by KH LeMoyne
They hurried, pausing only as the path split into two, and the situation before them became visible. Logan’s blood ran cold at the scene.
One trail headed over a fifty-foot long wooden footbridge over a deep crevice, strung between rock pillars at the cliff’s edge, with a matching set of pillars on the spit of land jutting out from the island. Waves crashed against black rocks a hundred feet below. Six crewmen advanced over the footbridge, two with arrows strung and ready. Unimaginable, given how the narrow walkway swayed and pitched with the sheer winds channeled between the cliff and crevice.
“That blasted mage bridge is a pox,” snarled Malcolm.
The other trail followed a horseshoe shape around the cliff and connected with the spit. Twice the distance, but unguarded, and a direct path to Colm and Bri. The boy struggled against a man gripping his arm. Not one of the villagers, for Logan had become familiar with the strong, clean auras of Hefin and Malcolm’s people.
A second man advanced on Bri. A snaking arc of leather whipped toward her, outlined in sparks. Lightning from the whip punched the ground by her feet, forcing her backward toward edge of the spit.
“I have to reach them,” Logan shouted and waved his hand toward Bri and the longer path.
“Go,” Robert shouted. “I’ll handle the bridge.”
Malcolm shook his head and started toward the bridge until Robert grabbed his arm. “Are you daft, man? We can’t reach them fast enough going through those men.”
“Arrows will kill Bri and Colm faster than fists. I’m bringing down the bridge. Help me or don’t.”
Logan was yards away, but could hear Robert’s booming voice organizing Malcolm’s men.
A brief explosion from Bri’s direction spurred Logan faster. The following guttural male curse at least reassured him she hadn’t been the one hurt. But pissing off her attacker might cause more harm than good.
He closed the last fifty yards, promising to any deity who would listen that he’d never leave his sword behind again if Bri survived. He’d sleep with the blasted steel strapped to his back, if necessary.
Logan drew close as she crouched a few feet from her attacker, the tip of her small blade flashing white as she moved. She’d neutralized the magic from the whip by severing the tip. Colm had also managed a bite to his attacker and now stood beside her.
Rolling the remainder of the whip and tossing it aside, the crewman stalked toward Bri.
She's too damn close to the edge. Logan barely touched ground as he raced closer. He didn’t stop at the raised cry of voices in the distance. Or screams from the bridge as Robert and Malcolm sent crewmen tumbling into the sea.
All that mattered was Bri. Her back was to him, but he watched her grab Colm and push him away from the approaching man, then swipe at the crewman to give the boy time to run free.
A risky move.
One she must know she couldn’t come back from, if the crewman caught her or used his weight against her.
The crewman took out his anger with a strike to her face. She rebounded just in time.
Drop and roll away, Bri. Logan pumped his legs faster.
Instead, when the attacker turned on her, she staggered and parried with her knife. Her attacker jerked back, but swung his own arm with knife in his hand.
Don’t challenge him. Move back! Logan closed the distance as she whirled, dropped her right shoulder into the oncoming attacker, and reached for his outstretched knife arm. Pulling down on his wrist at the last moment, she spun the attacker past her hip toward the cliff.
The flailing man clutched at Bri’s shirt, dragging her with him.
In a desperate grab, Logan caught Bri around the waist, planted one heel into the ground, and spun his other to knock the man in the chest.
A ripping sound lasted forever as the crewman’s body flew backward and dropped into the sea, a fluttering white bit of Bri’s shirt clutched in his hand. Not wasting time, Logan spun with Bri, releasing her at his side, as the second man crept closer, holding Colm to his chest in a crushing grip.
This crewman blocked their exit from the spit. By the look of barely suppressed rage on his face, he’d determined his odds of surviving were slim, as Robert, Malcolm, and his men were advancing from the rear.
Colm claimed the crewman’s attention by swinging and kicking his feet. Bellowing a long-winded, foul curse, he hoisted Colm over his shoulder, holding him tight, and waved his knife in front of him as he edged toward the cliff.
“Not a smart choice,” Logan said as he palmed his own knife and shook his head. The rest were still too far away to help.
“You don’t leave me smart choices. But I’ll happily take you both to hell with me.”
Logan motioned Bri away. She moved. But not enough for his peace of mind.
The crewman glanced between them and squeezed Colm until the boy squeaked, before lifting the knife to the boy’s back. “I’ll slit the lad first.” The man’s missing teeth gave him a ghoulish, jack-o’-lantern grin. Logan stalked forward. “Put the boy down. Now.”
“Like hell, I—” The argument halted as Bri threw her blade. As the knife tip lodged in the man’s thigh, he howled and staggered backward. “You she-devil,” he snarled and lurched toward her, swinging his knife arm.
Logan lunged, grabbed the wrist of the knife hand, and drove his other fist at the crewman’s face, providing a distraction as Malcolm peeled Colm away.
Pressing closer, Logan squeezed the crewman’s wrist. But now free of his wiggling-boy baggage, the man gripped Logan’s knife arm too.
The crewman plowed his head forward, aiming for a head-butt. Logan avoided the collision, but they ended up intertwined and close together like dance partners.
More unnerving, his attacker kept turning them so Logan couldn’t keep track of Bri. She hadn’t cleared the area and still held her ground between Logan and the cliff edge. Then the man shifted them closer to the edge.
“Don’t even think about it,” Logan snarled.
“I’m taking one or both. Your choice.”
“Not in this lifetime.” Logan slammed his knee against the knife in the man’s thigh. The ruffian howled and flinched away, the distraction gaining Logan a foot of distance.
Pivot. Pull. Turn. Jab. Scuffle. Their tight death-grip dance moved toward the cliff edge.
Malcolm’s men and Hefin surrounded them, swords drawn, but the fight circle was too tight for anyone to intervene. Too tight for anyone to safely extract Bri.
The crewman kicked his feet toward Logan’s.
Finally. Logan crouched and lunged right, pulling his opponent off balance. The man’s hold on Logan’s arm loosened for an instant. Logan slid his blade along the man’s neck as they dropped and twisted for dominance.
As the man snapped his teeth at his face, Logan jammed his knife through the crewman’s neck.
Muscles lax, the crewman flopped backward, his mouth open and his arms splayed. Logan bent over, hands on his knees, and sucked in a deep breath as Robert pressed a finger against the man’s carotid. “He’s done.”
Malcolm still held his son in a tight grip against his chest, though his sword hung in his hand at his side. Robert and several men surrounded them. Logan moved closer to Bri.
“Put me down, Da.” A few tense moments passed. Malcolm blinked and slid his son down, then patted him for damage.
“I’m okay, Da. I was about to wallop the guy good,” Colm muttered into his father’s shoulder.
Seemingly satisfied, Malcolm glanced toward Bri. “Are you unharmed, lass? I saw you take a blow meant for my boy.”
“I’m fine, Malcolm.” Bri blinked as Logan moved in front of her, but she allowed him to tilt her chin and inspect the bruise blossoming on her cheek. He was tempted to pull her into his arms, but he suspected with her adrenaline fading, she was just holding herself together.
Then she dropped her gaze and stepped out of his reach.
Malcolm moved beside Robert and delivered the dead man a swif
t kick in the ribs. It was hard to tell whether he was ensuring the man was dead or releasing his anger.
“A wretched waste of life.” Malcolm’s voice rumbled with rage as he pulled back, straightened his shoulders, and nodded.
Colm stared at his father. Then with a slow slide of his feet, he assumed the same rigid posture, hard, straight lips, and terse nod as Malcolm.
Logan caught Bri’s astonishment as she took in the gesture, glad to see her almost smile. But she still had her arms wrapped around herself, as if warding everyone away.
Hefin let out a harrumph and gave her a quick look. “Is any of that your blood, lass?”
“No. I’m fine.” However, her voice held a tremor.
Fortunately, Hefin took her by the elbow and urged her toward the path. “If you’ll take care of the bodies, we’d best get the lass home.”
“We’ll happily clean our lands of them.” Malcolm addressed Hefin, but he met Logan’s gaze with a brief bow of his head. “MacKenzie. I owe you a great debt.”
Logan nodded and fell into step behind Bri, Robert at his side.
9
“Lass, what were you thinking?” Hefin’s growl cut through the silence
Bri frowned and suppressed her annoyance at Hefin’s chastisement. At least he’d waited until Malcolm and his men were out of earshot. But the truth was, she hadn’t been thinking. She’d been so busy considering options for dealing with minions on the island, Quinlan’s death, and Maeve’s tragedy, that the crewmen had taken her and Colm by surprise.
“I wasn’t paying attention. My only concern was pursuit from behind, not someone waylaying us farther along the path. I could have handled the two men.”
“But not the six closing in from the mage bridge,” Robert added softly.
She turned in surprise.
“Your best bet was to run, not stand and fight,” he added.
“He’s right, lass.” Hefin stopped and crossed his arms. “Those men wouldn’t have hesitated to kill you both.”
“I’ve trained.”
“No matter how good you are, those men outweighed and outnumbered you. Not a fight you could win. Without help, they would’ve killed Colm,” Robert said.
“Then they would have caught me as well,” she responded without any venom. She rubbed her arms, unable to fend off the shakes.
Robert nodded. “Perhaps.”
“At which point she would have done the unexpected.” Logan interjected, scowling at the others.
“The knife, a fight—those are things they were prepared for,” Robert insisted. “Her strongest weapon is her brain. A woman has a whole arsenal of strategies at her disposal. Not enough to defeat a stronger attacker, but enough to get away.”
His instructional tone stung and, given Hefin’s nod, and Logan’s silence, she felt outnumbered.
Hefin wasn’t ready to give up. “The best option—”
“That’s enough. All the lecturing in the world now won’t change anything, and she doesn’t deserve to be belittled.” Logan pushed past Hefin and Robert toward the path. He growled over his shoulder, “What she needs now—what we all need—is a hot meal and rest. Let’s get home.”
Bri hurried to follow him, before anyone else added more analysis of her actions. They walked in silence for several yards. Hefin and Robert fell behind in an unconcealed effort to guard them from rear attack. As they came within view of the cottage, the two at the back peeled off toward the bay.
Logan slowed, allowing room for her at his side. His hand rubbed along his hip. “You did well in the fight. Had it been a fair contest of skills, you might have won.”
“Evidently, I chose my options poorly.”
“It’s difficult to switch from everyday life to kill-or-be-killed decisions in an instant. And sometimes a little training is a liability. It makes a person too confident, and dampens instinctive flight responses.”
She mulled over his words. His comment didn’t reek of criticism, and held enough respect for her that she didn’t feel like a child.
“What if we couldn’t get away?”
“A very real possibility.” He glanced at her. “Defeating the bad guy isn’t a requirement. Survival is. Do anything to survive. Repel the fatal blow and leave. Keep your attackers off guard until you can run—and then make sure you run. Do the unexpected or the undesirable for survival, no matter how brutal or distasteful.”
“And then what?” A mortified laugh bubbled up in place of her embarrassment, though thankfully not a sob.
“Have faith.”
His words stunned her, and she froze. “Have faith? That’s all you’ve got? Faith?”
He cupped his hand beneath her elbow and urged her on.
“Faith didn’t save my family. Faith didn’t stop those men. Faith certainly didn’t help Quinlan.” she rambled, her anger building.
“Bri, stop fuming at me. I didn’t say sit by the side of the road and wait for help. Do everything you can to stay alive.”
“I didn’t really—” The image of the crewman going over the cliff wafted through her mind. The only reason she didn’t fall, too, was because of Logan’s arm around her waist. “Battles have winners and losers. I couldn’t get away without winning.”
“It’s possible for both sides to lose,” he said softly. “All I’m saying is don’t engage when it can get you killed. There will always be another chance. That’s the faith part.”
She yanked her arm away and spun back around, not sure how to challenge what was obviously his concern for her well-being.
He sighed. “That day of the attack on your family—the portal opened. Tonight—I was coming. We all were. You knew that. And if you didn’t, hear me now. I’m never going to give up on you, so all I’m asking is that you don’t do something rash. Don’t push for death so fast. Measure your options, even if you don’t like them.”
“You would have had me—”
“Not get cornered by the cliff. Run when I arrived.” Fists on his hips, he leaned his head back with this eyes closed and took a deep breath. Then he looked at her with a smile. “You saved Colm. And I am so glad you held them off as long as you did. You’re alive, and you’re remarkable.”
“Well. Thank you for...arriving on time.” She glanced back at him, still not ready to agree. He waited on her, wanting a sign of acknowledgment—a deal. Okay, she did believe he’d come for her, but he wouldn’t always be there.
She nodded anyway. “The faith—I don’t know. But I’ll work on survival instead of winning.”
Logan picked up a cloth and wiped his sword, as if the motion could weave peace through his heart. With careful precision, he worked the stone Robert had left him along the blade. Tip braced on a stump, he honed the edge, smoothed the nicks, as if that would distance him from the lives he’d taken. He didn’t regret his actions, but he’d never forget them, either.
The breeze brought lavender and rosemary, and he inhaled deeply, locking Bri’s sweetness in his lungs.
“Grainne thought you might like cider,” she said.
“Thank you.”
She placed a mug beside him and leaned against the cottage wall. “Had you ever killed anyone before the portal opened?” Her voice was soft, concerned, and her words so close to his own thoughts he almost told her. Instead, he kept working.
“No.”
“Now you’ve killed several.”
He paused, placed the sword aside, and turned toward her. Her guilt tugged at his heart. She’d come straight to the point, obviously worried over this issue since they’d been back. Though she’d waited until after dinner to approach him. He picked up the cider and paused to take a long drink. “None of this is your fault.”
Her gaze didn’t meet his. “If not for me, would you even be here?”
He gently tipped her chin up with one finger so she would look at him. “I’m after the people who threaten my family. Don’t think for a second I considered this a bloodless effort.”
“An
d if I hadn’t brought you here—” Her lips pressed into a fine line, her eyes huge in the moonlight, sad and regretful, full of emotions he never wanted to see there.
“Those crewmen would’ve killed you and Colm. An outcome I refuse to live with. Those men on Staffa would’ve killed Fiona. Also not acceptable. If it’s any consolation, I share the trait of leaping first when protecting people I care about.” He released her chin, but rested his hands on her shoulders when she still seemed steeped in thought. “We both have obligations. They pull us forward, Bri, not backward, so don’t doubt yourself. Hefin and Robert’s comments only show they care about you. They didn’t walk in your shoes and don’t get to judge. And I—”
“You want to pass on your knowledge,” she finished for him.
“If anything I know can keep you safe, I’m more than willing to share.” He stepped closer, and raised his fingers to push back a silky strand of her hair. “I care what happens to you, too.”
He waited. Her gaze traveled across his face, and sought a truth there he hadn’t voiced aloud. A truth of emotions he hadn’t reconciled within himself. He could offer his unconditional support. She was brave enough to purge her self-doubt and regret by herself. The stronger tie growing between them—well, now wasn’t the time to pursue that.
Then she turned away, out of his reach. The distance chilled him, his body empty without her near him.
“For me, moving forward means rectifying the past.”
“Because you’re perfect.” He exhaled and ran a hand through his hair, expecting the wounded look she shot over her shoulder. He waved away her next words. “Bri, everyone makes mistakes.”
“Not you.”
He laughed and then sobered. “You have no idea.”
With a quick step, he moved and pulled her back against his chest, his arms wrapped around her, his chin pressed on top of her head. He waited until she relaxed in his hold.
“My father and I shared certain skills. Mine are more powerful. He’d get visions that caused seizures and pain drugs couldn’t numb. His episodes were rare, but he’d disappear for whole days to recover.”
