by Alisa Adams
“Oh, aye, that would be true, if I killed ye. But look around ye. We are nae at my home. We are in the land of bandits and what is Harold gaeing tae think when his sister who he adores tells him that ye were conspiring with bandits tae ruin her marriage and even sent the bandits who killed ye other brother to harm her.”
“He’ll never believe her!” Thomas protested, but as Seamus moved closer, he could see the doubt creeping into Thomas’ eyes.
“Perhaps, but he would believe the bandit I hae captured. And even if he dinnae, who else is gaeing tae tell him a different story? Ye will nae be around tae tell him and we hae plenty of bodies tae show him that ye were with bandits. Ye hae lost, Thomas. Let that be your last thought.”
Seamus increased his pace and was suddenly upon Thomas as realization set in to the Englishman. He finally realized that he was defeated and he roared with anguish as he drew his sword and just managed to deflect Seamus’ blow before the greatsword took his head off. Thomas staggered back, his arms still ringing from the force of Seamus’ blow. He was determined to fight until the end.
“It would be easier for ye if ye fall tae ye knees and let me take ye head with one clean strike,” Seamus said.
“You’re a monster!” Thomas screamed and positioned himself for a duel. Seamus had waded through death to get to this moment and he wasn’t about to let Thomas get an advantage over him. He was going to end this as swiftly as he was able, but he also wasn’t going to let Thomas get an advantage over him. He remembered how Thomas’ father had fought in the war and was sure that Thomas had been trained in much the same manner. Indeed, the younger brother Matthew had shown good skill. He had only died because he had been outnumbered. Seamus couldn’t take this duel easily, not if he was going to return safely to Sarina and live a long and happy life with her.
As he took the measure of his opponent, Seamus breathed deeply and embraced the void within him. It was something that his father had taught him a long time ago, a trick of the mind to focus himself and blot out every distraction. It used to be Ciara he thought of. The image of her used to fill his mind and render everything else mute and immaterial, but this time, it was the image of Sarina. Her flowing locks and compassionate smile were his entire world and they made a calm feeling sweep over him. He gripped the hilt of his sword and was ready for battle.
The two men were poised on the side of the mountain. The wind whipped around them. Any higher and they would have been feeling the effects of the air. Seamus made the first move, thrusting forward and slicing the air with his blade. Thomas was quick and nimble, though he was weaker. He managed to meet Seamus’ strike and parry it away. The two men fought like this. It was a cagey affair at first, neither one of them wanting to make themselves vulnerable and offer their opponents a chance to strike out at them. Thomas had composed himself and was fighting for his life. Seamus knew from experience that there was nothing more dangerous than a cornered man and he tried to prepare himself for any trick that Thomas could throw at him.
Steel clashed against steel and the vibrant song reverberated through the mountains. In his mind, Seamus pictured himself and Sarina getting old. He had so much to live for, so much to fight for, and he wasn’t going to let this man take his future away from him. The men shifted their balance elegantly and Seamus had to be impressed with Thomas’ skill despite the frustration that came with it. Seamus spun his wrists and increased his speed, his blade becoming nothing more than a blur.
Sparks began to fly as their swords clashed against each other and Thomas was being driven back. Each step took him lower, each strike beat him down and sent him pummeling him toward the ground to the point where he was almost on his back. Seamus was close enough that he could smell Thomas’ perspiration and hear the desperation in his breath. He smiled, knowing that victory was at hand, especially when Thomas’ sword was flung from his grip by the force of Seamus’ blow. Seamus measured his strike, ready to make the killing blow when suddenly, he saw Thomas reach behind him and fling forward a handful of dust and pebbles.
The debris hit Seamus in the face and caused him to reel back, his sword now resting by his side. Seamus cursed and rubbed his eyes, blinking frantically to try and dislodge the debris, but Thomas wasn’t giving him any time to resist. The Englishman flung himself at Seamus causing both of them to fall to the ground and roll along the rocky floor. The craggy rocks were stabbing at Seamus’ exposed flesh and causing scarlet blood to seep out of gashes. He tried to keep hold of his sword, but it fell from his grip and clattered beside him.
Seamus had to use his instinct to fend off Thomas’ blows. The two unarmed men had to use their hands to fight each other, but at least they were close enough that Seamus could make a good guess as to where Thomas was going to strike. Neither of them had the upper hand and Seamus felt stabbing pain as Thomas hit the wounds that had been made from the two of them careening over the rocks. But eventually, Seamus managed to rid his eyes of debris and could see again, just in time to dodge a two-handed blow that was aimed right at his head. Thomas howled in pain as his hands met rock and Seamus took advantage of his foe’s errant blow to push his shoulder into Thomas, driving him back. Both men were now on their feet and they came together, wrestling with each other for supremacy.
The Highlander had the advantage in height and strength, but his skin was also wounded. There were deep holes were dark blood pulsed out and Thomas, who fought without honor, took full advantage of these. Seamus braced himself against the pain and made it a part of him, trying to ignore it for long enough to win the fight. He grabbed Thomas’ shoulders and flung him away, much as he had done to the captive bandit back at home. Thomas rolled over the rocks and came to a rest next to his sword.
Seamus realized what he had done and he had to move before Thomas realized it too. Seamus ran forward with blood dripping behind him, aiming to get to Thomas before the man picked up his sword, but Thomas had already noticed and, just as Seamus was about to be on top of him, the Englishman rose with a sword in his hand. Seamus glanced over at his own sword which was too far away from him to reach now.
“It seems the tables have turned and I am not as easy to kill as you thought,” Thomas sneered, spitting out blood.
The Englishman inhaled deeply and seemed to shake off the hurt of the battle. His flesh was battered and bruised, his tunic torn, but now that he was holding his sword, he benefitted from a renewed vigor. He swung the sword this way and that, although his movements were less sure than before and the sword hung a little limply. He had evidently lost much of his strength in the fight with Seamus. The dim sun glinted off the sword and flashed before Seamus’ eyes. Although Seamus was a sturdy fighter and had much confidence in his abilities, he knew it was rare for an unarmed man to defeat a man holding a sword. But more often than not, as he had learned during his years as a Highland warrior, it was wits that won a battle compared to raw strength.
Thomas smiled. His teeth were stained red and his eyes were white hollows in the dark shades of his bruised skin. “This is it, Highlander,” he jeered. “Finally, you’re going to pay for your crimes against my family, against my people. You should never have been allowed to live this long and once you’re dead, your family will follow. I’ll burn your house to the ground and wipe your memory from the Earth. There will be nothing left of you. Nothing!” he screamed.
Seamus steadied himself, watching the movements of the sword closely. Thomas had driven himself into a frenzy and when he charged at Seamus, it was with reckless abandon, not with the calculated movements of a skilled swordsman.
Time seemed to stand still for Seamus as Thomas charged. He bent down low and thrust his arms out, having to rely on his instinct to defend himself. Life flashed before his eyes. Death had loomed over him all his life. He’d lost his first wife and his unborn child and every time he’d gone into battle, he’d wondered if it was his time to die. More often than not, he was ready for it would have been glorious to die in battle, but in this moment
, he found himself wanting to cling to life. He had more to live for now than he had had in a long time and he wasn’t going to let Thomas take it away from him.
Images of Sarina filled his mind and his heart. There was so much for them to explore, so much for them to do. They had a life waiting for them, to be spent together in happiness and bliss, and Seamus wasn’t ready to let it go.
Thomas roared as he charged forward and time seemed to speed up. It all happened in an instant. Seamus saw the sword coming toward him and kept his eyes on the weapon, knowing the movements of Thomas’ body were only a distraction. The point of the sword came towards him in a flash, ready to pierce his flesh and run him through the middle, but at the last moment, Seamus shifted his feet to the side and deflected the blade, although it still caught his flesh. He wailed in pain as the blade cut a gash in his bicep. Blood sprayed out. Thomas had put everything into his momentum, so he continued charging forward, stumbling as he had expected to end his movement by charging into Seamus.
Thomas cursed and Seamus was able to use the brief interlude to rush to his sword. He dove on the ground and grabbed the hilt, gripping it with both hands. Thomas’ shadow came over him. Seamus rolled onto his back and lifted the sword. Thomas’ blow crashed down. Thomas put all his weight on Seamus, his angry face snarling. Blood and saliva dripped from his lips as he grunted and it landed on the swords and Seamus’ chest. When Seamus breathed, he was filled with the scent of blood and sweat and masculine fury. Seamus’ arms trembled as he held Thomas off and he could feel his grip beginning to buckle. His wounded arm was unable to give him much strength and eventually, he had to let go of the sword for the excruciating pain was too much to bear.
One hand wasn’t enough to hold off Thomas. The sword got lower and lower. “You’ve evaded my blade for too long, Highlander. I tire of this,” he said. Seamus summoned all his strength and pushed Thomas off him and to the side. Thomas rolled to the ground. Seamus moved in the opposite direction and scrambled to his feet. Thomas turned and shot daggers at him. Seamus held his blade in one hand, trying to ignore the pain in the other. Thick, warm blood poured down the open wound in his arm. His body was pockmarked with other slashes and cuts. Blood had dried and matted the hair on his body, but he was still standing.
Thomas didn’t look much better and Seamus knew the end was coming for one of them soon. He inhaled deeply then he charged. Steel sang once again as the men clashed and no more words were exchanged only angry grunts. Their blows lacked the vigor and skill that had been present at the beginning of their duel, but all it took was one moment for things to end.
25
Sarina looked around anxiously. Her heart would have been filled with fear if there had been time, but everything was so chaotic that she was unable to concentrate. The world was a blur and a cacophony of anguished shouts and cries of pain. Blood splattered against the ground and rocks. Dead bodies were strewn everywhere and Sarina’s heart sank because it was all the fault of her brother. She stayed by Shadow and the other horses. Angus was directing the attack, sending arrows flying hither and thither; it was rare for one to miss their target. Most of the bandits had disbanded and were fleeing through the woods. Any stragglers were being led back with their hands tied behind their back.
But there was no sign of Seamus. She looked to the caves and to the mountains. He had been in pursuit of Thomas and Sarina had a knot of fear twisting in her stomach. It was certain that only one of them would come back alive. Both men were fierce warriors, but no matter what, she would either lose a husband or a brother and both were equally bitter, even though Thomas had proven himself a craven villain. She didn’t mourn for him directly, but for the brother she remembered from the past. The brother who picked her up after she grazed her knee and who always gave her a little bit of his dinner so she had extra food.
Martha came to her and handed her a waterskin. Sarina gulped down the cool water and gasped, wiping the remnants from her lip. Until the water had met her mouth, she hadn’t realized how thirsty she had been. “Seamus is still out there, with my brother,” Sarina tol her. Martha reached out and squeezed her arm but said nothing. The two women stood there waiting and were soon joined by Emily who still seemed frightened. Her eyes darted around and she kept her distance between her and the bandits. Sarina assumed she was still afraid that the bandits would come to attack her even though her hands were bound.
“What are you looking at?” Emily asked, her voice timid.
“My husband is out there,” Sarina said, her voice filled with pride.
“Oh,” was all Emily could say. She folded her arms across her chest and glanced toward the ground, shifting her toes. Angus strolled up to them with his bow slung across his shoulders and the bowstring lined against his broad chest. He wore a smile and seemed to revel in the glory of battle just like his brother.
“What are ye all standing around for?” he asked.
“Seamus,” Martha said.
“I’m sure he’ll be fine. There’s nae a man I know alive who could beat him in a duel,” Angus said. Angus’s eyes turned to Emily and smiled kindly at her. “And who is this lovely rose? I have nae hae the honor of being introduced tae ye.”
“This is Emily. She was a captive of the bandits,” Martha informed him. Sarina bit her lower lip, not wanting to blink in case she missed anything.
“Oh, aye, well, ye are safe now lass,” Angus told her. He motioned to place a reassuring hand on her shoulder, but she wilted at his touch. Angus bowed and muttered that he was going to tend to the bandits and get them ready to be taken away. He gave a forlorn smile to Emily and then moved away.
Emily’s gaze followed him.
“I should go up there,” Sarina suddenly said and stepped forward toward the mountains. It would be an arduous climb, but she was prepared to go and find the truth about her brother and her husband. Martha reached out and tugged her back.
“Ye cannae dae anything tae help. All ye’ll be daeing is putting yeself in danger. Ye would nae want tae distract Seamus at a critical moment,” Martha warned. “Be patient. Seamus will return.”
Sarina wished that she could be that confident. It seemed so cruel to think that all this build-up could be for nothing if Thomas killed Seamus. What would she be left with? She doubted she would ever love anyone again and she hated the thought of going back to England. She’d only just begun to like the thought of staying here and living among the Highlanders. Her skin grew pale and her heart trembled inside her as she watched the rocky horizon for any sign of movement. The longer she waited the more anxious she grew and eventually, she declared that she was going up there.
She turned to Martha. “Don’t you dare try to convince me otherwise. My husband could be up there dying. It’s been too long now. I can’t wait. If he’s in pain then I need to know,” she said determinedly and strode to the rocks. But as she did so she saw movement and was stopped in her tracks. A dark figure came toward them and was dragging something along by his side. Sarina squinted to try and focus her vision and as the image became clear, a smile spread across her face and she ran toward her husband.
“Seamus!” she cried and struggled to climb the rocks. She scratched her soft fingers and palms against the hard rock as she clambered up and then she saw the state of him. His flesh was red and raw and bruised. Blood seemed to cover every part of him. Much of it was his, but she imagined that much of it was from the men he had killed. Seamus staggered forward and looked exhausted. His lips were cracked and dry. Blood poured from a wound on his left arm and also pulsed out from small cuts on his body. But he stood. Seamus had won. Sarina didn’t have to mourn him this day.
When he saw her, there was relief in his eyes. She embraced him and helped him down. It was much easier for him to climb down than her and when the others saw that he had returned, they all came to help. She flung her arms around him and breathed in the smell of sweat and blood and she almost cried for everything he had endured for her. She only broke off the
embrace when he winced and gasped at the pain.
“I’m sorry,” she said, looking at the wounds all over his body. Seamus shook his head and took her hand. He brought it to his lips and kissed her tenderly.
“I’m glad tae see ye,” he wheezed. His eyelids drooped and his sword dangled by his side, the mighty weapon stained crimson. Then he looked down at the body he had been dragging behind him. Sarina followed his gaze and looked upon the twisted visage of her brother. His face was the picture of shock and his clothes were torn. It must have been a mighty clash between these two titans and it was clear that Seamus had not enjoyed an overwhelming victory.
“He fought well,” he said as though reading her thoughts. Sarina placed a hand on his forehead and closed her eyes, blinking back tears.
“I know he was a horrid man and he caused much suffering, but I still mourn him. He was my brother. Things could have been so different if he had just listened to us,” she said. “But I’m glad you won, husband. I don’t know what I would have done had you been killed.” She kissed Seamus on the forehead. She took her hand away from Thomas’ head and cupped Seamus’ face in her hands. “I never want to be apart again. I was so worried.”
Seamus smiled and kissed her back, but his kiss lacked strength. “I think we hae better return home,” she said. Angus arranged for Seamus to be carried on Shadow’s back and also arranged for Thomas’ body to be wrapped in a cloak and returned to the castle. Emily came up to Sarina.
“Can I come with you?” she asked timidly. Sarina looked at her strangely and then laughed.
“I can’t believe you’d think I’d leave you here! Of course, if you’d rather go out on your own and live your life I would not stand in your way, but you are more than welcome to come back with us. I would be more than happy to have a friend,” she said.
Emily looked grateful and nodded. Sarina wondered if she would ever be confident or if she would always be this timid. It was a shame that the bandits had taken her. Sarina wondered what kind of girl she would have been had she not been kept captive all this time. At least there was hope for her now though.
