CHAPTER FOURTEEN #3
Sam looked at Aidan and her heart almost stopped.
It was so strange. He and Ian could have been twins, except that Ian looked about twenty-five, and Aidan looked a couple of years older.
But the real difference was their eyes. Aidan’s eyes were not filled with anger, frustration or despair; they mirrored a deep and fundamental peace that could only come from a man’s soul.
But it hadn’t always been that way.
Ian suddenly seized her arm. “We have to go,” he said harshly.
Sam was already chilled. She glanced behind her. Evil was close by.
Tabby seized Sam’s hand. “What is going on?”
“There’s no time to explain,” Sam said. “But it’s not a good idea for me or Ian to hang around here.”
Ian looked really unhappy.
Sam knew why. “Hey,” she said. “I’m too beat up to manage another leap. We’re going to hoof it out of here on foot.”
His gaze slammed to hers, filled with suspicion. What did they do to ye?
His mouth hadn’t moved, but she’d heard him as clearly as she had when he’d been using telepathy earlier. She turned, shaken. “Maybe one of you big guys can create a diversion so we can walk out the front door?”
“I will cause the diversion,” Macleod said sharply. “Aidan can cover yer flank.”
Aidan was staring at Ian, as if he knew his son’s painful secrets and as if those secrets pained him, too.
Macleod strode away from them, roaring.
Sam blinked, realizing he meant to confront the monk head-on. She looked at Tabby, who was pale and resigned. She gave Sam a shrug, and ran after him.
For one moment, Sam stared after her sister, who was pursuing her savagely determined husband now. Then Ian jerked her to his side.
She met his fierce gaze. As she nodded, she heard walls cracking. Macleod had engaged. She glanced at Brie, who was crying.
“Go!” Brie cried. “Go with the gods…Ian, take care of her!”
Aidan’s saber rang as he drew it. Dozens of racing, booted steps sounded. “Go now,” he said, his mouth down-turned, nostrils flared. His eyes were suddenly red-rimmed, too.
Ian and Sam turned and ran for the front hall.
Behind them, swords rang and more stone fell.
SAM COULDN’T RECALL the last time she’d been so out of breath.
Running hard, Maclean beside her, they half crawled and half scrambled over a stone wall.
The fields were wet and slick from a recent rain.
They ran and slid down another hill, scattering grazing sheep.
Sam looked back. She could still see Carlisle Cathedral’s towers piercing the cloudy summer sky, perhaps a mile away now.
Suddenly the ground shook, vibrating beneath their feet.
An army. Sam halted, panting, looking at Ian. He jerked her arm, turning her toward the north, where she saw trees. A forest began. It looked endless.
They ran harder as the vibrations from the thundering horses increased and intensified. The damned trees were a half a football field away. Sam looked back over her shoulder.
Streaking toward them were a dozen knights in heavy armor, their visors down. Their war cries sounded. The bellows were incomprehensible, savage.
In that moment, she was positive that whatever was pursuing them wasn’t human, not even remotely.
The forest was a ballroom away now. Hand in hand, they dug into the ground harder.
A kitchen away…
And Sam felt the horse’s breath blowing down her nape. As if in one another’s mind, still holding hands, they dove into the shield of trees. As they did, Sam heard the whizzing of some kind of weapon just behind her neck.
She fell on her hands violently and her jaw made contact with the ground.
She rolled over in time to catch the knight thundering by, a spiked ball swinging from his gauntleted hand.
The knight was completely covered in armor from head to toe, she saw.
Peepholes in his visor allowed him to see.
He hauled his horse to a stop so hard that it reared up.
It was armored, too. He whirled it back around and galloped toward the trees where they’d crash-landed.
She looked at Ian. “Time to go?” She was hopeful.
His eyes were ablaze. He stood and blasted horse and rider, incinerating both.
“Way to go,” she panted, doubling over. Breathing hurt like hell.
Hoofbeats sounded, approaching.
Sam straightened. “Shit.” The army was coming back. There were about a dozen knights. She knew Ian really didn’t want to leap. She got it, she did. It hurt. He’d leapt a whole bunch of times recently, mostly because of her. “Are you really…going to take them on…one by one?” she panted.
He took her hand and pulled her with him into the forest. The outskirts were sparsely populated with evergreen trees, tangled shrubs and brush.
A horse and rider could navigate the outer edge, although not adeptly.
About a hundred yards ahead, the forest was so dense that it seemed pitch-black. They ran for those impenetrable depths.
Hooves pounded behind them.
Sam glanced back and saw the knight riding like a madman, weaving through the trees, his horse zigzagging the way those western gals did on barrel racers. She didn’t know if she could run any harder or faster. Her lungs were about to explode.
His sword sliced the air, close to her head and shoulders. Maclean put his arm around her, wrestling her into sudden blackness.
They stumbled forward. Sam couldn’t see and she hoped he could. They crashed into a trunk, branches scraping their arms, their faces. Her eyes began to adjust to the darkness. They slowed abruptly to a walk. The only sound now that could be heard was their own harsh, labored breathing.