The news grew worse when he discovered that Hope had died by Carissa’s hand. He blamed himself for not rescuing her soon enough, and that day he swore revenge, the taste of it bitter in his mouth. He pledged never to return home until he found Carissa and avenged Hope’s death.
That day was today.
He turned and walked to his old but battled-seasoned mare and swiftly mounted. She pranced and snorted, for she knew by the way he seated her that they were going into battle, and she was ready. He had discovered where Carissa was hiding, and he knew the place well, for it had once provided sanctuary for him.
A winter wind whipped around him, and he could smell snow in the air, but not even a snowstorm would stop him. By tomorrow morning, he would arrive at his destination and have his revenge.
Chapter 2
“She will let us enter the village or else,” Cavan commanded.
“You have met my grandmother Bethane and should know that threats, even from the laird of the clan Sinclare, mean little to her,” Zia said and looked to her husband Artair, third oldest of the four Sinclare brothers.
“My wife is right,” Artair agreed, walking over to her and slipping a supportive arm around her waist. “The village Black is a sanctuary for those who seek its shelter. Bethane will not let you enter if you mean anyone harm.”
“She shelters an enemy,” Cavan shouted, and had to rein in his stallion, which suddenly snorted and pranced impatiently.
“Your enemy, not hers,” Zia said. “And you do not know for certain if Carissa is there.”
“Whose side do you take?” Cavan snapped.
“The side of common sense,” she said irritably.
“Zia is right,” Artair said, and raised his hand to prevent his brother’s protest. “We received word that Carissa may have sought safety at the village Black, but we cannot confirm that.”
“And the only way to confirm that is to enter the village and see for ourselves,” Cavan pointed out. “It was Bethane, lest you forget, who told us that when we find Carissa, we find our brother Ronan.”
Zia nodded. “I am well aware of that, but you cannot go charging into the village with a contingent of warriors. My grandmother will never allow it.”
“We are fifty strong. How can she stop us?” Lachlan asked, with a curious smile.
Zia sighed, and Artair shook his head at his younger brother while Lachlan’s wife Alyce pointed to the treetops.
“Did you not notice the sentinels in the trees as we approached?” she asked, her finger going from one tree to another then another.
Lachlan turned a charming grin on his wife. “It is good to have a beautiful wife skilled in battle strategy. But…” His grin grew, and he repeated the obvious. “We have fifty seasoned warriors while they have a few men in trees.”
Alyce guided her mare closer to her husband’s horse and reached out to pat his face. “There are more than a mere few, dear husband, and my guess is that they are highly skilled.” She turned to Zia. “Am I right?”
“You are,” Zia confirmed.
This time Alyce looked to Cavan. “How do you fight what you cannot see?”
Cavan nodded. “You are right, but that does not deter me from my course.” He turned to Zia. “How do we gain entrance to your village?”
“You request permission from my grandmother, though I can assure you that your warriors will not be granted entrance,” Zia said. “And if Carissa is there and has requested sanctuary, my grandmother will not let you take her away.”
“Perhaps she can be persuaded.”
The three Sinclare brothers and the two wives turned to stare at the sudden appearance of a cloaked stranger. His hood fell over his head amply concealing his face, though his formidable stance warned he was not to be dismissed lightly.
“You have business here, stranger?” Cavan asked sharply.
“Do you?” came an equally sharp reply.
“Mind your tongue,” Lachlan snapped. “You speak to the laird of the clan Sinclare.”
“And that should matter to me?” he said with an irritated growl. “Now move out of my way. I have the common sense to gain entrance first and leave the particulars until later.”
Though they made no effort to move, he passed by them with his mare trailing obediently behind him, and just before he reached the entrance to the village, marked by overgrown foliage, a man dropped from a tree to land with a forceful thud in front of him.
The hooded stranger whispered something to him, and the sentinel nodded and parted the bushes for him to pass and gain entrance to the village.
Cavan immediately directed his stallion to the entrance when suddenly a flurry of arrows shot out of the treetops, forcing him to halt as they hit the ground around him.