The Scot's Spy (Highland Swords Book 2)
Page 16
He prayed it would work this time.
His heart told him it would—it had to.
The three male cousins met in the middle, the English soldiers approaching them from all sides. Els didn’t see his father or Uncle Finlay, but he and Alasdair and Alick ended up with their backs to each other, fighting off the five men still left. They should have been at a disadvantage, given three of the men were still mounted, but Els was shocked to realize he wasn’t afraid at all. Maybe he never would be again.
Dyna stood off to the side, surprising Els because she usually stayed in a tree during skirmishes. Instead, she lifted her bow in the air and a streak of lightning shot through the sky, followed by a blast loud enough to shake the ground.
And he felt it. His sword heated up, and with his next swing, he cut his enemy down effortlessly. From the way his cousins were fighting, swinging easily at the men on horseback, he expected the same was true for them. Two of the English even dropped their swords before the cousins could get to them, staring at the hilts of their weapons with unified expressions of shock.
Els swung again, easily, but then something strange happened after he completed the next thrust of his sword. His weapon suddenly became heavier, causing him to pant just to lift it. Exhaustion stole over him. Fortunately, his cousins had taken care of all the remaining Englishmen, so he wasn’t forced to swing again.
He wasn’t sure if he would have been able to finish his attack.
A minute later, they’d defeated all the guards. Els raced toward the hut, running in through the door before he had to stop to allow his eyes to adjust to the darkness. Alasdair was behind him, calling, “John?”
Nothing.
Then Els saw her. His heart leaped into his throat, threatening to cut off his air, as he dropped his sword and moved over to the unmoving body on the floor. He knelt next to her while Alasdair moved over to a pallet in the corner, lifting the blankets off of it as he called to his son.
Els leaned down to listen and sighed, grateful to hear shallow breaths. He carefully lifted her and Alasdair did his best to help him.
“Joya? Can you hear me?” Alasdair said. “Where’s John?”
Nothing. She didn’t even move.
Alasdair quickly checked the second chamber but hurried back out, shaking his head.
John wasn’t here.
Chapter Eighteen
“You’re sure she’s alive?” Alasdair asked.
“Aye, but she’s in trouble.” Els whispered, “Joya? Where is John? Is he here or did they move him somewhere?” He took in the bruises on her face, the one swollen eye crusted over with blood, the bruises on her arm, and he didn’t need to see any more. She’d been beaten for some reason, and her body was fighting to hold on.
Had she been discovered in her capacity as Bruce’s spy? If so, it was a wonder she’d been left alive.
“Mayhap the sheriff took him,” Alasdair said, pacing the room. “He took the arrow and pulled it out, getting on his horse and leaving while the others stayed and fought. Fine leader he was. I didn’t notice if he had anyone or anything with him, but mayhap he carried a sack? Or could John be tied to a tree in the back?” He touched Joya’s cheek and said, “Joya, help us, please.”
She still hadn’t stirred at all, so Els shook his head at his cousin and gently carried her outside. Alasdair followed him. “John’s not in here,” he said to the others. “Look around everywhere. He could be tied to a tree or hidden somewhere.”
They all searched, but then something occurred to Els. “Papa, can you hold her for a moment?” he asked. When his father agreed, he gently handed her over to his sire’s capable hands. “Alasdair, come with me.”
Alasdair raced to his side, his face anxious. “Did you find him?”
“Nay,” Els said, “but I think I might know where he is.”
“Then find him!” his cousin barked, more anxious than Els had ever seen him.
Els stepped back inside the hut and, adopting a more playful tone, said, “I wonder where John is. I think he’s hiding from the English. I don’t know if we’ll ever be able to find him.”
A slight moan carried to them, but it didn’t sound like his cheerful nephew.
“John?” Alasdair whispered, he guessed because the poor man was afraid the precious sound would disappear.
Els pointed to the back of the hut, near a pile of rags that suddenly appeared to be moving. “I wonder where John’s hiding.” He moved slowly toward the back, talking along the way. “He’s not under the table, not under the bed. Can you find him, Papa?”
More unidentifiable noises. Grandsire and Dyna entered the hut but didn’t say anything, giving Els the chance to finish the game. “I think he’s in the corner,” he whispered to Alasdair. He was almost upon him when John jumped out from the pile of rags he’d been hiding under and said, “I hiding. I scared.”
His father reached for him and grabbed him close, and Els could swear he saw tears in Alasdair’s eyes. “Don’t worry, John. Papa’s here with Seanair and Uncle Els.”
“Bad men.” He pointed toward the front of the hut. “Hurt her.”
“The bad men are gone, son. They’ll not hurt you. We’ll take Joya home with us and help her. Will that please you?”
The lad nodded and hugged his father.
“Check him for injuries, Alasdair,” Grandsire said. “Is he bleeding anywhere? Any bumps on his head?”
They carried him out into the moonlight. “He might need a bath,” Alasdair said in awe, “but otherwise, he looks fine. My thanks to you, Els.” He gave him a brief nod, then stared at his son again. “I wouldn’t have thought of it, but it makes perfect sense. Wise laddie hid from the bad men.”
John’s face lit up, and he called out to his grandfather, “Greetings, Seanair. I Aleshander Grant.”
Grandsire ruffled the lad’s dark hair and said, “Aye, I believe you are, laddie.”
Da said, “He’ll be the next one, I’m guessing.”
Dyna joined them from the periphery of the clearing. “I checked the bodies. I don’t see any sheriff and I don’t recognize any of the dead men.” Then her eyes fell on Els, who’d taken Joya back into his arms. “Oh, poor Joya.” She moved next to her and pushed the hair back from her forehead. “Lass, you saved John. He’s here and he’s hale thanks to you.”
Dyna’s eyes filled with tears, something he rarely saw. “Bastards,” she whispered.
Els stared at Joya again, smoothing her hair back and kissing her cheek. “Joya? Wake up, please. You did a fine job protecting John.”
She never flinched.
Els said to Da, “We’ll take her back to the inn. We still have two chambers, but ’tis not busy. They have others if we need them.”
His sire said, “We’ll gain another chamber or two. We can squeeze into the space for one night. But we must take care of Joya and John, though I think the wee one will suffer less for what happened this eve than your grandsire. He’s not used to fighting anymore, but he did well.”
“Aye, Grandpapa’s Grant whoop is the best.” Els couldn’t believe how ably he’d fooled the enemy.
His father patted his shoulder and held Joya while Els mounted. Once he had her settled on his lap, he told his sire, “On the morrow, I go after the sheriff.”
Da glowered at him. “Els, don’t do anything stupid like going after him alone. We’re here to help you.”
Els didn’t know exactly how it would happen, but he was certain of one thing.
The bastard would pay with his life.
***
Els carried Joya into the inn. He’d tried to awaken her, even hoped the horse’s movement would rouse her, but she slept as though she hadn’t slept in days.
Perhaps she hadn’t. John seemed no worse for wear, proof that she had indeed done a fine job of protecting him. He chattered all the way back to the inn on his sire’s “horsey.”
They headed up to the second door and started down the passageway, Alasdair and
Although they weren’t expecting Emmalin, Els wasn’t surprised to see she’d come. Everyone back at Clan MacLintock had known they were staying at the inn, and he’d experienced the pain of waiting. He knew how keenly it hurt.
“Greetings, Mama,” John said. “Sword bwoken. Seanair new one.”
“Oh, my sweet laddie,” Emmalin said, leaning down to kiss his forehead as his father held him. Alasdair handed John over, but then Emmalin caught sight of Joya. “Oh, nay! What happened?”
Alasdair kissed his wife’s cheek and said, “We’ll give you the details later, but you have Joya, Els, and Grandsire to thank for our son. I was so frantic, I could not see him. Poor Joya protected him and paid a steep price for it. We need to tend her first.”
Aunt Kyla looked out of the chamber, her eyes tight with tension, and said, “Papa?”
“He’s fine, Aunt Kyla,” Els said. “He put on quite a show, but he may need a chair for now. I’ll take Joya over here, see if I can awaken her. Dyna can help me.”
Aunt Kyla wrinkled her nose and said, “Och, I’m going belowstairs for a tub. My guess is John needs a bath. And I’ll arrange for another chamber. We’ll need it for this night.”
Els carried Joya into their chamber, settling her on the bed. Dyna came in directly behind him. “What can I do, Els?”
“Mayhap fresh water. I’ll mop her forehead, see if that awakens her. I might need your help changing her gown. ’Tis quite bloody.”
“I’ll go now. I’ll grab some bread and cheese.” She clearly wasn’t worried about looking like a female anymore.
“And a couple of ales, if you please,” he called out after her.
Once she left, he leaned down and placed a chaste kiss on Joya’s lips. “Please wake up, lass. I love you. I need you. Please come back to me.” He’d never felt such horrible heartache. It had been a mistake to leave her. He should have followed her all the way through the camp.
To his surprise, her eyes fluttered open a few times before they finally stayed open, locking on his face.
He grinned. “You heard my confession.”
“Aye, possibly.” She reached up and pinched his chin. “Tell me again. Mayhap I heard nothing.”
He chuckled and kissed her again, letting it linger a wee bit this time. “I think you did hear me, but if not, I’ll gladly say it again. I love you, Joya.”
“Oh, Els. I love you, too.” She attempted to pick her head up off the pillow but gave a quick groan and fell back. “What in the hell did that bastard do to me?” She peeked inside her gown and moaned. “Oh my word. The bruises. I’m going to be a wee bit sore for a while, Els. John? Where’s John?”
“He’s fine, thanks to you. Emmalin and Aunt Kyla have him in the next chamber.”
Her hand fell away from her body. “Good. Poor laddie.”
He needed details. “Who did this to you?” He did his best to keep his voice from shaking when she pulled her sleeve up to check for bruises, only to find too many to count. “Tell me exactly what happened.”
She stopped looking, leaning her head back on the pillow and closing her eyes, tears rolling down the sides of her cheeks. “It was the sheriff. John hit one of them right in his bollocks, so the daft fool broke the lad’s sword. John wasn’t going to give up, so when the sheriff sat down and broke into laughter, John grabbed a dagger out of the man’s boot and cut the back of his hand.”
“Good for John. His sire and grandsire will love to hear of it. But that doesn’t answer my question. Why did they beat you?”
“Because the sheriff swung his arm out to hit John. I tried to intercept him, but I made a big mistake. I yelled his name. They didn’t know his name, so when I called him John, the sheriff accused me of spying and started beating me.”
“Where was John then?” he asked, tucking some loose strands back into her plait, marveling at her strength.
“I tucked him underneath me and told him if he hugged me tight, he’d save me, so that’s what he did. I tried to protect him. You’re sure he’s hale?” She reached up and touched his cheek. “You found him and brought him home? They did not hurt him at all?”
“He’s hale, Joya, thanks to you. He’s across the corridor getting a bath if I were to guess. Alasdair won’t let him out of his sight for six moons for certes. Who hit you? Which sheriff?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know his name. He never used it, but his right hand is cut. John did a nice job injuring him. The cut is wide enough to be seen clearly.”
Els pursed his lips as the door opened, Dyna and a serving lass entered the chamber with a basin of water, some food, and a couple of ales. The serving lass set the water and linen squares down and left.
He looked at Dyna and said, “She’s awake, but she’s in great pain. Will you sit with her?”
“Aye,” Dyna sat on a stool. “I can find a healer if you like.”
“Nay, please,” Joya said. “Before anything else happens, I must wash off their stink. Please help me change? I can wear a clean tunic and Els’s plaid over it.”
Els kissed her forehead and said, “Dyna will help you. I’ll send Aunt Kyla over, too, because she probably has some salve and bandages.”
“Good idea,” Dyna said. “We won’t take long so don’t go far. You wouldn’t be thinking of leaving yet, would you, Els?”
“Nay.” Hell, but he hated that he couldn’t get away with anything.
“Promise to wait? I’ll be out shortly.”
“Sure. I’ll be in front of the inn.” He’d turned around because he knew better than to look her in the eye when he lied.
He headed down the passageway to the chamber shared by Aunt Kyla and Emmalin. After giving his aunt a quick explanation of the situation, he asked, “Mama stayed back?”
“Aye, she stayed with Bessie and Ailith. Emmalin couldn’t wait there any longer, so she came with a multitude of guards and I offered to join her. I wanted to use the salve on Papa’s knees. He’s already asleep, but he’s pleased with how it went. We left plenty of guards at the castle. Where are you headed?”
“To the garderobe. Do you need anything?”
She shook her head and pushed past him into the chamber.
Perfect.
Els didn’t want anyone following him. Joya had proven herself.
Now it was his turn. He needed to prove to himself that he was strong enough to stand alone, that his fears were behind him.
He had a sheriff to catch.
Chapter Nineteen
Els made his way back into the center of town, hoping he wouldn’t regret taking Thunder. He didn’t wish to draw any attention to himself.
It was dark and there weren’t many people about, so he made his way toward the inns in the middle of town. Then he saw exactly what he’d hoped to find—a tavern with plenty of horses nearby. If the sheriff wasn’t there himself, hopefully there’d be word of him.
He strolled inside, asking for an ale. His eyes adjusted to the dark interior and he was surprised to see how full it was. Doing his best to calm his beating heart, he found a chair and sat down, leaning it back on two legs so he could better scan the crowd. He searched quickly but saw no familiar faces.
They were mostly Scots, talking quietly about the English. He caught the small bit of hope that passed from one person to another, albeit quietly. Word must have gotten around of the happenings at Glen Trool.
Where the hell were the sheriffs?
He set the legs of his chair back down on the floor, finished his ale in two swigs, and left.
To his delight, he was followed. He wasn’t about to let on that he was aware of the two men behind him, so he gave Thunder a pat on his withers and whispered, “Be patient, beastie. Your favorite time is coming.”
Thunder loved battle, and he hadn’t seen much of it of late, due to Els’s troubles. Troubles that seemed very far away now. Els mounted and headed down the lane, waiting to see if the fools would be obvious about following him.
They were. He headed down the path, surprised to see two horses coming toward him. Two in front and two behind, all on horseback.
Hellfire, perhaps he should have brought someone with him after all. He’d wanted to prove himself—to show he could do something on his own, but mayhap he’d been foolish to think it necessary. Shouldn’t he be grateful that he had his family’s support? There was no shame in accepting help when it was offered freely.
Then he heard Dyna’s bird call. They were there somewhere. He breathed a small sigh of relief as he continued on his way.
The closer he came to the two horses in front of him, however, the better he could see them. He was quite sure the two men were sheriffs. One was definitely de Fry, whom he knew to be a loyal Scot. The other was too far away for him to tell.
The sheriffs stopped directly in front of him. De Fry said, “Grant. What brings you to Ayr?”
From the corners of his eyes, Els could see his pursuers slow their pace. “I’m sure you know, de Fry. My cousin’s son was held captive by the English, and we were here to make a trade.”
“Captive?” de Fry asked, actually looking surprised. “Who did it?”
“We haven’t caught the bastard yet. We gained the wee laddie back, but the guilty party got away. I’m looking for him.”
De Fry said, “Do you want our assistance? And who are the two behind you? Grant guards?”
“They aren’t my men, but they’ve been following me.” He glanced at de Fry, then shifted his gaze to the second sheriff. “Which sheriff are you?”
“Sheriff Vernauld, and you’ll address me with the respect I deserve,” he said.
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