Awaiting the Wolf Killer Highlander by Alisa Adams
18
The hoofbeats were heard in the outlying farms at first.
Dand and Maisie would surely have heard it if they had been in their home rather than the dungeons; indeed, perhaps it would have awakened their infant daughter. As it was, numerous babies in the farmhouses wailed from the sound, adding to the anxiousness of their parents, who peered out their windows to see what riders were approaching.
And when they saw, many of them slammed their doors and shuttered their windows, knowing that violence and death would almost surely follow the men on horseback. A mere handful—bolder men than their fellows, perhaps, or simply more eager for a reward—ran ahead as fast as their legs and horses could carry them, bellowing warnings as loudly as they could.
Then the legion galloped through the village, which remained oddly still and silent, as most of its occupants were either dying of the plague or caring for those who were. And even if they had taken a few moments to observe the encroaching horde, what then? Would they have taken up arms against these intruders upon their lands?
Unlikely. Not after all they had suffered and lost. Not when, at that point, it mattered little to any of them who ruled since, after all, they would only rule over a necropolis soon at the rate the clansmen were dying.
At last, the riders came to a stop before the gates of Ryan McKenna’s estate.
There, they found almost a hundred soldiers standing in formation with their swords and bows, waiting for them as McKenna paced the high walls of his home.
“What is the meaning of all this, then?” McKenna inquired. He almost sounded amused. “If Clan Fraser has come to overwhelm and conquer the Campbells, I would have thought you might march upon the castle.”
“It is my understanding that the power within the Campbell clan resides here these days,” Laird Nathan shot back. “Convenient, as your walls and gates do not offer nearly the resistance that those of the castle might.”
“I also might have assumed you would bring more men to accomplish such a task,” McKenna added, indicating the fifty or so warriors on horseback who carried the banners of the Fraser clan.
“In truth, Brother,” Malcolm muttered under his breath, “I might have assumed the same thing.”
“To challenge a clan which has not directly provoked or threatened my own?” Nathan whispered back. “I was fortunate to find this many to support me.”
“Perhaps if you had been a better laird…” Malcolm retorted dryly.
Nathan gave him a venomous glare but did not reply.
“My men would appear to outnumber yours two to one,” Ryan commented.
“Your men are nothing but a pack of poorly-trained, undisciplined servants with swords,” Nathan replied. “They are no match for even twenty true warriors, let alone fifty.”
“And you, then?” McKenna addressed Malcolm, who was mounted at Nathan’s side. “The guard who was so recently employed by Sorcha? Who liberated her from the clutches of my friend Currie? Am I to assume, then, that you were always a spy for the Fraser army, meant to destabilize us from within and make us ripe for the taking?”
“Certainly not,” Malcolm countered. “I was charged with the protection of the Campbells from enemies without and within. You have betrayed the clan, sir, and imprisoned its rightful heir. You are a fiend and a usurper, and the time has come for you to pay dearly for your crimes against those you swore fealty to. I intend to see Lady Sorcha freed at once and returned to her former position of authority.”
“Aye, I’ve no doubt that you shall see all manner of pretty fantasies once you reach the afterlife,” McKenna chortled. “Soldiers! Cut them down where they stand! A hundred gold pieces to the man who brings me the head of this upstart guard!”
McKenna’s men charged forward, roaring and brandishing their weapons. The Fraser fighters stood their ground, and the opposing forces crashed against each other savagely with the ring of metal against metal.
Malcolm rode hard, swinging his sword left and right to put down as many of McKenna’s men as he could. But their pikes were formidable weapons, able to reach up to him and, alas, to stab the horse out from beneath him. The noble creature succumbed to their attacks almost immediately and fell on its side. Malcolm had to leap away at the last moment, lest his leg be crushed by the weight of his mount.
That creature did not deserve such a gruesome fate, Malcolm thought furiously, thinking of his beloved Thistledown gone these many years. He hacked and slashed at the McKenna sentries with all his might, and sure enough, although they were equipped with serviceable weaponry, their ability to fight paled before his own.
Likewise, their armor was pretty to look at but not especially functional. And why would it be? Surely, he reasoned, this McKenna fellow had largely hired and outfitted them for show. Their assigned task had been to look imposing enough to frighten off potential intruders and to toss unwelcome visitors out on their ear when Ryan commanded it.
They were indolent peasants seeking a high-paying position, nothing more. They certainly were not warriors.
But if they continue to stand against us, I shall see to it that they die as such this day,Malcolm vowed silently, burying his blade in the belly of one of them and chopping half the head off another.
As he fought, he could not help but notice that Nathan was holding his own quite well. He may have been a dreadful ruler, but he seemed to be a passable fighter.
Meanwhile, Ryan McKenna rushed down to a hidden passageway beneath his estate. There, he was disappointed to find Currie quite alone and looking utterly stricken.
“Where is everyone else, you fool?” McKenna demanded. “I told you to go to the village for reinforcements so that we may put a decisive end to this fray!”
“I tried, sir!” Currie moaned pitifully. “I rode through town, sounding the call for all good men to come to the aid of their new master! Only no one answered the call!”
“What the devil do you mean?!”
“I mean, sir, that the people of this clan have been so besieged by disease and turmoil that they no longer seem to care overmuch who leads them. And whoever does, they have no desire to risk their lives on such a person’s behalf! It seems our lads are on their own, sir!” he wailed.
“Then we shall have to hope our numbers will suffice,” McKenna rumbled.
As it turned out, he need not have worried.
His sentries may have been poorly trained and poorly outfitted, but their masses were still formidable enough to hold back the Fraser soldiers.
No, ‘tis more than that, Malcolm thought grimly, plunging one of his daggers into an oncoming McKenna guard. Nathan’s men are hearty enough, but they are not giving their all to this fight, for they feel they have no stake in it. These men do not threaten Fraser lands or clansmen.
And thanks to the general lack of motivation on our side, and the expression of regret on Nathan’s face, I imagine they are about to retreat from this battle.
Will I go with them? To stay here without their support will mean death for me. And to return to Castle Fraser with my brother, having made my pact with him…
But before Malcolm could finish that thought, he heard a horn blow a short distance away.
It was a signal for an army to charge. And he knew damn well which army it was.
“Go forth, men!” Laird Fergus Brodie cried out, pointing his sword at McKenna’s estate. “Show no mercy until you hear their plea of surrender!”
The warriors of the Brodie clan—over a hundred of them—surged forth, howling like demons from the darkest pits of hell itself.
The Fraser soldiers stood aside with expressions of gratitude on their faces, allowing the Brodies to ride upon Ryan’s men with astonishing speed and ferocity. The guards were driven back within moments, and many of them dropped their swords and raised their arms, yielding to the clearly superior force.
The fight ended almost as quickly as it had begun. McKenna saw that he was well and truly beaten and called his remaining forces back, signaling his surrender.
“It is a great pleasure to see you, Laird Fergus!” Malcolm greeted him.
Fergus tilted his head, frowning. “You are the one Aodh and Freya spoke of, then? The man who brought them to the place where they were cured of their ailments? The one who returned there to warn them of what was transpiring?”
“So that they might enlist your aid, aye, and ensure that Sorcha is restored to her former position.”
“Lady Sorcha,” Fergus corrected him suspiciously. “I would ask you to show respect for my sister-in-law’s title, sir.”
Malcolm laughed incredulously, gesturing to the Brodie men around him. “Have I not done so by arranging all of this?”
“You make a fair point, I suppose.” Still, there was a hard glint in Fergus’s eye, as though he was wondering about the nature of Malcolm’s relationship with Sorcha.
Well, time enough to be troubled by that later, Malcolm supposed.
“And you are Laird Nathan Fraser, I take it?” Fergus went on, riding up to Nathan. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, sir. I regret that it had to occur under such violent circumstances. Now then, shall we ride to the castle so that we might liberate Lady Sorcha from her burdensome chains?”
