Highlander Besieged

by Vonda Sinclair

  Would Cyrus storm this place? Lay siege and burn it down? Would he put that much effort into helping her? Or would he do it in vindication for the loss of life, pain and hardship Henry had inflicted upon Cyrus and his men? Either way, 'twould be an explosive and terrifying confrontation. She prayed they would survive it.

  PAIN LANCING THROUGH his skull, Cyrus slowly became aware he was lying on a hard wooden floor. Teeth clenched, he tried to move but couldn't. His hands were tied behind his back, and his ankles were bound as well. "'Slud!" he grated out.

  "Chief?" 'Twas Reid's voice.

  "Aye." His blurry gaze first landed on Fraser. Eyes closed, he was tied up and lying on the floor next to him. His face was battered and bruised. Reid sat bound nearby with Norval. Both struggled against the ropes.

  "Is Fraser alive?" Cyrus asked.

  "Aye, he's breathing, but I don't think Hubert survived." Reid motioned with his head to the opposite side of the room.

  Cyrus could see Hubert's blood-drenched plaid and the pool of blood under him. "Damnation! Dalacroy will pay for this," Cyrus grated, trying to get his rational mind to working better. "What about the others?"

  "We have not seen Cecil or Sean. They must be outside. Is your head badly injured?"

  "Nay." His head ached terribly but he would survive. Blinking to clear his vision, he glanced around the hall, seeing overturned furniture. No other people. "Where is Elspeth?"

  "That bastard took her."

  "Hell! I have to go after her." Gritting his teeth, Cyrus tugged against the restraints. The powerful urge to get her to safety and protect her near overwhelmed him. 'Twas even more gut-wrenching than the instinct to protect his clan. "Did Dalacroy leave any of his guards here?"

  "Aye, a few, but they're all outside now."

  "We must get out of here." Cyrus yanked at his bonds. The ropes cut into his wrists, but the burning pain only made him even more determined. "The ropes are becoming slack. Help me with them. I feel the hilt of my sgian dubh beneath my arm. If I can get to it, I can cut everyone loose."

  After Reid looked at Cyrus's tied hands, they maneuvered until they were back to back. Finally, Reid was able to help Cyrus loosen the ropes enough that he could slip one hand free and then the other.

  He flung the rope aside, pulled out the small knife that had been hidden in his armpit sheath and sliced through his ankle bindings, then the ropes restraining Reid. Next, he freed Norval and Fraser, being careful not to jar Fraser's right arm, which the whoresons had already said was broken. Seeing how it was bent at an odd angle, Cyrus wanted to throttle Dalacroy.

  "Fraser? Are you awake?" Cyrus knelt near him. When his brother groaned and grimaced, relief surged through Cyrus. "I ken your arm is broken. Where else are you hurt?"

  "My head." Grinding his teeth, he cursed. "That's my sword arm."

  "I'll set it. You'll be fine," Cyrus assured him.

  "I'll strangle the bastard!"

  "Have no worries. I'll do it."

  Cyrus checked Hubert and saw that indeed the middle-aged guard had been stabbed in the chest and had stopped breathing some time ago. The braw warrior had started out as one of Cyrus's father's guards many years ago. He'd always been loyal and a strong fighter. Cyrus intended to crush Henry and his men, but, with so few soldiers, he would have to use a different tactic than usual.

  "Except for your sgian dubh, they took all our weapons," Reid said.

  "Guard Fraser. Keep him still and give him some whisky for pain. Norval, come with me. We'll subdue the knaves outside and take their swords. Then, we'll search for Sean and Cecil. After that, I'll set his arm." He hated to make Fraser wait that long, but if the guards entered before Fraser's arm was set and splinted, they might damage it further. He had to stop them before they killed anyone else.

  Cyrus retrieved the iron fire poker from the floor and handed it to Norval, then he sidled up to the window and looked out. Through the rippled, blurry glass, he could see three of Henry's guards in the courtyard, about fifty feet from the exit. They were gathered in a small circle, talking and not paying attention.

  "Three in the courtyard." Cyrus kept his voice low, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in his head. "I'll check the exit." He peered through the tiny window in the door, glimpsing the black leather-armored shoulder and long brown hair of a guard as he faced away from the door. A second man, with short red hair and beard, paced a few feet away. No doubt they were supposed to be preventing Cyrus and his men's escape, but their task held little interest for them.

  "I see two more. I'll get the one nearest the door," Cyrus told Norval. "You bash the head of the one a few feet away, the ginger. We have to be quick about disabling those two and taking their swords, for the other three will swiftly attack us."

  Norval nodded, clenching his jaw. "I'm ready, Chief."

  Cyrus quietly opened the door, but when it gave a low squeak, the guard nearest him turned his head. From the top step, Cyrus launched himself onto the man, knocking him to the cobblestones. The guard bellowed and rolled forward, preventing Cyrus from getting his small knife to his throat. Instead, Cyrus stabbed the man's shoulder hard through the leather armor, causing him to howl.

  Cyrus leapt up, shoved his foot against the man's back to hold him down, and yanked the broadsword from his scabbard. He then bashed the basket-hilt against the man's head, knocking him out.

  He tested the light weight of the unfamiliar sword in his hand. 'Twas flimsy and short compared to his own specially made sword. He hoped this cheap weapon wouldn't shatter with the first strike against it.

  Norval's opponent, the guard with red hair and beard, lay upon the ground, his head bleeding. Norval had confiscated the man's weapon.

  Swords in hand, the other three enemy guards raced toward them. Two of them eyed Cyrus, one blond and hefty, the other taller with a long gray beard. Motioning them closer, Cyrus gave a fiendish grin, relishing the challenge of defeating two of these Lowland knaves.

  When the blond man charged him, Cyrus leapt out of the way. The imbecile went flying past, stumbling over the rough cobblestones. Cyrus spun, avoiding graybeard's blade by a hair's breadth and slashing his own sword toward his foe's throat. He missed but chopped off half the man's long beard a trice before he blocked with his blade, steel clanging.

  After they regrouped, both adversaries rushed him at once from opposite directions. Cyrus kicked the blond in the groin, and he careened sideways. He sent graybeard's sword flying, then quickly rammed his blade into his abdomen, making him topple to the ground with a squawk.

  Doubled over and roaring in pain from having his stones crushed, the blond dropped to his knees. Cyrus booted him to the ground, wrenched the sword from his hand, then bashed him on the head with the hilt.

  He glanced around to see that Norval had defeated his second opponent.

  The first guard, whom he'd thought he'd knocked out, advanced with the sword Cyrus had swatted from graybeard's hand. With a great roar, the guard hurtled himself toward Cyrus. He knew he should've finished him off earlier.

  Hiding the left-hand sword behind his leg, he swung the sword in his right hand and deflected the blow. He brought the other sword up forcefully and ran his enemy through. The man collapsed and thrashed about on the ground. Cyrus eyed him until he dropped still, then surveyed the other defeated foes.

  "Watch them, Norval. Tie up any who live and make certain they don't get up. I have to find Sean and Cecil, then set Fraser's broken arm." Sword in hand, he called their names and raced into the stables, making sure no more enemies hid there. Cecil lay inside. He was breathing but had a severe sword wound to the leg.

  Someone stepped out of the dimness of the tack room. His hand clenching on the sword hilt, Cyrus turned to find Elspeth's coachman. "Vance. Are you the only one in here?"

  "Burns and Tommy are here, m'laird. We dragged your men inside so they wouldn't be hurt worse or killed."

  Cyrus glanced past him. "Sean's here?"

  "Aye, but he ha
s not awakened."

  "You're a good man. I appreciate your help. We need to get the men into the hall so the healer can see to all of them."

  Along with Vance and Burns, Cyrus enlisted Norval's help. The four of them carried Sean and Cecil into the hall. Tommy carried the guards' swords.

  Fraser sat with his broken arm lying on the table, while Reid and Mistress Almsly were already in the process of splinting it.

  "Did you get the bone completely straight?" The last thing Cyrus wanted was for his brother's arm to be permanently damaged.

  "Aye, m'laird." Mistress Almsly nodded emphatically. "I've set many a broken bone."

  Sweat ran down Fraser's bruised and battered face.

  Cyrus gently gripped his brother's left shoulder. "How are you feeling?"

  "All right."

  Cyrus knew that was a lie, for Fraser had no witty response and his jaw was clenched tight. Anger burned in his vitals that his brother had been treated so brutally and had to endure intense pain. "I'll make him pay for this." Cyrus cut off a strip of his belted plaid to make a sling for Fraser's arm. "Are MacNeil and Irving dead?"

  "I don't ken for certain." An uncharacteristic wretchedness darkened Fraser's eyes. "But Dalacroy's men left them for dead."

  "Bastards!" Cyrus growled.

  "We were outnumbered."

  "I ken it. Still, you should not have left without the guards."

  "Dalacroy's men didn't see me leave. They followed MacNeil and Irving."

  Cyrus felt as if he'd been punched in the gut. "Damnation! That means... this is my fault. All of it." Fraser's being taken hostage and injuries. Hubert's death. MacNeil and Irving's deaths... if indeed they were dead. Elspeth's capture. He had to make it right.

  "Nay, don't fash yourself over it," Fraser rasped. "You only wished to send me protection. Dalacroy would've broken down the gates here whether I was his prisoner or not."

  'Twas true, but Cyrus had miscalculated the timing. It wasn't the first time he'd made an error in judgment and likely wouldn't be the last. Still, if Irving and MacNeil were dead, he fully took the blame.

  Once Cyrus checked the splinting, he tied the sling around Fraser's neck. "We need to find a safe place to hide the injured. Once Dalacroy realizes the deeds he has are false, he'll return here with Lady Grey and force her to give him the genuine documents."

  "Wait. Those deeds are false?" Fraser asked.

  "Aye, she cleverly created them. 'Twill not be safe for anyone to be here once Dalacroy returns. He might be angry enough to kill everyone."

  "Might I suggest we take them to Greymont Castle, m'laird?" Vance inquired. "'Tis about five miles south of here. I'll drive the coach and Burns can drive the wagon."

  That idea riveted Cyrus's attention. "Are the walls fortified?"

  "Aye."

  "Good. Should be safe enough for my injured guards. Tell all the servants to either go back to their families or to Greymont with you."

  Vance nodded.

  "Are you going to Rebbinglen for reinforcements?" Fraser asked.

  When Cyrus imagined Elspeth in the madman's clutches, fear for her life speared his vitals. "Nay. I'm going to rescue Lady Grey." He slipped on his baldric and sheathed his borrowed sword.

  "Alone? Are you mad?" Fraser scowled.

  "I'll not be using my normal fire-and-sword method of attack this time. I'll be stealthy." Already keenly aware that the two dirk sheaths on his belt were empty, Cyrus planned to search the defeated foes in the courtyard for two of the foot-long blades.

  "'Tis not amusing, brother. You can't defeat a whole army by yourself."

  "I'll disguise myself and slip inside."

  Fraser blew out an annoyed breath. "I ken you fancy her, but she's not worth your life. Send Reid and Norval to Castle Rebbinglen, then wait until the rest of the MacKenzies and MacKays arrive. If they leave tonight, they can ride fast and send a small army back by tomorrow evening."

  "I cannot wait." Impatient to get onto the road and ride after Elspeth, Cyrus grabbed the bow and quiver of arrows from the corner. "If Dalacroy doesn't discover that the deeds are forgeries, he may kill her directly after she signs them." Cyrus turned to Vance. "Where is Wingate Castle?"

  The older man pointed east. "Follow the main road and ride through the center of town. The castle is about a mile on the other side. You'll see the tall, dull-colored towers." Vance's bushy silver brows furrowed. "We pray that you'll bring our lady home safely."

  "I intend to. I appreciate you and Burns taking my brother and my injured men to safety. Reid, you stay with Fraser and guard him. Once you get to Greymont Castle, make certain all the gates and portcullis are locked securely."

  "Aye, Chief!"

  "I'll send Norval to Rebbinglen." Cyrus hastened toward the exit.

  "Cyrus!" Fraser yelled. "'Tis madness going out there alone!"

  Ignoring him, Cyrus hurried down the steps into the courtyard where Norval was guarding the two prisoners who yet lived. After confiscating two dirks from the men's scabbards, Cyrus studied the largest enemy guard, the blond who still hadn't awakened. "Help me get his clothes off. I need them for my disguise."

  "Disguise?" Norval eyed him critically. "Where are you headed?"

  "Wingate Castle. I need you to ride to Rebbinglen for reinforcements. Reid, Vance, and the groom are going to take Fraser, the injured guards, and the servants to Greymont Castle."

  Norval helped him remove the outer clothing and armor from the knocked out guard, leaving him in his linen shirt.

  "M'laird, with all due respect, you need at least one guard with you," Norval grumbled.

  "Nay, I can slip in much easier if 'tis just me." Cyrus surveyed the horses that Dalacroy's guards had arrived on earlier. Roaming free in the courtyard, they were already saddled and one of them would be far less conspicuous if he had to abandon it near Wingate.

  He chose the tallest and sleekest. No doubt the black gelding would be fast. After tossing the spare set of clothing over the front of the saddle, he mounted. "Make haste to Castle Rebbinglen."

  Norval frowned. "In truth, you need protection."

  "Nay. Bring the rest of the MacKenzies back here. The MacKays, too, if they're willing. We're depending on you. Without them, 'twill be difficult to defeat Dalacroy."

  Looking disturbed and irritable, Norval nodded. "As you wish, then. Godspeed, Chief. I pray you'll be safe."

  AFTER CHANGING INTO the plain gray breeches, doublet, and metal-studded leather armor they'd taken off the enemy guard, Cyrus crouched in the bushes outside the curtain walls of Wingate Castle. Though his head still ached where Dalacroy had thwacked him, he resolved to best the whoreson.

  'Twas gloaming and the moon had risen over the horizon. He'd left his borrowed horse hidden a few hundred yards from the castle, behind in a small patch of woods, and he'd been scouting around the castle, studying Dalacroy's guard placement.

  Every time he visualized Elspeth at the blackguard's mercy, a searing fury arose in him. He didn't understand how he'd come to care for her so quickly, but the danger she was in tore at him. He had never been more determined to defeat a foe, but he had to go about it in a completely new way. He had no soldiers to rely on but himself.

  Through the bushes, he eyed the substantial iron portcullis and the stone gatehouse. Two guards stood at either side. No doubt another guard watched from the gatehouse. The curtain walls were impressive at around twenty feet high, but they were starting to crumble at the top. The entire place had a neglected air about it. The discolored harling on the castle was chipped and flaking off in several places, revealing the gray granite and mortar beneath.

  Impatient to get inside and extract Elspeth, Cyrus left the bushes and slipped along the curtain wall, being careful to look up every few yards to see if any guards had spied him from above. He doubted the place even had a decent wall-walk.

  On the back side, he found just what he was looking for—a postern gate.

  Pausing to listen, he heard no soun
ds from within. After he crept closer, he peered through the bars but saw no one.

  The old iron gate was marred with rust and the masonry around it crumbling. Clearly, Dalacroy was too daft and complacent to worry about the security of his castle. He had many other homes and probably spent very little time here. Cyrus doubted the old earl had either. Too many women to chase to bother with castle repair. Cyrus shook his head and pried at some of the loosened rocks in the gate's frame. A few of the smaller pieces of granite fell to the ground.

  Once he'd chipped away all the loose stones, he pulled at the gate. Trying to keep quiet, he put more force behind it. The frame holding the gate within the mortared wall yanked free, dislodging a few more rocks. Doubting he would have an opportunity to use the bow and arrows, he hid them in the nearby brambles. He then squeezed through the narrow space and pulled the gate frame back into place so the guards wouldn't notice right away that it was broken.

  Seeing no one, he slipped through the weedy, untended kitchen garden and along the side of the castle. Near the front corner, voices reached him. He ducked behind an overgrown yew shrub and peered out. Dalacroy's guards, wearing their plain gray livery, milled about the bailey in front of the stables.

  Lying prone so he could see their faces, Cyrus counted nine. The rest were likely inside the castle or in the barracks. To increase his chances of success in rescuing Elspeth, he would have to covertly confront the men one or two at a time. If he botched this, he could put her life in even more danger.

  His gut knotted with concern for Elspeth. Was she all right? Had Henry's solicitor figured out the deeds were forged?

  The sky grew darker as night descended. The castle faced west, so the moon was behind it at the moment. Most of the men disappeared into a distant building he assumed was the barracks while several servants carried large platters of food into the same building. Two guards stood at the castle door, while the rest of the courtyard was now empty.

  Cyrus pushed himself up into a crouching position.