not?” Peg asked, wide eyes set on the palisade rim.
I could not answer. The acrid taste of ash blossomed in my mouth at the sudden thought of Duncan’s pleasure with his orders and his impressive leave-taking.
“Oh, my God,” I finally got out. “Prince Rupert sent Duncan to Bolton.”
“Ha. So, it was not Thomas ye thought to see in Bolton, but Captain Comrie. I should have known. Do ye think he has arrived?”
“No. There would be gunfire. He will ride straight into this nest of vipers, and they will be upon him.” I shook my head in a slow twist, my mind working feverishly.
“What are ye thinkin’ of doing?”
Ignoring Peg’s question, I calculated the slower speed Duncan and the vanguard would be forced to maintain on the moor road against Peg’s and my relatively fast passage.
“I may have an hour, no more. You should have no trouble approaching Thomas’ house by way of the old ruins. I will return if I can.”
“Yea,” Peg said, unnaturally cheery about being abandoned. She shook her cloak out around herself atop her mare. “I will await ye at Thomas’ cottage. Be thee careful.”
“You, too,” I called back.
I pushed Kalimir off the road and into a gallop. The low tree line that we had followed ended here at the top of the palisade. Within precious minutes, I was heading overland across the fog-hung moor.
Chapter Five
Kalimir pounded out onto the open moorland. I leaned forward, tight in the saddle. The moor lay dim and forbidding under an overcast sky, deep fog banks lurking in the natural depressions of the hilly wasteland. Wet air tore past me, whipping long tendrils of my hair that had escaped their tie. After riding so long in the relative seclusion of the Sheffington Road, I felt perilously exposed, unsure what I might encounter. My great bay flew over the tufty ground. Only the clear tops of the low hills around us were visible, like islands in the mist. That, and an approaching fog bank.
I brought Kalimir to a stop, and a soft breeze rose, whirling the rising mist slowly around his hocks. We started moving again, unnerved, and the mist-laden wind came in earnest, shifting around behind us, pushing us along in our headlong flight. The land sloped gently downward, the wind dropped and the mist turned to leaden fog, encapsulating us. I slowed Kalimir to a walk.
The shifting mist thinned here and there for moments at a time, giving me some indication of the muddy, trampled road ahead, or at least that I was still on the road. It had been used heavily and recently. But soon, I found myself unable to determine where I was or where I needed to go in the thickening fog. Had I also missed the Royalist vanguard? They could have passed this way, moved off to the south of the city, and seen for themselves what inhabited the place. This would then be a fool’s errand. If that were true, and when the alarm was raised, they would be slaughtered by vastly superior numbers, Duncan’s life forfeit, and Tor House once again at risk.
The intensity of my sudden attraction to Duncan Comrie had been a surprise that left me certain I would see him again. Yet two years of rebellion had taught me that nothing could be counted as certain.
At that moment, a living vision flashed across my eyes.
Gun smoke cloyed in my throat. Screams deafened me. Just beyond a wide stable entrance, a man lay alone, cruelly twisted on the ground, a pike through his powerful chest. He awaited death in silence, his breathing shallow, his wild red hair clotted with blood.
Foggy moorland reclaimed my vision. A gasp ripped out of me. Hand at my mouth, I slumped in the saddle, whimpering, for it was Duncan I had seen.
But it had not yet happened. Nor would I sit aside and allow it to happen. With a flip of my hand, I dashed away my tears and straightened in the saddle, erect, determined. I refused to accept what I had seen. That strong, adaptable man was too fast, too wary for such a death. I forced myself to
I could not answer. The acrid taste of ash blossomed in my mouth at the sudden thought of Duncan’s pleasure with his orders and his impressive leave-taking.
“Oh, my God,” I finally got out. “Prince Rupert sent Duncan to Bolton.”
“Ha. So, it was not Thomas ye thought to see in Bolton, but Captain Comrie. I should have known. Do ye think he has arrived?”
“No. There would be gunfire. He will ride straight into this nest of vipers, and they will be upon him.” I shook my head in a slow twist, my mind working feverishly.
“What are ye thinkin’ of doing?”
Ignoring Peg’s question, I calculated the slower speed Duncan and the vanguard would be forced to maintain on the moor road against Peg’s and my relatively fast passage.
“I may have an hour, no more. You should have no trouble approaching Thomas’ house by way of the old ruins. I will return if I can.”
“Yea,” Peg said, unnaturally cheery about being abandoned. She shook her cloak out around herself atop her mare. “I will await ye at Thomas’ cottage. Be thee careful.”
“You, too,” I called back.
I pushed Kalimir off the road and into a gallop. The low tree line that we had followed ended here at the top of the palisade. Within precious minutes, I was heading overland across the fog-hung moor.
Chapter Five
Kalimir pounded out onto the open moorland. I leaned forward, tight in the saddle. The moor lay dim and forbidding under an overcast sky, deep fog banks lurking in the natural depressions of the hilly wasteland. Wet air tore past me, whipping long tendrils of my hair that had escaped their tie. After riding so long in the relative seclusion of the Sheffington Road, I felt perilously exposed, unsure what I might encounter. My great bay flew over the tufty ground. Only the clear tops of the low hills around us were visible, like islands in the mist. That, and an approaching fog bank.
I brought Kalimir to a stop, and a soft breeze rose, whirling the rising mist slowly around his hocks. We started moving again, unnerved, and the mist-laden wind came in earnest, shifting around behind us, pushing us along in our headlong flight. The land sloped gently downward, the wind dropped and the mist turned to leaden fog, encapsulating us. I slowed Kalimir to a walk.
The shifting mist thinned here and there for moments at a time, giving me some indication of the muddy, trampled road ahead, or at least that I was still on the road. It had been used heavily and recently. But soon, I found myself unable to determine where I was or where I needed to go in the thickening fog. Had I also missed the Royalist vanguard? They could have passed this way, moved off to the south of the city, and seen for themselves what inhabited the place. This would then be a fool’s errand. If that were true, and when the alarm was raised, they would be slaughtered by vastly superior numbers, Duncan’s life forfeit, and Tor House once again at risk.
The intensity of my sudden attraction to Duncan Comrie had been a surprise that left me certain I would see him again. Yet two years of rebellion had taught me that nothing could be counted as certain.
At that moment, a living vision flashed across my eyes.
Gun smoke cloyed in my throat. Screams deafened me. Just beyond a wide stable entrance, a man lay alone, cruelly twisted on the ground, a pike through his powerful chest. He awaited death in silence, his breathing shallow, his wild red hair clotted with blood.
Foggy moorland reclaimed my vision. A gasp ripped out of me. Hand at my mouth, I slumped in the saddle, whimpering, for it was Duncan I had seen.
But it had not yet happened. Nor would I sit aside and allow it to happen. With a flip of my hand, I dashed away my tears and straightened in the saddle, erect, determined. I refused to accept what I had seen. That strong, adaptable man was too fast, too wary for such a death. I forced myself to
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