Page 34 of Love Beyond Time
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Dusk descended over the castle, slowly covering every inch of the grounds, creating the perfect shade from which the two servants could hide. They stopped their horses nearly a mile away from the stables, tying them securely to trees far enough away so that they wouldn’t hear the sounds of the horses dying. It wouldn’t do for them to spook their own. They needed them to get back quickly to Kinnaird Castle.
“I thought ye said there would be over a dozen here. There’s only nine. The three stables at the end are empty.”
“Aye. There should be, but we only take what’s here. We doona have much time to begin with. We must do it quick, do ye understand? They’ll no be without someone in the stables for long. We must come while they are all at dinner. The old stable master eats with his wife in the kitchens, while the laird, wife, and brother dine in the grand hall. We shall only have a few short moments to accomplish the task.”
The youngest servant, a lad of no more than sixteen, reached to wipe the sweat from his brow. It was a chilly evening, but he felt strangled by the heat rising from his own body and breathed in deeply to try and still the frantic thumping of his heart. It was the worst kind of crime for which he was about to be responsible. The animals would not be used for food. They were not killing them out of mercy. These horses were some of the finest he’d ever seen, healthy and strong. It broke his heart to know they would be ending the horses’ lives for no great purpose.
As he watched his older brother raise his blade high above the first horse’s head, he reached forward to stop the swing downward, latching onto his brother’s hand. “Swing true and hard. Doona let the blade stop halfway through. I know we must do this to save Mother, but I willna have them suffer more than they must.”
As his brother nodded, the younger released his grip and turned quickly to shield his eyes, choking down the bile that rose in his throat as a spray of warm blood splattered across his back.
With tears streaming down both their faces, the brothers moved quickly, trying to finish their horrid task as mercifully as they could.
When the last horse’s head had been severed, and the stable floors were covered with a sticky sickness, and the walls dripped with fresh blood, the two boys fled into the night with their souls and minds heavy and their hearts filled with hate for Ramsay Kinnaird.
Chapter 22
The trip to get the horses had been shorter than expected, but Eoin had been right. He needed to calm down, and getting away from the castle for a day or so with Kip helped tremendously. He had been drinking too much, and he was certain it had impacted his feelings about Blaire. She wasn’t someone else, someone trying to harm his brother. She was simply as lost as he was, trying to deal with her new marriage in the best way that she knew how.
It was time that he do the same, and with his mind set on doing just that, he smiled and pointed so that Kip would look out over the horizon where they could see Conall Castle off in the distance, bathed in moonlight.
He was feeling better than he had in ages, and he knew the last time he felt this good was before his father’s tragic death. Perhaps Blaire’s hold on him was not as strong as he thought. He only needed time to heal from the changes of the last few months.
The stables were only a short distance away, and it startled him that instead of picking up their pace in their anticipation of getting home, both horses reared up on their hind legs and tried to turn in the other direction. Both men steadied their horses, and Arran reached down to soothe Sheila as Kip did the same to Griffin.
Arran scanned the distance between themselves and the stables, looking for something that would have caused the horses to start. Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he saw what could only be Angus, charging in their direction.
“Ach. Angus! I doona know how else to keep him in the stables. If he knows we’ve taken other horses out, he willna stay put. I expect he’s been loose since we left.”
“Kip, he looks frightened. I know he’s wild, but I’ve never seen him behave so.”
Angus didn’t slow his pace as he reached the two men, instead charging in wide circles around them, whining and making noise.
“It’s no too far to the stables from here. Let’s leave the horses here and take a look first. Aye?”
Kip was already dismounting Griffin and walking him over to the nearest tree to secure him as Arran nodded in agreement, easily swinging himself down from Sheila as he patted the side of her neck. “It’s alright, sweetheart. Ye stay here with Griffin and Angus, and I’ll come back for ye shortly.”
Fear lodged securely in Arran’s gut. With each step closer, his fear grew. “Something isna right, Kip. I fear someone’s been in the stables.” He turned to see the old man slowing his pace, his face still and pale.
“Aye, I believe ye are right, son. I smell blood, lots of it. I doona know if I can make meself see. Would ye mind going on yer own? I’ll stay right here.”
Kip’s words did nothing to soothe Arran’s fear. He’d never known the old man to back away from anything, but as he saw the distraught expression on his old friend’s face, he knew that whatever he was about to see was terrible. Kip loved nothing in the world more than his horses, except perhaps Mary, and Arran could feel it in his bones that it would be best to spare Kip from whatever awaited him beyond the stable doors. He reached out and placed both hands on Kip’s shoulders.
“Aye. O’ course. I’m sure tis fine, but I’ll go and see by meself. Ye stay here and keep an eye on the others.” He nudged his head toward the top of the hill where Sheila, Griffin, and Angus, along with the other four horses they’d acquired, stayed tied to the trunk of a tree.
He turned and made his way to the side entrance of the stable. With each step the smell of blood became stronger, causing his stomach to churn uncomfortably.
Arran stepped inside the dark center walkway of the stables, grabbing the lighted flame from outside the entrance to set light to the first lantern in a long row that hung outside each stall door. An awful squishing sound echoed as his feet made contact with the cold, wet liquid that covered the ground. Hesitantly he walked from lantern to lantern, slowly illuminating the horror that filled each stall.
Every horse was dead. He knew it even before he gathered the courage to peek over into one of the stalls. It was too quiet, and there was too much blood for that not to be the case. Once he did look, he had to grab onto the blood-soaked post to his right just to keep himself steady. The sight of the decapitated horse, its head lying separate but close to the rest of its body, sent the contents of his stomach retching out onto the wooden floor.
He didn’t need to see the others right now. He knew it was all the same, and he would be forced to view the massacre later when he cleaned up the remains. He would do it himself to ensure that Kip didn’t make his way into the stable. It would be hard enough for the old stable master to deal with the death of his horses. There was no reason that he should ever have to see what had become of his beloved animals.
Somberly he made his way back to Kip, his face showing what he could hardly bring his voice to say. “I’m so verra sorry, Kip.”
“Ye canna mean it. What happened to them? I need to see, Arran. Perhaps ye are wrong.” The old man staggered forward, trying to force himself to make his way toward the stables.
