Page 32 of The Mad Highlander

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“ T here’s still time to return to the castle and nay one would blame ye.” The Laird stood atop the hill and looked toward the approaching soldiers.

“Nay,” Ashton replied. “Me cousin did this to us, and it’s time for me to step up. Ye saved me, and I owe ye me life. If I’m to become laird when Tristan dies, then I need to prove I’m worthy of the title.”

“I admire yer courage, Ashton.”

Ashton looked out toward the approaching men with the Laird. Cayden glanced over his shoulder a couple of times, and the weighty feeling in his chest only grew. He looked to his men, including the ones who were far too old to be fighting, and back at Murdoch and McCabe’s men. They were outnumbered by at least three to one.

“Will he come?” Ashton asked.

“Aye,” Cayden replied. He looked again to the west, willing Hunter to appear, even if he was alone. The few men who had made it back from the initial attack had joined them, but they were without their true leader. They would fight but not as heartily.

“Stay close to me,” Cayden ordered. “If I tell ye to run, ye run.”

“I willnae leave yer side,” Ashton replied fiercely. “If I returned to the castle without ye, me sister would kill me.”

“And if I return without ye, she will kill me, too.”

Ashton forced a smile.

“Yer still a lad.” Cayden placed a hand on Ashton’s shoulder and leveled him with his gaze. “Yer still young, and ye shouldnae be out here. The women and children will need someone to lead them. If this battle takes a turn for the worse, ye will heed me words. I’m yer laird now, and I command ye nae to forget it. So, if I tell ye to return to the castle and lead the women and children away, that is what ye will do. Do ye understand?”

Ashton took a moment before he replied. “Aye.”

“It doesnae mean ye are a coward, it only means ye trust me,” Cayden added.

“Aye,” Ashton repeated.

Cayden turned around and faced his men. He snarled toward them, not wanting to show any weakness even though he could feel it. He would take one of his men for every ten of Murdoch’s or McCabe’s, but fighting in ranks was a different prospect. One of his men could go through ten of anyone else’s if they fought one at a time, but fighting two at once was a different prospect.

“Listen to me now!” Cayden boomed, his voice flowing like thunder across the fields. “The lasses and bairns and some of our elders are within the safety of our castle, but they only remain safe if we keep our enemies from our castle walls. They come here under false pretenses to wage the war they have been wanting to wage for decades. And why? Because they hate what we have. I look at each one of ye, and I see integrity! Honor! Camaraderie! Truth! Honesty!”

Cayden let the murmurs of his men die down until there was absolute silence. Not even a bird tweeted from any nearby tree, and there was no wind in the air that afternoon.

“They hate us for what they dinnae have, and they bring that hate to our gates. They wish to destroy our way of life, and I dinnae need to tell ye what they will do if they breach our castle. That is why we stand firm today. We resist, and then we conquer them. We will nae only stop them but destroy them. We will tear through their ranks, and when we are done, they will have nay one to send home with their tails between their legs.”

The men cheered in unison, some raising spears, others clanking swords against shields, and even the horses getting in on the action with some snorts.

“May yer swords be guided by the powers above, and let their blood be the sacrifice needed to bring peace to our lands again. Today, we create a better Scotland for our wives, bairns, maithers, sisters, and brothers. Today we bring justice to the Murdochs and the McCabes, and blood will be spilled!”

There was more cheering, louder this time.

Cayden took a final look to the west, but no help came. He gestured to Ashton, and the two of them went to the two horses—the reins being held by a footman.

As soon as they mounted, they heard an almighty scream from the enemy.

“Dinnae let fear invade yer heart,” Cayden told Ashton. “Ye will see and feel things out there, but let it wash over ye. Let yer instincts guide ye. Watch me back, and I will watch yers.”

“Aye,” Ashton said.

Cayden brought his horse forward a little to the very top of the hill.

He pointed his sword toward their foes. “Charge!”

Cayden took off first, not knowing if Ashton was directly behind him.

“Fire!” Cayden shouted.

The order was relayed, and the archers on the castle walls let loose the arrows from the longbows.

The thunder of hooves surrounded Cayden, his men charging into battle with him. He heard the piercing whooshes of arrows overhead and watched as the enemy raised their shields as one unit. Five seconds later, there was a collective thunk as arrows hit wood. One or two of the men went down, but most of them remained on their feet, lowering their shields and waiting for the next wave.

At the front, larger shields were placed against the ground to create a wall, and long spears were poked through to stab the oncoming horses.

Cayden swung his sword to the right, and he diverted his horse in the same direction. The sound of hooves followed him as he took his riders to flank the allied clans.

More arrows whooshed through the air, and shields were raised again to block. Once more, a couple of men fell to the ground, a small dent in a large army.

Riders sprung from the trees far to the right to meet the Laird and his riders. Cayden did not look back. He knew there were some with him, and he hoped Ashton was a coward and had returned to the castle. With how the battle had played out so far, the best they could hope for was to take out enough of the enemy that they wouldn’t have the strength to take the castle afterward.

Cayden grinned when he could see the whites of the eyes of the lead rider. It wasn’t Laird Murdoch. He was not the type to ride out in front and lead his men. Cayden didn’t care. He would take down anyone who dared attack his clan.

For as long as I am able.

A growl started in Cayden’s throat, and it erupted into a low battle cry as he opened his mouth. He pointed his sword forward at the oncoming rider, who did the same. More cries erupted from around and in front of him.

Cayden tugged sharply on the reins, dragging his horse to the left as he swung his sword. It was met by the sword of the man on the horse, and it threw his enemy off balance, but the horse took him out of range of a second swing.

Cayden didn’t have time to think about chasing the man when a horse reared up in front of him, dirt dripping down from its hooves. The horse snorted as it slammed to the ground, but the attacker atop was not his immediate concern. Another rider appeared on his left and one to his right.

Perhaps it was foolish to lead the men in. They ken who I am, and there will be a pretty price on me head.

Cayden blocked the first blow, parried the second, and then stabbed the second man in the stomach. He yanked on the reins of his horse again, circling before the first attacker could swing at him.

Swords crashed together all around like thunder, and Cayden’s mind went blank. It felt like everything happened in slow motion as he blocked blow after blow and drew blood where he could, and then the world spun and sped up around him as he crashed to the ground with a thud that took the wind from him.

The cries and snorting above were amplified, and he had to roll to the side as hooves came down toward his head, threatening to crash through his skull like hammers. When he got to his feet, he was relieved to see the sword still in his hand, and he brought it up instinctively as the rider swung down from his horse.

Cayden slashed at the belly of the animal, and it reared up before flopping backward onto the rider. The horse quickly leaped back to its feet and cut a path through the fight.

Another swish of a sword that Cayden blocked, and before he had time to plunge his sword into the man’s belly, a sword tip protruded. When the men fell, Ashton stood with a bloodied sword in his hand.

There was no time for thanks and barely enough time to make eye contact. Cayden grabbed the boy by the shoulder and tossed him behind, perhaps toward another enemy, and Cayden lunged forward and slashed the chest of the man going for Ashton.

A minute later, Cayden found himself back on a horse—not his own—and leading a dozen of his men toward the bowmen at the rear of Murdoch’s ranks. He looked around, but Ashton was nowhere to be seen.

Half of the archers dropped their bows and reached for their short swords, but they were not as swift as the horses. A dozen-and-one men slashed downward with swords to cut through the enemy. After flying through them, Cayden could finally recoup and take a breather for the first time since the initial charge.

The smell of blood hung in the air.

He had killed more than eight men by his own hand, and his spirits were raised. Those spirits immediately dipped when he saw the devastation between him and the castle. They were losing heavily.

Cayden spotted him in the midst of it all. Laird Murdoch had not led his troops, but he was in the middle of the battle on his horse now that his side overpowered Cayden’s.

“Get me there!” Cayden shouted to his men.

They rode together, cutting through some more archers and leaping above the spearmen. Two horses went down, but Cayden did not.

Laird Murdoch turned his horse, cutting a tall and imposing figure, and he spurred his horse on toward Cayden. When they were twelve yards apart, Laird Murdoch raised a spear that had been hanging at his side and tossed it toward Cayden.

Cayden heard the whistle, and pulled on the reins of the horse, ducking to the side. The spear whistled past his ear. Cayden quickly righted himself to see the laird flash his sword. Cayden let go of the reins, grabbing his dirk and tossing it.

Laird Murdoch easily dodged it, but the intent was not to injure but distract. Cayden swung his sword in a large circle above his head before spiraling down and cutting through flesh and bone. The horses bumped together, and Cayden was knocked off. He hit the ground at the same time as Murdoch’s head.

Cayden did not have time to bask in the glory when he stood up. He had taken down one of their leaders—their fiercest foe—but the Murdoch and McCabe clans were winning too heavily for that to stop them.

The Laird raised his sword to block another blow, surrounded by mostly the enemy. He swung his sword around to block yet another blow, and then a second from the same attacker before he was able to stick his blade through the man’s chest.

As he fought surrounded by the enemy, he had a moment of clarity. He would die alone and without telling Iris how he truly felt. He loved her, and he had wanted to tell her as they had made love, but the oncoming battle weighed on him too heavily. He did not want her to end up like Astrid. He did not want her to love intensely for a moment to have it taken away.

I should have told her. I should have told her!

He was fighting for love, but even that was not enough when he was surrounded by half a dozen men and his strength had been sapped already. He would hold them off for as long as he could, but he could not stop the enemy advancing on the castle. He had failed.

He swung his sword in a large arc, trying to fend off four of them at once and managing to delay the inevitable. He turned and swung again, and then one went down. Followed by another.

Men rushed McCabe’s ranks—somehow, some of his men had found their way to him.

Nay, nae me men. Reinforcements!

Cayden had never felt his heart swell more than it did the moment he saw Hunter join his side. There was no time for words, but the inference was clear: Hunter had finally brought the reinforcements. Cayden saw a couple of his advisers and another laird then lost them and Hunter in the crowd.

The ebb and flow of the fight changed drastically from that point onward, and as Murdoch’s men were driven back, some of them began to flee—their leader lost. McCabe’s men remained, and that meant Laird McCabe was out there somewhere.

The battlefield thinned, and Cayden found new strength with the arrival of Hunter and additional forces. He cut down eleven more men before he heard his name called. When he looked around, some of the enemy had their hands in the air. He spotted Duncan with his sword pointed at a cowering man on the ground.

Cayden walked over to see Laird McCabe on the ground, caked in dirt. He held his palms up and made eye contact with Cayden.

“Please, Me Laird. Please spare me. He made me do it.”

“Laird Murdoch is dead,” Cayden said.

“Aye, guid,” Tristan stammered. “I tried to warn ye. I would have killed him meself if I had the chance, and?—”

“Enough!” Cayden shouted. “There’s nay need to beg for yer life; the decision is already made.”

Tristan deflated with a sigh of relief.

“Ye are nae to leave the battlefield alive,” Cayden told him.

“What?” Tristan scrambled through the dirt toward Cayden, ignoring the sword pointed at him. He was almost at Cayden when he diverted course. “Ashton! Please, help me, laddie! Please tell them who I am. I’m so glad to see ye alive.”

Cayden turned and beamed at Ashton. He had not seen head nor tail of him since riding together, and he let out a long sigh and smiled before patting Ashton on the back.

“What say ye, Ashton?” Cayden asked.

“I’ll kill him meself.” Ashton’s face was smeared with blood, and he did not look seventeen anymore. He was a man hardened by battle—the Laird of McCabe Castle.

“Nay,” Cayden said. “He will die but nae by yer hand. There is another who deserves it more.”

Ashton looked around to see Hunter standing close. The look Hunter gave Tristan was not a glare. There was no anger within his eyes, only guilt.

“If I have yer blessin’,” Hunter said.

“Aye, ye do,” Ashton replied.

Cayden placed his arm around Ashton’s shoulders and led him back toward the castle. There was no fight in any of the men, and those who were still on the battlefield were being rounded up to be taken to the castle, and the ones who had fled were being chased down.

As they walked away from Tristan, they heard a fleshy piercing noise followed by a gurgling and then a soft thud.

“Time for us both to go home,” Cayden said.