“So they’ll not have gone far, aye?”
“They were heading uphill when they went,” Brogan said helpfully. “I reckon they were going to that cave.”
“The cave in the cliffs, that’ll be?”
“Aye,” Brogan nodded mildly. Alexander felt his hand open and shut, aching to grasp his dagger handle. He was here, within striking distance, and this man was one of those who was holding Addie captive! He wanted to kill everyone here. However, Brogan was at his side, level and patient, and he knew he couldn’t react. Not yet.
Biting his lip to hold his impatience, he waited while the soldiers talked.
“…we should keep an eye on them,” one of them whispered. “Hold them for questioning.”
“And get the same addled nonsense we just heard?” the sergeant asked. “No, those two can’t be any more use.”
“Sir! But, they saw…”
“I don’t care what they saw. That lot could see the sky open and Judgement Day happening, and they’d be able to tell us no more than they just did! They’re just witless beggars. Let them go.”
Alexander could see sense warring with orders on the soldier’s face. In other circumstances – and without the fellow’s arrogant pomposity – he could have recruited him. At least he had the sense to think of questioning them.
“You two!” the soldier snapped. “Ready?”
“Ready for what?” Brogan asked. The soldier narrowed his eyes, but Brogan grinned, splendidly. Alexander saw the fellow groan inwardly.
“Off with ye,” he said. “Get lost. There’s a rule here – no loitering after seven of the clock. If we catch ye out then, we’ll throw you out. Now get ye gone. And stay out of mischief.”
Alexander felt his guts twist with thwarted annoyance, but he did what he was told.
The two of them headed into the cobbled street and disappeared around a corner.
“I think it worked,” Brogan said.
“Perhaps,” Alexander agreed. “Now we wait.”
“Now, we find an inn,” his companion countered. “I don’t know about you, but that porridge left me wanting more breakfast.”
Alexander groaned inwardly, but he had to see the sense. They had nothing to do, and they needed to keep an eye out on the gate. Why should they not find a nearby place, and eat something?
“There’s an inn overlooking the gate.”
“Oh!” Brogan looked round, then grinned. “That’s grand,” he said. “Let’s have a bite tae eat.”
Alexander grinned back, and they headed into the inn’s dining hall.
They shouldered their way through the throng of darkly dressed, grumbling laborers. The place was dark, crowded and smelled of the varnish that preserved the wooden beams that made it. Covering his nose to breathe easier, Alexander pushed his way through the crowd to the window seat.
“We were here first!” a farmer objected.
Brogan shrugged. Alexander wordlessly unsheathed his weapon. The farmer’s eyes went huge.
Wordlessly, his fellows moved from where they sat, and Alexander sat down wearily.
“That went well,” Brogan sighed, stretching his long legs out under the table. “Now what?”
“Now we wait.”
They ordered bread and beans, and waited.
After half an hour, they started to see signs of what they had expected. The gates were becoming a gathering place for soldiers – some on horseback, some on foot, armed with pikes. They gathered there and waited.
“They’re going soon,” Brogan murmured.
Alexander looked up from his meal. They’d ordered drinks, but neither had touched anything – staying sober was necessary. He nodded.
“So they are.”
To a man, the soldiers wheeled and followed a tall fellow with a helmet, who appeared to be the highest ranking man. They headed out onto the road. The gates slammed shut.
“Now,” Alexander whispered.
Vaulting from his seat, he swung a punch at Brogan.
“Ouch!” Brogan yelled, and jabbed his fist at Alexander’s arm. Alexander clutched it, as if the blow were mortal, and staggered back, swearing in two languages. He stumbled and crashed over, onto the table of the laborers behind.
“Ye watch yourself!” one of them roared, and swung a punch at Alexander. Being sober, unlike the majority in the taproom, Alexander twitched aside. The blow struck another man, who whipped round, furious.
“You! Bates!” the fellow shouted his companion’s name. “Take that!”
As the fights broke out – each louder and more ferocious than the last, Alexander looked round for his friend. He ducked between the grappling customers, running to him.
“Let’s go!”
Brogan, nodding, slipped out beside him. They staggered down the stairs. Outside, in the street, they ran.
“Fight! Fight!” one of the inn servants was yelling, gesturing wildly from the inn stable yard.
“Watch! Fetch the watchmen!” a townsman hollered.
Alexander felt a grin spread across his face as he and Brogan raced away together. Their plan was working exactly as they’d wanted!
Running, they sprinted around the corner and to the rear gate.
The sound of soldiers was already filling the town. They saw two running towards the inn, and looked around. They were up at the other end, where the garrison was. A servant watched the gate, but idly, a broom forgotten by his side.
The place was almost empty.
Looking at Brogan, unable to conceal the grin on his face, Alexander walked swiftly to the gate. He looked round, waiting for his friend, and ducked into the shelter of the pillar.
“Hey!” Brogan yelled, flailing his arms and running to the gate. The sweeping man looked up, then stood.
“What’s going on?”
He limped to the entrance. Alexander could smell him, now – a mix of dust and smoke, curdled with human perspiration. He tensed up, waiting for his moment.
“Fire!” Brogan was shouting, incoherent now. “In the arms shed. Fire!”
“What?” the man looked round, clearly flustered.
“Now,” Alexander said. He stepped out, tripped the man and punched him, hard, in the back of the head.
Brogan thumped him on the temple and the fellow slid to the floor.
“That was easy,” Alexander murmured.
He looked swiftly around as they headed through the gate. They didn’t have much time.
Running down the colonnade, they reached the stables.
“I’d feel better if we were in their tunics,” Alexander muttered, as he opened a stall where a tall bay destrier stood. “It would look more convincing.” He had a bridle over one arm.
“You can take the sweeping man’s tunic,” Brogan countered. “It’s the only one that’d fit you.”
“Thanks,” Alexander chuckled. He could hear Brogan in the next stall, the chink of harness as he untangled some reins.
He reached up and stroked the horse’s nose. The horse stood where he was, ears switching back and forth, nostrils narrowed. He looked uncertain, as likely to attack Alexander as to trust him. Alexander held out his hand, palm up, and the horse lowered his nose, breathing into it.
“You ken I’m not so bad, aye?” Alexander asked.
The horse snorted, as if in agreement.
Murmuring friendly words, Alexander rubbed his forehead, then lowered the bridle over his head. The horse lifted his head, surprised, but he let him fasten the bridle without objecting. When he was done, Alexander swung up onto his back. He looked round to where Brogan had done the same.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Yes,” Brogan nodded. He’d tried to smear the ashes off his face, and Alexander grinned, reaching up to unwind his linens.
“It’s still there, the black eye,” he said. “I can probably see better, to get it off?”
“It’s alright,” Brogan said gruffly, wiping his face on his arm. “Is that gone?”
“Alm
ost,” he said.
Together they rode out through the gates.
They rode through a town that was strangely silent. As they neared the inn, they realized why. Everybody was there, and a full-scale riot must have broken out, because they could hear yells, and see more soldiers, coming to settle things down.
“Hey! You!” a soldier yelled, as they neared the gates. “You two!”
Alexander saw the soldier who’d admitted them. He was pointing, snarling orders. He saw that nobody was listening, though, the noise of the villagers and the laborers swinging punches at each other outweighing everything.
“Better go,” he whispered.
Brogan was already speeding up.
They burst through the gates at a canter, and then they were on the road, heading into the forest. The wind whipped through his hair, chilling his ears in a way that was foreign to Alexander. It didn’t do that when he’d had it long.
“We did it!” he grinned.
“We did,” Brogan agreed.
They both turned to ride to the castle’s main gate. Now, they had the horses, but less time than before. They had to get into the castle and out again as quickly as they could. Somebody had recognized them. It was only a matter of time.
“Round the back,” Alexander called. He twisted left, and they headed onto a slim path, between the trees. They rode towards the water gate, round the back of the castle.
The woods were strangely silent. Alexander felt a slight sweat moisten his brow. He found the silence more disturbing than the riotous noise. In the woods, anybody could stalk them.
“It’s this way,” he said.
They reached the water gate.
“I’ll go in, shall I, sir?” Brogan asked. Alexander shook his head.
“You go to the gate,” he said. “I need a good diversion.”
Brogan raised a brow. “Are you sure, sir?”
“Yes,” Alexander nodded. “Let me go. I’ll try not to be long.”
“Mind you don’t, sir,” Brogan grinned. “I can only hold them so long.”
They looked at each other. It was a hard farewell. Either of them could die, doing this. It was a crazy risk. Alexander knew his task was slightly risker, but either of them could be shot down as they went about their business. He clasped Brogan’s hand.
“Farewell.”
Brogan gripped his fingers wordlessly. They turned away. Alexander blinked back tears, surprised by how much the farewell touched him.
Blindly, he turned to the fortress.
Opening the gate was trickier than he might have thought – the bolts were rusty and he had to grit his teeth and force it to open. He grunted and pulled. The gate creaked, protesting, groaning all the way.
Alexander winced, but stepped into the grass. He was in.
Looking around, he went left, towards the big, block form of the turret. He had no idea where he should look first, but he had to get inside and find the prisoners.
He was sneaking past a garden, the scent of herbs drifting up to his nose, when he heard the sound of washing, snapping in the breeze. He saw the lines, the linen blowing to and fro, and saw something that made his heart stop.
Her face!
He stared. Over the washing line, he could see red hair. Below it, a soft oval, with full lips and green eyes. It was Addie!
She was focusing on her task, her brow wrinkled as she placed pegs on a sheet. He slipped around behind her.
“What!” she hissed, twisting round. She saw him, and stared.
Wordlessly, he raised a finger to his lips.
“We don’t have much time.”
Nodding, she looked up at him. “Where are we going?” she asked, as he lightly turned her towards the gateway.
“We have to move quickly,” he said. “I’m taking you away from here. We thought you were in danger, that you were going to be killed. How are you out here?”
“Why shouldn’t I be?” she asked.
Alexander paused. “We thought…” he stammered. “There was a stage! A spectacle. We thought…we thought you were going to be killed.”
“It’s for a tournament,” Addie said in a low voice. “But…but Alexander! You came here to save…to save me,” she whispered. She gripped his hand. Her eyes were full of tears.
Sniffing, he nodded. “Of course, we did, you daft sweetling,” he said gently. “What did you think! That I could let ye die?”
Addie stared at him. “I can’t thank you…”
“We’d better go,” Alexander said, as he heard raised voices. “Quickly! Follow me.”
They ran around the castle, heading to the rear gate.
“Can you ride?” Alexander said, reaching the horse.
“No…” Addie whispered. She was staring up at the bay destrier, a mix of fear and wonderment in those big green eyes. It would have stopped Alexander’s breath, so beautiful it was, but he didn’t have a second to spare.
“I’ll hold you,” he said.
He swung up into the saddle behind her.
Reaching around her, he gripped the reins in both his hands, and squeezed the horse’s flanks with his knees. They set forward at a brisk pace.
Alexander could feel her sweet body pressed to his, could feel her heartbeat. He could almost taste her. However, he had no time to savor the sweetness of the moment.
Gritting his teeth, he twisted left and guided the horse around the last bend of the wall.
He could hear fighting at the gate.
DARKNESS AND DANGER
“Hang on tight!”
Alexander called it to Addie, and she tried to do as he suggested. She wanted to grip the reins, but he was holding them, leaving her nothing to grab onto. She leaned forward and tried to keep her balance, her hands pressed together between her thighs, on the horse’s withers.
I won’t fall, she told herself, keeping her eyes shut tightly. I won’t fall.
The world was a blaze of colors and the sound of the breeze, whipping her face. She had never imagined going this fast before – the forest was streaking past, a blur of greens and golds.
“I’m holding you,” Alexander murmured gently.
Addie nodded and, closing her eyes, tried to sit less tautly.
They were nearing the gates, now. This close, she could hear shouts. She opened her eyes again, looking around the clearing just before the gateway.
It was dusk, and the darkness was already blue and grainy, rendering the soldiers who gathered there into uncertain shapes like the lines made by ink spilled on a table. She strained her gaze, hearing Alexander draw in a horrified breath.
“Alexander..?”
“Hold on,” he said tightly.
Addie could sense something terrible had happened. He had gone stiff and tense as he was not before.
“Alexander..?”
Her voice was higher than she thought it would be, and she bit her lip, instantly regretting it. She hadn’t meant to attract attention to them. As it was, she needn’t have worried – they had already seen them. The dark shapes converged on them as Alexander wheeled the horse expertly, swearing under his breath.
“Bollocks. Get back, you! Back!”
She screamed as a soldier grabbed for her leg, but then their horse was rearing up, screaming too as he came crashing down to earth again.
“Brogan?” Alexander yelled. “Where are you?”
There was no answer to his calls – or if there was, Addie didn’t hear it. Scared, she clung to the mane of her horse as Alexander wheeled him round again. She saw the glint of steel in his hand, and realized that they were in serious trouble. The dagger he held was no weapon for horseback combat.
“No!” she screamed, and kicked out at the soldier who ran at their horse. It was instinctual, completely – nobody had ever taught her the first thing about combat – but the fellow shouted in rage and she saw blood pour from his nose as he reeled back. She was surprised by how good that felt.
“You blackguards!” she screamed. “
You fool! Halfwits!”
She only realized when one of them roared back with a word she didn’t understand that she had been shouting in English – using some of the few words her father had taught her.
Alexander was still striking out with the dagger. She saw one of the men clutching his forearm, and the slick dark blood that dripped from one elbow. Again, she felt only the relief that a cornered animal might, on seeing its adversary disabled.
The horse reared and struck out, and another man screamed and fell back. Addie thought – not without some regret – that his leg was probably ruined. There were six soldiers now – at least, she could see six. Their dark shapes hung a little back, clearly reluctant to approach the maelstrom of hoofs, steel and blows that the three of them delivered.
“Get back!” Alexander yelled, lashing out as a man stepped close. The soldiers kept their distance.
Addie looked around. Their adversaries may have reached a wary stalemate, but she had no way of knowing if more would be coming to take their place. She leaned forward on the horse’s neck. The only sound in the clearing was the rise and fall of strained breath.
“Addie,” Alexander said in her ear. “When they start moving again, we’re going to dismount. I want you to run for the trees. Can you do that?”
“I’m not leaving you.”
“You have to!” his voice was harsh. “You understand..?”
Addie felt a sharp retort fly to her lips, fear making her fury rise. However, she swallowed it.
“Yes.”
“Now. On the third count. One, two…three! Go!”
She screamed as she slid from the horse, landing in an ungainly mass on the ground. She heard Alexander’s dagger clink against a sword. She turned and saw him on his feet, cloak swirling, engaging an enemy armed with a longsword.
“Alexander, no!” she screamed. It was brave, untarnished insanity.
“Get back!” he shouted.
Nobody had seen her yet, or – if they had – they didn’t care. It seemed as if she wasn’t worth fighting, all their ire was focused on him.
Addie ran. She went to the edge of the clearing, then stopped. She couldn’t go any farther.
Every sense strained, screaming at her to run, but she wouldn’t move. She wasn’t going to leave him here, alone, facing six men! She looked around, feeling desperate. She was one slight woman, with no combat skills to speak of. What could she do?
The Highlander On The Run (Iron 0f The Highlands Series Book 1) Page 12
