The next morning, Meredith and Ryder set out on their walk as soon as breakfast was over, stopping once again at Edward Quinn’s grave, where Meredith spent a few minutes sitting quietly, lost in her thoughts.
“I can’t wait for spring when I can at least find some flowers to bring for him," she said, straightening up at last. “The winter can be so bleak, without bright colors to cheer it up.
Ryder opened his mouth to reply, but, before he could speak, he was suddenly writhing in agony, bent double as he reached down to massage his leg — a leg which, Meredith realized with horror, was suddenly running with blood.
“Ryder,” she screamed, leaping up from her position on the ground and rushing over to him. “Ryder, what happened? How…?”
In her muddled state, she thought for a brief second that Ryder’s injury must have been some kind of accident — then she saw him wrench the arrow from his leg, his black eye blazing with fury as they scanned the horizon for a sight of the perpetrator who must surely be nearby.
“Meredith, get behind me,” he ordered, but before she could obey, two men had appeared from the trees behind them, one making directly for Meredith, while the other drew his sword, swinging it in Ryder’s direction.
Ryder had only moments to react, and his brief moment of hesitation, as he decided whether to fend off his attacker or protect his wife, gave the man who now approached him just enough time to catch him off guard. Despite his best efforts, the man forced Ryder backward, away from the screaming Meredith, who was now separated from him by the body of his assailant.
In vain, Ryder tried to move away from the man to get to her, cursing himself under his breath as he realized how much that moment of hesitation may have cost him. At any other time, he would have been more than happy to stand and fight, but something about the way this attack had happened made him instantly suspect it had been carefully orchestrated to make him do just that. Meredith was his weak spot. He knew it, and presumably whoever was behind this attack — for he was not stupid enough to think it was the two hired swordsmen who now faced them — presumably knew it too, taking advantage of his distraction in the face of his grief to catch him a rare moment of vulnerability.
The man in front of him did not want to kill him, he knew — apparently the instructions he’d been given forbade him from that — but merely to toy with him. To keep him occupied for long enough for his associate to make off with Meredith. Casting his eye frantically around, he saw two horses standing a short distance away, one with a coil of rope looped across its saddle. If they could just get her away from him, they would carry her off on horseback. For what purpose he didn’t dare even imagine.
Swinging back around to face his opponent again, Ryder raised his sword in his direction while trying his best to keep Meredith within his line of sight. Try as he might, however, he could not seem to get the swordsman out of the way and watch her at the same time — even for a fighter as skilled as Ryder, it was an impossible task to be in two places at once, so, with a roar that threatened to split the heavens, Ryder turned all of his attention to his assailant. The quicker he dispatched the man, after all, the sooner he’d be able to come to Meredith’s aid — which was the only thing that mattered.
From the corner of his eye, he could see her struggling fiercely against the scoundrel who held her, who let out a growl of anger as she landed a well-placed knee squarely in his groin, just as Ryder had taught her. Under different circumstances, he might have allowed himself a moment of pride — she may be small in stature, but she was not a woman to meekly submit to any man’s attempt to overpower her — but as his own assailant continued to draw his attention, coming close enough to keep him away from Meredith, but not quite close enough to land any blows, Ryder saw red.
Raising his sword high above his head, he charged forward, dimly aware of the guttural roar that came from his throat — a roar of fury and determination. He had not known what he was about to do until he’d done it, which gave his opponent no time at all. Like a man possessed, Ryder let out another roar of anger before bringing his weapon down hard upon the other man’s head in one quick swoop. He was dead before he even hit the ground. His eyes never losing the look of shock that had filled them in the split second before Ryder was upon him.
As for Ryder, however, there was to be no opportunity to congratulate himself for his victory. In fact, he just had time to register the bright red blood staining the ground below him and to realize the man was dead before a sharp blow to the back of the head sent him falling forward into blackness.
* * *
It was impossible to know how much time had passed since the attack that had knocked him unconscious, but as Ryder opened his eye to the grey sky above him, he instantly knew something was very wrong.
His head throbbed as he tried to raise it from the ground, noticing as he did so the pool of blood that surrounded him — whether his or that of the man he had killed, he did not know.
“I must have someone clean that up before Meredith sees it,” he thought vaguely, through a fog of pain that made him want to rest his head back on the cold, hard ground and close his eyes against the weak sunlight, which was nevertheless too bright for them. “She would hate to see her father’s graveside desecrated by such violence.”
Meredith! The thought of his wife brought him sharply to his senses, and, as the memory of what had happened suddenly flooded his mind, he tried to leap to his feet — realizing too late that the head injury he’d sustained would not readily permit movement.
“At least I managed to kill one o’them,” he just had time to think, catching sight of the body on the ground nearby as his legs buckled under him, and he fell to his knees. Suddenly, though, he felt a strong pair of hands reach under his arms, supporting his body, as a gabble of voices broke through the fog.
“Ryder! Ryder, what happened? Where’s Meredith? Ryder, quickly, tell us what happened? Ellen saw ye lying on the ground out here while she was passing the window. But… but how? Ryder, what’s going on?”
His vision cleared just enough for him to focus on Melissa, who stood in front of him, her face pale with fright.
“Yer alright, Ryder, I’ve got ye,” said a familiar voice from just behind his head. “Just try and sit still for a moment, so ye daenae collapse again.”
Matthew! The man who had come to his aid was Matthew, and he was accompanied, he now saw, not just by Melissa, but also by Ellen and Felix; the latter curiously approaching the body on the ground nearby.
“I dinnae recognize him, Ryder,” the boy said, pulling back the hood the man wore to reveal a white face, frozen in death. “Do ye?”
Ryder shook his head wordlessly, holding up one hand in an attempt to silence Melissa, who he could tell was about to unleash another one of her torrents of questions in his direction. But there was no time for that now.
“Nay,” he croaked, wincing in pain at the effort it took to get the words out. “Nay, but it dinnae matter who he is, he’s just a pawn, used by whoever is behind this.”
Turning to Matthew, Ryder spoke in a low voice, trying and failing to keep his words from Melissa, who stood wringing her hands as she waited to find out what had become of her sister.
“Matthew,” he said urgently. “Matthew, they’ve taken Meredith.”
Ignoring Melissa’s gasp of horror, he took a deep breath and continued, his voice rising as he struggled to contain his anger.
“They’ve taken me wife!” he roared. “And when I find them, God help them, because I will find them, whoever they are, and I will make them suffer!”
Melissa flinched in shock at the fury in his voice, but Ryder no longer seemed to see her, so focused was he on Meredith and the person --- or people --- who had taken her.
“Matthew!” he barked, turning to his man-of-arms, “I need ye to take as many men as ye can and begin a search for her. Take Felix with ye. And have someone bring me horse around right away so I can set out to find Colby and ask for his assistance once more. We need as many men as he can lend us. Hurry up man, we daenae have time to waste! Meredith needs us! God only kens what might be happening to her while we stand around here!”
The thought made him even angrier, and as he made to stand up the adrenaline created by his fury helping propel him off the ground before the pain in his leg forced him reluctantly back down again.
“Daenae just stand there looking at me,” he roared. “Someone bring me horse round so I can go after her!”
“I daenae think so,” Ellen said firmly, stepping forward as Matthew looked at her uncertainly. “The only place yer going is up to yer bedchamber, Me Laird. Yer barely fit to walk, let alone ride! Matthew can go and find the Laird of Moore for ye.”
“Nay!” Ryder growled, his voice stronger than he felt. “Nay, I willnae lie abed while Meredith’s out there, taken captive by God knows who! I willnae rest until I find her. I’ll burn every castle within 100 miles to the ground if that’s what it takes!”
He would do it, too. That much was absolutely guaranteed. But as he attempted to stagger to his feet and found himself once again staring directly at the ground — which he’d have been making close acquaintance with, had Matthew not been there to grab him just in time — even Ryder was forced to admit that he was in no fit state to join the search for Meredith. Not that day, at least.
“I’ll go back to the castle,” he grudgingly conceded. “But not to me bedchamber. And only for as long as it takes for me head to clear, so I can decide what needs to be done to find her.”
“Of course, Me Laird, of course,” Ellen said soothingly, as Felix stepped forward to support Ryder on one side while Matthew held the other. “Just come with me, and ye’ll be right as rain before ye ken it. And we’ll find her ladyship safe and well — I just ken it.”
Her face was far less confident than her words, but Ryder clung onto them nonetheless as the small party made it’s way back to the castle, Melissa running on ahead to find her mother and break the terrible news to her. They would find her. They had to. There was no other option.