Highland Sword. Ruth Ryan Langan

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СКАЧАТЬ Weeding her garden.” Wilona’s sharp eyes narrowed on her daughter’s troubled face. “What’s wrong?”

      “Something, though I know not what.” Already Nola was hurrying up the hill toward the meadow. “She needs me, for I heard her calling my name.”

      Wilona set aside her wooden spoon and hurried after her daughter, with the old woman trailing slowly behind.

      When they came to the meadow, Nola knelt and retrieved the hoe from the dirt where Allegra had dropped it.

      Her mother was already examining the print of a man’s boot in the sand. Her tone was low with fear. “An intruder from beyond. He would have to slay the dragon.” Wilona frowned in concentration. “I thought I heard a cry earlier, but because I was surrounded by bleating lambs, I couldn’t be certain just what it was.”

      “Is he a barbarian?” Nola’s tone was little more than a whisper.

      “Nay.” Wilona straightened, holding a torn piece of plaid that clung to a section of wattle fence. “A Highlander, from the look of this.”

      “No Highlander would dare to risk the Enchanted Loch.”

      “No ordinary Highlander, perhaps.” Wilona caught her daughter’s arm. “You must know that even hidden here, away from prying eyes, there are those who desire the power.”

      “But for what reason?”

      The older woman shook her head. “I know not. But this I know. We must stop him before he crosses the loch, or all will be lost.”

      The two women lifted their fingers to their mouths and gave a series of shrill whistles. Within minutes Kylia stepped from the stream and hurried to the meadow. From out of the forest came tiny Gwenellen, moving as swiftly as a shadow, followed more slowly by Jeremy.

      After a hasty explanation, the four women formed a circle and joined hands, chanting in an ancient tongue, while Jeremy and Bessie sat in the grass, adding their voices to the chorus.

      Merrick MacAndrew had never seen anything like this. One minute the waters of the loch were so clear and calm, he could see all the way to the bottom. The next they were swirling and churning as though they were a bubbling cauldron stirred by a witch’s spell.

      Witch. His eyes narrowed on the bundle in his arms. She may have looked like a goddess in her garden, with that exquisite gown and hair neatly plaited in one fat braid, but now he had no doubt that this fiery female was the reason for the loch’s abrupt upheaval.

      If he weren’t so desperate, he’d have the sense to be afraid. If his life meant anything at all to him, he would surely turn back. But without his son, his life was meaningless. And without the woman in his arms, his son would surely die.

      “Witch. You’ll not deter me from my path,” he muttered.

      Just then the angry waves swept him from the saddle and he found himself floundering in the deep. For a moment his precious bundle was torn from his hands, but he managed to snag an end of the plaid and drag her close.

      Coughing and choking, Allegra struggled against the cloth that bound her. “You must set me free at once.”

      “So you can flee? I’ll see you dead before I consent to such foolishness.”

      “Then you’ll have your wish soon enough.” She coughed and came up sputtering as another wave washed over her. “At least give me an opportunity to stay afloat.”

      He was about to refuse when a thought came to him. “Aye. I’ll do as you ask.” Within seconds he’d unwrapped the length of plaid, freeing her hands and legs. Then, just as quickly, he wound it around his own waist and around hers, binding her firmly to him. “As long as you understand that in order to save your own life, you must save mine, as well.” He shot her a look of triumph. “If one of us dies, the other dies, as well.”

      “You’re mad.”

      “So I’ve been told.”

      A series of waves rolled over them, tumbling them about like leaves in a storm. But the cloth held, and when they came up, gasping for air, they were still bound together.

      Seeing a flash of movement beside him, Merrick’s arm shot out and he captured a handful of his horse’s mane. His other arm wrapped around her as he shouted, “Hold on, woman.”

      They were dragged through the waves with such force they couldn’t catch their breath. The water thrashed and pummeled and hurled them about until they were dazed and clinging. Each time they thought they’d survived the worst, the waves would increase in strength, battering them until they were struggling for breath.

      Above the sound of the waves and water, Allegra heard the familiar words of the ancient chant and knew that her family had come together to try to save her. The thought of them forming a circle of protection gave her a sense of peace. As she was buffeted and tossed about, she closed her eyes, willing herself into the circle with them.

      Suddenly a wall of water as high as the rock cliffs that surrounded the loch bore down on them, rolling them over and over until they were bruised and battered, their lungs screaming for air.

      So this was how it felt to die, Allegra thought as she was dragged to the very bottom of the loch, still bound to the stranger. She absorbed a blow from the horse’s flailing hooves as the terrified animal struggled to the surface.

      For a moment she feared her head would explode from the pain. Then she felt wave after wave of darkness rolling over her. Strong arms surrounded her, and she saw the face of her long-dead father, who had descended from the noblest of Scotland’s families. Kenneth Drummond could trace his lineage all the way to the first king of the Scots.

      She held on to him, thrilling to his strength as, with powerful strokes, he broke the surface. For several long moments they clung, filling their lungs with precious air. Then he untied the plaid and lifted her in his arms, carrying her to shore.

      The water here was as calm as glass.

      She lifted a hand to his cheek. “Am I dead then, Father?”

      “You’re neither dead, nor with your father.”

      At the sound of that stern voice, she opened her eyes and felt her heart plummet. Not her father. The giant.

      He had somehow escaped the perils of the Forest of Darkness and the Enchanted Loch to storm the Mystical Kingdom itself.

      Sweet heaven. Who was this man, that he could overcome such powerful magic?

      In the meadow of the Mystical Kingdom a dark shadow passed overhead. A sudden wind came up, catching their hair and sending the hems of their gowns whipping about their ankles. The nearby trees were bent nearly double from the force of the wind.

      Their chanting abruptly ceased as they looked around with a feeling of dread.

      It was Wilona who finally spoke. “Allegra is lost to us. She is no longer safe within the confines of the Mystical Kingdom. Her captor’s powers must be far more potent than ours. Or perhaps his need greater than ours.”

      “But how can that possibly be?” Gwenellen’s eyes, as blue as sapphires, went wide with disbelief as СКАЧАТЬ