Highlander’s Frozen Heart by Shona Thompson
Chapter Thirty-One
“Laird MacForfin has been killed, my lord,” one of Caton’s men told him as he returned from the battlefield, where Caton had sent him to watch the battle’s progress and report back to him. “It seems like they are losing. Most of the MacForfin clansmen have been killed, and clan MacRestus has the upper hand.”
“What about the boy?” Caton asked, “MacForfin said he’d go for the boy.”
“No one could get to him, my lord,” the other man replied, “He is heavily guarded, along with the girl and the laird’s sister.”
Caton didn’t allow his rage to get the better of him. Just because Laird MacForfin had failed, it didn’t mean that he would fail, too. In fact, he would do anything in his power to get to Adelleine, and to the laird’s son and sister, and he would kill them all.
“What do you think, Fin? Should we go after them?” Caton asked, turning around to look at him, where he had left him tied up against a tree. He could hardly recognise him anymore after all the damage that he had done, and Fin hadn’t spoken a single word for hours.
He couldn’t speak. He could hardly lift his head to look at Caton, and Caton would be lying if he said that he didn’t feel a wave of satisfaction crashing over him.
“I thought that perhaps you’d have an input, seeing as you and Laird MacRestus have been discussing plans behind my back for so long,” Caton continued, “Oh well . . . I suppose that we’ll have to do this ourselves.”
Caton stood from where he was sitting by the fire, and his men rallied around him, handing him everything that he would need for their mission. The last thing to be handed to him was his sword, which Caton took and held in his hand, eager to find someone to attack.
“My lord . . . what about Fin?” one of his men inquired, “What should we do with him?”
Caton glanced at the other man, assessing his condition. It was clear to him that Fin wouldn’t be able to go anywhere, not in the state in which he was, so he didn’t feel any need to leave a guard with him or kill him on the spot.
He wanted to keep him alive for as long as he could. He wasn’t done playing with him yet.
“Leave him here,” Caton told them, “He’s not going anywhere, not like this. We’ll deal with him when we return.”
“Yes, my lord,” his men said in unison.
There were only six of them, but even though that meant that they had little strength in numbers, it also meant that it would be easier for them to sneak into the castle grounds without being noticed. Caton had no intention to fight the horde of MacRestus men that waited for them in the battlefield; instead, his plan was to avoid the battlefield entirely, and go around the castle walls to enter the grounds from the back.
There was no point risking his men, when the MacForfin men were dying one after the other instead of doing their jobs.
Caton had his scout lead the way, and the seven of them left Fin behind as they made their way towards the castle. The night was dark, the sky covered in thick, black clouds, and Caton didn’t allow his scout to hold a torch, fearing that someone would notice them.
The trek to the other side of the castle was anything but pleasant. Caton could hear the screams of agony and the sounds of swords meeting, iron against iron. He could smell the blood in the air, fetidly sweet, and it all reminded him how glad he was that he wasn’t there, fighting among them.
Caton wasn’t made for battle; he was made for the finer things in life, he thought.
He cursed as he tripped over a root, and for a moment, he thought that someone was attacking him. He raised his sword, preparing to strike as he stood, and his men all managed to move aside at the last minute, narrowly escaping the clutches of death.
“What are you all doing?” he hissed at them, “You fools! Watch where you make me step!”
“Yes, my lord,” all his men replied in unison once more, though there was nothing that they could do to keep the baron from tripping in the dark.
Once they finally made it to the other side of the castle, near the tower where Caton was certain that they kept Adelleine, as well as Magnus’ son and sister, he realised that there was yet another problem to be solved: there was no gate there for them to enter, nothing that they could do other than scale the wall.
With a mournful sigh, Caton unloaded everything on his men, leaning against the wall as he waited for them to figure out a way for everyone to climb up. In the end, half of them climbed the wall, using branches and rocks that were jutting out, while the other half remained at the other side, helping Caton get to the top.
By the time he was on solid ground once more, all six of his men had made it inside the walls, though none of them seemed to be as sweaty and as out of breath as he was, and Caton couldn’t help but resent them for it.
“Should we go ahead, my lord?” one of them asked him in a whisper, just as Caton leaned against the wall once more, trying to catch his breath.
Caton had half a mind to kill him right then and there, but he decided that he would rather keep his men until they had gotten through the guards that kept an eye over Adelleine.
Caton pushed himself off the wall after a few moments, taking back his sword as the seven of them began to walk towards the tower. The castle grounds were quiet, eerily so, and Caton thought that perhaps everyone had barricaded themselves inside any room they could find, fearing of what would happen if someone managed to come in through the gates.
Caton couldn’t help but smile to himself. Magnus had been foolish enough to think that by protecting the gates, no one would manage to come in, but he had never considered putting some men inside the castle grounds, no one to protect the innocent people who were still there.
“After you bring me Adelleine, you’re free to go around the castle and kill anyone you wish,” Caton told his men, “Take anything you wish, do anything you wish . . . but first, Adelleine.”
Caton led his men to the tower, only to find that, once again, there were no guards posted outside. Cautiously, he opened the door and made his way to the staircase, looking up to see if there was anyone there, but his view was obstructed by the staircase itself.
“You,” he said, pointing at one of his men at random, “go first.”
The man that Caton chose seemed hesitant at first, but he couldn’t refuse, unless he wanted to be killed by Caton himself. He made his way up the stairs, and Caton and the rest of his men followed, all of them walking as slowly and as quietly as they could, hoping that the sounds of the battle that was still raging outside the castle walls would mask their footsteps.
It only became clear to all of them that there were, indeed, guards when they reached the top of the stairs, and they saw no fewer than six of them there; one for each of Caton’s men.
Caton stood back, watching as the fight unfolded, but it didn’t take long for one of Magnus’ men to kill one of his own. It was then that Caton decided to intervene, and he soon realised that the only way to beat those men was to fight dirty.
Caton rushed into the fight, shoving the man who had killed his own off the stairs. The sound of the man’s body hitting the ground once he made it all the way down made the rest of Magnus’ men flinch and hesitate, shocked by the kind of death that their fellow soldier had met. But that one moment was enough for Caton’s men to gain the upper hand, and soon, Magnus’ men were all dead, no fewer than four of them stabbed in the back, before they could even expect it. Then, the landing was quiet, and no sound came from the other side of the door, either.
“If only MacForfin and his men would fight this way,” Caton said with a disappointed sigh. It seemed to him as though he couldn’t trust anyone else with his fights, and he wondered if perhaps he should be fighting his own from then on.
Caton gripped the doorknob, but just as he expected, the door was locked. No matter how much he rattled it, it wouldn’t give, and so he stepped aside, making room for two of his men to kick it down.
The door fell on the ground with a thud, and Caton couldn’t be happier when he saw what awaited him on the other side.
Adelleine was right there, unguarded, unprotected. And next to her on the bed, there was a boy and a woman; undoubtedly, Magnus’ son and sister.
Adelleine looked at Caton with wide, fearful eyes as she jumped out of the bed, using her body as a shield for the other two. Caton smiled at her, a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“You have been a thorn in my side, Adelleine,” Caton told her, “I have been chasing after you for so long that I have almost forgotten what you did in the first place . . . almost.”
“Well, I am happy to remind you,” Adelleine said, “You’re after me because I left right before you could force me to marry you, and because I think you are nothing but a vile little man.”
“I didn’t know about that last one, but now that I do, I suppose it’s enough reason, yes,” Caton said, “Do you truly think that taunting me is the best way for you to protect them?”
It was clear to Caton that Adelleine didn’t care as much about herself as she did about Magnus’ son and sister. She would give her life for them, it seemed; they were Adelleine’s weakness, just as they were Magnus’ own.
Adelleine was quick to remain silent after Caton’s question, but Caton didn’t want to simply kill her, along with the other two. He wanted to draw out her death as much as he could, just like he had done with Fin.
“Oh . . . Fin made it here, I thought you should know,” Caton told Adelleine, “He did . . . he simply didn’t make it unharmed, but you’ll see him soon enough. He’s out there, in the woods. I left him bound onto a tree, and well . . . if he survives the rest of the night and if he doesn’t get eaten by any beasts, you’ll see him again. Isn’t that lovely? I wish I could bring the rest of your family here, too.”
Adelleine seemed stunned speechless, but only for a moment.
“Did you hurt him?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
Caton could see that she was shaking, her entire body trembling uncontrollably, though whether it was out of fear or out of anger, he couldn’t say.
“What did you do to him?”
“Of course I hurt him,” Caton said, “What did you think I would do, allow him to give Laird MacRestus all our plans? Oh Adelleine . . . come now, you’re not a naïve girl. You know what happens to those who cross me.”
“I do now,” Adelleine said. “I will do anything that you want. Just leave Isla and Fergus go.”
“Nay!” Isla said, grabbing Adelleine’s arm to stop her from allowing the men to take her, “Nay, she isnae goin’ anywhere. Ye’ll have to go through me if ye wish to get to her, do ye hear?”
Caton’s men were ready to kill Isla, their swords all pointed at her, but Caton waved them down. Isla was only a woman, after all, and Caton had no doubt that he could easily best her in combat.
She didn’t even have a weapon.
“It’s alright,” he assured his men, “All of you, leave. Go and stand outside the tower, watch for anyone who could come here.”
Hesitant, the men glanced at each other, all of them knowing better than to leave Caton there all alone. Caton was convinced that the women posed no danger to him, though, and he barked another command at his men, one that had them scrambling to get out of the room.
Once they were all gone, Caton took a few steps towards Isla, who pushed the boy behind her, protecting him as well as she could.
“Do you truly think that you can best me in a fight?” he asked her, as he drew his sword out of his sheath, “Both of you are miserable. Look at you . . . what are you going to do, all alone? All your guards are dead. Your laird is out there, still fighting. You two are all alone, and no one will come to save you.”
“We dinnae need savin’,” Isla hissed, as she drew a dagger out of her pocket. The sight of it made Caton laugh, thinking that she couldn’t possibly get close enough to him to do any damage.
“Very well,” Caton said, “Let’s see if you can fight me with that little blade of yours.”
Isla moved fast, which didn’t surprise Caton. She was tall but slight, and she had speed on her side. What did surprise him, though, was that she seemed to know what she was doing, as though she had been trained in combat.
Caton avoided Isla’s strikes, moving from side to side and using his sword to keep her away, but no matter how much he tried, it seemed impossible to deal a blow to her with his sword. Isla ducked and dodged his sword again and again, and soon, Caton saw that he would have to fight dirty once more if he wanted to beat her.
Caton reached for the boy. He was going to kill him first if that was what it would take to break the two women, and so he marched up to the window, where the boy was standing, petrified, too afraid to move.
It was then that Adelleine jumped towards them, Isla grabbing Fergus at the last moment and pulling him to safety.
“Don’t you dare touch him!” Adelleine hissed at Caton, “If you want Fergus, you must first go through me.”
“Gladly,” Caton said, “That is precisely what brought me here in the first place, dear Adelleine. I came to kill you, the laird, and everyone you have come to love. I wanted to kill everyone else first, so you could watch them all die, one by one, but I suppose it makes no difference if you’re the first to go.”
Caton reached for Adelleine, but she was quick to move towards him first. It amused him, knowing that she thought she could fight him, a man like him who towered over her. Eager to cut her in two, he raised his sword, but before he could bring it down, he felt her hands on his chest, strong and determined.
He didn’t know what she was doing, not until his thighs hit the windowsill. Caton tried to grasp the edges of the window, his hands desperately clutching at thin air as his feet lifted off the ground, but it was to no avail. There was nothing to hold onto, not even Adelleine, who was stepping back hurriedly, trying to get away from his claws.
Caton didn’t have time to scream. He didn’t have time for anything other than stare at the sky with wide eyes, feeling the rush of wind in his eyes as he fell down the tower, fingers still reaching, curling, begging for something to hold that could keep him alive.
He was dead before his back hit the ground, his heart giving out on him.
