Page 15 of The Bells of Triumph (Highlands’ Lost Valley #3)

14

A HOLLOW VICTORY

S omething was wrong.

He hated to think so poorly, but he knew that there was something amiss. Looking for the problem, Seamus scanned the courtyard. It was the same, familiar scene he had spent a lifetime avoiding, but it was not the battle he had imagined. He watched his men fight against Campbell's guards, only to find that the men they were up against were not the usual caliber of fighters that Campbell kept around.

They had been able to push into the courtyard too easily. He knew that Campbell had two or three times as many archers as those seen on the ramparts. Men who should have been attacking from above at this very moment, but weren't. When he was here last, spying on Campbell, the Laird had amassed an army nearly double the size of the rebel army. Yet, there was no sign of those numbers now. Instead, it seemed as though every one of Campbell's men was fighting off two or three rebels at a time. It was an unfair fight, to be sure, though not in the way Seamus had anticipated.

Still, he wasn't one to waste an opportunity. He had made it inside Murray Castle. Not only that, but he was winning. He intended to keep things going in his favor.

Flora fought alongside him, never letting him get more than three or four steps away, not that he wanted to go far. It anchored him, knowing that she was so close. At this distance, he felt as though he could keep her safe.

“This is it,” she told him, echoing the words he had told his men only minutes before. “This is what ye have been waiting for.”

“What?” he all but shouted, the noise of the fray drowning out her words.

“Find Campbell,” she called back. “End this war.”

Her words sparked something in him that pushed aside his doubts and made him start swinging his sword again.

Together, they moved through the bloodied battlefield. Seamus lost count of the number of men he disarmed or felled. He didn't care. They didn't matter. All that mattered was getting to Campbell. He loathed the death that surrounded him now, the cries of anguish as men breathed their last. More than anything, he wanted it to end. He needed it to be over. And the only way to see to that was to find Campbell and put an end to it all.

They worked through the men, often with Flora's back pressed against his. It was nearly impossible for his mind to filter out the significance of what they were doing, of where they were. His eyes darted over to the whipping post that sat in the center of a platform Campbell had built long ago. Seamus had watched countless men and women lose their lives on that platform. He had seen his people endure untold horrors. Images that he would sooner have burned from his mind floated to the surface. It was that very platform, that very whipping post, that had started all of this. Had it not been for that boy, for his old governess, Winfrey, pleading with him to save her grandson, none of this would have happened. It was a sobering thought.

“That will be the first to go,” he promised himself. “I will tear it out and burn it myself.”

Finally, they managed to clear a path to the stone steps that led to the castle doors. Enforced with iron bars reaching from top to bottom, Seamus wasn't sure how they would breach the castle itself. He contemplated for a moment that they might have to go back to get the battering rams once more. But just as he was about to tell Flora his plan, the doors swung open, seemingly of their own accord.

Flora and Liam both moved nearer to Seamus, all of their eyes on the dark and empty doorway. He almost held his breath as he waited to see what would come next. The noise of the battle behind him faded as more and more Campbell men fell, but he knew this was only the beginning. They had already used so much energy to get this far, that it would be rather ingenious of Campbell to save his best men for this moment. To wait until the rebels were weary from the journey to the keep, breaching the gates, and taking out as many guards as they had would all but ensure their victory.

Seamus swore under his breath, fearing that they had walked into a trap. Something had been wrong from the very start of this, and he had ignored all the warning signs. He had ignored it all. He cursed again, earning a concerned look from Flora. Before he could answer her silent question, before he could call for a retreat, a voice echoed from within the castle walls.

“Do ye ken, I think I am in the running to become Laird Campbell's favorite. After all, Callum Drummond has long since filled that position. It is a spot that has been in desperate need of filling since ye killed him.”

An odd mixture of relief and dread coursed through Seamus. It wasn't Campbell waiting for them, but he didn't know if this was any better.

“Who is that?” Flora whispered, her voice full of alarm.

“Master Archie,” Seamus called out in greeting and answer. “I am surprised to find ye here. Have ye been sent to do Campbell's dirty work? Is the man still too weak to fight himself? Or just too cowardly?”

Archie stepped out of the shadows and sneered. Another two dozen men emerged from the castle with him. They all took their position on the steps, though none dared to join in the fight. At least, not yet.

“Ye were always too cheeky for yer own good, Seamus.”

The man took half a step forward, twirling his sword around on his wrist.

“Too cheeky and ye never learned when to leave well enough alone. Och, well. I suppose it is too late for ye now.”

“From where I am standing, it is Campbell who has never been able to leave anything alone. He is the greedy one, nae me. This was nae his land to take. I intend to right that wrong.”

Archie tsked, shaking his finger at Seamus with a nonchalance that ignored the battle happening entirely.

“So devoted too. Well, lad, as much as I enjoy talking with ye, I promised to deliver Campbell a gift, and I never break my word.”

He took another step forward. The pure evil in the man's eyes nearly caused Seamus to take a step back. But this wasn't a fight he could run from. It wasn't one he wanted to run from.

“And what is that?”

“Nothing much, really. I merely promised him that by nightfall, I would bring him yer head and the head of that bonny lass to him on a silver platter.”

Seamus roared.

All thoughts of logic and reasonable means of fighting fled his mind at Archie's taunt. It was one thing to threaten him, to go after Seamus. But to vow harm to Flora, to threaten her life, was another thing entirely. Rage consumed him as he cut through two soldiers, taking the stairs as quickly as he could. He knew that Flora and Liam were both on his heels, but he paid them no heed. All he could think about was silencing Archie.

“It has been so long since I last saw ye fight. I forgot how emotional ye could be. That mistake will cost ye, ye ken.”

Archie's tone was light and teasing, but his eyes were razor-sharp. The men around him dispersed into the crowd behind Seamus. He could hear Flora grunting as she fought against whoever had come against her. Still, Seamus did not take his eyes off Archie.

The man made no effort to meet Seamus halfway, rather he stood directly in front of the door, as though he was the castle's last defense. Seamus didn't mind. In fact, he preferred it this way. He wanted as close to the castle as he could get, even if that meant going through Archie. Especially if it meant going through the man.

“Look how sweet,” the old man cooed in a too-sweet voice, “the lad has brought his lass with him, unable to fight for himself.”

“I always thought it was a scared man who spoke too much before a fight. They cannae use their swords, so they fling whatever shite they can in the hopes of wounding their opponent with words.”

“I see it is working,” Archie grinned.

“Och, but ye are forgetting that a real fight always follows. And that is where ye will fail.”

Seamus brought his sword up, swinging at Archie with his last word. He moved with a power and speed that he had not felt before. Despite his age, Archie managed to move quickly, jumping out of the way just in time. Seamus' attack, at the very least, wiped the smirk off Archie's face.

“I see that ye have missed more than a handful of training sessions, lad. Yer technique is so verra sloppy.”

“This isn't training,” Seamus forced out between grunts, swinging in between every word.

He could feel Flora silently moving up behind him, getting closer. Though it might not make it a fair fight, he knew that together, they would be able to take Archie down without a problem. He only had to get Archie in the prime position.

“Unlucky for ye. That only means that one of us will die before this is over. And as I said, I dinnae break my word.”

The corner of Seamus' lips threatened to rise. Just as he had said, Archie was too busy goading him to notice his surroundings. He had stopped paying attention to the fight and instead was focused on Seamus' reactions. The wall that Seamus had backed him into seemed to have come out of nowhere for Archie. As did Flora's sword against his neck.

“I am afraid, Archie,” Seamus said with the same mocking tone Archie had been overly fond of using, “that today, ye will break yer word.”

“What's the matter? Ye must rely on the strength of a woman, rather than fight the battle yerself. What kind of man are ye?”

Seamus could see Archie's prodding for what it was—a desperate attempt at putting off his death as long as possible.

“I ken that ye cannae understand this, and ye will never get to,” Seamus told the man, stepping closer and closer, “but I have nay problem relying on my woman. I picked a strong one for a reason. And that is yer second mistake.”

“What? That I dinnae ask a woman to fight for me?” Archie carried on, even as his eyes grew wider at Seamus' sword.

“Nay. The mistake ye made was going after her in the first place.”

Seamus plunged his sword into the man's chest, sinking it deep. He didn't stop until he felt the tip hit the stone wall behind Archie's back. Blood gurgled up and bubbled over out of the man's mouth. His eyes turned into giant orbs of shock and pain, but he said nothing. His sword fell with a clang to the stone floor as his hands reached for the blade still piercing his heart. Just as quickly as Seamus had driven the sword in, he yanked it out in one smooth motion, sending a waterfall of red rushing down the front of the man's shirt. Archie fell to his knees. A second later, he was face-down on the stone, lifeless.

From over Archie's body, Flora stared at Seamus. Her expression was a mix of pride and awe and a hint of disbelief. As if she shouldn't believe that he would ever go to such lengths for her. As though, until that very moment, she had been unable to imagine a love great enough to protect her so completely.

He wanted to rush over to her, gather her in his arms, and kiss her until neither of them could breathe or think about anything but each other. However, the clashing sounds of battle ruined the feeling for him entirely, and he was brought back to reality. He doubted that Flora would even want to kiss him in the middle of a battle like this.

“What are ye standing around for?” Liam shouted, shoving two of Campbell's guards down the stairs at once, leaving them to topple onto each other. “Get inside! Find Campbell! Let's end this.”

Seamus picked up his bloodied sword and shook out his shoulders as he turned toward the now-empty castle entrance. It was dark and quiet, though he doubted that was too out of the ordinary. He imagined that all the servants had taken to hiding as soon as the fight had started.

“Which way?” Flora asked, right by his side.

“The Great Hall is this way.”

He led Flora and Liam and a handful of others through the corridors until they reached the hall. It had been a marvelous, massive room when he was a boy, one filled with banquets and music and dancing. In Campbell's day, it had been a place of spectacle and suffering. He would meet out punishments and do all he could to show off to any who would watch. But now, now it was empty. Completely and utterly…

“Empty,” Flora said aloud, completing his thoughts. “There is nay one here.”

“Campbell! Come out! Show yerself, ye coward.”

Despite Liam's taunts, the man didn't appear. No one did.

They stood in the hall for a few moments longer, waiting for something to happen. Anything, really, would have been sign enough for Seamus. But there was nothing. At least, not until some of the rebels came racing in.

“The others have the courtyard well in hand. What would ye have us do?”

He recognized Flora's uncle speaking. It was a question that might have been meant for Seamus, but it was Liam who answered.

“Search the entire castle. Move in groups. Dinnae stop until every room, every tower, every closet has been searched. I want to ken that every inch of this place has been turned upside down. Campbell is here and we will find him.”

Following orders, the room emptied quickly. He could hear men running down the hallways, climbing the stairs. Every so often, someone would let out a shout for Campbell, calling for the man. But Seamus already knew that they wouldn't find him.

“What are ye doing?” Flora asked, her question laced with concern.

“My great-grandfather built this chair himself. He was a bit of a carpenter in his leisure time, though I am told one does nae have much free time as Laird. Still, he spent weeks building it.”

Flora moved to stand beside him. Her eyes shifted from studying him to studying the throne-like chair that sat on a small dais at the front of the room.

“I remember seeing my father sit in it when I was a lad. He looked so large, so impressive. He caught me staring during a feast one night and pulled me into his lap. He told me, ‘Son, one day ye will be in my seat, watching over this clan. Ye must promise me that ye will always do what is right for them. That is what it means to sit here. It is nae an untouchable pedestal that makes us better than them. It is our way of making sure that everyone can see us, and that everyone has access to us. We are telling them that should they ever need us, we will be there to help them.’ I asked him when I would be allowed to sit there. Do ye ken what he said?”

He looked at Flora, her face downtrodden despite the great victory they just had. She shook her head in silence.

“‘Once ye can fill the seat, then it will be yers.’” He paused, looking longingly at the Murray crest that was carved into the headrest. “I am starting to doubt that I will ever sit in it.”

“Seamus, dinnae speak this way. Why would ye say such a thing?”

“We have searched everywhere, Seamus. We cannae find Campbell. He is gone.”

Seamus sent Flora a pointed look as if to say, “This is why,” before turning back to Liam, Errik, who had just arrived with some more rebels.

“I suspect we will find that the majority of his army is gone as well.”

“Aye.”

“Though,” Liam added to Errik's gruff response, “we have been able to overtake those who were left behind. Any guard still alive has been imprisoned and taken to the dungeons. Murray Castle is well and truly ours.”

“But Campbell is gone. And we dinnae ken where he went.”

“Nay.”

Seamus sighed through his nose, his eyes pinched shut, before he spoke again.

“I need a moment.”

He moved to step out of the hall, leaving it all behind him. While he had no intention of going anywhere in particular, he just knew he had to get out of there.

“Seamus!” Flora's distant voice called after him.

“Let him go.”

Grateful for Errik's intervention, Seamus wandered down the halls. Overwhelmed with emotion, he let his feet lead the way.

He had failed, plain and simple. Campbell had tricked him, once again. Indeed, Seamus had been made to look like a complete and utter fool. All this time, Seamus had been so certain that they had the upper hand, that their plan was a good one. He had felt so confident in knowing that Campbell would have needed to convalesce, that he would have stayed within the safety of the castle walls. And all this time, Seamus had been completely, wholly, unmistakably wrong.

Stumbling into a room, Seamus shut the door behind him, enclosing himself in the dark. He fumbled around for a candlestick or a lantern, or even some curtains to draw back. A small sliver of light passed through a crack in some curtains that hung on the wall opposite him. Without giving it much thought, he walked through the room and pulled them open, letting the daylight pour in.

It wasn't until he turned around that he realized why he hadn't stumbled over anything as he walked through the room in the dark. His feet had taken him to a room he was intimately familiar with; his mother's favorite parlor.

On the table, there was a stack of books still open to whatever lesson Seamus had been working on. Some of his toy soldiers were still scattered on the floor, where he had liked to play at his mother's feet. Of course, they were all coated with dust. No one had been inside this room after Campbell's invasion. All of his mother's maids who would have seen to it had gone with her to Clan MacKenzie, and Seamus had been too engulfed in grief to venture here. If his father had made the trip, he hadn't touched anything, likely wanting to leave it as it was in case she ever returned. It was a small mercy that Campbell never cared about the room's existence, or he would have surely destroyed it.

Moving to the couch, Seamus sat. The movement sent a cloud of dust into the air, along with the slightest whiff of a familiar scent. He couldn't bear it any longer. Defeated, Seamus collapsed onto the sofa and buried his head.