Haldane was going to kill her. She knew it, but she couldn't move, couldn't escape. And suddenly his face changed, darkening, hardening into one she had never seen. His wicked grin was a white slash against his granite features and in his hand he held the hilt of a sword entwined with the image of a black snake. The blade rose. Terror welled up inside her. She couldn't die. Not now. She screamed, and awoke with a start, still gripping the dragon pendant that hung from her neck.
Bracken rustled beneath her. Beside her, the feeding gourd and pouch still hung from her belt.
Glancing up, she saw that the sun hung low in the sky. Inside his makeshift sling against Sara's breast, Caroline's child bumped to awareness. Thomas, sweet Thomas. Sara stroked his head, assuring herself he was safe as she collected her thoughts. It was only a dream—just another of the eerie nightmares that visited her of late.
Where was she?
She glanced about, steadying her breathing and remembering.
It had been Sara's idea to return to the Highlands. They would be safe there, she'd told Caroline. But the journey north had been anything but safe.
It had started well enough. The weather had been warm and sunny. For two days they had traveled unmolested, singing songs and passing Thomas amongst the three women in the carriage.
Though Anne of Boneau seldom cared for the babe except to nurse him, she seemed attached to the child. She'd taken a liking to Sara's red plaid shawl and in a moment of playful sisterhood, they'd made an exchange—the plaid for the nursemaid's leather pouch.
Caroline had laughed as Sara stashed a few items into the bag, a needle, a few vials of herbs that Fiona had given her—her witchy concoctions as Caroline called them. Sara had laughed back and attached the pouch to her girdle, saying she now had all she needed to care for them in any eventuality.
Their comradery had lasted longer than the good weather.
The rain began midafternoon, slowing their progress. By evening they realized they would not reach the next inn before dusk. They'd been forced to spend the night in the wilds and they had prepared for that.
But nothing could have prepared them for the brigands. Nothing but the dreams that had awakened Sara. Even before the first sign of trouble, she had gathered Thomas into her arms. Frantic, and not knowing why, she had tried to warn the women. But Caroline was not in the tent and Anne only rolled over with a sleepy groan.
Sara scurried into the darkness.
From the woods she thought she heard Caroline giggle. She rushed toward the noise. Behind her, a guard shouted a warning. It was cut off mid-cry.
Terror streaked through her, accented by battle cries. There was nothing she could do but run.
Run and hide from the screams that ripped through the night.
By morning all was quiet. Sara slunk from her hole. Loyalty and uncertainty brought her back toward their camp.
She found Caroline lying on her side not far from the body of her favored guard. Dried blood soaked her bodice, but she still breathed and her eyes were strangely peaceful.
"You have Thomas." The words were no more than a whisper. "I knew you did, prayed you did.
Waited to make certain."
Sara reached for her, but the other woman shook her head.
"Let me talk. Just a few words left." She paused, fighting for breath. "Haldane."
Sara searched for meaning. "What?"
"Haldane's snake." She nodded weakly toward the ground not far from her hand. A black piece of metal lay there, wrought into the shape of an adder and broken off of a larger piece. "Sword...
sent..."
She spasmed, then relaxed.
"Caroline!" Sara gasped.
"Protect him," she whispered through stiffening lips. "From them."
"From who?"
"Promise me."
"I promise. I promise I will!" vowed Sara, but Caroline was already gone, slipping quietly into death.
The days since had been hideous, the nights terrifying. But somehow, miraculously, they had survived this long.
Twas only another wicked dream
Bracken rustled beneath her. Beside her, the feeding gourd and pouch still hung from her belt.
Glancing up, she saw that the sun hung low in the sky. Inside his makeshift sling against Sara's breast, Caroline's child bumped to awareness. Thomas, sweet Thomas. Sara stroked his head, assuring herself he was safe as she collected her thoughts. It was only a dream—just another of the eerie nightmares that visited her of late.
Where was she?
She glanced about, steadying her breathing and remembering.
It had been Sara's idea to return to the Highlands. They would be safe there, she'd told Caroline. But the journey north had been anything but safe.
It had started well enough. The weather had been warm and sunny. For two days they had traveled unmolested, singing songs and passing Thomas amongst the three women in the carriage.
Though Anne of Boneau seldom cared for the babe except to nurse him, she seemed attached to the child. She'd taken a liking to Sara's red plaid shawl and in a moment of playful sisterhood, they'd made an exchange—the plaid for the nursemaid's leather pouch.
Caroline had laughed as Sara stashed a few items into the bag, a needle, a few vials of herbs that Fiona had given her—her witchy concoctions as Caroline called them. Sara had laughed back and attached the pouch to her girdle, saying she now had all she needed to care for them in any eventuality.
Their comradery had lasted longer than the good weather.
The rain began midafternoon, slowing their progress. By evening they realized they would not reach the next inn before dusk. They'd been forced to spend the night in the wilds and they had prepared for that.
But nothing could have prepared them for the brigands. Nothing but the dreams that had awakened Sara. Even before the first sign of trouble, she had gathered Thomas into her arms. Frantic, and not knowing why, she had tried to warn the women. But Caroline was not in the tent and Anne only rolled over with a sleepy groan.
Sara scurried into the darkness.
From the woods she thought she heard Caroline giggle. She rushed toward the noise. Behind her, a guard shouted a warning. It was cut off mid-cry.
Terror streaked through her, accented by battle cries. There was nothing she could do but run.
Run and hide from the screams that ripped through the night.
By morning all was quiet. Sara slunk from her hole. Loyalty and uncertainty brought her back toward their camp.
She found Caroline lying on her side not far from the body of her favored guard. Dried blood soaked her bodice, but she still breathed and her eyes were strangely peaceful.
"You have Thomas." The words were no more than a whisper. "I knew you did, prayed you did.
Waited to make certain."
Sara reached for her, but the other woman shook her head.
"Let me talk. Just a few words left." She paused, fighting for breath. "Haldane."
Sara searched for meaning. "What?"
"Haldane's snake." She nodded weakly toward the ground not far from her hand. A black piece of metal lay there, wrought into the shape of an adder and broken off of a larger piece. "Sword...
sent..."
She spasmed, then relaxed.
"Caroline!" Sara gasped.
"Protect him," she whispered through stiffening lips. "From them."
"From who?"
"Promise me."
"I promise. I promise I will!" vowed Sara, but Caroline was already gone, slipping quietly into death.
The days since had been hideous, the nights terrifying. But somehow, miraculously, they had survived this long.
Twas only another wicked dream
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