Swords clashed, and the echo of metal, the grunts of battle, the screams of pain filled the air.
“Dyna,” Alick yelled.
Finally, she said to Derric, “One minute. Give me one minute on your shoulders. Just one.”
Derric grumbled, “Fine, then you’ll get down before you get yourself killed. You’re a termagant unlike any I’ve ever met.”
“Fine, but you’re the termagant. Must you always have your way?” she muttered, climbing up his long back and placing her knees on his shoulders.
Derric held still, and Dyna climbed onto his shoulders, straightening her torso and holding her bow straight up at the sky.
The rumbling started and Alick smiled, loving the expression on Derric’s face at the abrupt and inexplicable change in the weather. The next moment, three bolts of lightning lit up the sky, followed by a fourth that struck the sword of one of their enemies, sending the guard flying into the air. He landed in a heap.
Dead.
Alick let out another Grant war whoop as the hilt of his sword warmed up. It became lighter and swung with such ease that he cut two men down with one swing. Two men hollered and dropped their swords, staring in disbelief at their burned hands. Cailean took them out with one swing.
And Dyna roared, the power bursting from her bow in a show of light, two more bolts hitting enemy warriors. Derric grabbed her knees to steady her, dropping his sword and watching in shock as the lightning danced across the sky, the rumbles of thunder coming one after the other, shaking the very ground on which they stood.
A few moments later, it was over. The men sent by Thane lay dead on the ground. The horses had run from the area in fear after feeling the ground move beneath their hooves.
The archers jumped down from the trees and all Alick could think to say was, “Chrissa, what the hell are you doing here?”
His sister raced over to him, babbling so fast he had trouble understanding her. “They came to our castle and held me outside the gates and made me wait with a dagger at my throat while they kidnapped Mama and I saw them go, so I waited and followed the guards when they left because I knew they were going after Mama and I had to go with them so…”
“Never mind,” he said, hugging her. “You’re hale and that’s what matters. Now we have to find Mama.”
Dyna jumped off Derric’s shoulders and took three steps back.
Derric turned around to stare at her in shock. “God’s bones. What the hell was that?”
Dyna laughed, holding her bow over her head to celebrate their victory. “It worked. The spectral swords are really back. This is the second time it’s worked in a matter of days. ’Twasn’t as powerful as before, but it did work. Mayhap it’s based on how badly we need it to work.”
“Spectral swords?” Derric said in confusion. “What are you talking about?”
But Alick wasn’t paying attention to them anymore. He dismounted and raced into the trees. “Branwen? You are hale? Branwen?”
She ran into his arms, crying from the stress of the entire day. He enveloped her in his arms, kissed her forehead, and said, “Stay here. I must search for my mother.”
He climbed onto his horse, Els mounting next to him, and the two headed back in the direction of Thane Castle. There was no sign of his mother.
Jep approached them on foot, having emerged from wherever he’d hidden a short distance away, and said, “She’s gone. Denton took her, along with another guard. I noticed them leaving the way we came.” He rubbed his shoulder, a bit of blood on his shirt though not much.
“Where do you think they’ve gone?” Alick asked, a sick feeling in the pit of his belly.
“Lorn. They’ve gone for the exchange. I never would have guessed Denton would be involved in that kidnapping. They brought her in the other day, and I had no idea the captive was a woman much less a Grant. I thought it was a few rogue guards who were convinced with coin and acting on their own. This makes me question everything. Does the earl know?”
Alick looked up at the sky and muttered, “Shite. We lost her. I feel like a wee bairn again,” he said, glancing at Els. “Just like I did at the Ramsay festival.”
The thought filled him with hopelessness. Mayhap all those dreams he’d been having had been a message.
“Except you didn’t lose her back then,” Dyna said. “She went to sleep because of the pain in her head. She couldn’t find you to tell you, but you had many others to watch over you. She wasn’t lost.”
“Mayhap not, but it still feels the same way.” He forced himself to shake it off, to set the old fears aside, and shifted his attention to Jep. “You aren’t hurt?”
“I’m fine. I grabbed a sword but I was struck, so I hid after that because I couldn’t swing anymore.”
Alick rode back to the group and said, “Gather what you can. We’ve no time to celebrate. We must head back to MacLintock land at once to meet the others and tell them what has happened.”
He reached down for Branwen and lifted her onto his lap.
“Who’s coming?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder at the group.
Dyna snorted. “All of us. Move along, cousin.”
Derric mounted and whistled, and horses fell in behind them, returned from the fright of the lightning.
Alick steeled himself for what lay ahead. He had his wife. He had his sister. Now he had to kill the bastard who held his mother.
***
When they arrived back on MacLintock land, he was surprised to see the number of Grant warriors who’d arrived to assist them. The group gathered in a cluster near the gates and made quick plans, handing their horses off to the stable lads. Grandsire, Da, Uncle Jamie, and Magnus joined them, along with Will and Maggie, who moved to the side to speak with Cailean and Sorcha.
“Grandsire, I saw Mama,” Alick said. “She’s hale, but we lost her. She’s with Arnald Denton. I don’t know where he’s taking her, but we have to assume they’re going to Lorn for the exchange.”
“Are you certain they’re headed to Lorn?” Da asked.
Branwen said, “Aye, ’tis what my sire said. He was hoping the men he sent ahead would kill Alick and the others so they’d have an easy journey to Lorn.”
Alick said, “Didn’t work out quite the way he expected.”
“Is that my granddaughter hiding from me?” He had to praise his grandfather because Alex didn’t even raise his voice.
“Aye, that would be Chrissa trying to hide from you. We ran into her and brought her back, though I’ll say my sister is a fair archer. She’ll explain all to you.”
“But Grandpapa, they tried to kidnap me and they did take my mama and…”
Grandfather raised his hand to quiet her and pointed to the stables. Chrissa scowled and led her horse over to a stable lad, not saying another word.
“And this new person?” Grandsire asked.
Jep stepped forward and said, “I’m Thane’s stablemaster. Jep. Or was. Could you use a hand in your stables here? We’ve brought some extra horses back if you can use them. I’d be happy to help get them settled.”
“You gained horses?” Alasdair asked, his eyes lighting up.
“Aye, we have about a dozen, and they’re hungry.”
“Aye, we could use both,” Alasdair said. “I appreciate the help and the horses.” He pointed him in the direction of the stables.
Jep left, giving Branwen a quick nod. She quickly said, “We can talk more when this is over, Jep.”
Alick didn’t know what she meant, but the look in her eye told him there was a story. The older man merely smiled and went on his way.
The sun was coming up, meaning some of them had been up most of the night. Branwen looked tired, as did Grandsire, but he knew he wouldn’t rest until this was done. “When do you wish to head for Lorn?” Alick asked, holding Branwen’s hand tightly. He had this fear that she would disappear on him again. That she’d slip away before his eyes.
Grandsire said, “We leave in an hour. Get a new
mount. Shadow is exhausted.”
Alick led Branwen into the great hall, finding a quiet place where they could talk. They settled into an alcove, and he reached over to touch her cheek, needing that simple connection. “I think you need to stay here. You look exhausted, and I fear I’ll get distracted with you along.”
Branwen nodded. “I am exhausted. I need sleep, and I doubt I could shoot well at all in such a state. I fear you’re all tired.”
“I wouldn’t be able to sleep, knowing we are so close to her. That strange force that overcomes you in battle will lead me on. My thanks for not insisting to come along.”
Branwen said, “I have other things to tell you about my father, but it can wait until you return.”
“The other reason I don’t wish for you to go is that your father could be killed in this venture of his. However strained things are between you, I don’t think you would want to witness that.”
She blushed, thinking on what she’d learned. “Alick, I met your mother. She helped me understand the truth about Arnald Denton. He is not my true sire.”
Alick stopped, turning to face her. “What? How could my mother help with that?”
“We had some time in the stables when we were alone, the three of us. Jep was imprisoned with your mother and me. We talked a bit, and she is a lovely woman, but she also recognized that I resemble my true father.”
He gave her a puzzled look, unable to put the pieces together, so she did it for him.
“Jep. Our eye color is exactly the same and your mother noticed. He admitted to being my sire. He loved my mother.”
And her, he could tell—he’d noticed it earlier. Jep had already acted the part of her father. “’Tis good news,” he said, “do you not agree? I expect ’twas a shock, but I think when you truly consider it, ’tis good news.”
She nodded. “I’ll speak to him after you return and I get some rest. But please go free your mother from that cruel bastard.”
He touched her cheek. “He slapped you again.”
It was a statement, not a question, so she just nodded. ’Tis probably good I don’t come with you because I would enjoy seeing him killed.” She gave him a quick kiss, and he grabbed a hunk of bread and an ale before he headed back out the door.
Back in the stables, he moved down to a stall at the end, choosing the dark horse there. “Also a descendant of Grandsire’s horse Midnight.”
Hearing a sound behind him, he turned and was surprised to see his wife again. “Are you sure I cannot come along and help?” she asked, kneading her fingers together in her tunic.
He wrapped his arms around her and said, “Please stay. I cannot worry about both of you, the two most important women in my life. I wish to know you, at least, are safe and hale.” He prepared the horse for the journey and led him out, Branwen following him. Once outside in a quiet area, he turned to Branwen and pulled her to him, his hands at her waist. His lips captured hers in a kiss that was meant to be gentle, but it was anything but, his need for her overpowering. He hated that they’d had so few opportunities to be alone together, that this worry about his mother had always stood between them. He devoured her mouth as if he couldn’t get enough of her.
The truth was he couldn’t. He cupped her face and stopped, pulling back just enough to whisper to her. “I want you so badly, need you so much, but I must go. I apologize that our marriage has been wrought with so much tension and confusion. We will get past this, I promise. And I’ll make slow love to you until you scream my name.”
She gave a light giggle. “While I do look forward to that moment, I wish for you to do what you must. Do not feel bad about what has happened. None of this has been in your control. Or mine. We have the rest of our lives that we get to spend together, and I look forward to it. Do not despair. Find your mother and bring her home. She’s a lovely woman.”
He kissed her again, then stepped away, leading his horse out through the gates before he mounted and waved goodbye to her.
“Godspeed, husband.”
He thought he saw tears in her eyes, but he didn’t wish to see them, so he turned away to do what he needed to do.
He needed to focus on finding his mother. He mounted and passed his grandsire addressing Magnus and many of the Grant warriors. The number gathering for the journey was larger than he’d expected, but he knew his grandfather would do anything for his mother. She was his firstborn daughter, after all.
His cousins sat at the front of the group, the three more than anxious to leave. Alasdair called to him first. “You leaving Branwen behind? We can always use another archer.”
“She’s proven her talent,” Els said. “But she can stay back. Joya is too exhausted to come, so she’s staying here with Emmalin. I suspect Chrissa will want to join us. She hit two men in the skirmish.”
Alick ran a hand through his hair. “You can all watch over Chrissa. I know Branwen has the skill, and if the prisoner were anyone other than my mother, I would bring her. I just can’t be distracted. I can’t explain it, but there’s going to be something different about this battle.”
“I have the same feeling,” Dyna said. “I feel unsettled, and I don’t know what it means. I’d ask Grandsire but he has enough on his mind, too.”
As if on cue, Grandsire came forward with Da and Uncle Jamie, making the motion for them to move on.
And behind him came Chrissa, wearing a huge smile.
It was time to end this.
***
Branwen joined Emmalin and Joya by the curtain wall, waving to the warriors as they rode away. Ailith was in Joya’s arms and wee John stood next to the gate, his sword over his head.
“Get da Engwish, Papa,” he shouted. “Get da Engwish, Seanair. I a strong wawwior.” He swung his sword repeatedly, spitting off to the side whenever he said the word English.
Branwen said, “I’m exhausted.”
“I’m sure you are,” Emmalin said. “But I’m so glad they saved you from that awful dungeon. You may sleep in the chamber Alick used the other night. No one will be there.”
“My thanks. I’ll go now. I don’t wish to miss their return.”
She made her way to the chamber, as exhausted as she’d said, but her heart told her she couldn’t rest just yet. She’d wash up long enough to allow the army of warriors to move ahead.
But then she’d ride directly behind them.
She was going to put an arrow in Arnald Denton’s black heart herself.
Chapter Twenty-Five
They neared Lorn, and Alick’s heart began to pound so hard he swore everyone could hear it. Something was wrong, he knew it. That strange feeling he’d had at MacLintock Castle had only grown more powerful. The bulk of their warriors were riding well behind them, because they didn’t wish to reveal their strength.
“I don’t like this,” Dyna whispered.
A line of a dozen horses came out of nowhere, blocking their passage across the road. Only ten warriors from the Grant army were visible, so Alick understood the smile on the face of the bastard across from him—the smile of victory.
Only it wasn’t really victory because the poor fools had no idea that hundreds of warriors waited only for Jamie or Alex Grant’s war whoop.
Grandsire moved forward, Uncle Jamie on one side and Da on the other. He waited for the leader of the group to speak. Alick looked at each of the men carefully, and to his surprise, he didn’t recognize any of them.
“Where’s my daughter?” Grandsire asked.
“You agree to have your warriors fight for us, and then you’ll see your daughter.” One of the horses in the middle pranced a wee bit, probably for show, but Midnight’s grandson, the one Grandpapa rode at present, snorted at the horse, as if daring it to do more.
“You’ll not get my warriors until you return my daughter to me.” He lifted his chin and moved forward one horse length, letting his horse do as he wished.
“Your warriors will follow us and fight, or you’ll never see the woman again
,” the man in the middle bellowed at Grandsire, his horse stepping closer, too. “There’s no negotiating in this. You have two minutes to decide.”
“Or?” his father asked.
“Or Kyla Grant is dead. We’ll deliver her head to you.” The man wore no plaid, nor did any of the others.
They didn’t even appear to be Thane warriors, so who was the driving force behind these fools? Many of the men they’d seen had been English, and the first group they’d fought had appeared to be entirely English, but the group protecting his mother had contained many Thane warriors. Was Thane behind all of this or was it the new King Edward?
Alick backed up slowly, moving to the periphery of the gathering. Something wasn’t right. Did they not have his mother? Had she been left somewhere?
Could she be dying?
Then Grandsire did something unexpected. Alex shouted, “You want the Grant warriors, you’ll have them.” Then he let out the loudest Grant war whoop Alick had ever heard, swinging his sword overhead and going straight for the leader. He cut him down in a flash, before the others could even think of moving.
The mass of Grant warriors emerged from the forest, swords raised, some bearing their bows. An entire force of English guards came out of the forest behind the enemy. They’d both used the same tactic, but the Grants outnumbered the English.
But Alick didn’t intend to see this fight through. Nay, he had elsewhere to be. He rode away from the group, heading into the forest, and Els followed closely behind him. “What the hell, Alick? Where are you off to?”
He turned his horse sideways and said, “My mother is not here. I can feel it. I’m going after her. Go back and help. If I find her, she’ll have only one or two people to protect her, and I can surely handle the bastards. Come along in half an hour to check, if you will, and bring a few others.”
“Godspeed,” Els said. He returned to the battle, calling over his shoulder, “Though I think you’re wrong.”
Alick couldn’t explain it, but it made him think of that moment at the Ramsay festival, when he was just a laddie. He’d known something was wrong, that his mother wasn’t well, but he hadn’t known where to find her. His grandmother had shown him the way.
The Scot's Pursuit (Highland Swords Book 3) Page 19
