reins, he caused Galahad
to whinny in protest and stumble backward on the path. Patting Galahad’s neck to calm the stallion,
he leaned forward. “Sorry about that, boy. But I think we might have a problem
here.” Slipping from his saddle, he
knelt down and carefully removed the brush that had been carefully laid over
the rope strung tightly between two trees. It was positioned at a height were it would normally go unnoticed,
especially hidden by greenery. It was
definitely a trap, created to send a horse faltering to its knees and,
depending on the horse’s speed when it tripped, send the animal to its
death.
Looking around, he studied the woods, his mind a tangle of
thoughts. Who would devise such a ploy? And
why would they target horses in the woods? Most of the village used the
main path in the valley for transportation. Then a stray notion entered his mind. Eochaidh!
Surely someone wouldn’t be setting traps to try and harm them. There had to be
another explanation.
Standing, Lord John surveyed the area. There were not too many areas that could be
considered trap free. The trees were too close and the vegetation too
lush. He would have to travel slowly and
carefully as he followed Jepson and Meaghan. However, the bright side was the army of riders trailing him would have
equal difficulty following this path.
Grabbing a long narrow branch from the ground, Lord John
remounted Galahad and, holding the stick in front of them, urged Galahad
forward at a slow uniform pace. Eyes
focused on the ground, Lord John would occasionally glance up to be sure he was
keeping Jepson’s jacket in view and was surprised that even though he was
traveling slowly, he was gaining on them. Were they injured? He
wondered. Had something happened to
Meaghan?
Tamping down his desire to charge forward, he ground his
teeth and continued carefully forward, ducking under the low-hanging branches
and scanning the ground for unusual piles of vegetation while he poked at brush
with the stick. Finally, he came to a
clearing, and, dropping the stick, he gave Galahad his head and ran to the departing
figure of Jepson a quarter mile away.
“Jepson,” he called out. “Jepson wait!”
The rider in front of him stopped and slowly turned his
horse around, facing Lord John. Coming
up quickly, Lord John gasped as he beheld the brutal marks on Jepson’s face.
“What the hell happened?” he demanded.
Shaking his head, Jepson stopped him. “Meaghan. Did you see
her?” he asked. “Did you send her home to safety?”
His heart dropping, Lord John inhaled sharply. “Meaghan?
She’s not here with you?” he asked.
“No,” he replied, crestfallen. “She rode off, toward the
valley, to distract them. The riders
were getting close and I… I was going to ride out. I was going to lead them away from her. I should
have…”
His voice broke, but he took a deep breath and met Lord
John’s eyes. “I have failed you, my lord,” he replied. “I did not keep her
safe.”
“You did not fail me, Jepson,” he replied tenderly, placing
his hand on the man’s shoulder. “But, Meaghan. She was unhurt?”
Jepson nodded, and a slight smile spread across his face. “She
laid out the magistrate in two moves,” he said. “You would have been
impressed.”
Allowing a little sense of relief, he nodded. “Why has this
happened?” he asked. “Why this attack?”
“The magistrate told us he had taken an oath to protect the
enchantment,” Jepson said. “He is part of a group that have vowed to stop you.”
“And Meaghan? What did she say to that?”
“She laughed in his face and told him he was chasing fairy
tales.”
“He probably didn’t appreciate that,” Lord John replied.
“Hence the hordes.”
Jepson shook his head. “No, I believe the riders are to
prevent her, us, from getting to you and sounding the alarm,” he said. “The
magistrate only allowed this information because
to whinny in protest and stumble backward on the path. Patting Galahad’s neck to calm the stallion,
he leaned forward. “Sorry about that, boy. But I think we might have a problem
here.” Slipping from his saddle, he
knelt down and carefully removed the brush that had been carefully laid over
the rope strung tightly between two trees. It was positioned at a height were it would normally go unnoticed,
especially hidden by greenery. It was
definitely a trap, created to send a horse faltering to its knees and,
depending on the horse’s speed when it tripped, send the animal to its
death.
Looking around, he studied the woods, his mind a tangle of
thoughts. Who would devise such a ploy? And
why would they target horses in the woods? Most of the village used the
main path in the valley for transportation. Then a stray notion entered his mind. Eochaidh!
Surely someone wouldn’t be setting traps to try and harm them. There had to be
another explanation.
Standing, Lord John surveyed the area. There were not too many areas that could be
considered trap free. The trees were too close and the vegetation too
lush. He would have to travel slowly and
carefully as he followed Jepson and Meaghan. However, the bright side was the army of riders trailing him would have
equal difficulty following this path.
Grabbing a long narrow branch from the ground, Lord John
remounted Galahad and, holding the stick in front of them, urged Galahad
forward at a slow uniform pace. Eyes
focused on the ground, Lord John would occasionally glance up to be sure he was
keeping Jepson’s jacket in view and was surprised that even though he was
traveling slowly, he was gaining on them. Were they injured? He
wondered. Had something happened to
Meaghan?
Tamping down his desire to charge forward, he ground his
teeth and continued carefully forward, ducking under the low-hanging branches
and scanning the ground for unusual piles of vegetation while he poked at brush
with the stick. Finally, he came to a
clearing, and, dropping the stick, he gave Galahad his head and ran to the departing
figure of Jepson a quarter mile away.
“Jepson,” he called out. “Jepson wait!”
The rider in front of him stopped and slowly turned his
horse around, facing Lord John. Coming
up quickly, Lord John gasped as he beheld the brutal marks on Jepson’s face.
“What the hell happened?” he demanded.
Shaking his head, Jepson stopped him. “Meaghan. Did you see
her?” he asked. “Did you send her home to safety?”
His heart dropping, Lord John inhaled sharply. “Meaghan?
She’s not here with you?” he asked.
“No,” he replied, crestfallen. “She rode off, toward the
valley, to distract them. The riders
were getting close and I… I was going to ride out. I was going to lead them away from her. I should
have…”
His voice broke, but he took a deep breath and met Lord
John’s eyes. “I have failed you, my lord,” he replied. “I did not keep her
safe.”
“You did not fail me, Jepson,” he replied tenderly, placing
his hand on the man’s shoulder. “But, Meaghan. She was unhurt?”
Jepson nodded, and a slight smile spread across his face. “She
laid out the magistrate in two moves,” he said. “You would have been
impressed.”
Allowing a little sense of relief, he nodded. “Why has this
happened?” he asked. “Why this attack?”
“The magistrate told us he had taken an oath to protect the
enchantment,” Jepson said. “He is part of a group that have vowed to stop you.”
“And Meaghan? What did she say to that?”
“She laughed in his face and told him he was chasing fairy
tales.”
“He probably didn’t appreciate that,” Lord John replied.
“Hence the hordes.”
Jepson shook his head. “No, I believe the riders are to
prevent her, us, from getting to you and sounding the alarm,” he said. “The
magistrate only allowed this information because
Similar Books
