Tara’s heart thudded into her ribs, fit to break them, for now, she knew her fate. They were going to kill her or worse. No matter what happened, she was doomed, so it didn’t matter if she knew a name here and there. She would never live to tell anyone, at least, not for long. What that animal Stalker might do to her once all restraint was lost did not bear thinking about.
Tara had thought of fleeing many times but knew it would be pointless. There were always at least two men guarding her, and they would surely catch her and beat her. She had to be more cunning than that. Stalker had not been back to torment her for two days. His last visit had left her sobbing her heart out as he told her that Callum was suffering her loss, that he was beside himself with worry and would soon be lured to his doom. After she started crying, Stalker had just stood there, leaning on the wall, watching. It was like a cat playing with a mouse. With a sick feeling, she realised that her tears excited him.
‘It will all be true, soon enough, bonnie little Tara, so do not weep,’ he had said. ‘I will make a far better bedfellow than that dreary fool, Callum Ross. And I’ll make him pay for the friends I have lost. Word has it that he is totally besotted with you. And that is his weakness, for it will lead him to race to your rescue, and I will be waiting with a blade to slide into his heart.’
Stalker had eased off the wall and come closer, and Tara flinched and pressed herself against the wall as if she could push through it and away from him. Her knees had given out, and she had ended up on the cold floor. ‘Hopefully, I will take him alive, lass, and you can watch me end him,’ said Stalker.
'If you show weakness to these people, they will eat you alive.’Callum’s words came back to Tara. Suddenly, it was as if he was there with her, giving her the courage to rise to her feet. She had glared at Stalker. ‘If you take on my husband, it will end in your death, your heart that is skewered. And I pray he makes it as slow and painful as can be.’
Stalker’s face had twisted in rage, and then he had drawn back his hand.
Tara shivered in the moonlight and put her hand to her swollen cheek. Her small act of bravery had earned her another bruise, but it was worth it to defend Callum. The very thought of him made her sob aloud. She ached to see him again, but he was far away. The trees sighed in the wind, blue-black tortured silhouettes against a cold night sky, and she was at the edge of the fire’s warmth and light. A shiver ran down her spine as if death was coming for her.
Tara started as she caught a pale thing moving, low to the ground, in the shadows. She froze and stifled a scream. Was it a dog or something worse, something unworldly? The ferns rustled as the apparition came closer.
Tara stepped back, clutched her arms about her and glanced back at her guards, but they seemed oblivious, staring into the fire. Why had the dogs not barked, for the thing was almost upon her? Tara stood her ground, though every instinct screamed at her to run.
The ferns parted, and a small, pinched face peered up at her. The boy put a finger to his lips to entreat her to be silent and stared at her solemnly. It was hard to tell how old he was, for he was so thin - all gangly pale arms and legs - but no more than ten, she guessed.
‘I’ve been watching you,’ he declared.
She glanced back again. The lad was hidden from the guards by her skirts. His head jerked quickly in their direction, and then he continued to whisper to her.
‘Did I frighten you?’
‘Yes. Are you with them?’ she said.
‘No,’ he said, and his face twisted in disgust.
‘They are violent men, so you’d best be gone, boy, and not let them see you here.’
‘They never see me,’ said the boy. ‘I am a ghost.’
He was so odd that Tara thought he might be one. There was a twisted look about him, all sunken flesh, enormous eyes, and bones standing sharp against his skin. His tatty shirt hung off him. He must be freezing in the cold air, and he gave off a terrible unwashed smell. Tara pitied and feared him all at once.
‘What are you doing skulking around here?’ she said.
‘I’m hungry.’
‘Stealing food, then.’
‘What of it? I need to eat. And I am stealing from thieves, so it is alright.’
Pity twisted Tara’s gut. ‘I am not angry with you,’ she said softly. ‘But you cannot stay here. If those men see you, they will kill you.’ Tara felt in her pocket for a hunk of bread she had hidden the day before, for she was never sure when her guards would feed her. She dropped it at her feet. ‘Take that and go,’ she said.
‘No,’ he replied angrily. ‘They won’t see me. I hide in the caves nearby, and they do not come there. You won’t tell on me, will you?’
‘Of course not. Where is your family?’
‘Gone, two winters ago,’ he said as he shrank back into the ferns like a wild animal and stuffed bread in his mouth. ‘I’ve been watching you. Why are they cruel to you? Are you being punished?’ he hissed.
Tara suddenly had a terrifying idea. It rested on the shoulders of a poor scrawny child, but it was her only hope. God had presented her with this opportunity, and she was not about to let it slip through her fingers. Eventually, this boy would be caught, and her captors would kill him, or he would starve out in this forest all alone. If her plan achieved nothing else, it would make him leave this place, and it might just save his life, if not hers.
Keeping her eye on the guards, Tara leant over a little. ‘If I tell you a secret and reward you, will you promise to take a message for me and never come back here?’
The boy nodded.
‘Quickly then, before they hear us. Do you know the castle at Raigmoor?’