Daniel and the others had left their horses in the village stables and then simply taken the rowboat they now carried overhead. If they made it through this battle, he’d repay the owner of the boat. But if they didn’t get to the castle soon, it wouldn’t matter.
Once they reached the end of one wooden dock, Daniel counted off again and they hoisted the boat off to their right. It landed hull-down with a smack against the loch’s waters. Only then did Daniel let his gaze shoot to the castle.
“Christ,” he breathed. His stomach twisted in horror at the sight before him.
The castle still stood in the middle of the loch, but the air between the castle and the far shore was choked so thickly with arrows that it looked like a swarm of locusts was descending on Loch Doon.
Daniel’s eyes darted to the far shore, and he swore again. The shoreline teemed with hundreds of soldiers, their metal helms and chainmail glinting dully in the midday sun. In the distance, he could see that several trees from the surrounding forest had been cut down. Along the shoreline, armored men were strapping tree trunks together to form rudimentary rafts.
“We’ve got to get to the castle!” Daniel bit out, throwing himself into the boat. He took up one of the oars as the others jumped in next to him. Burke took up the other oar, and Robert gave a shove against the dock.
The loch waters were calm, which made rowing smooth, but would also make the soldiers’ passage easier as well. Daniel leaned into the oar, digging its blade into the loch with even more force.
“The walls are strong, Danny,” Robert said, clearly picking up on his agitation. “The castle is still in one piece.”
“Aye, but for how much longer?” Daniel barked back, uncaring that his elder brother didn’t deserve his frantic rage.
The castle loomed larger and larger before them as they rowed furiously. Halfway across the open waters between the village and the castle, Robert traded places with Burke, giving the boat a new surge of speed. Daniel wouldn’t give up his grip on the oar, though. Fear and determination mingled in him, spiking his blood with yet more energy.
Garrick drew an arrow back in his bow, ready to fire if Warren’s soldiers came in range. But since their boat approached from the west and the soldiers were pushing their rafts off from the eastern bank, the towering castle, perched on its island, stood between them.
As they drew within a few dozen yards of the island, Garrick sent up a whistle to the castle’s battlements. Daniel spotted several heads pop up briefly above the curtain wall’s lip, and then all of a sudden the crenels were bristling with arrows pointed at their boat.
“Hold your fire!” Garrick bellowed up to the men. He snatched the end of his tartan, which wound over one shoulder, and waved it frantically in the air. The arrows were suddenly lowered, and another whistle sounded from the battlements in response to Garrick’s.
“Thank God you brought some Highlanders with you,” Garrick said, shooting Robert a half-grin before dropping into a serious expression once more.
Just as the rowboat scraped against the rocky island, a multi-voiced shout went up from the other side of the castle. Burke and Garrick leapt from the boat onto the island, followed by Robert and Daniel.
Robert motioned for Burke and Garrick to go around the left side of the island, and then nodded for Daniel to follow him to the right. Burke drew his sword as Garrick pulled his bowstring back, both men slinking silently around the island’s rocky shore.
With an exchanged look, Robert and Daniel drew their blades simultaneously. Robert set off to the right, with Daniel creeping soundlessly behind him.
More shouts went up as they drew nearer to the east side of the castle. Daniel realized that at least two of their attackers’ rafts must have made it to the island. He gripped his sword in both hands, taking a deep breath in preparation.
Suddenly the victorious bellows from Warren’s men turned to surprised shouts. Then Daniel heard the Sinclair clan’s battle cry go up from Garrick and Burke around the other side of the island. Simultaneously, he and Robert charged forward, echoing the cry.
The soldiers were just turning toward Garrick and Burke’s attack from the left when Daniel and Robert exploded from the right, falling on the soldiers’ backs. As Daniel raised his sword and brought it down on the shoulder of an Englishman, one of Garrick’s arrows sank into the soldier to his right.
The Sinclair war cry mingled with the clang of metal on metal and the screams of the English soldiers. Time blurred as battle lust clouded Daniel’s mind. Somehow, Daniel had swung and hacked his way knee-deep into the loch as he squared off with another one of Warren’s men. With two more blows, the man fell under his blade, and as his body fell backward into the loch, the waters began to turn red.
Daniel lifted his eyes from the blood seeping out of his fallen enemy just in time to see another raft plowing toward him, this one with at least a dozen English soldiers on it. He brought his fingers to his lips and sent up a piercing whistle.
“To the castle!” he shouted as he leapt out of the water. He turned toward the castle’s postern gate on the north side of the island, Robert falling in behind him. Burke quickly dispatched the last standing Englishman, and Garrick yanked one of his arrows from a lifeless body before they both retreated to the gate as well.
Someone on the other side of the gate must have seen them coming, for right as they arrived in front of it, the heavy wood creaked open just enough to let them slip through one at a time. Just as the gate slammed closed and several of the castle’s men lowered a thick beam across it, Daniel heard another shout go up outside the wall. More of Warren’s men had managed to land on the island.
Garrick bolted to the stairs leading to the battlements. Daniel, Robert, and Burke followed him, re-sheathing their swords.
“Hold your fire, men!” Garrick bellowed at the archers positioned along the curtain wall. “Let those English bastards on the far shore waste their arrows against the castle’s wall. Instead, take aim at the men on the rafts, and those who have landed on the island!”
Daniel glanced out over the wall and noticed that indeed most of the English bowmen’s arrows were falling short of the castle or splintering against the stone curtain wall. Apparently some arrows managed to cross the distance between the shore and the castle, though. Daniel let his gaze travel around the battlement. A few bodies, bristling with arrows, littered the battlement and the yard below.
Under Garrick’s command, the castle’s bowmen readjusted their aim to the men swarming around the castle’s base and those clinging to their makeshift rafts.
“That’s it, men!” Garrick shouted as arrows began finding their marks in the Englishmen within closer range. Garrick himself nocked an arrow and let it fly at one of the heavily-laden rafts about halfway to the castle. His first arrow pierced a soldier’s chainmail in the shoulder, knocking him off balance. The man flailed for a moment, then tipped backward into the loch, the weight of his armor drawing him down instantly.
“We need to gather the rest of the men and prepare them if the castle’s walls or gates are breached,” Daniel said to Robert, turning his attention away from Garrick.
“I’ll get the Highlanders in order if you can organize the castle’s men,” Robert replied. Then suddenly his face tightened. “The women.”
Burke stepped next to them on the battlement, his face taking on the same fraught expression as Robert’s. Daniel realized that both men, and likely Garrick too, longed to see their wives, but at the same time the battle lust ran too hot in their blood. If Rona were in the castle’s tower, Daniel knew that if he went to her, he would never return to the battle, so strong would be his desire to stay with her.
“I’ll see to them,” Daniel said. “Burke, gather the castle’s men in the yard. They’ve trained for this. They only need to be led.”
Waiting only for a nod from Burke, Daniel turned and launched himself down the stairs and into the yard. He sprinted to the tower keep and threw open the doors
leading to the great hall. In a flash, he reached the stairs and took them three at a time. He didn’t pause to check the lower chambers. The safest place for the women was in the highest room in the tower.
He slammed his shoulder into the wooden door at the top of the stairs, but it didn’t budge.
“Jossalyn! Alwin, Meredith! It’s Daniel!” he shouted through the thick wood.
He heard two sets of grunts and a scraping noise as they moved the crossbeam off the door’s interior. Then the door swung open. Alwin paced back and forth across the chamber, holding a crying Jane to her chest. Meredith had her hands squeezed together, her fingers interlocked and turning white from the strain.
“Did you all make it back safely?” Jossalyn blurted out as Daniel stepped into the chamber.
“Aye, Garrick, Robert, and Burke are with the men below,” he said quickly. All three visibly relaxed at that, but then Alwin paused in her pacing, gently bouncing Jane to soothe her.
“Where is Rona?” she said, the waver in her voice belying her smooth features.
“She is safe. We left her with trusted friends on the far side of the loch.”
“And…and my brother?” Jossalyn’s mouth tightened, but she held Daniel’s gaze.
Daniel’s hands clenched into fists. “Dead.”
Jossalyn exhaled and gave a little nod. Her eyes drifted to the floor. “How?”
“Are you sure you want to know?” Daniel asked, watching her closely.
“Yes,” Jossalyn replied. Her voice was quiet but level. “He is—was the last of my blood family.”
“Forgive me for saying this, then,” Daniel said, “but I wish it could have been me who ended his life. In fact, I think Robert, Burke, and Garrick all wish the same.”
Jossalyn’s eyebrows came together in confusion. “None of you killed him? I thought you said—”
“He drew a blade across his own throat,” Daniel said quietly.
An uneasy silence, broken only by little Jane’s whimpers, fell over the room.
“I think we all felt a bit cheated,” Daniel said after a moment. “Each of us believed we were justified in bringing Warren to his reckoning. Even in death, he made one last power play against us. But…”
Suddenly the memory of Rona standing over a cowering Warren came back to him.
None of them will kill you, because I already have!
“But what?” Jossalyn said.
“Rona said she bit Warren’s cheek. His face was mangled by a festering wound…”
“Was it oozing?” Jossalyn asked, her attention suddenly sharpened.
“Aye, and there were red tendrils shooting from the wound down his neck and across the rest of his face. His eye was also red and swollen.”
“Blood poisoning,” Jossalyn said almost to herself. “What else? Was he feverish?”
Daniel thought back to the scene in Warren’s chamber again. “Aye. He shook and sweated and seemed to grow weaker by the second.”
Jossalyn shook her head in amazement.
“Then perhaps Rona is responsible for his death after all. He likely would have died from the fever and the blood poisoning quickly, if my guess is right.”
“That’s some consolation, I suppose,” Daniel said.
“I don’t think you understand,” Jossalyn went on. “My brother was terrified of disease and illness. He hated me for coming in contact with the sick. It’s also one of the reasons he hated Scotland and its people so much—he saw the Scottish as a disease of sorts that would infect the English with chaos and savagery. He thought it was his task to purify Scotland—to cleanse it for England’s use.” She shook her head sadly. “So you see, his end was fitting and deserved. He got his reckoning.”
Something shifted in the back of Daniel’s mind at Jossalyn’s words. Though they had watched the lifeblood drain from Warren, his death had felt incomplete until now. But Jossalyn’s insights closed the door that had been left ajar regarding Warren. The man had gotten his due and now faced his judgment.
Alwin began pacing with Jane, drawing his mind back to the situation at hand.
“There must be something useful for us to do besides lock ourselves away in the tower,” she said, her eyes searching the air. “Let us help.”
“Nay,” Daniel said, shaking his head firmly. “If any of you were hurt moving about the castle while we’re under attack—”
“You really think you can stop us from helping?” Alwin said, halting and leveling him with a sharp stare.
Bloody hell, they were worse than Rona! Daniel rubbed the back of his stiff neck with one hand. He didn’t have the strength or energy to fight them. He needed to get back to the men.
“What did you have in mind?” he said wearily.
“I can see to the wounded,” Jossalyn said.
“And Meredith and I can secure the tower in case the walls are breached. The household staff is running around madly without any direction. And the windows could be secured…” Alwin tapped a finger against her lips in thought.
“None of you can be in harm’s way,” Daniel said firmly, but he knew he had lost this battle.
“I’ll set up a station for the wounded in the great hall. If need be, we’ll seal the doors,” Jossalyn offered.
“And we’ll all stay inside the tower,” Alwin said.
Daniel nodded. “Work swiftly and hold fast. This could last a while.”
“How long can we hold out?” Meredith asked quietly.
Daniel scrubbed a hand over his face, giving himself a moment to answer.
“We have no shortage of water, which is most important,” he said. “And the castle’s storeroom is well-stocked.”
The grim faces staring back at him told him that his words did little to ease their worries.
“Robert the Bruce and his army are on their way,” he went on, more serious. “The good news is, they are only a few days north of us.”
“And the bad news?” Alwin said levelly.
“The bad news is, the castle may be breached before then.”
HIGHLANDER’S RECKONING
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
After the first few hours, Bella refused to be urged into a gallop, no matter how much Rona coaxed her or let her rest between stretches. Rona longed to scream in frustration, to dismount and sprint as fast as she could toward the Bruce, wherever he was. But she knew that Bella’s steady pace would get her there faster than anything else. So she remained in the saddle, gritting her teeth impatiently.
The sun sloped toward the hills in the west, but still she rode on, only stopping to let Bella rest or to see to her own most basic needs. She allowed herself to sleep for a few hours in the middle of the night, wrapped tightly in Daniel’s plaid, which still carried the faint trace of his scent. She forced herself to eat and drink to keep her strength up, but she was so anxious that she took no joy in it. The night stretched grimly, the sounds of the forest echoing around her.
It wasn’t until the cool, damp early morning that she gave serious thought to how she would find Robert the Bruce and his army. She knew they were approaching from the north, and that they were at least a two days’ march away. She was traveling much faster than an army could move, so she suspected she was drawing close to them in the north. But she didn’t know exactly how she would locate them. They shouldn’t be that hard to find, she reassured herself. They were a large army, after all.
The fog that had settled in the forest overnight wasn’t helping matters, though. The mist obscured the sun and created a gloomy, sourceless light in the trees around her. When she guessed it was close to midmorning, she slowed Bella to a walk and sharpened her eyes on her surroundings. Perhaps she would see a trace of the army that would help her find them.
The forest was quiet and still around her, the fog dampening the normal sounds of the woods. She glanced at the ground, but no human or horse tracks were visible. The trees turned hazy a mere dozen yards in front of her, and beyond that they were completely swallow
ed by the fog.
A rustle in the underbrush to her right had her jerking her head around with a start. It was likely just a rabbit or some other small creature, she told herself, forcibly taking a deep breath. She nudged Bella with her heels, praying she was still travelling roughly northward.
“Stop there, lass.”
The voice was so close that a cry of surprise rose in her throat. Bella, spooked by the sound and by Rona’s involuntary tug on the reins, whinnied and would have bolted forward if a man hadn’t stepped out of the mist directly in front of her.
Another scream rose in her throat, and she yanked Bella’s reins hard to the left. Bella would have gladly obliged, but another man emerged from the fog, flanking them. Rona’s eyes flashed between the two men. The first one gripped a bow and nocked arrow, though the arrow was lowered away from her, and the second had an undrawn sword on his hip.
On his kilted hip.
Both men wore plaids of blue-green around their waists, with an extra length thrown over one shoulder, just as Daniel and his family did.
The panic began to drain from her, but she eyed them warily, keeping a firm grip on Bella’s reins.
“You’re Highlanders,” she said cautiously.
The first man loosened the tension on his bowstring and stood straighter. Rona hadn’t even realized he’d been slightly crouched and ready to either attack or defend himself.
“And you’re a Lowlander judging by your voice,” he said just as guardedly, “though your plaid says otherwise.” He studied her with dark, sharp eyes.
Her overwhelmed brain registered the thicker brogue of the man who’d just spoken, and she remembered that she must sound almost-English to them.
“I…I am a friend. I seek someone we may both know,” Rona said, thinking fast. What else would a pair of Highlanders be doing in the Lowland woods just north of Loch Doon? These must be Robert the Bruce’s men.
“Do you know whose colors you wear, lass?” the second man said. He had dark hair and eyes like the other man, but his raised eyebrow belied curiosity more than suspicion.
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