Highlander’s Frozen Heart by Shona Thompson
Chapter Nine
Adelleine looked over her shoulder, frowning to herself.
They had been travelling for days, doing the same thing every morning and every night, always on the road, and stopping only to eat or to rest for the night. Life on the road had exhausted her, but it had also made her sense sharper, or perhaps it was Magnus’ own paranoia that was affecting her.
“What is it?” Magnus asked when Adelleine glanced behind them, their eyes meeting for a moment before she looked straight ahead once more.
“I’m not sure,” she said, “Did you hear that? Did any of you hear that?”
Magnus and his men fell silent, the five of them listening carefully for any sounds around them. Adelleine could have sworn that she had heard footsteps, light and quick, right behind them, but when she looked, there was no one there.
Ever since they had left Dalelry, they had all been on high alert, worried that the baron and his men would eventually catch up to them. Even so, there hadn’t been any sign of them, nothing to suggest that they were being followed.
At least until that moment.
“I dinnae hear anythin’,” Duncan said in a whisper, and the other men mumbled their agreements.
Even so, Adelleine was certain that she had heard something.
“It may have been an animal,” she said, though she knew it deep in her gut to be untrue. That sound hadn’t come from an animal. It had come from a human; she could say so with certainty.
The five of them continued to ride down the path, though they did so slowly. Adelleine could feel Magnus’ body against her own, his muscles rigid, his gaze scanning their surroundings, and she could only hope that she had been mistaken.
The rush of movement in front of them was a surprise, and it took Adelleine several moments to realise what was happening. There were three men surrounding them all of a sudden, blocking their way. Their fingers were wrapped around the hilts of their swords, brandishing them with the air of people who knew how to use them, and Adelleine couldn’t help but clutch onto the saddle.
She didn’t have a sword. Even if she did, she wouldn’t know how to use it, she remembered, and that only served to make her hands tremble even harder where they were clutching onto the saddle.
“Brigands!” Duncan shouted at the top of his lungs, but by then, Magnus already had his sword in his hand, and he was jumping off his horse, joining his men in battle.
“Stay here,” he ordered Adelleine, “If anythin’ happens, take the horse and ride as fast and as far as ye can.”
“What?” Adelleine asked, eyes wide, “Where am I supposed to—”
Magnus was gone before she could say another word.
Adelleine sat on the saddle, trying to keep the horse as calm as she could, though it wasn’t easy. The sounds of blades clashing against blades, the men’s shouts, and their thundering footsteps were more than enough to send the horse into a frenzy, and Adelleine held onto the reins, trying to steer it and stop it as much as she could.
In front of her, Magnus and his men were fighting the three brigands, and though the other men were outnumbered, they still put up a fight. They were fast and brutal, their attacks swift. It seemed to Adelleine as though they didn’t care what happened to them, as long as they defeated Magnus and his men.
Those brigands were not in it only for the money, Adelleine realised when she saw the grins on their faces as they fought the other four. They wanted the money, of course, just as much as any other brigand, but they also enjoyed the battle. They enjoyed the thrill of it, it seemed to her, and they would do anything it took to harm Magnus and his men.
Adelleine’s heart thumped in her chest, a constant, speedy rhythm. Her chest was about to explode, her blood rushing through her veins as she watched them, and she couldn’t help but have a bad feeling about the outcome of the fight when it became clear to her that the brigands were not going to stop until blood was spilled.
Adelleine could see, though, that Magnus and his men fought with all their might. She could see the drops of sweat on Magnus’ face as he parried blow after blow from one of the brigands. She could see the way Duncan’s skin had turned red from effort as he tried repeatedly to strike his own opponent down.
All she could do was watch them, and she hated nothing more than her own inability to help. She wanted to do something, anything, but she knew that she would be more of a burden to Magnus and his men than help.
Just as the brigand was about to strike once more, Adelleine watched as Magnus pirouetted to the side, avoiding the man’s blow, before he pierced him with his own sword. His blade entered the man’s body through his back, and within moments, the brigand fell on the ground, blood dripping out of his mouth.
Magnus then turned to help his men, but before he could do so, one of the two brigands who were still alive stabbed Micheil in the gut. Petrified, Adelleine couldn’t look away as the man shoved his blade deeper into Micheil’s stomach, drawing a pained, trembling scream out of the other man as he twisted his sword cruelly.
The brigand didn’t have time to celebrate his victory, though, not before Magnus walked behind him, a shattered cry escaping his lips as his sword went through the brigand’s back with such force that it pierced Micheil’s chest, too.
Adelleine clasped a hand over her mouth, hot tears spilling onto the back of her palm. She looked in horror as the brigand took his last breaths, his head slumping against Micheil’s shoulder, and then she decided that she couldn’t simply sit there anymore.
She jumped off the horse, abandoning it along with the other horses that the men had left behind while fighting the brigands, and she ran up to Magnus, who was standing there, completely still, his gaze fixed on Micheil’s face.
The last brigand was nowhere to be found. After the death of his companions, he had taken off, disappearing into the woods, but no one seemed to care. All that mattered was Micheil.
Magnus didn’t dare remove his sword. Duncan and Frang, Magnus’ third guard and the quietest of the group, were holding up Micheil’s weight, Frang whispering frantic encouragements to his wounded friend.
He was telling him that he had to be strong, that he had to stay quiet to keep his strength so that they could take him to a doctor. He was telling him that it wouldn’t take long for him to recover, that he would be back on his feet before he would even know it.
But despite Frang’s encouragements, everyone knew that Micheil wouldn’t make it.
Adelleine reached for Micheil, but before she could touch him, she dropped her hand to the side. She didn’t know what to do or say. All she could do was stand there in quiet shock, her mouth hanging slightly open as she gazed at him.
“I’m sorry,” Magnus said, his voice barely a whisper, “I’m sorry, Micheil.”
“Dinnae be sorry, m’lord,” Micheil said with what little strength he had left.
As he spoke, blood dribbled out of his mouth, and Adelleine averted her gaze, not bearing to look at him anymore.
He was a good man. He had been kind to Adelleine while they were travelling, keeping her company and offering help whenever she needed it, and she couldn’t bear to watch him die.
Micheil took a deep, rattling breath, as though he was about to speak again. No words came out of his mouth, though, and when Adelleine looked at him once more, she found him dead, his glassy eyes staring at the sky up above.
No one moved for what seemed like several minutes to Adelleine. No one said a thing, not until Magnus drew his sword out of the bodies of the two men, his eyes tracing the trail of blood that was left on his blade.
“We should bury him,” Duncan said, and Magnus simply nodded in agreement as he cleaned his blade before putting the sword back in its sheath.
Adelleine could see that something had changed within him. She couldn’t help but wonder if that was the first time that he had lost one of his men, but that seemed unlikely. Perhaps it was the first time he had lost one of them while fighting next to them, she thought, and so he blamed himself for it.
She didn’t dare ask. She didn’t dare say or do anything other than help the men bury Micheil’s body, cleaning his wounds as best as she could while the men prepared a grave for him.
They could do little other than ensure that the vultures wouldn’t eat his body away once he would be left unattended. The men piled some rocks over Micheil’s grave, and Adelleine said a short prayer, before they had to be on their way once more.
No one spoke the rest of that day. Adelleine could sense the grief coming off the men in waves, and she didn’t dare say anything, fearing that she would only make the situation worse.
What could she say, after all? There were no words that could fix what had happened, there were no words that could offer them any comfort. She had gone through the very same thing when her parents had died, and then again when she had found out about Jacob’s death, and so she knew that words could only make their pain worse.
So, she remained silent, riding Micheil’s horse instead of sharing a saddle with Magnus, now that the spot was free.
She would much rather have shared the saddle with Magnus, uncomfortable as it were, if it meant that Micheil would be alive.
By the time the sun set over the horizon, the four of them had reached a small town. Magnus, deciding that they had all had enough hardships for one day, rented four rooms for them, and though he bought them enough food to feed an army, none of them could bring themselves to eat.
Adelleine didn’t have an appetite. She could only pick at her food as she watched the three men do the same, the four of them more interested in their cups of wine rather than their stews.
How could any of them eat after what they had seen that day? How could any of them eat when Micheil wasn’t there with them?
Eventually, Adelleine stood from her chair, unable to take the silence and the grief of the entire group any longer.
“Excuse me,” she said, “I think I’ll head up to my room.”
The men nodded in understanding, and none of them tried to stop her as she headed up the stairs, leaving them behind. Perhaps it was a little selfish of her, she thought, leaving them alone instead of commiserating with them, but after what she had seen that day, she desperately needed to sleep, if only to get the image of Micheil’s dead body out of her mind.
Once she was in her room, Adelleine leaned against the door with a heavy sigh, as she began to sink down onto the floor. She placed her forehead on her knees, curling up into a ball as she sat there, taking deep breaths through her nose, and exhaling slowly through her mouth.
There was something about watching a young man go to his grave before his time that had left Adelleine reeling, and though she knew that Jacob had died from a disease rather than a wound, she couldn’t help but see him in Micheil as the other man took his last breaths.
How did her brother feel while he was dying, Adelleine wondered. Did he regret being in France, so far away from his family? Did he wish that Adelleine would be there, by his side?
Guilt washed over her within seconds. She knew that she couldn’t have been with him, of course, even if she wanted to. She couldn’t have gone to France to be with him, as she wouldn’t have made it there in time anyway, if Jacob’s letters were any indication of just how rapidly his condition had worsened. It seemed to Adelleine like one day he had been fine, and the next he had been at death’s doorstep, and no amount of love for him could have saved him.
Still, she wished that she had been there. She wished that she had been there for Jacob, and before him, for her parents, but there was nothing that she could have done.
Even though she had known Micheil for a mere few weeks, seeing his dead body slumped against his friends, bleeding onto their clothes and their hands, his body pierced by not one, but two blades, had left her shaken, her mind a jumbled string of images of death.
The knock on her door startled her, and Adelleine scrambled to her feet, wiping the tears that had started flowing out of her eyes with the back of her hand. She didn’t want anyone to see her like that, and though she knew that she must have been red in the face, her eyes puffy and pink, her biggest worry was the evidence of tears.
With a sigh, she opened the door, only to find Magnus there with his back turned to her as though he were about to leave.
“Magnus?” she asked, voice soft and gentle, “What is it?”
Magnus froze for a few moments, but then he turned around and finally faced Adelleine, who saw that he was carrying a whole carafe of wine in his hands.
“I . . . I dinnae ken,” he said. He sounded strange, his jaw clenched, and his fingers wrapped tightly around the neck of the carafe, and Adelleine couldn’t help but wonder if Micheil’s death had been the hardest on him than anyone else. “Duncan and Frang went to sleep. I didnae ken what else to do.”
“Don’t you want to go to sleep, too?” Adelleine urged him, “You don’t look so good, Magnus. You . . . you should stop drinking and go to bed.”
“Aye, I should,” Magnus admitted, “But I dinnae think I can. I dinnae think I can sleep.”
Adelleine gazed at Magnus, looking at the dark circles under his eyes, at the way that his brows seemed to be permanently furrowed, at the specks of blood that still clung to his clothes. If anyone needed a bath and some rest, it was him, but Magnus was also a stubborn man, and Adelleine doubted that she could convince him to go to sleep.
She relented with a sigh, stepping aside to let him into the room, and Magnus took the invitation, sipping wine straight from the carafe as he did. Adelleine closed the door behind them quietly, her heart thumping in her chest.
She could only hope she wasn’t making a mistake.
