Chapter 8 #2
The village would turn out for the burial and pay tribute to these two brave souls. Rhys would go and collect his wife and they would stand side by side as the two were placed in the ground.
There was much he had to say to Heather, though he wondered what good it would do.
She did as she pleased at every turn and thought nothing of it.
Her father had warned him that Heather did not follow the path of others.
She had forged her own out of necessity with such heavy responsibility having been placed on her since she was young.
In other words, Donald Macinnes had been warning him that it would be difficult for Heather to change her ways after all this time.
After only a day spent with his bride, Rhys discovered how right her father was. But as difficult as it may be, his wife had to learn to follow his dictate whether she liked it or agreed with it or not. It was for her own good and for his sanity.
“Toll the bell when it is time for all to gather for the ceremony,” Rhys instructed and left the men to finish their solemn task.
He took brisk steps to the keep, wanting to have this talk done with Heather and this burial behind them.
Pitt stopped him before he reached the keep. “Innis waits in your solar for you.”
“Along with my wife?”
“Lady Heather is not in your solar. I saw her rush off with Douglas’s wife and I fear his wound has worsened.”
Rhys rubbed his chin. He could not fault her for helping one of his warriors, but that he thought she was tucked safely away in his solar when she was not, irritated him. She was always someplace other than where he ordered her to be.
“She is not an easy one to keep eyes on; she moves around so much,” Pitt said. “And with extra sentinels posted, I fear there may be times when she becomes like the ghost warriors...invisible.”
“That is not what I want to hear.”
“I know, but until more warriors arrive there is little that can be done about it, which is more of what you do not want to hear.” Pitt hesitated a moment before he continued. “We could reach out to Macinnes—”
“No, I will not drag them into this hell and see them suffer for it. I will see my wife kept safe if I have to keep her by my side until this thing is done.”
“I have come to know Lady Heather well since I spent much time observing her after I led the troop that abducted her and believe me when I tell you that that will be an impossible task.”
“I am beginning to realize that myself,” Rhys said and climbed the stairs, shaking his head.
Rhys entered the Great Hall to find Innis sitting on the floor in front of the hearth with a tankard in his hand.
Nessa rushed toward Rhys and bobbed her head.
“I am sorry, my lord, but he refused to remain waiting for you in your solar and I fear he is far into his cups, for he grumbles and speaks to the flames like some are friends and some are foes.” Nessa wrinkled her nose.
“He also has a foul order about him and grew upset with me when I asked if I could wash his garments for him.”
“It is all right, Nessa, I will see to him, but keep the servants and anyone else from entering the Great Hall until I am done.”
“Aye, my lord,” she said and hurried off, wondering why the Dragon would speak to a drunkard alone.
While Rhys filled a goblet with wine, he cast a glance at the man on the floor.
Many would turn away from the stench and his filthy appearance.
His senseless utterings would also keep people at bay.
It was a perfect disguise for slipping past the enemy or in some cases being right in the middle of them.
A dangerous game, but one Innis always looked forward to playing.
Rhys joined Innis on the floor. “I have a mission for you.”
Innis nodded. “I thought as much, after seeing what was done to the one warrior.”
“How did you know that?” Rhys asked concerned that the news had somehow already gotten out.
“It was easy. I knew the two bodies would be taken to the barn, so I arrived before them and hid. I had a look, and then stumbled out of the barn as if I had just woken from a drunken stupor and, with my stench ripe, the guard waved me away and ordered me to stay out of the barn.”
“And what do you have to say for what you saw?”
“It is a clear message. I will cut your throat and you will never see me coming.” Innis took a hardy drink from his tankard.
“Then you know what needs to be done.”
“I go east and north and gather the troops that lay patiently in wait for such a moment. Some I send to your land to protect those there and the others I send here, though not where they can be so easily seen.”
Rhys stood. “Time is of the essence, Innis. Do not delay.” Rhys turned away, then turned back again. “And stay safe, Innis. This enemy we deal with is not so easily fooled.”
“And I am not a fool when it comes to such evil. I will send our warriors and we will defeat this evil before it can spread.”
The bell tolled, letting the village know that it was time to gather for the burial ceremony. Rhys turned to ask if Innis wished to attend before he took his leave, knowing what a close-knit band his warriors were, but the man was already gone.
Rhys went to collect his wife from Douglas’s cottage and was not pleased when he saw her disheveled appearance and flushed face.
“I am needed here. I cannot leave,” Heather said worried for Douglas.
She could not get his fever to fade no matter how hard she tried.
And if she did not succeed soon, she would lose him, and Bea would give birth to a fatherless child.
That was something she refused to see happen, knowing how difficult it had been for her sisters growing up without their mother.
“You are my wife and expected to stand by my side and show respect for such a solemn occasion,” Rhys argued, thinking she was trying to do the impossible—save a warrior that could not be saved.
“Those brave warriors are already dead,” Heather said with tears in her eyes. “Douglas is not. Give me the chance to save him.”
How could he deny her the possibility of saving one of his warriors when they had lost too many already? Rhys reluctantly gave his nod of approval and took hold of his wife’s hand to draw her close to him. “Do what you can but know that you cannot save them all.”
Heather pressed her cheek to his and whispered in his ear, “If I felt that powerless then I would not be able to save any of them, and I certainly would not be able to save the Dragon from himself.”