Page 39 of The Highlander’s Savage Vow

“Stay close!” Ruaridh barked as he struck down another soldier who attempted to strike Duncan’s flank. The tension in the air was palpable, the air thick with smoke and the scent of blood. The castle walls were slick with it. Everywhere Ruaridh looked, men were locked in desperate combat.

The deafening clash of swords and cries of battle echoed through the castle grounds as the fight escalated.

The gates were under constant assault, and the walls had been scaled in several places, leaving the defenders to scramble.

The weight of the fight was pressing down on Ruaridh.

His sword moved with brutal efficiency, each stroke cutting through an enemy soldier, but no matter how many he struck down, more surged forward.

Duncan fought beside him, his broad blade moving in a deadly arc, carving through men with terrifying skill. But even the two of them, fighting back to back, couldn’t keep up with the numbers pressing in. The weight of the battle was beginning to take its toll.

Suddenly, a shout echoed above the chaos. “Help!”

Ruaridh’s head snapped toward the sound. He saw a young soldier pinned beneath a heavy MacNab warrior, struggling helplessly. The MacNab soldier’s sword was raised, about to strike the helpless boy down.

Without hesitation, Ruaridh surged forward, his sword slashing in a wide arc. He cleaved through the MacNab warrior’s side, sending him stumbling back, clutching his wound. The boy scrambled to his feet, wide-eyed and shaken, but alive.

“Move!” Ruaridh shouted, grabbing the boy by the arm and pulling him toward the nearest hidden stone shelter. He shoved the boy behind a stone pillar and knelt beside him. “Stay low and stay quiet. We cannae afford to lose more men.”

The young soldier nodded mutely, his face pale with shock but grateful for Ruaridh’s intervention. Ruaridh turned his attention back to the chaos but there was no time to rest. The battle was far from over, and more MacNab men were coming.

Ruaridh’s gaze flicked to the northern corner of the courtyard, where the MacDuff men were struggling to hold the gates. The enemy had pushed them back, and they were on the verge of breaking through.

He clenched his teeth, shaking his head. “We cannae let them breach,” he muttered under his breath. He sprinted toward the gates, fighting off two more attackers along the way. His sword rang out with each blow, his body moving instinctively through the chaos.

The gates of Castle MacDuff were under assault, the first wave of MacNab's forces crashing against the defenses, while others scaled the walls. The ground beneath him shook as men fell, both friend and foe. Blood pooled on the stone and the stench of iron filled Ruaridh’s nostrils.

Despite the weight of it all, Ruaridh’s sword was steady. His men were holding, but they wouldn’t last forever. He had to act. The fight was far from over.

Duncan fought beside him, his broad sword flashing through the air, felling MacNab soldiers with ease, but even the two of them couldn’t keep up with the numbers.

“Hold fast!” Duncan barked, his voice cutting through the noise. “We will nae let them breach the gates. Push ’em back!”

“Nae yet,” Ruaridh grunted, slashing through another enemy. “Keep ’em steady, lad. It’s a matter of time.”

Duncan nodded grimly but didn’t stop. He had to move quickly. His gaze swept over the battlefield, but then his eyes fell on two guards, one MacNab and one Macduff.

“Tell me, ye fool. Where’s Laird Murray’s cousin being kept?”

Ruaridh’s heart skipped in his chest, and his pulse quickened.

Dougal, Murray’s cousin. So, part of their plan was also to free Murray’s cousin.

Hopefully, they had not yet realized where he was being kept but he didn’t know how much time he had before they did.

They would eventually search the dungeons, and the chances of finding him were high.

Ruaridh’s instincts flared. He couldn’t risk Dougal being found. Not now.

The two soldiers ahead of him were still talking.

“He’s in the dungeon below,” the MacDuff soldier said.

His grip on his sword tightened. He couldn’t let them have that leverage.

Ruaridh moved quickly, his feet silent on the stone floor, and in one swift motion, he lunged forward, cutting down the MacNab soldier with brutal efficiency.

He didn’t waste time on the MacDuff guard who had betrayed Dougal’s location. He had no more time for words.

He made his way toward the dungeon, his heart hammering in his chest. The walls of the castle were narrow, and the sounds of the battle above grew faint as he descended into the dungeon’s depths.

The air was damp and heavy with the smell of stone and rot.

His boots echoed through the empty halls as he reached the iron door to the lower dungeon.

Inside, Dougal was shackled to the wall, his face bruised and bloody. His eyes flickered open at the sound of Ruaridh’s footsteps.

“Ye MacDuff bastard,” Dougal rasped, his voice hoarse.

Ruaridh’s eyes narrowed, and his lips curled into a thin line. It was hard to ignore the loathing that boiled in his chest. But this wasn’t about them. This was about leverage.

“Aye,” Ruaridh muttered, his voice grating with coldness. “And it is by me mercy ye are alive at all.”

Dougal glared at him, bloodied and bruised but defiant. "Ye think ye’re going tae survive me cousin? Ye’ll be dead before the next sunrise."

Ruaridh moved quickly, slicing through the chains that held Dougal against the wall. The man barely sagged before he was on his feet, his body swaying weakly.

“Move it,” Ruaridh snapped, grabbing his arm as Dougal tried to steady himself.

The prisoner shot him a venomous glare, his teeth bared. “I ken me cousin is already here tae get me out,” he spat, a mix of hatred and defiance in his voice. “Yer fight’s already lost, ye’ll never win. Ye’re all dead men.”

Ruaridh’s grip tightened on Dougal’s arm, his voice low and dangerous. “I assure ye, yer cousin daesnae care about ye. Yer just a pawn to him. Now move.”

Dougal jerked back, pulling himself away from Ruaridh’s grip, his face twisted with anger and pain. “Ye think ye can control me? I’ll see ye dead first.”

Suddenly, Dougal’s fist flew toward Ruaridh. The blow missed, and Ruaridh caught Dougal’s wrist with ease. They struggled for a moment, each one trying to land a blow. Ruaridh grunted, his patience wearing thin as he twisted Dougal’s arm behind his back, forcing him to the floor.

“Enough!” Ruaridh growled, his voice commanding. “Ye try anything like that again, and I swear tae the gods, I’ll kill ye meself and send ye back tae MacNab’s castle in pieces.”

Dougal seethed beneath him, breathing hard but too weak to fight back. “I’ll nae die here. I’ll make sure ye regret this.”

Ruaridh moved quickly, shoving Dougal toward the narrow door leading to the kitchen storage. “In there,” he barked, his tone cold and final.

Dougal hesitated for a moment before moving, the pain evident in his every step. Ruaridh followed, checking for any signs of movement in the corridors. He pushed a large barrel of salted meat in front of the door, obscuring it from view.

“Stay in there. Keep quiet. If ye try tae escape, I’ll make sure ye dinnae see another sunrise.”

Dougal shot him a venomous look, retreating into the small room. Ruaridh paused, ensuring the door was well-hidden before turning toward the battle outside.

The fight raged on. The sounds of the battle grew louder, more chaotic. Ruaridh knew he didn’t have much time. He had to return to the front lines, or they would lose this fight. But Dougal was secure, at least for now.

As he turned to leave, Ruaridh heard the sound of footsteps. His instincts flared, and he whirled around just in time to see two MacNab guards walking toward the dungeon.

“Oi! Ye! Where is the MacNab prisoner?” one of the guards shouted, raising his weapon.

The other yelled, as he lunged at Ruaridh.

Ruaridh’s sword flashed, cutting through the first guard with brutal precision. Blood splattered across his face as he turned to the second guard. The man hesitated for a moment, fear flickering in his eyes before he raised his sword.

“Ye’re dead!” the guard shouted, charging at Ruaridh.

But Ruaridh was faster. He twisted to the side, delivering a crushing blow to the guard’s side. The man crumpled to the floor, gasping for air, and Ruaridh finished him off with a final strike.

“Damned fools,” Ruaridh muttered, wiping the blood from his sword.

Ruaridh returned to the battle with renewed focus, his thoughts on his next move. The fight wasn’t over yet, and it was time to press forward. He would protect the castle and his people, and Murray would have to answer for everything he had done.

The sound of clashing swords, the roar of men, and the scream of death filled the air as Ruaridh rejoined the fray. His heart pounded in his chest, but he had a new purpose now. His cousin was hidden safely, for the moment.

The castle grounds had become a hellscape. The MacNab soldiers were relentless, and their numbers overwhelming. Ruaridh moved with deadly precision, his sword cutting through enemy after enemy. But still, no matter how many they felled, more seemed to take their place.

“Duncan!” Ruaridh called out, scanning the battlefield for his ally. The two of them had been cutting through the MacNab lines together, but now they were separated in the chaos.

“Here!” Duncan’s voice rang out, and Ruaridh made his way toward him. They met in a brief but deadly moment of coordination, fighting back to back once more.

“We need tae push them back!” Ruaridh yelled over the din of battle.

Duncan nodded, his blade flashing through the air, felling two enemies in quick succession. They moved as one, their blades striking with deadly precision. A surge of energy flowed between them, a rhythm that cut through the MacNab forces with relentless force.

But still, the numbers kept coming.

The roar of the battle reached a new crescendo as more soldiers climbed over the castle walls. Ruaridh’s eyes flickered to the gates, where a fresh wave of MacNab warriors surged forward, their weapons raised high.

“Reinforcements, Duncan!” Ruaridh shouted. “Hold the line!”

The two men continued to fight, carving through enemies as they moved through the chaos. Blood splattered across Ruaridh’s face, but he didn’t pause. Every swing of his sword, every parry, was focused on survival. Their survival.

But the tide of battle was shifting.

The horn sounded in the distance. It was a call for reinforcements. A faint hope flickered in Ruaridh’s chest. His allies were coming. But would it be enough?

“Hold them back!” Ruaridh called out, his voice fierce. “We’ve got this!”

The MacNab forces faltered for a moment, their attention momentarily diverted. It was just the window they needed. Ruaridh, Duncan, and the MacDuff men surged forward, pressing against the retreating forces.

But Ruaridh knew—it wasn’t over yet. Not by a long shot.