Highlander Unchained (Highlander Trilogy 1)

The warrior started talking. “You’ll need to find the one we met up with and told us what to do.” He spit blood that was filling his mouth. “He has the information you seek.”

The younger man kept bobbing his head agreeing.

“He’s one of the two out there?” Cree asked.

The older warrior nodded. “A sly one he is. He’s walked among you and you didn’t even know it.” He grinned, blood covering his teeth. “Kill me now and be done with it. I’m tired of living this miserable life.”

“I’m not, I’m not,” the younger one begged. “I don’t want to die; please I beg you don’t kill me. I’ll join you. I’ll pledge my fealty to you, but please, please don’t kill me.”

Cree stepped away from them and nodded for Sloan to follow him. “Get Dorrie and bring her here,” Cree said for their ears only.

It didn’t take long for Sloan to return with Dorrie and when she stopped in front of Cree, she bobbed her head. “My lord.”

“Tell me if you recognize that man, Dorrie.” Cree pointed to the younger one.

Her eyes turned wide. “That’s Seth, the one who gave me the message for Dawn that night.”

Dorrie was whisked away by one of Cree’s warriors as he watched Seth’s demeanor change. Gone was the groveling, frightened young man and in his place was a warrior who held his chin high, his shoulders back and showed not an ounce of fear.

“How did you know?” Seth asked.

“You pleaded far too much for your life and this one,” —Cree nodded at the older warrior— “confirmed it for me when he told me to kill him. He knew that once this mission was done you would kill him.”

“How would you know that?” Seth asked.

“Because he was told the same thing and whoever arranged this no doubt hoped you would both finish each other off, leaving no one to tell the tale.”

Seth snapped his head to the side to look at the older warrior. “Were you told that, Rem?”

“Didn’t it for once cross your mind that if you were told to kill me that I had been told to do the same to you? Or did you think yourself better than me? Go on, keep protecting whoever hired you and suffer a miserable death. Me? I’ll go quickly and meet my maker.”

Seth strained with anger against his ties.

“Does Colum or Goddard have anything to do with this,” Cree asked.

“They are both fools,” Seth said, “and had not an inkling of why I had joined their worthless warriors. This all would have been over and done if Goddard hadn’t interfered and attacked Dawn that night, though I saw that he suffered for it. The wound will either kill him or he will suffer a limp for the rest of his miserable life.”

Cree was pleased to hear that, though he much preferred the previous fate to the latter.

“So Colum has no knowledge that someone wanted Dawn dead?” Cree asked.

“He was too caught up in filling his own coffers than caring about anything else. And since he and Goddard lingered in the area after your attack I assumed that he hadn’t had enough time to collect his wealth before he left.”

Cree had yet to find time to collect and discover what the chest contained that Old Mary had informed him about, though now he had a fairly good idea. He had however seen to making sure that the secret passageway had been secured.

Cree had heard enough for now and with the overhead clouds turning darker rain was imminent. He’d let them both suffer through the night outdoors, tied to posts and see if tomorrow they would be even more forthcoming with information.

“We will talk more tomorrow,” Cree said.

Rem laughed, then broke into a cough, blood gushing from his spilt lip. “You talk, Seth, and try uselessly to save yourself. I’ve said my piece and I’m ready to die.”

Cree turned to Rem. “You’re in an awful hurry to die.”

“I’ll take death over agonizing suffering any day.”

Cree rubbed his chin. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“I confessed everything I know about this mission, except one thing,” —Rem coughed and spit out more blood— “whoever is behind this won’t stop until that woman’s dead.”

Chapter Twenty-nine

Cree entered the Great Hall with Sloan and went directly to the dais and poured himself a tankard of ale.

Sloan followed suit, though before he took a swig he said, “This isn’t about you. It’s about Dawn, but why would someone want a voiceless peasant woman dead?” He shook his head. “Perhaps she knows something she doesn’t realize.”

“It is a possibility. Many assume her deaf as well as mute and so speak freely around her.” Cree refilled his tankard. “None of it makes any sense at all. And what troubles me the most is that someone is determined to see Dawn dead and will not stop until she is. Her death is a priority to someone, but why?”