Part 34 (2/2)

It was all right. She definitely hadn't come that far, walking the horse. All she had to do was retrace her steps. She wasn't frightened, and she wasn't even worried. When Wallace had drunk his fill, she'd start back. But just when the horse lifted his head, the rain came.

”Son of a b.i.t.c.h!” she swore out loud, drawing a snort from Wallace.

It wasn't the rain. She didn't care much about getting wet. But the air was cold, and she hadn't set out with any kind of jacket, waterproof or otherwise.

”You know, it rains a lot here!” she told the horse, angry with herself for not being better prepared. But she'd left the house angry and disturbed, and decided on taking a ride on the spur of the moment.

In seconds, she was soaked. And what had been light and beautiful was now gray and.. .murky.

She determined to go back the way she had come. It should have been easy, but it wasn't. In a matter of minutes, she was entangled in the trees.

She looked at Wallace. Surely, it was close to feeding time. If she just gave the horse his head, he'd take her home.

”It's up to you, buddy,” she said.

By the time she had leaped up on his back, making three attempts--because of the slickness, she told herself, not a lack of coordination--the rain had slackened. But the gray and the murk remained, and there was a low ground fog, as well. The whole atmosphere was... creepy.

”No!” she said aloud. Because now, she was feeling the eyes again, the eyes of the forest, watching her.

”Home, Wallace!” she said out loud, hoping the words would dispel the sense of eeriness that had crept around her. She was being ridiculous. These were trees, for G.o.d's sake! Trees, bushes, natural bark, leaves, the sound of rus.h.i.+ng water....

Given free rein, Wallace simply stood dead still.

”Traitor!” she told him.

He whinnied and s.h.i.+fted weight from hoof to hoof.

”What kind of a horse are you? You're supposed to know the way back to the barn!”

The eyes.. .she could feel them.

”All right, forget it,” she said, and gathered up the reins. She didn't know how far it would be, but since there was only one forest, she could hope there was only one stream. She'd follow it out.

The water was very shallow. She led the horse straight through it, then along the embankment when it deepened. She tried whistling, but she couldn't keep her lips wet enough. And as she rose, she fought a sense of sheer panic that could do her no good. But images kept floating before her mind. A picture of a man, a warrior, a Cavalier, in armor, kilted, dirty, worn, tired.... A sword that dripped blood in his hand. The same man, standing before the hearth, watching the flames, then beckoning her down into the crypts.

Yesterday. The voice on the phone. The word medium.

She gritted her teeth. She was not some kind of a vessel for horrid messages about things that she could not change or see through! Unlike the girl on the phone, she had no desire to see lots of ghosts!

She bit into her lower lip. The rain had stopped completely, but the mist continued to rise from the forest floor. She was soaked to the bone, completely chilled. And she continued to feel watched. Stalked.

Each time she hesitated and looked around, she saw nothing. The forest was big. Hadn't she heard many people say that? She glanced at her watch, again, seeking a sense of normalcy in the action. Yes, the forest must be very big. She'd been following the stream, she estimated, for nearly two hours, and suddenly realized that she wasn't just stiff, she was in agony.

She turned, setting a hand on the horse's rump, trying to see anything that she could behind her. Any movement. But all she saw was the fall of shadows.

”Hurry it up a bit, shall we?” she murmured.

They trotted forward, and when she looked back, the feeling that a darkness followed her, reaching out, started to recede.

Finally she could take it no more. She had to stretch, change her position. It might have been a nice day to choose to take a saddle, she reflected, but it was too late for that, far too late.

”Whoa, boy,” she told Wallace, reining in lightly. She looked behind her uneasily, thinking that if she saw anything, anything at all, she could turn, slam her knees against Wallace and race away. But there was nothing, just the coming darkness.

She needed a quick moment's rest, then she needed to move again. So she slid from Wallace's back, wincing slightly. She walked a few steps, stretching. ”I guess it is a big forest, if troops, outlawed by the powers that be, used to hide in here,” she murmured. She led Wallace over to a large oak set up on a little hillock of gra.s.s, just above the stream, and sat down, leaning against the tree, ruing her stupidity.

”Wallace,” she said, ”you really aren't much help.”

Still, she was very glad of the horse. He seemed to be her link to reality, to normalcy.

Tired, she closed her eyes for a minute. When she opened them, Wallace suddenly lifted his head, his ears p.r.i.c.king as he stared off toward her left. The horse was still, yet it appeared that his flanks were trembling. He snorted. She stared at him curiously, the animal's fear snaking into her, and realized, too late, that he was about to bolt.

With another snort, he did so, leaping forward like a show jumper. The reins, held too loosely in her one hand, snapped free from her hold in seconds.

She leaped to her feet. ”Wallace!” she cried angrily. Then she fell silent, aware that the animal had run because something had frightened him. She stood very still, feeling the odd awareness, the fear, which the animal had pa.s.sed onto her.

She listened. She could still hear the echo of the horse's hoof beats. And then...the cry of a bird. And then...a rustling.

From somewhere far away, the faint wail of a bagpipe sounded, but not loud enough to dampen the sound of twigs snapping. Someone was near.

She moved against the oak. Then...she could see a figure, a man with a dark tarn, his head down. He wore an old suede jacket.

She stayed still, not daring to breathe. But a sound of surprise came to her throat as the man stopped, dusted dirt from his hands onto his pants and looked around. She saw his face clearly. It was Eban.

Call out! He'll get you home, she told herself. But something warned her to remain still. What had he been doing in the forest? Burying the remains of some poor girl? Was that why his hands were dirtied?

No, stop! She told herself. She was being cruel, judging when she shouldn't judge.

But no sound would come to her lips. She remained quiet. Only when he was gone--gone, way past her-- did she start walking again, following the stream. After a minute, she quickened her pace. If she'd seen Eban, she had to be close to the castle.

”Toni!” she heard her name called. There was thras.h.i.+ng ahead of her. Someone was in the forest, looking for her.

”Toni!”

”Here!” she called out.

”Toni!”

That time, the sound of her name seemed to come from behind her. The voices, she realized, looking around, could have been coming from anywhere, she was so disorganized. She started to run, directly in the stream, which was shallow enough here. Water kicked up around her. It didn't matter in the least.

”Here!” she cried again, then paused suddenly, startled. The light was bad, very bad. The silver mist still lay close to the ground. But ahead of her, maybe thirty, forty feet, there seemed to be something in the water. She blinked, looking that way.

There was a thras.h.i.+ng sound ahead of her.

No, behind her...

She started to turn.

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