My shoulders relaxed. “It’s probably Henry abiding nature’s call.”
“Don’t mean the privy. Look to that rowan tree just beyond.” She continued to speak in a hushed voice. “To the left, at that large bit o’ holly. Do you see it?”
“Yes...” I fixed my eyes on the prickly clump. “Are you sure?”
“I be sure. Someone moved over there.”
“I imagine it’s Henry. Why don’t we call to him?” Though it seemed a perfectly sensible plan, a sense of unease stayed my tongue.
“It wasn’t Henry, that be for certain.”
“How do you know—”
She held up a hand to shush me. Then, to my utter confusion, she spun on her heel in opposite direction. “Do you hear that?”
I didn’t even bother to ask, just strained my ears for the slightest noise. Nothing at first. I would have thought the girl completely daft by now if the horses hadn’t chosen that exact moment to twist their ears to where she was staring. And then I heard it.
Metal clanged against metal.
The breath caught in my throat. Merciful saints! Fear jolted through me, and I began a fervent prayer. Please don’t let it be—
Metal clashed once more, distinct and unmistakable.
“Swords,” Ailish breathed.
“Henry—”
A wide grin split her pale face. “That be him.” Excitement lit her hazel eyes, and any earlier concern from near the rowan tree was all but forgotten. “Best we go find him.”
The last of her words found my back as I’d already started running. At the pathway I barreled to the right, skirts bunched high to keep from tripping. For the life of me, I couldn’t understand how he’d found a fight so soon. In the middle of the woods no less.
Blast it all! The initial surprise gave way to a mounting fury. Did the man have a death wish? Or did the lure of fighting trump all common sense?
“This way!’ Ailish called from behind me.
I skidded to a halt and turned to see her leave the trail. Then my feet were moving again, forging through the thick underbrush, ducking under low-hanging branches and skimming around tree trunks. Sharp twigs and thorns grabbed at me, but I refused to slow my pace. Ailish moved with the grace and speed of a woodland deer. I stayed close behind, fear and anger propelling me forward.
Her pace slackened a split second before she came to a sudden stop. With so little warning, I nearly plowed her over, limiting the damage to a brushing of shoulders that caused my teeth to snap together hard.
We stood at the edge of a large clearing. Henry circled near the middle, sword gleaming in a confident grip. In front of him, matching his every movement...
“A Mhaighdean bheannaithe,” Ailish whispered in Gaelic. Sweet mother of God.
Raw fear flooded my gut. I blinked. Then blinked again, but the image remained unaltered. “Dear God,” I breathed in a quiet plea, and made the sign of the cross.
The man—if he could be called that—towered over Henry by no less than a foot. I gazed at him, dumbstruck, as I took in the full measure of his unearthly form. Wild golden hair fell loose to the middle of his back. A tunic the color of ripened wheat reached to mid-thigh and rippled with each movement over chest and shoulders that were impossibly large. Smooth amber gemstones glistened in the sage-green belt that encircled his narrow waist. Muted brown breeches disappeared into leather boots laced to his knees.
In every respect, he appeared a mythical giant of old. Yet he moved with a grace of the gods, and the broadsword gripped easily in one hand looked capable of cleaving a man in two.
There was a blur of steel, and the swords came together hard, releasing a small shower of sparks. I jumped from the thunderous sound, yet neither man gave way to the force of the other. Henry fought in his shirtsleeves. His hair had come undone, and despite the winter air, sweat dotted his forehead and ran in droplets down his neck.
The dance continued, with knees bent slightly and blades held ready to either attack or parry. In a flash, the giant whipped his sword in a deadly arc. Henry responded quick as lightning, deflecting the blow, then retaliated with a strike that would have eviscerated any mortal. Pivoting on one foot, the giant spun to the side, a hair’s breadth from harm.
I bit down on my lip and tasted blood.
Henry struck again without pause. When his blade hit steel, he stepped back just enough to continue the motion, before retracing the trajectory in an upward cut aimed for the sage-and-amber belt. The giant deflected the blows, each agile parry almost too quick for the eye to follow.
The next strike came from the giant, higher than the others, and with the force meant to decapitate a man. I cried out, certain death flashing before my eyes. Henry ducked at the last second, and the blade sliced through the air, unhindered.