Becca St.John by Seonaid Page A

tight.
    “Get his reins,” one shouted, and men surrounded him and Snip. A man in chain mail grabbed the reins. Another grabbed Deian, yanked him from the saddle, even as he fought and wriggled to be let go.
    “Calm yourself, lad. You can’t go charging through the village like that.”
    “I have to see The Reah, your chief!”
    “You want to see the chief?” A huge man approached, scarred from battle, his nose so crooked Deian wondered how he could breathe. “Aye, well, we don’t eat lads for dinner anymore, so if you tell us who you are, and give us good enough reason, you will see The Reah.”
    “I’m a MacKay!” he shouted, too desperate to think of tales and false names, or to notice the stillness sweep over the crowd.
    “All by yourself?” the big man grumbled.
    “No!” Deian cried. “They’ve captured two lasses and a priest. You need to form a…a…shite! I can’t remember what it’s called.”
    “Shite?” The big man laughed. “Such a word from a wee mite.”
    “It’s true!” Frustration fueled tears. “It’s about the lasses gone missin’. They’ve a boat, that way.” He pointed. “My ma was behind me, she will tell ya’.”
    “Your ma?”
    “Aye.”
    “Who else is with you?”
    “Padraig is with us. Padraig MacKay.”
    “Padraig? The Laird’s man? Great big fellow with a nose almost as crooked as mine?”
    “Aye,” Deian nodded. “Our Padraig. He’s going to try to save the lasses alone. My ma thinks he needs help, unless they go by boat, then you need to stop them before they reach the sea.”
    “Shite! The boy’s not making this up,” the big man shouted. “Prepare boats to launch and you—” he gestured to another warrior, “—get men together to ride. We don’t know if they will sail or not.”
    “I need to tell your chieftain. I promised my ma I’d do that.”
    “I am The Reah, lad. You’ve told him. Now go into the keep, get some food, and find a place to sleep for the night. You’ve earned it”
    “I want to find my ma, she was riding behind me.” But she might not be there now and if not, where was she?
    “We’ll see to her.”
    “No, she doesna’ like strange men.”
    “She has no worries with us.”
    They wouldn’t let him go, he could see that. He knew the word ‘no’ in all its guises.
    “I have to take care of Snip, my horse,” Deian argued.
    “The stable lad will do that.”
    “No.” Deian stomped his feet. “No one takes care of my mount but me.”
    The Reah snorted, obviously having better things to do than argue with a lad. “Give him his reins,” he ordered. “But mind, you stay out of the way as we prepare to ride.”
    “You won’t even know I’m there,” Deian promised, lagging behind as he followed the hurried strides of warriors. Certain no one took any notice of him, he shot down one road after another until he found a gate, wide open, prepared for riders.
    He’d done what he was told to do. Now he had to find his mama first, before the others, to be certain she was safe.
     
    vvvvvv
     
    “Well, what have we here?” Seonaid’s captor whispered, as he pulled back on Peregrine’s reins.
    The sun neared the western horizon, but not soon enough. They could see Padraig, crouched and moving toward the southern end of the loch.
    It wouldn’t take long for them to reach him. The whole of the ride, Seonaid fought for a way to escape, even as she considered the possibilities of capture. She could help the lasses by allowing herself to be caught. Risky, but perhaps not too risky, to be there when Padraig arrived.
    Only now, her captor saw Padraig.
    Shouting would alert the men on the beach. Her only other option was to create enough of a scuffle to catch Padraig’s attention.
    Hands tied behind her back, tether anchored around her captor’s waist; anything she did would be painful, possibly life-threatening, and wouldn’t offer escape.
    But escape was no longer her goal.
    With a swift kick to Peregrine’s belly