“Ride,” he yelled over the din of battle. “I’ll follow!”
Anna grabbed at the hanging reins. The horse snorted and tried to pull away, but she held on with a grip that made her knuckles white. “Easy,” she breathed, attempting to calm the beast.
She reached for the saddle, fingers scraping against the rough leather, but the world suddenly spun around her as something slammed into the back of her head. She went sprawling onto the dusty ground, biting back a cry as pain bloomed in her head.
Emeric’s panicked shout pierced through the haze of her shock. Rolling over, Anna managed to struggle back onto her knees. Dust and debris clung to her face, gritty against her skin.
“Want to go riding, eh?” said a voice, and she looked up to see the thug’s leader standing over her. “Well, that can be arranged.”
He wrapped his grimy fingers around her wrist, yanking her up.
“No!” She tried to wrench free, but his grip was made of iron. “Emeric!” she screamed, even as he slapped a rough hand over her mouth, silencing her cries.
Emeric surged towards her, but three men blocked his way, swinging at him with fists and swords. Emeric ducked and swung, using only fists now, desperately trying to fight his way free.
The leader scooped her up, ignoring her punches and kicks and howls of protest, hoisting her onto the horse. Her captor’s gruff laughter filled her ears as he secured her to the saddle. The ropes bit into her flesh, but she barely noticedthe pain as she looked desperately for Emeric, barely visible in the melee.
“We’ve got what we came for,” the leader shouted. “Let’s go! Three of ye stay behind and finish Mackintosh off.”
“No!” Emeric howled, throwing a punch that sent a man staggering away. “Get away from her!”
A whining sound filled the air and an arrow suddenly punched through Emeric’s hand, sending blood splattering. He collapsed onto his knees with a howl and the men surged around him, pinning his shoulders.
“I love ye, Anna!” he shouted. “I’ll find ye! I promise I’ll find ye!”
She opened her mouth to shout a reply, but the horse jerked into motion and suddenly they were galloping away, only the ropes keeping her in the saddle as she desperately twisted, trying to keep him in view.
“Emeric!”
But she was already too far away for him to hear her. Her shout echoed off the gully walls, but there was no reply.
EMERIC WATCHED ANNAdisappear into the distance and he felt like his heart was being torn out of his chest. Fear, the like of which he’d never known turned his insides to ice.
“Who are ye?” he demanded of his captors. “Where are they taking her? If she is hurt, I swear I’ll—”
A blow caught him across the face and snapped his head to one side.
“Ye are in no position to make threats, Mackintosh,” one of the men growled.
Emeric spat blood into the dirt and glared up at the man. “Aren’t I?” he said, his voice an animal-like snarl. “Why dinna ye let me up and we’ll see about that.”
Two men were holding him down, their grips like iron on his shoulders and arms. They’d forced him to kneel in the dirt and he wasn’t such a fool that he didn’t know what was coming. The arrow that had taken him through the hand was still lodged there, a dull, burning pain spreading from it all the way up his arm.
Where had these people come from? Why would Murray brigands be hiding out in this desolate place? There was nothing for them here. No travelers to rob. No merchant caravans to attack. No livestock to steal. It made no sense.
The man who’d spoken smiled down at him, a cruel, predator’s smile. Emeric had met plenty of men like him before, men who enjoyed inflicting pain on others because it made them feel big when they usually felt so small.
“While I would like nothing more than to kick yer arse from here to Edinburgh, I have my orders, Mackintosh.” The man drew his sword, a huge claymore that he raised two-handed over his shoulder. “And in recognition of the decent fight ye put up, I’ll even make this quick.”
Emeric bowed his head. The men’s grip on him was too strong to break, he was weaponless. What could he do? Better to get it over with. His shoulders slumped and in response to his seeming defeat, he felt the men’s grip on him relax just a fraction.
It was all he needed.
With a roar, he threw all his strength into his legs and surged to his feet, throwing off his captors. He ripped thearrow from his hand in a shower of gore and blood and then stabbed it into the swordsman’s neck.
The man’s eyes went wide and blood erupted from his mouth. As he crashed to his knees, scrabbling at the arrow jutting from below his ear, Emeric snatched the claymore, swung it one-handed, caved in the head of one of his captors and ran the second through before either of them had time to draw their own weapons. It was over in seconds.
Emeric stood panting in the midst of the dust and blood, grimacing as he clamped his good hand over his wounded one. The pain was blinding, but he would not allow it to hinder him.
