wrenched them back, stretching his bones and ligaments to the point he thought they would break. Logan was immersed in a world of sweat and blood and greed.
Then, Brody’s blade came past his flank, striking the man behind him. He fell away. Logan brought his fist around, smashing it in another man’s face. Blood poured from his nose. Logan then brought his sword to bear and jabbed the point under the man’s chin.
“They’re nae gaeing tae stop until they hae ye,” Brody said. “Ye hae tae gae. Get her, and gae,” he said desperately.
Logan’s brow formed a knot. Despair shackled his heart.
“I cannae leave ye.”
“If ye dinnae leave, ye will die, or worse. I may nae hae liked it at first, but she hae done ye good, Logan. Let me dae ye this one last favor.”
Brody winked and before Logan could do anything, Brody threw himself into the middle of the battle and drew the attention of Warnock’s men.
Logan was torn for a moment, but if he stayed then Brody’s gesture would mean nothing. He cursed under his breath and prayed that he would see Brody again. He cut his way through the men and only hoped that he would find Beitris still alive.
One by one soldiers fell before him, and then he saw her.
They hadn’t killed her, thankfully, but a worse fate awaited. She was kicking and screaming as they took her away. It took five men in all, and if the situation hadn’t been so dire he would have admired her for it. Logan sprinted towards them.
“Beitris!”
She turned, but the look she gave him was like ice.
For all the enmity she might have had for her captors, it was nothing compared to that which she held for Logan. Her eyes were filled with venom, fire, bitterness, and all the dark things in the world.
He had never felt so small.
Still he ran, but he was too slow. They mounted their horses and rode away, filling the air with arrows, most of which landed at his feet and caused him to stagger back.
Brody was still lost in the storm of violence.
For all his prowess and his cunning, he was losing everything and he couldn’t go on fighting alone.
Not against his father.
He turned and sprinted to his horse, thinking of the previous night.
It might have been a lifetime ago now, a night where her hands had played across his skin, where her lips traveled across the expanse of his body and delivered sweet promises that he wished he could hold forever.
All of that happiness had been replaced by a sick feeling as though his blood was turning to ash.
He draped himself across the beast’s broad back. Logan felt just as he had when he first left home, utterly defeated, as though he had no power in the world at all. All the subsequent battles he’d fought had given him a false sense of his own importance.
He was nothing compared to his father, and he could not save the people who were important to him.
He needed help.
He clicked his tongue and it was soon galloping away, knowing that he had to make Brody’s sacrifice mean something.
“They’re survivors,” Logan whispered to himself, but he wasn’t convinced. Tears welled in his eyes. They were too big to fall. There was only one direction in which he could ride.
Back to people who would now consider him their enemy, and he would deserve any fate they deemed appropriate, no matter how savage.