by Johanna Maas
As the horrid assault upon her body continued, Lizbeth could hear a noise growing in the distance. She heard muffled cries and the clash of swords and what she had assumed could only be the sounds of a raging battle. Garret heard it too, for he quickly moved away from her and left her side as he locked her within the darkened cell.
Lizbeth was alone now and in her new chosen life, called hell.
*****
Lizbeth moved from the cold stone wall and over to the locked metal door peering into the murkiness while listening intently to the battle raging above. Her heart was breaking and she was overwhelmed for her family and her clansmen had not listened. They had not simply walked away. They could have and she would not have begrudged them anything. She knew she had truly meant what she had said and was entirely prepared to do her duty to her people and her laird.
As she stood perched at the door listening to the battle as it raged above, she heard a slight noise coming from one of the cells in the distance. It was a sound unlike what she had assumed were the movement of rats. She listened intently over the noises from above while hoping to understand its source. As she strained to hear, it came again and this time she recognized it as a slight moan. Lizbeth leaned into the gate attempting to see down the darkened hallway as she spoke.
"Is someone there?"
Long moments stretched by and she was greeted with only silence for there was no response and no words spoken.
"Please, answer me. Is there more than one of you?"
A weakened and slight male voice came from within and one she did not recognize.
"Who are you?"
"'Tis Lizbeth of the Stewart clan. And who are you?"
A slight coughing noise was heard as he weakly continued, "We too, are of the Stewart. There are four of us here but we are all badly injured…"
Lizbeth's heart broke for there was nothing she could do to help her fallen clansmen except to perhaps give them hope.
"Listen. Do you hear it? It is the Stewart and the Campbell who have come to save us, for they are strongly united and warring just above. I can hear them near. They will come for us, you can be most assured of that. Please do not give up hope."
Nothing but silence came from the darkened cell beyond. Lizbeth stood for a long time, wishing and hoping for their strength and for them to hold on just long enough to be rescued. The noises from outside began to grow slightly as she envisioned within her mind the heated battle. Louder and louder were the sounds of conflict, the cries rising up from the faceless men and the screams of their agony.
Lizbeth could only stand within the slight darkness, a horror consuming her as she listened to the clatter of her clansmen engaged in the battle above. She was pulled from her reverie when she heard movement at the door at the top of the dungeon steps and spied a slight glow of light appearing in the distance. Her heart raced within her breast and she breathed a sigh of relief as she spied four men moving quickly down the hall in her direction.
In the dim light, she recognized Lucas immediately. It was the brother to Blake who was moving quickly with his sword drawn high in the air before him.
"Lucas! Over here!" Lizbeth waived her hand out the door, getting his attention. He froze, looking around cautiously as she continued, "I do not believe there are any of the Macnab down here."
Hearing her words, the four men moved quickly forward and placed a key within her door and swung the heavy iron gate wide.
After she was free, they quickly turned to go back the way they had come when Lizbeth hurriedly spoke.
"Lucas, there are other Stewart men down here. I have spoken to one of them. Please this way, for we cannot abandon them and leave them behind."
He looked at her briefly before turning and following her further down the murky passageway. Slowly, they moved forward as they peered in each of the darkened cells as they cautiously went in search of her clansmen.
As they neared the end cell, Lizbeth gasped as she glimpsed through the gate and noticed the outline of a large unmoving body upon the floor. Lucas quickly moved to her side and brought the key up to free the lock and quickly entered the cell.
The Highlander and his men were able to confirm what the man had said earlier. There were four lying upon the ground. He moved forward ascertaining each of them, finding two had already gone to their maker while two remained yet alive. Between the four men, they lifted those who were still breathing with them and out of the cell, two men each supporting one of the wounded.
Together the clansmen moved through the darkened hallway up the slick stairway as Lizbeth trailed closely behind. As the glow from the door softly lit their path, Lizbeth looked upon the injured men with a full sadness in her heart. Her breath hitched within her throat as she recognized the large dark haired form of her brother Burk. He was clearly unconscious, but Lucas had said he was still alive. While she was saddened for those who had to be left behind, a new wave of hope filled her with gladness for this one small piece of happiness.
They moved as quickly as they could through the deserted great chamber with the injured men in tow as the battle raged near. Each one of them knew they had far to travel to be considered out of danger. As they passed over the door's threshold and into the bright sunshine, they gained the landing above the courtyard. Lizbeth stopped abruptly as her breath caught entirely within her throat for the horror laid out in front of her. Every where she looked, her clansmen were locked in battle, powerfully wielding their weapons as others were lying heavily bleeding upon the ground. Loud groans could be heard from the injured as others screamed in pain as they were newly felled.
Lizbeth did not hesitate as the clansmen began to descend the stairway ahead of her while leading the small group through the square below in the obvious direction of the lowered drawbridge. She followed the warriors closely on their heels feeling as protected as she could from the battle raging around her. As she moved along behind them, she looked up as a motion caught her eye and noticed a lone bowman standing upon the great wall. He moved slightly as his eyes surveyed the courtyard, now intently scrutinizing their party as they attempted to make their escape. With horror, Lizbeth watched as he deftly drew his weapon in the obvious direction of Lucas.
Lizbeth reacted without a second thought and screamed 'No!' as she moved as quickly as she could skirting around their small party to gain Lucas' side. With all her strength, she propelled herself forward, thrusting her body into the clansman's chest. The force of her contact took him by surprise as she effectively pushed him to the side where he stumbled and fell to the ground. At the very same time she made contact, the bowman let his arrow fly through the air. Within that instant, Lizbeth felt a searing pain, as the world around her seemed to begin to move in slow motion.
Lizbeth gazed down briefly at Lucas as he slowly fell to the ground as her eyes momentarily locked with his. He stared back at her with his eyes wide and a fear unlike any she had ever seen before. She looked up and around her as her body continued to spin and simultaneously fall while gazing about at the men who were engaged in battle. On and on she moved, ever so slowly falling, falling…before she was completely upon the ground, the hazy shadows began to consume her as the pain grew within. A light and airy feeling came over Lizbeth's body as she succumbed to the oblivion that was now hers while the darkness continued to consume her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Blake stood in the room along with four of his clansmen in the chamber where he had first laid eyes upon Lizbeth. He had just breached the doorway and stood in the same position with his sword held high as he moved his eyes to where he had first spied her several weeks before. A vision flashed through his mind of that night and how she stood before him in the darkened room. She was so lovely and frightened and all alone. He had been so hopeful he would have found her there once again. His mind moved briefly back to that place and time and with a sadness upon his heart wondered if she would have been better off if he had never entered her life.
But he cou
ld not believe that. Yet he knew he may have hurt her just as much if not more than the Macnab, themselves. At least with the Macnab, she knew they were a brutal bunch and understood what she could expect for she knew much of their ways. But he and his own actions had done nothing but hurt her. She had given him her trust before she had given herself fully to him. And he took from her unmercifully and stole from her heart. He also knew she most likely would never recover. How could she ever forgive him nor learn to trust another?
Without a doubt, he knew this slight woman Lizbeth had shown more strength and had been more brave than any of them had on this day. For her insistence and her determination he was greatly saddened. It was obvious she could not place her complete trust in any of them. How could she assume they would do as she had asked? How could she believe they would abandon her in her most needful hour?
Blake knew she was the bravest woman he had ever known. Her first show of valor was riding to them by herself and all the way from the Stewart keep to warn them of Cait's abduction. The strength and determination it must have taken for her to complete that task, for no woman he had ever known would have risked so much.
Hell, he had to concede she was more courageous than most of the men he knew. Her next noble act was when she offered her freedom back to the Macnab in exchange for his sister. She knew full well of the hardened Macnab men and their cruel ways and why would she put herself back into that position? All for someone she had only met a few weeks before. She was obviously the most self-sacrificing person he had ever known.
Finally, her show upon the wall…
Blake hung his head in shame for she had given so much and he more than anyone had taken unmercifully and then let her down. When she stood upon the wall making her declarations before all earlier in the day, he understood her meaning perfectly. First and foremost she declared to him she loved him, 'For I would never give myself willingly to someone I did not love.' He understood that message was solely meant for him, for she had truly given of herself willingly. He hung his head in sadness, for how could she love him when he had treated her so poorly and had taken such advantage of what surely must have been her grief and her gratitude?
He also knew she had given up on her own clan and on him when she begged them go home and quit the battle. And that more than anything cut him to the core. How could she believe they would even consider such a thing? It had been such a travesty Lizbeth had been left there unknowingly for seven long years. And now when they knew she was here? How could they not go after her? They must attempt to make the Macnab pay for their horrific deeds.
Blake could only hope he would have the opportunity to make it up to her some day. Or at least have the chance to explain his horrid behavior and beg her forgiveness. He knew with a certain grief he could never restore her innocence he had so callously taken, but he could only hope he could at least restore her freedom.
Blake looked around at the empty room with the chamber devoid of her presence and a hollowness now upon his heart. When he had entered the Macnab keep, he had hoped she would have been placed in the chamber she had previously occupied so he could find her and take her quickly from this horrid place. He wanted and needed to give her an opportunity again for the freedom she deserved, but she was nowhere in sight.
He moved quickly to the window looking down upon the courtyard where the battle raged onward. He surveyed it to determine his next move to where his brothers and clansmen most needed his small troop.
It was then he heard her scream and he watched in horror as Lizbeth pushed the large man aside as she took the arrow intended for his brother Lucas. Blake's original plan was now forgotten. He found himself running from the room with his men directly behind him while they raced to the courtyard below.
Blake entered the square running as if his life depended upon it while the battle raged on around him. He completely disregarded everything surrounding him for he had only one thought on his mind. And that was to save the one person who had given so freely of herself and was always attempting to save everyone else. And if he could not reach her side and could not protect her from any further harm, he resolved at that very moment he would gladly die trying. For she deserved nothing less.
Blake reached Lizbeth's side as Lucas began to rise with a startled look upon his face. He stared down at the woman who had most likely just saved his life and was astounded for what she had so unselfishly done. The two brothers could only look upon her in sadness at her still form. They could see her eyes were closed while the arrow protruded from her shoulder as the blood flowed steadily.
Blake glanced up at Lucas as he bent to retrieve Lizbeth from the ground and said, "Get those men out of here! I have her!"
Without further delay, the small party gathered themselves and their injured. They proceeded to move forward as Blake's own men circled to protect the small group as they skirted the conflicts battling around them.
As they began to move beyond the courtyard, the retreat sound was given. The Stewart and the Campbell clansmen slowly and methodically began to battle their way towards the open gate while gathering their fallen men along the way.
Blake, who was still on foot and carrying Lizbeth, ran across the drawbridge and in the direction of his waiting steed. Quickly and as smoothly as he could as to not disturb her, he mounted and leaned forward to protect her with his body. He rode as fast as he dared in the direction of the trees and to the safety of their own clansmen.
When Blake entered their make-shift camp, all eyes were upon him as he quickly dismounted. He laid Lizbeth's lifeless and unconscious body softly upon the ground to ascertain her injury further as the men began to surround them.
The arrow had penetrated her shoulder and the point was nearly driven all the way through her slight body. Blake took out his blade as he deftly cut off the end of the wooden shaft, knowing they could not pull it from the direction it came but must push it all the way through. His only hope was she would not awaken before they could finish their task for he understood the pain this undertaking would cause.
Blake lifted her motionless body up slowly pushing his own heartache aside knowing what must be done. He held her tightly and steady as another of his clansman prepared to do what was necessary. As he held her lifeless body close, he felt her begin to stir within his arms as her eyes fluttered open with great pain showing upon her face.
Blake immediately held up his hand to stop his clansman from completing his task as he whispered, "Lizbeth, you are going to be alright. But we have to push the arrow through to remove it from your body and it is going to hurt."
After speaking those words, he gently pressed his body into hers while holding her very near to his chest and providing the leverage the man needed to complete his task. Blake looked towards his clansman and nodded and felt Lizbeth stiffen as the arrow was sent through her body while a heavy moan came from her lips. Blake could only cradle her gently as she once again closed her eyes and allowed the blackness to consume her.
Blake gently laid Lizbeth back upon the ground as with his knife he cut away the sleeve of her gown so he could see her injury completely. Bright and red blood flowed heavily from both sides of her shoulder, quickly dampening the material around her. He cut thin strips from his plaid placing them in her wound and with a longer strip wrapped it effectively holding it all together in an attempt to quell the bleeding. He then wrapped her arm tightly to her body, an effort to keep her shoulder secure.
When he was done, Blake sat back slightly and caught the glare of his father. The Laird Campbell stood stoically and just a few paces away. The imposing man stood staring down at him, piercing his lips in consternation as he drew his brows heavily in disapproval. Blake understood his displeasure was not for the act of caring for an injured warrior, it was that he was performing this deed upon Lizbeth with such devotion. And his father understood the significance of his actions and could not have missed the complete misery upon his face.
Blake looked away from his fath
er's stern eyes and back down to the woman before him and understood he was at a certain crossroads within his life. And all because of Lizbeth, the one who had effectively put everything on the line for everyone else. She was also the one who had effectively changed his life forever. This was the woman who he acknowledged had given of herself completely while expecting nothing in return. And his father…assuming him to abandon her and wed another for the sake of his clan. Blake was both saddened and angered for the position he found himself in.
Slowly the camp filled further with men as all of the wounded were quickly tended and hastily readied for their journey home. The entire group began to mount and those who were wounded and unable to ride alone were doubled up upon the beasts and being held by their strong brothers.
Just as Blake began to reach down in an attempt to ready Lizbeth for the journey home, a large hand touched his shoulder and stilled him in mid-reach. He gazed back and found Macay staring into his eyes. Thee was a sadness tearing at his own heart for his injured sister.
Blake could only stare back at the man, not understanding his exact intentions for this interruption since no words were spoken. It was obvious the emotions ran deep and no words could be said by either. Blake stared deeply into his eyes, wondering with sadness if perhaps he would not wish him to be anywhere near his sister. Did Macay blame him for much of what had gone wrong?
Instead, Macay simply bent over Lizbeth as he gently picked her up in his arms as he spoke sadly, yet firmly.
"Mount up. I will hand her to you."
Once Macay had her firmly within his grasp, he stood before Blake with the pain clearly etched upon his face. The men locked eyes as Macay stood holding Lizbeth between them. In that moment, they each silently acknowledged a full understanding and respect for the other. A true camaraderie and friendship was forged and an understanding of the veritable link they shared because of this special woman. She was silently acknowledged she was exceptional and she would be the bond that would forever bind these two men together.
