Eochaidh - Legend of the Horsemen (Book One) (12 page)

The young groom who met Meaghan at the stables and readied
her horse for her didn’t even think to question her right to ride out in the
early morning.
 
Within minutes of her
request, she was saddled and on her way to the far side of the estate where it
bordered the Old Woods.
 
The dew was
heavy on the grass and a soft mist rose up and painted the grounds with a
pastel wash of springtime.
 
The spring
flowers were in blossom, the colors of the rainbow brushed across the meadow,
and Meaghan inhaled deeply as she rode toward the entrance of the woods.

Dismounting, she took the reins in hand and carefully led
her horse inside.
 
The woods were quiet
this morning, the normal sounds of the birds and animals muted, as if all eyes
were on Meaghan waiting and watching.
 
Her heart thumping against her chest and her mouth suddenly dry, she
swallowed softly and moved forward, hoping those eyes were all friendly.
 

Was this the woods she entered yesterday morning, the woods
that welcomed her and showed her its secrets?
 
Or was this the woods of last night, filled with people who wanted to
kill her?

She slowly moved forward, listening intently for the sound
of hooves against the ground or of any sound that would disclose someone else
was within the borders of the woods with her.
 
The wind softly whistled through the trees, rustling the leaves so they
made a quiet clapping sound. Looking up into the branches of the old oaks, she
saw the glitter of the sun against their leaves and their gnarled ancient
limbs, twisted in an ancient dance whose melody was the wind and the
weather.
 
She had always loved oaks
trees, their strength and endurance.
 
Their thick trunks represented stability, an ever constant in an
ever-changing world.
 
Walking up to the
largest oak, its thick branches winding out in all directions for at least ten
feet, she placed her hand against its rough bark and felt the surge of power
rush through her body.
 
Either the magic
of the woods ran through these trees, or these ancient oaks were the source of
the power.
 
Meaghan wasn’t sure which was
which, but she knew this was part of what she was seeking this day.

Keeping her hand pressed tightly against the tree, she
brought her father’s face to mind and concentrated on him. “I need help,” she
whispered aloud. “My father’s life is at stake. I need to find the Eochaidh and
speak with them.
 
I need to learn how I
can help my father, and perhaps, help their cause too.
 
I am venturing into your forest to find them.
 
Please help me.”

Stepping away from the tree, she could still feel some of
the power thrumming through her body as she walked back to the narrow path that
led further into the woods. She led her horse further up the trail, stepping
over downed trees and large stones, carefully guiding her horse around the
obstacles.
 
The brush on either side of
the trail thickened and seemed to conceal the trail itself.
 
Meaghan pushed sideways through the branches
and leaves, protecting her face with an upraised arm. “Come on,” she encouraged
her horse,
who
shied away from the dense foliage.
“It’ll be fine once we’re on the other side.”

As they moved forward, the path nearly disappearing into the
brush, she could hear the thump of the branches coming together once her horse
had passed through.
 
They were totally
surrounded in a sea of green and Meaghan prayed she was going in the right
direction.
 

Finally, the path reappeared at their feet and the brush
thinned considerably.
 
A few yards
further down, Meaghan could see a small clearing with a clear stream and lush
grass.
 
Just beyond the meadow the path
dropped steeply downhill
—
not
an easy terrain for her horse.
 
She led
her horse into the clearing and tied the lead rope to a tree branch that was
close enough to the stream that her horse could drink or graze, whatever its
pleasure.
 

Shaking its head, the horse whinnied nervously as Meaghan
began to walk away.
 
She turned back and
caressed the horse’s head. “I won’t be gone long,” she soothed. “Just an hour
or so.”

Patting the horse’s neck, she hoped her horse could not
sense the anxiety Meaghan was feeling. “It’ll be okay, really,” she said,
trying to assure herself as much as the horse.
 

Finally, she stepped back, out of the meadow and onto the
path toward the sharp downhill route.
 
Grabbing branches and small tree trunks to slow her descent, she
carefully situated each boot in a firm foothold before lifting the other and
proceeding down.
 
The ground was soft
packed and Meaghan looked for clumps of vegetation, roots or stones to help
secure each step making the process slow and arduous. The side of the ravine
she was traveling down was about forty feet high, making a tumble down the
incline not only dangerous, but also life-threatening.
 
Meaghan shuddered picturing herself on the
bottom with a broken leg and no hope for help.
 
It would be an awful way to die.

At that instant, the bush she’d been holding onto gave way,
its roots slipping through the loose ground.
 
Meaghan slipped downward, her feet sliding out from under her and her
body slamming up against the side of the ravine.
 
Digging her fingers into the ground, she
tried to grasp hold of anything to stop her fall.
 
Rocks, grass, twigs and dirt raced between
her fingers as she slipped down the path, careening toward the edge. She felt
one boot slip off the edge of the path and dangle in mid-air, finding nothing
to push against.
 
Scrambling with her
arms and legs, she tried desperately to halt her momentum, but nothing was
working. Rational thought was now turning to terror as she fought to stay on
the path, her breath escaping in gasps, her heart pounding against her
chest.
 
Her other leg was now over the
side and she was slipping down.
 
She
could feel the roughness of the ground against her stomach as her shirt was
yanked up out of her breeches.
 
Desperate, she reached forward praying she would be able to catch hold
of something when a hand wrapped around her wrist and pulled.

“I’ve got you,” the male voice said. “Just another moment
and you’ll be back on firm ground.”

Nearly lifted off her feet by the strength of her rescuer,
Meaghan found herself wrapped within the confines of a pair of strong arms and
held. “There now, darling,” the man was saying softly as he lightly patted her
back. “I have you now.
 
You’re safe. No
need to fret.”

The threat of danger now removed, Meaghan was feeling an
altogether different set of emotions. Sliding her hands up, she pressed against
his chest, which she noted was quite muscular, and tried to place a little
distance between herself and her rescuer. “Thank you for your assistance,” she
began to say, stepping back. “But I…”

“You?!?!”

She looked up into the face of the young man who had come to
her rescue the day before. “You’re…you’re…,” she stammered.

“Tristan,” he replied with a smile. “We seem to meet up at
the strangest times.”

Shaking her head, she started to step back again when he
quickly reached out and pulled her back into his arms.

“I beg your pardon,” she scolded, bothered by the flush of
heat she was experiencing being this close to him.

“I’m sorry, my lady,” he said, trying to act contrite, but
failing. “If you’d but look behind us, you’d see I was just trying to save you
from a repeat of your situation just moments ago.”

Meaghan looked over her shoulder and saw the edge just
beyond the heel of her boot. “Oh,” she said weakly, feeling a little
lightheaded. “Then I must…”

She shook her head and tried to focus. “Then I must
apologize,” she began and the world around her seemed to be fading in and out.

“My lady,” Tristan said, concerned with the pallor of her
face. “My lady, are you unwell?”

“I think I just need to sit,” she assured him. “Somewhere
far away from the edge.”

His arm wrapped around her waist, he guided her to a wide
and even spot in the path a few yards ahead.
 
There a large stone embedded into the side of the ravine made a perfect
bench.
 
Tristan helped Meaghan onto the
stone and sat down next to her.

“Are you sure you are well?” he asked. “You don’t look
well.”

“Thank you very much,” she replied, realizing that she
indeed probably looked like a scraped and dirty mess. “I was just a little
dizzy, that’s all.”

“Aye, I could see why a tumble like that could make someone
dizzy,” he replied. “It’s good to know…”

He stopped mid-sentence and looked down at her shirt which
was starting to blossom with a bright red stain. “Why didn’t you tell me you
were hurt?” he demanded.

“I didn’t know,” she replied.

He dropped to his knees before her and lifted the edge of
her shirt. She put her hands on his and pushed them away. “I can take care of
myself,” she said.

“And you’ve done such a fine job already this morning,” he
snapped. “Leave be and let me have a look.”

Shocked by his tone and still shaken by the fall, she sat
back and meekly acquiesced.
 
Shivering as
his calloused hands slid up under her loose shirt and gently stroked her skin;
she was not prepared for the onslaught of emotion his touch would bring.
 
He checked her ribs, tenderly fingering the
delicate bones for any breaks. “It seems your ribs are fine,” he said, his
voice slightly hoarser than it was a few moments ago.

“That’s…that’s good,” she breathed softly.

He looked up at her and moistened his lips nervously. “I
need to…,” he began. “I beg your pardon, but I have to look under your shirt to
see the wound.”

Nodding silently, she slowly reached down and lifted the hem
of her shirt and the lower part of her camisole so only her abdomen was
exposed. She nearly dropped it back down when she heard his soft gasp and once
again felt his fingers caress her skin.

“Honeyed silk,”
she thought she heard him murmur as he laid his hand against her abdomen and
applied a light pressure. “And how does this feel?” he asked, his voice a husky
whisper.

She inhaled deeply and let it out in a slow shuddering
breath. “I’m sorry. What did you say?” she asked, her voice breathy and soft.

He cleared his throat. “I said how does this feel,” he
asked.

She closed her eyes as the heat burned from her stomach
through her body. “Good, it feels good,” she whispered.

A soft chuckle escaped his lips. “I mean, is there any pain
when I put pressure on the wound?” he asked.

“Oh. Oh!” she stammered, mortified with her response. “No.
No, there’s no pain.”

He peeked up at her over the hem of her shirt, his eyes
twinkling with laughter. “And would you even tell me if there were pain?” he
asked, his eyebrows
raised
.

Blushing bright red, she wanted to melt into the side of the
ravine. “Of course,” she replied angrily. “Your touch meant nothing to me.
 
I’ve been touched like that before.
 
Many times. Hundreds of times.”

“Oh, aye, hundreds of times?” he asked, the twinkle in his
eyes gone, replaced by a more basic emotion. “Well, that’s a challenge I’ll
have to deal with another time. But for now, we need to get something on this
wound so it doesn’t fester. Can you walk?”

Nodding, she pushed herself up off the rock onto her
feet.
 
For a moment the earth seemed to
sway, but soon it settled down and her equilibrium returned. “I’m fine,” she
said. “Where do we need to go?”

“Back up there,” he replied, wrapping his arm around her
waist and turning her.

“But we can’t go up there,” she said. “I need to go down.”

“The blackwort is up there, near the clearing and that’s
what we need for your wound,” he said. “It won’t take but a little time and
then I’ll leave you on your way.”

He half-carried, half-supported her up the path and in much
less time than it took for her to climb down, there were back up where they
started.
 

Her horse whinnied when it saw her and then snorted and
pawed the ground as they came closer. “My horse doesn’t seem to care for you,”
Meaghan said.

“I’ve been known to have that effect on horses,” he said
with a smile, as he helped her to sit on a large fallen log. “But I don’t take
it personally. Now to find the blackwort.”

A few minutes later he walked out of the woods with a pile
of large leaves in his hands.
 
He lifted
the hem of her shirt and tore a strip all the way around the bottom. “Once
again, I beg your pardon,” he said. “But I need something to hold the leaves
against the wound.”

Taking the leaves, he crushed them in his hands and then placed
them over the wound on her abdomen, tying them tightly in place with the linen
strip. “There, that should take care of things until you can get to your home,”
he said, sitting back on the ground and looking up at her. “Now, tell me what’s
so important that you have to climb down into the ravine.”

“You’ll mock me when I tell you,” she replied.

He lifted his hand in the air. “I swear on my dear mother’s
grave I will not mock you,” he said. “Please, you can trust me.
 
And I know these woods, I might even be able
to help you.”

Meaghan debated for a few long moments and then decided she
could use all the help she could get. “I have to find the Eochaidh,” she
blurted out, closing her eyes as she waited for his response.

But had she left her eyes open she might have been surprised
to see the looks that passed over his face at her statement.
 
First surprise, then
suspicion and finally resignation.

“And why do you need to find them?” he asked, surprising her
with the note of sadness in his voice. “Is it for a bounty or a prize?”

“Oh, no, of course not,” she replied. “My father is the last
man in the Herdin line.
 
The last pure of heart to help break the curse.
He is the
only thing standing between Morganna and the curse never being broken and
Morganna…”

Her voice broke and she took a moment to contain her
emotions. “And Morganna,” she finally said quietly, tears in her voice, “wants
him dead.”