ENTERING THE LAIR
The wind whipped icy fingers across Amabel, catching her cloak and buffeting it against her.
“And you say the entrance is on the right?”
Amabel turned to Broderick, whispering urgently. “I think so. We went left toward the great hall, which must be in the center of the fortress.”
Duncan, silent and drawn, looked up at her. “My lady. If aught has happened to your sister... I swear I will not rest until this fortress is rubble.”
Amabel heard the rawness in his tone. She reached a hand across to him. “She is safe. We have to know that. He would not risk harming her. Not for fear of what Uncle would do in retaliation.”
Duncan snorted. “Well, now he has Lochlann and MacConnaway to fight.”
Amabel nodded. Broderick nodded, too.
“And that, according to what Amabel said, is the last thing he would have wanted.”
“Well, he got it,” Duncan growled. “Now. Why are we waiting?”
Amabel laughed. She couldn't help it. When she saw the emptiness in Duncan's eyes, the pain, she regretted it.
“We need to wait until Keith returns,” Broderick reminded them. “He's scouting the way.”
Duncan sighed. He reined in his horse, though Amabel could see the effort with which he did it. He was aching to storm the place. But they had to wait.
A moment later, they heard a soft footfall and then a call.
“Keith?” Broderick squinted ahead. Keith rode up, making the low, looping notes of a night-jar.
“All clear, milord,” Keith said quietly. “Only five guardsmen there. Two on the wall. They're around the back now. Two at the door. One around the front.”
Broderick nodded. He gestured with a finger and five men detached from the main force behind them.
“Donald, Artair, Cam, Alisdair, Grier. And Keith.”
“Yes, sir?”
“Disable the guards. Remove the watchers.”
The men nodded, some breathing out. They rode away, quick and silent. Like the rest of the men, they bound their horse's hoofs with rags to approach almost silently.
The rest of the detachment waited while the men rode away. Duncan turned to them. “I will go in. Keith will come with me when he returns. We will find Lady Alina. Wait for our signal. Then, brother, you will lead?”
Broderick nodded briefly.
Amabel looked at him. “Duncan?”
“Yes?” He turned to face her, tawny eyes hooded.
“You do not know the inside of the castle. I do. At least, I do better than you. I know the way. I will come along.”
Duncan shook his head. “No, milady. I cannot let you.”
Broderick looked worried, too, but when he saw Amabel's stricken face, he shook his head.
“We can't stop her.”
Amabel gave him a broad grin. “Thank you, my dear.”
He shook his head. “You are right. You're the one who knows the way. I don't like risking you, but I can't argue.”
Amabel smiled. “How very nice.”
Feeling better than she had since she could remember, Amabel squeezed his hand. Then she turned to Duncan.
“Will we go now?”
Duncan bit his lip. “As soon as the riders return.”
The three of them stood and waited. The breeze was thin and icy, and Amabel shivered and drew her robe closer.
As they waited, the riders returned. Amabel heard the hooves first, thudding on the frozen earth.
“They are gone?”
One of the riders, a tall, grim-faced man with a scar down the side of his face, cleared his throat and inclined his head. “Yes, milord.”
Duncan turned around, looking to Amabel. “My lady?”
“Yes.”
Broderick squeezed her hand. “Be safe, my dear.”
His voice cracked as he said it, and Amabel bit her lip. She could not quite believe she was doing this.
“I will. You, too.”
She looked over her shoulder as they rode to the side of the walls and he raised a hand, a gesture that respected her courage and did not drain her. She smiled and rode on.
“You say you were kept in the turret room?”
“Yes. I think I could tell you the way from the main hallway.”
“Good. We must hurry. The guards will be discovered.”
Amabel nodded. They dismounted in the shadow of the trees and then slipped, shadows among deeper shadow, to the gate.
Duncan held open the door and they slipped inside. Amabel did not look a the guards Keith and his men had dispersed.
Her heart thudding in her chest, Amabel and Duncan walked on into the darkened fortress.
“It should be this way,” Amabel whispered. She felt lost. She had to believe she knew the way. She stopped and listened. If she strained her ears, she thought she could hear voices far away, coming from the left. As they walked closer, her confidence grew. That was the great hall. They were in the entrance hall. They should go right and find the stairs.
“This way.”
Duncan took her hand and together they ascended the staircase.
“Eh! Sean! Mind the step...”
A chuckle. “I know it's there, Alec. Haud yer wheesht!”
Amabel froze. There were guards above them. Coming down the stairs.
She looked wildly at Duncan. He stared back an instant and then took her wrist and walked lightly back down the stairs. The two of them stood in an alcove, lost in shadow. Duncan closed his eyes to keep the shine from showing and Amabel did the same.
“Not much happenin' the night...”
“Good! His lordship thought there'd be fuss, but I've no' seen disturbance.”
The two men were inches away now. Amabel shrank toward the wall and kept her eyes closed, breath even and shallow.
“Ye ken Lord Thomas... he don't take matters lightly.”
A chuckle. “You could say that, Alec. You could indeed.”
Both men laughed and they stepped of the stairs, heading for the front of the building. If the guards were changing, they had a few minutes before the others came to take their place. Duncan slipped forward and beckoned to Amabel and together they fled up the stairs, heading for the top of the turret.
When they reached a window, Duncan paused. “Can you fetch light?” he whispered to Amabel. “We need to signal.”
Amabel nodded. She looked around and noticed a brand in a bracket on the top floor. She ran to fetch it. Holding it away from her hair to avoid burning herself, she passed it to Duncan, who held it out of the window, circled it once then twice and let it drop.
He turned to Amabel. “We have a few minutes. We'd best run.”
Amabel nodded. She was sure they were almost at the attic. One of these rooms must hold Alina.
They reached the attic. Amabel looked around. There were five doors. They were in almost total darkness, the whole floor lit by a single torch at the end-most doorway.
“Alina!” Amabel whispered loudly. “Alina...”
She knocked at the first door. She had no idea which one housed Alina and she could not risk shouting her name. She heard someone move inside and a second later, a head appeared. It was a servant.
“Is that you, Jessie?”
Amabel froze. She reached for her broadest accent. “Nay. I'm here lookin' for Jimmy. Ken ye where he is?”
The woman coughed. “Nay. I don't. Check the guardhouse. What're ye up here for?” She laughed harshly. Then, as Amabel held her breath, she closed the door and she heard her shuffle off to bed.
She breathed out, relief disabling her a moment. If she had misjudged, and this was where the servants slept, their search could take hours!
At that moment, Duncan, who had been standing guard at the stairwell, ran back. “Hurry!”
As he said it, Amabel heard what he had heard. Feet, running up the stairs. There were distant sounds, too – beating and shouting and the clash of metal. Broderick was storming the fortress. And the guards were coming up.
Amabel whirled around. She was desperate. She threw herself up the row of doors to the end one by the torch. “Alina!” she called out desperately, all need for stealth abandoned in their haste.
“Amabel?”
She heard a shout from the second room. As she did so, she heard the feet reach the stairs and Duncan draw his sword.
She tried the door handle. It was locked. She had not known what else she had expected. She was desperate. “Alina?”
“Amabel! Sister?” She could hear her sister was almost crying. She wanted to weep, too. She was so close to her! And yet, so impossibly far.
“I am here. We are here.”
“The door key is with him. The thane,” Alina was calling. “He has it on his belt...”
At that moment, another sound filled the corridor.
“Fetch her, damn you! Now.”
Amabel froze. That was him. She would know that voice anywhere. It spoke in her nightmares if she chose to listen. Lord Thomas.
She turned around.
Lord Thomas, handsome face twisted with rage, was at the top of the stairs. Duncan whirled to face him. Amabel saw Lord Thomas snarl and draw his sword.
“Guards!” he bellowed, calling over his shoulder.
Duncan drew his sword fluidly. Amabel stared, transfixed. She did not know Duncan well, but she had to admit she had never seen anyone fight quite as well as Duncan was now fighting. His face a mask of cold sorrow, he was entirely dispassionate. Lord Thomas, however, was affronted and enraged, and he fought with that madness. Slashing and hacking wildly, his style was no match for Duncan.
“Miserable housebreaking scum...”
Duncan said nothing. He brought his sword down coldly in a blow that would have halved the man if he had not parried it. Amabel held her breath as the swords struck sparks.
She could hear fighting raging downstairs where Lord Thomas' guards fought Keith and the other me. She fought the urge to run to Broderick, who must be down there with them. She had to save Alina! Her attention was drawn back to the fight by Lord Thomas, spitting insults at Duncan to break his focus.
“You fight like my grandmother...”
Duncan was ignoring every insult, fighting as if he was in a trance.
Amabel watched them. She drew in a sharp breath when she saw Duncan bleeding. The sword had nicked his shoulder and blood sheeted down. She could see he was tiring.
“The key.”
She said it aloud as the thought occured to her.
Lord Thomas had not noticed her. All his attention was on Duncan, who was doing his best to hold the man at the head of the stairs. If only she could reach the key. But how to get in between the two fighting men?
Lord Thomas was grunting with effort. He had his sword pushed against Duncan's, holding back the blow that threatened to cleave him in half. The two men were grappling, entirely focused on each other. Amabel had an idea. There was just enough space for her to reach past Duncan to Lord Thomas, to push him off balance. She hesitated only an instant.
“Agh!”
Screaming a wordless cry, she ran at him from the side. She saw his eyes widen and he stumbled. That was all Duncan needed. The instant the pressure on his blade faltered, he brought it down. Clean into the man's shoulder.
As he lowered his arm, face white and blood welling along the wound, Amabel called to Duncan.
“Pull him up! The key! He has it.”
Duncan, face shiny with perspiring, turned to her.
“Key?”
“Pass him to me!” Amabel shouted desperately.
Duncan, clearly on the edge of endurance, had just enough strength to grab the disarmed man and pull him, stumbling and resistant, up the last step. He collapsed on the floor.
Amabel ran over.
He saw who it was and his eyes widened, then narrowed.
“You're dead,” he said flatly. “I know you died.”
Amabel blinked. “No, I didn't.” She bent down, feeling sudden rage. This was the man who had almost ruined her sister's life! Who had attempted murder by the foulest means. Who had murdered Aisling for his gain.
“Give me the key,” she whispered.
He laughed. “Are you threatening me?”
“No,” she said. “I don't make threats.”
Hating herself for doing it, she grabbed his wounded arm and twisted.
He hissed out a breath of pain and looked at her with utter bemusement. She kept on twisting even as he snarled and fought her. Clinging on was almost impossibly hard. But Duncan was fighting the first guard to climb the stairs and he was more exhausted than her. She had to do something. She had to be strong like he was. Lord Thomas was hitting out with his good hand, snarling, grappling with her, trying to gain a purchase. Amabel heard a crash from the stairwell and did not want to look up. As the man fought her, she was trying to search for the key. It was on his belt, she knew. She would find it.
His hand was grappling for her throat. As she twisted and looked for the key, she felt his fingers closing round her neck. She coughed.
She could feel herself choking. She could almost hear the noises she made, but her ears were full of the crescendo of her own blood, singing and pounding. Her vision was swimming.
I will pass out. As she felt her sight swim, she found it. Her fingers closed on something cold and leaden. She pulled. It snapped.
Amabel was pushed backward by the force of the sudden break, and that loosened his grip on her throat sufficiently. She fell back, seeing stars. Then she wriggled to the right.
Grabbing her skirts, key in hand, she ran.
“Amabel!”
“Alina! I'm coming.”
She fumbled with the key. It turned.
Alina collapsed out of the door. She was gray-pale, hollow-cheeked. Amabel was not sure if she had been fed anything at all since their capture. She almost collapsed. Amabel grabbed at her and Alina bit her lip, righting herself.
At that moment, there was another crash from the stairwell.
“Let's go.”
Alina whispered it and Amabel followed her. Together they ran for the stairs.
They almost reached them.
As Amabel ran past the alcove, something stepped out and grabbed Alina.
Lord Thomas.
He had managed to stand. He was deathly pale but he had a dagger in his hand. He held it against Alina's breastbone.
He was white, blood trickling from his mouth. His eyes burned.
“You thought you could order me!” he said wildly. He spat, and blood-filled spittle stained across the boards. “Now you will suffer. All of you, lower your blades.”
Amabel screamed. She turned around, but Duncan was finished. He was a mass of cuts and bruises. As she watched, the guard swung at him. The blow jarred down his arm and he turned it, but the movement was slow. The next blow took him in the arm, below the one that was there. He jerked but made no other response.
Amabel felt hope die. Their little band had almost succeeded. But they were defeated.
Alina gasped and the first line of blood welled at her neck. Amabel screamed.
Lord Thomas was smiling.
“No,” she whispered. “Please.”
“Like you, I do not make threats,” he said thinly. “You will feel the worst pain – the pain of seeing your sister die.”
“Nooo!”
“What is the meaning of this?”
Big, rolling and full, the voice split through the chaos and made silence. Amabel spun around.
Broderick was there.
He was on the stairwell, eyes blazing. His sword was in his hand. Amabel had never seen him like this. Burnished, like a racehorse, radiating strength, he filled the space. And he was coming for Lord Thomas.
She saw the man shrink. But he kept his hold on Alina, whose throat was already bleeding freely. Another cut like that would kill her. Amabel stepped back and closed her eyes. She could not watch this. Anything Broderick wanted to do would cost Alina her life. She could not see a way out of this.
“You will drop the lady.” The voice was Broderick's, cold and angry.
A hollow laugh. “Make me. I will slit her throat and you will have killed her, too. You make a habit of causing the deaths of women, Lord Broderick.”
Amabel drew in a breath.
Broderick winced as if he had been slapped.
“What do you know of me?”
“I know you stood by and let your wife die. Where was your heroism then, Lord Broderick? You did not even think of her. You left her there for raiders to torture. You're not a protector. You betrayed her.”
Amabel saw Broderick's eyes flicker just an instant. And in that moment, she saw Thomas raise the knife.
“No!”
She wanted to scream but her breath was a high whisper. She had not seen the shadow in the darkness.
Lord Thomas jerked back. He was clearly trying to scream, but no sound was coming out. He dropped Alina, who collapsed onto the floor. Broderick caught her as she fell.
Amabel watched, transfixed, as Lord Thomas bent back, as if he was having a seizure. His eyes rolled back and blood trickled from his mouth.
Then she realized why. Saw Duncan, lying behind him. Saw the sword that disappeared into the man's back, puncturing a lung.
She listened, unbelieving, as Lord Thomas gasped and coughed, breath wheezing in a chest that could not draw air. It was a terrible way to go and she turned away as he collapsed, body contracting as he fought desperately to breathe.
Duncan was almost dead. Amabel could see that. He was leaning on the wall. His face was white, and he was bleeding from a myriad of wounds. His eyes were open but as she watched, they clouded.
“Brother!” Broderick turned to his brother. The sounds he made were not human – small whimpers of animal pain. He knelt beside him, rocking Duncan back and forth. Amabel felt her own tears pouring down her face.
As she listened, the place became still. She could hear the odd metallic click, as of a sword employed to dispatch an already-prone man, but otherwise the castle was silent.
Up in the attic, the only sound was of harsh breath. Broderick was utterly exhausted. Duncan was barely breathing. Lord Thomas was still now.
Alina was lying in Amabel's arms. Her throat still bled, though more weakly now, and Amabel gently lowered her to the floor so that she could see to it. The vessels he had severed were not the great veins. Even so, the injury was grave and it was far from certain Alina would live: she had lost a good deal of blood. Amabel tore a strip off her petticoat and bound the wound as best she could. Her sister's eyes opened and she looked, unfocused, at the ceiling.
“Not... dead,” she whispered. Then she passed out.
Amabel stroked the black hair tenderly, heart aching. They had seen so much death! Lord Thomas – a villain he might have been, but death in that manner was awful no matter who it was – the guards. Now Duncan.
She looked across at Broderick. His eyes were dark and empty.
She caught a movement to her left, seeing the servants’ door opened. As she looked, it slammed closed. They were alone.
Amabel bent to lift her sister, but she was too heavy for her to move.
“Wait... for the guards,” Broderick panted. He knelt where he was, one hand on Duncan, looking across at Amabel. They were both too weary to move. All they could do was breathe and grieve.
“My lord?”
A guard – one of their own men – appeared on the stairwell.
“Will. We need help. Carry Duncan?”
The guard saw the prone figure then and his eyes went wide. He paled.
“Yes, my lord.”
With immense respect, he knelt and, together with another companion, they lifted the body, one at the arms, one at his knees.
Broderick drew himself to standing and watched as they carried away his brother.
Then he slipped slowly down the wall.
“Broderick!”
Amabel ran to him and felt for his pulse. It was still there, if slow. She ran to the top of the stairs, fighting to stay on her feet. Two guards saw her.
“Carry the master down?” she asked. “And Lady Alina.”
As the guards appeared and very gently carried her beloved husband and sister away, Amabel finally allowed herself to collapse.
The last thought she had as she felt Keith lift her and carry her outside was: let them live.