“We need tae move quickly,” she said.
“Aye.”
They turned and jogged on, keeping to the directions they were given. She rounded a corner and ran into a group of three of Pringle’s soldiers. They turned to her and Dand, confusion on their faces.
“Oi. Who are ye?” one of the guards asked.
“Bleedin’ hell,” she muttered to herself.
Aileas cut a glance at Dand and gave him an imperceptible nod, drawing a wide grin from him. They fell upon the three soldiers, steel clashing, and men screaming. They quickly dispatched the first two, leaving them in spreading pools of scarlet on the corridor floor. And Dand had just engaged the third when the drumming sound of footsteps on the stone behind them drew her attention. She turned, her blade up to find a pair of guards descending on them.
Aileas spun and parried the thrust of the first man. The corridor nullified the advantage their numbers gave them, the narrowness of it, making it harder for men to fight side by side. The echo of a man screaming behind her told Aileas that Dand had just dispatched the third man. And then he was beside her, wading into the fight. He glanced at her over her shoulder.
“Go. Find ‘im. I’ll hold them off,” he called to her as he cut a murderous arc with his blade, and the men danced back out of range.
“Are ye sure?”
“Aye. Go. Now!”
Aileas looked at him uncertainly as Pringle’s men looked at them with a killing light in their eyes. She worried for her cousin. Afraid that she was leaving him to his doom. He was a wizard with a blade… possibly the best she had personally ever seen. Aside from herself, of course. But even Dand had his limits.
“Go, Aileas. Now, ye bleedin’ fool!” he roared.
She spun on her heel and dashed down the corridor as the sound of steel clashing and men grunting echoed all around her as the battle commenced. Trying to set her worry for Dand aside, she gritted her teeth and pushed on, rounding the corridor to find the staircase leading down that the scullery maid had told her to look for.
Aileas paused at the head of the staircase and listened, trying to detect the sound of anybody down below the keep. She didn’t hear anything but knew that wasn’t necessarily definitive. Clenching her jaw and tightening the grip on her blade, she descended the steps slowly. Aileas made it to the bottom without meeting resistance and let out a small sigh of relief.
She stood in a small anteroom made of stone, and across from her stood an arched door made of wood. Making her way over to it, she opened it and stepped through quickly, bracing herself for an attack. There were two men in Pringle’s house livery relaxing against a desk laughing together. They quickly jumped to their feet when they saw her, alarm on their faces.
Aileas could tell instantly that they were not well-trained soldiers, which explained why they were not out in the bailey, helping to repel the attack. Alieas gripped her sword and flashed them both a vicious grin.
“Who are ye then?” the first one said.
“Probably thae person ye’re tryin’ tae keep out of here,” she replied.
They exchanged a look with each other, confusion on both of their faces. But then the first one looked at her and smiled.
“Ye should put that sword down, lass. Ye’re likely tae hurt herself with it,” he said, condescendingly.
“Why daenae ye come and take it from me then, eh?” she spit back.
He grinned and walked around the desk, lazily drawing his sword. “Playtime’s over, lass. Hand that blade over.”
As he closed with her, Aileas raised her sword, the flickering torchlight glinting off the long, curved edge of her blade.
“Daenae make me kill ye. I’d rather ye just drop that ring of keys on yer belt and be gone from here,” she said.
“I’m nae foolin’ about, lass. Drop yer blade.”
“Last chance. Drop thae keys and be gone,” she said.
A flash of annoyance crossed the man’s features, and he took a defensive posture. Aileas went on the attack, moving with blinding speed and slashed, but held back, merely opening a slice along the man’s tunic rather than aiming to kill. She quickly stepped forward, though, and drove her foot into his stomach. Sputtering and wheezing as she drove the air from his lungs, the man staggered backward, his sword clattering to the ground with a high-pitched ring.
The second man looked startled for a moment, but then his features coalesced into anger, and he charged forward, the point of his sword leading the way. Aileas turned his sword aside with ease, then drove the crossguard of her blade into his face. As a loud crunching sound echoed around the chamber, the man dropped his sword and clutched his face in his hands. He fell to his knees, howling in agony as blood squeezed out between his fingers and spattered the front of his tunic.
Aileas reached down, snatched the ring of keys from his belt, and then gave him a hard boot to the midsection. He flopped down onto his back, still holding his face in his hands, howling as if he’d just had his innards ripped out.
“Stop cryin’ like a wee baby. Ye sound ridiculous,” she groused.
Aileas had taken her focus off the first man. A mistake she realized the moment she caught movement in the corner of her eye. She spun to the side and was in the process of bringing her sword up, but felt a line of fire slicing along her ribs. Pain erupted in her side as she felt the warm, sticky flow of blood spilling from the wound. She knew it was a shallow slice that wasn’t too serious, though, and thanked her quick reflexes as she launched herself at the man.
The man couldn’t keep up with her flurry of movements, but he managed to parry many of her thrusts and slices, though just barely. He still bore half a dozen cuts and slices from her onslaught.
“Stop now,” she said. “Daenae make me kill ye.”
With a low growl, the man gritted his teeth and charged at her once more. Rather than thrusting the point of his blade at her, he cut at her in a two-handed chop. Aileas nimbly danced backward, then moved forward once more, twisting her sword in her grip as she sliced. She felt the edge of her blade bite into the man’s flesh and a jet of blood fountained out, hitting the floor with a wet splatter.
He dropped his blade and clutched at his throat, a river of scarlet running over his hands as he fell to his knees, then onto his side. He twitched and mewled for a moment and then lay still. She cast an eye over to the other man, who looked back at her with wide eyes and panic on his face. He scrambled to his feet and then out the door. Aileas listened to his footsteps, pounding the stairs until they faded away.
Satisfied she was alone, she turned and opened the next door, and stepped into a long corridor. As she hurried along the walkway, she glanced into the cages on both sides of her and started to despair, seeing that most of them were empty. The stench in the chamber was cloying, and she felt her stomach turning over on itself, but she clenched her jaw and bore it.
At the end of the corridor, a heavy wooden door bolted shut stood to her left. Throwing the bolt, she stepped back, her blade at the ready. When nobody came bursting forth, she stepped into the room, feeling a hitch in her heart as she looked at the figure laying in the middle of the room.
Luke was severely beaten. His face a swollen collection of cuts and bruises. He was so badly misshapen that she barely recognized him. As she approached, he stirred and grimaced, biting off his cry of pain as he pushed himself up to a sitting position.
“Aileas,” he groaned.
She fell to her knees, dropping her sword beside her, and laid a gentle hand upon his cheek. Even that feather-light touch, though, seemed to cause him pain, as he winced and sucked in a sharp breath.
“My God. What have they done tae ye,” she whispered.
“About everythin’ ye can dae short of killin’ a man,” he said with a raspy chuckle.
His chuckle broke down into a series of wet sounding coughs, and his face contorted with pain. Aileas felt her heart breaking for him as well as the anger inside of her swelling.
“Ca
n ye walk?” she asked.
He shrugged. “One way tae find out.”
“Come then. We’re gettin’ ye out of here.”
When she reached for him, Aileas saw his eyes widen, and a look of stark terror flash across his face that sent a dagger of fear through her.
“Look out!” he cried.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Luke threw himself backward, never taking his eyes of Aileas. He bit back the cry of agony that threatened to burst from his mouth as he hit the hard floor. Aileas, though, moving faster than he’d ever seen somebody move before, rolled to the side and was on her feet with her blade in hand in the blink of an eye. The sword that would have cleaved her in half hit the ground, spraying chips of stone as it bit into the space Aileas had occupied just a heartbeat before.
Pringle righted himself and glowered at her as he brought his sword to bear. Aileas stared right back at him, the hatred in her face as plain as day.
“Well. Welcome home, Aileas,” Pringle said. “Come back tae die like yer ma and da, did ye?”
She flashed him a smirk. “Tis nae me that’s goin’ tae be dyin’ today. Me ma and da will be avenged.”
“If ye say so. I’ve heard ye’ve become quite capable with a blade… for a lass.”
Her smile was colder than ice, but the fire in her eyes could have burned down the entire keep and the land around it besides.
“Men have been underestimatin’ me for a long time now. Yet I’m still here,” she hissed. “So go ahead. Keep doin’ it.”
“Tis easier when ye’ve got fightin’ men around ye, eh?”
“I guess we’ll see then.”
Luke’s heart thundered in his chest as the pair of them squared off. He crawled back against the wall and tried to push aside the pain that ravaged him. Luke slowly and haltingly climbed to his feet, wishing he had a blade in his hand. He felt like an invalid and utterly useless.
More than that, though, he wanted to protect Aileas. He knew she was capable with a blade in her hand－probably every bit as capable as he－but Luke would rather take Pringle’s steel than see her suffer a single scratch. But all he could do was stand there and watch with his stomach in knots and his heart in his throat. Pringle turned to him, an evil grin curling the corner of his mouth upward.
“We should’ve killed ye when I said so. Ye’ve proven tae be more trouble than ye’re worth,” he growled. “But I aim tae correct that mistake.”
Pringle lunged at him, the point of his sword leading the way, but in a blur of movement, Aileas knocked his blade harmlessly to the side and put herself between them. Luke gasped and watched as her blade spun, a whirling and glittering arc of steel. She pressed her attack, pushing Pringle, who seemed to be having trouble matching her movements, back.
Pringle’s face was a mask of concentration, and he grunted with every thrust, slice, and slash that Aileas launched at him. But so far, she had been unable to break his guard. When he reached the wall behind him and realized he had nowhere else left to go, he launched a counterattack born of desperation. His movements were sharp, economical, and deadly. Pringle was a master swordsman, of that Luke had no doubt. But his face was strained, and Luke could see he had not counted on Aileas’ skill with a blade.
Thrust. Slash. Parry. Block. Back and forth they went, neither of them seeming to gain many advantages over the other. Luke’s only satisfaction coming in the fact that Pringle was having a hard time keeping up with a younger, faster fighter. That, and the fact that he was being humiliated after underestimating Aileas because she was a woman.
It was clear, though, that they were evenly matched. And that they were both starting to tire. One mistake would be the difference between one of them living and dying, and Luke resolved that it would be Pringle dead on the floor, not Aileas. But he needed to do something to tip the scales in her favor. He frantically looked around and found the answer.
Luke reached down and picked up the shackle that had bound his wrists. The pain was gripping him tightly, and he grimaced, seeing his vision begin to blur as he grew lightheaded. Luke pushed it away, willing himself to stay conscious. Feeling as if he used the last of his strength, he heaved the shackle at Pringle with a growl. The iron circlet struck Pringle in the shoulder, not doing any harm to him, but it distracted him. He cast a baleful glare at Luke.
Aileas, though, seized the momentary distraction and pressed her sudden advantage. She lunged at him, feinting to the left, and when Pringle saw her coming, he corrected himself and threw his sword out to block it. Aileas had already spun back around to the right and drove her sword into him. Pringle somehow managed to avoid the worst of the blow, and as the blade bit into him, it was in the fleshy, lower part of his side.
Luke knew instinctively it wasn’t likely a killing blow, but Pringle howled in pain as Aileas yanked the blade free. Blood flowed from the wound, spattering onto the ground beneath his feet. Wounded and weakened, Pringle growled at her before turning and fleeing out the door. Aileas looked as if she was giving thought to chasing him but seemed to dismiss it as she turned back to Luke.
A look of relief mixed with concern painted her features as she crossed the small room to him. Aileas took him by the shoulders, staring deeply into his eyes.
“We have tae go. Can ye walk?” she asked.
“I’ll crawl if I have tae. But before we go, there’s somethin’ I need tae tell ye.”
She looked at him, impatience written across her face. Like her, he did not want to be there if and when Pringle returned with more men, which was a distinct possibility. But he recalled his vow to himself and decided it couldn’t wait. He took Aileas’s hand and squeezed it tight, his eyes boring into hers.
“I need tae tell ye that ye’ve affected me like no other. Ever,” he said. “And I just need ye tae know that I love ye, Aileas. I love ye with all me bleedin’ heart, and I’ll love ye til thae day I draw me last breath.”
He saw her eyes shimmering with tears, but she fought to keep them from falling. She squeezed his hand in return and leaned forward, pressing her lips to his. Although the pain was enormous, he did his best to keep from pulling away or crying out. She eventually pulled back, though, and laid a gentle hand on his cheek, and smiled.
“And I love ye. I love ye in ways I never thought I could love a man. But me heart is yers,” she said. “Now, can we get thae bleedin’ hell out of here?”
Luke laughed softly and winced with the effort. But inside, his heart was doing somersaults, and his stomach clenched. The joy that filled him was pure and bright and even temporarily pushed away the pain.
“Aye. Please,” he said. “Let’s get the bleedin’ hell out of here.”
Her cheeks still flushed and a sparkle in her eye, she nodded and took his arm, draping it around her shoulder. Luke tried not to lean on her too hard but was having difficulty moving. He managed though, putting one foot in front of the other and doing his best to shut out the nearly blinding pain that continued to ravage him.
They reached the doorway and stepped into the corridor only to find the spymaster standing there, a naked dagger in his hand. Aileas brought her sword to bear and stepped away from Luke, leaving him to cling to the wall to stay upright. Robert swallowed hard as he looked at the blood on the edge of Aileas’ sword, then shifted his gaze to Luke.
“Thae battle is lost, and nobody’s seen Pringle,” Robert stammered. “I－I was comin’ tae set ye free.”
Aileas took a step toward him, her expression filled with malice. Robert retreated a step, likely trying to decide if he could outrun her or not. Still, when his gaze returned to Luke, he saw the spymaster’s expression turned to one of pleading, obviously deciding he wouldn’t be able to get away from Aileas even if he wanted to.
“Please,” he said. “I was goin’ tae set ye free. I swear it.”
There was a tone in his voice that struck Luke as sincere. However, he didn’t know if he could forget or forgive the agony he’d endured at the man’s han
ds. But, when the spymaster had been torturing him, Luke could see how distasteful he had found it but carried it out since it was his duty. It was much the same way Luke had carried out orders from the baron. When you offer your fealty to somebody, you have no choice but to do your duty to them.
After their brief but telling conversation, Luke knew he and the spymaster had much more in common than he ever would have guessed at first. Luke thought that maybe in another time, place, and context, he and the spymaster might have been friends. Or at least, friendly and on good terms. He was obviously a smart man, and his story was so similar to Luke’s, he felt a sort of odd kinship for the man. But they weren’t in another time or place. And all they could deal with was the here and now.
“Luke?”
Aileas’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts. She glanced at him, clearly asking him what she should do with the spymaster. He was torn. But one thing he couldn’t do was order somebody’s death in cold blood. Although he could justify asking Aileas to run him through, he wouldn’t feel good about it. Robert was a man trying to make his way in this world and better his position in life. Just as he was.
Every Highland Sin: Scottish Medieval Highlander Romance Page 24
