Master of the Highlands
Page 46

Ewen flung the man aside, and rolled into a squat. Allen stared with wild eyes at the laird, his jaw snapping at the air as he labored in vain for breath. He went rigid, with legs splayed, heels hammering the ground and fingers clawing the dirt. The MacKintosh clansman suddenly stilled. A final exhale rattled from his body, a panicked grimace frozen on his face.
Using the tail of his own tartan to wipe the blood off of his face, Ewen looked up to see his uncle standing at the top of the gully appearing delighted.
“You bloody savage!” Donald ’s voice boomed across the walls of the ravine.
“The tree doesn ’t always fall with the first stroke, aye?” Ewen nodded back. “But ’twas the sweetest bite I ever had. ”
“Ewen …” Robert stood by Donald’s side, disgust threatening to overtake the look of shock plain on his features. “You, well …” He mustered an appropriately encouraging tone. “ Vae victis, Lochiel. Your foe had not a chance. Fighting as you did with …with the primitive ruthlessness attributed to our ancient Pictish forefathers. ”
“What else would you have me do, Robbie?” Ewen stared at his foster brother a moment, intense thoughtfulness wrinkling the corners of his eyes. “But I thank you the same. Come men” he gave a nod “it seems the battle ’— — s not yet over.”
Ewen scrambled up the side of the ravine and collected his lost sword. “Where ’ve the others got to?”
Donald gestured toward an overgrown trail. “They’ve made off for those redcoat cowards who ran into the woods. ”
Ewen took off at a dash, leaping over small logs and ducking to avoid branches. Donald and Robert struggled to match his pace until they came upon a small clearing. Alder trees reached like enormous columns into the sky, shading a couple dozen redcoats who were on their knees and surrounded by a knot of angry Cameron men.
“Stop. ” Ewen ’s voice was steady. A quick glance told him that the situation before him was escalating and his men were preparing to dispatch the last of Monk’s soldiers. “Give me but a moment, aye?” The laird calmed the Highlanders. “We ’ll not slaughter these men. ”
He looked at the subdued and frightened redcoats, his gaze resting on each one. “I offer you quarter. Each and every one of you. ” Ewen circled the knot of men. “You may live by the ways of Cromwell, but we do not. ’Twould be craven to butcher near two score of boys, scared and on their knees. Nay, quarter you shall have, and all that I ask ”—
A rustle and click is all that betrayed the British soldier. A lanky redcoat no older than twenty had hidden a pistol tucked at the small of his back and he held it now, shaking, and pointing directly at Ewen.
“You think to offer me mercy”—the boy’s composure was at odds with his trembling hands “but I will not accept — charity from a barbarian. You may call yourself leader of these men, but you are just a feral dog”—he fumbled to cock his weapon “leading a pack of animals. ”—
A deafening crack echoed through the trees as he discharged his gun. Ewen snarled and leaned in toward the boy, ready in his final moment to embrace death like a warrior. But it wasn’t Ewen ’s flesh that the bullet found. Robert had leapt in front of his foster brother, offering his life to save Ewen’s.
The group plunged into chaos. The Highlanders turned upon the cluster of redcoats, mad lust for vengeance distorting their features.
Ewen stood apart from the melee and roared at the sky as he held the body of his brother, limp but for the slow wheezing of his chest up and down as he struggled for breath.
Donald appeared at his side and said, “I ’ll take the lad to the keep. He ’ll need attention. ” He placed his hand on Robert’s head, and in an uncharacteristically tranquil voice, asked, “Can you make the ride, lad?”
“Do not worry for me… Oh, pallida mors!” His body convulsed with a brief fit of coughing.
“Och,” Donald erupted, “ever with the Latin. I ’ll nick your other shoulder, lad, if I hear any Latin on the road home, aye?” He turned to Ewen. “I say the lad’ll be fine. There ’s always life in a living man. ”
“Aye, he will. ” Ewen’s brow furrowed. “The bullet looks to have bit below his shoulder. Just send up a prayer that it ’s not nicked the lung. ”
“I’ll take him now. ” Donald reached for Robert with a tenderness that belied his gruff voice. “Come away now lad. You’ll ride astride before me. ”
By the time Ewen turned his attention back to his men, it was clear that there would be no prisoners after all. Those redcoats who didn’t fall at the hands of the Camerons had fled into the trees.
“Men, ” he announced in a tight voice, “we’ll be celebrating this night under our own roof. ” Despite the upbeat message, the Highlanders recognized the solemnity on their laird’s face and remained silent. “There ’s a beck not fifty paces off where you can take a quick wash. Then we ’re off. ” The men started to disperse when Ewen added “ One final , thing.” The shadow of a smile momentarily lightened his features. “I ’d send a few of you seaward. Stick to the trees and make a racket as you go. What few redcoats slipped through our fingers, well, I ’d have them turning tail back to their boats with the notion that Cameron broadswords grow on trees. ”
Chapter 28
“Ouch!” Lily grumbled, “I need my Nikes not bare feet for this, not to mention … ow!!” She slipped again, catching herself before falling on her backside for what would be the third time, and tried not to think about just what the thick slime was that coated each step and was now soaking through the seat of her skirts.
One of the secrets of Tor Castle, the old passageway was more akin to a tunnel than any stairway. They had been laboriously descending for well over an hour, and Lily was beginning to wonder if they were ever going to make their way out of the keep to Loch Linnhe. John had promised that the long-forgotten staircase led to an old doorway, now concealed from the outside by the tangle of hedges and undergrowth that shrouded the base of the castle like a thick ring of hair encircling a bald man’s head.
Her torch threw uneven shadows in the otherwise pitch-black stairwell, throwing off what little remained of her depth perception that hadn ’t already been confounded by the irregularly spaced stairs. “What were they thinking, I mean, make these things real, bona fide stairs or don ’t, but these long shallow steps, who walks like th—dammit!”
John stopped and looked back at Lily with a mix of astonishment and delight upon hearing such a word cross her lips.
“And you, young man” —Lily shot him her best outraged adult glare “— you can spare me any attitude. ”
“I didn’t say anything! I don ’t mean to rush you so fast, do you need to rest a spell?”
“I’m not infirm, John,” Lily scolded, “I ’m just finding my stride ”— “Ist! ” John hissed.
Shocked, Lily opened her mouth to give the boy what for, but was stopped short by the startlingly intense look on his face. “Please, hush.” He pinned her with his eyes. “Did you hear that?”
Her heart pounded in her chest as she strained to listen. There it was, the incongruous whisper of satin against stone. Lily looked around frantically. “What was ”—
A sudden rustling was their only warning. Rowena materialized from one of the hallway’s many niches just two steps below John. Although she was the taller of the two, standing below the boy on the stairwell they were the same height. Her usually dainty features were drawn into an ugly sneer, lips parted to bare her teeth like some feral animal.
Then Lily saw it. Rowena’s arm was cocked at her side, holding a large pewter tankard, knuckles white from her frantic grip on the mug’s handle.
Lily felt as if she were moving underwater; every second was agonizingly long and yet she couldn ’t make herself move any faster. Rowena’s surreal appearance—absurdly brandishing an old beer stein, her face a menacing rictus—overwhelmed Lily’s senses, already unbearably piqued from navigating the dank stairs for so long. And all the while a faint tap -tapping played at the edges of her consciousness, like the soundtrack to a nightmare.
Her eyes caught it and connected sound to movement. Rowena’s arm was shaking convulsively, the barest of trembling, but enough to cause the lid of the tankard to rap gently on its lip, where she clenched it hovered in the air, now just over the boy ’s head.
Lily’s dreamlike fog lifted and reality jolted back into place. But she was too late.
Rowena swung her arm with a hysterical shriek and the pewter tankard struck the side of John ’s head with a horrific crunch. The dull sound of ringing metal echoed over the stone walls as the boy crumpled to the ground. “He ’s dead! That’ll do for you, you wee luch . I killed him, you see?” Laughter exploded out of Rowena, and her grimace transformed into a look of deranged glee, the calculated polish of her voice replaced by a coarse burr. “I shown him, I did, bloody abaisd, like a wee mouse he was, skittering and spying through the halls. Snot-faced chit, I ’ll learn you to cross Rowena Margaret Irene MacPherson. ”
Lily fell at once to her knees by John ’s side, leaning her torch against the stairs to illuminate his wounds. Blood soaked the side of his head, matting his hair and forming a ghastly pool that was already dripping slowly down onto the next step. “Why … why would you?” Though momentarily paralyzed by shock, Lily felt it simmering into a very reassuring rage.
“You don ’t see? I thought you were the brilliant Lily, but you don’t ken the way of it?” Rowena began methodically wiping the blood from the tankard with an embroidered handkerchief. “If our precious Ewen hasn ’t an heir, then
he ’ll be wanting a new wife, aye? A laird can ’t be without a son to take his place. ” Her voice was manic, the edges of her accent continuing to bloom into a barely comprehendable brogue. “And who’ll be there to comfort the grieving father?” Her shoulders shuddered with a fit of shrill giggling.