January 1286, Northwest Scotland

Eight-year-old Artis MacKai huddled into her brother’s great cloak and clung to the back of his huge black destrier. She was not certain which was worse: the biting wind and icy snow that blinded her or the anger Raeb would unleash on her for riding his cherished Ionraic Bleigeard through a blizzard and straight onto the lands of their enemies, clan Marr. Right now, the storm was the only enemy she faced. Even so, she’d rather encounter a dozen lazy Marr guards than endure her brother’s wrath.

That worry and the destrier’s heat kept her from freezing in place. She’d crept away from Dungarob Keep and its stables before dawn. Not that she could see much beyond the blizzard, even then. The changing light told her dark had fallen long ago. But the Bleigared pushed on with little urging. Perhaps he, too, knew that should their mission succeed, more than two lives would be saved. Fail, and she would die along with the destrier and much, much more. Worry about Raeb’s anger was pointless, if she and the Bleigared did not survive. The cold that numbed her gloved fingers told her that they must find Aingealach Spealp, Angel’s Spirit and her foal of three months soon, or death was a certainty. She urged the noble stallion to greater speed, and despite dangerous footing, his devoted heart responded, parting drifts like the hand of God parted the seas for Moses.

A wolf howl ripped down the lashing wind and sent shivers along Artis’ spine. She had not thought she could be colder. A flurry of yips and growls mixed with the trumpeting neighs of an angry horse. Bleigared raced from the trees and plunged down a hill with a rock fall at one side.

As they neared the clearing at the bottom, Artis could see a blur of dark shapes circle and leap, seeming to attack the snow. Wolves. She had no weapon save the long knife she’d taken from the armory just before borrowing Bleigared. She should turn her mount and run. A scream of pain followed the angry trumpeting. A MacKai would never run. That other horse was in trouble; it had to be Aingealach Spealp. Artis added her own howls to the fray and prayed Bleigared would be able to fight off the pack with hooves and teeth as he did knights in battle.