Ashlyn (The Highland Clan Book 5) (15 page)

Chapter Sixteen

Magnus crept inside the crumbling wall as soon as he was certain he was the only one in the surrounding area. Once inside, he concealed himself in a cluster of bushes, hopeful that he might overhear something useful.

He could be patient. He just prayed that Ashlyn could do the same. He held his breath as soon as a side door opened, waiting to see who came through. Three men moved out, and he tuned in to their conversation as best he could. He heard bits and pieces.

“Meet in front….to update us.”

“When do we leave?”

“Not sure… We’re probably about to find out.”

Magnus watched them as they moved toward the front of the keep. He didn’t have enough information yet. While he recognized the best plan would be to move into hearing distance of the group, he recalled Jake’s teasing words about his size. The only other thing that he could hide behind was the eight-foot tall curtain wall.

He scowled, wishing he were as small as Kenzie or as fast as Loki. Jake was almost as big as he was, but there was something about Magnus’s physique that drew the eye. Hellfire, he had to try. Glancing around, he saw no one, so he crept up to a smaller group of trees and bushes, hoping to hide inside them.

He was there for less than five minutes when he heard the chuckles of a guard behind him. Spinning on his heel, he drew his sword. There were four guards headed toward him, all with swords drawn and aimed at his midsection.

Magnus did not wait for them to reach him. He went at them swinging hard, his sword coming from every direction possible. He killed the first guard with one stroke, catching him in his neck vessel. Blood shot everywhere before he fell to the ground. With the same stroke, Magnus managed to slow another one with a hit to his belly. He swung his sword arm over his head and down in an oblique line, catching the third guard in his middle.

That left the fourth guard, who stared at him transfixed. As soon as Magnus lifted his sword, he could see the fear in his enemy’s eyes. He thrust his sword into the fool’s heart, killing him instantly. Jake had told him these guards lacked in skill, and he saw that it was true.

But Magnus had made one mistake—he had forgotten about the second guard. He’d pulled his sword out of the last victim and was stooping to wipe it clean in the snow when he noticed the second guard had propped himself up on one knee and extended his arm. Magnus cut him down quickly, but not before the bastard caught him across his thigh with his sword, slicing his flesh open.

This time he checked all four before he checked his leg. All were dead. The wound stung like hell, which worried him a bit. Normally he could ignore wounds, but this one felt a bit deeper. He decided to head back to the open spot he’d used to breach the wall—surely he’d be caught now—but a noise behind him forced him to spin around, his sword already raised overhead in preparation to attack.

Too late. His movements had slowed enough for him to be caught. Six men raced toward him, all poised to strike, but a voice rang out across the open area. “Not yet!”

The men fell in around him, surrounding him, and he dropped his sword on the ground, gathering his strength. He knew it was hopeless taking on six men with swords. He’d rather fight that many with his fists. Since he knew they were MacNiven’s men, it was better to survive now and fight later. Every move he made now needed to be to protect Ashlyn. She was not far from them on the other side of the wall. He prayed she would either stay there or retreat.

The man who came forward was wearing a helm. “Hold him, I want him alive.”  He moved right up to Magnus and whispered, “I know that plaid. A Grant, are you? Where are your friends?” He recognized the man as MacNiven.

Another guard said, “Hellfire. If he’s a Grant…” He turned in a circle, scanning the trees for something. “Beware, they often travel with archers.”

“And my clan will be here any moment,” Magnus sneered, “and there’ll be archers and swordsman everywhere.” How he wished it were true. His thinking had turned a bit hazy. He noticed fresh blood continued to stain his trews, and sweat dotted his brow despite the cold.

“Is that so? Where are they now? How many?” the helmed man asked.

“MacNiven, they’ll be everywhere soon.”

Just as he made that declaration, two arrows came out of nowhere, one catching a guard in his eye, and the other hitting the guard to the right of Magnus in his chest, dropping him to the ground.

***

Ashlyn heard yelling and the sound of swords in battle, so she crept over to the opening in the wall to peek through. She prayed MacNiven’s men were merely practicing, but something told her that Magnus might be in trouble.

If so, it would be all her fault. He had been level headed enough to suggest they go to Grant land for help; she had talked him out of it. The sounds were clearer once she reached the hole in the curtain wall, but she could not tell who was involved or exactly what was transpiring. There were four men on the ground, and several others were running toward the skirmish.

Magnus.

It had to be Magnus they were running toward. She readied her bow and pulled an arrow out of her quiver, but she could not get a clear shot from where she stood. Other than marching out into the middle of the opening, where she would be seen right away, there was no way for her to get a clear shot. Her gaze traveled up to the top of the curtain wall, but it looked unsteady, and the rocks were crumbling in many places.

Then finally she saw it. There was a huge oak tree a wee distance away. Even though the season had stripped it of its leaves, there were two pine trees next to it that would hide her somewhat.

She had to take the risk. Climbing up the tree, she almost yelled when she lost her balance and tore the skin off her wrist on the rough bark, but she kept control and carried on. Magnus was counting on her, and the only way she could help him was with her bow and arrow. Tears threatened to blur her vision as soon as she stopped climbing and absorbed the situation that was unfolding beneath her. There were several guards surrounding Magnus, and one of them wore a helm. MacNiven.

She caught some words about the Grant plaid, so she knew she did not have much time. Propping herself up as best she could, she nocked her arrow, aimed it, and let it fly, catching one of the guards right square in his eye. Without pausing, she nocked another arrow and caught a second guard in the chest. Both dropped to the ground.

MacNiven turned to flee, shouting instructions at his guards. “Kill him. Then we’re leaving. We need to get out of here before the rest of the Grants arrive. No more battles. I cannot afford to lose any of you. Donal, get the women.”

One guard pulled his sword out, but Ashlyn shot him in the belly before he could take one more step toward Magnus. MacNiven ran in the opposite direction from where Ashlyn sat, so she aimed quick and let her arrow loose, pleased to see it connect with his shoulder.

All the others rushed after MacNiven except for Magnus, who started limping toward the curtain wall.

MacNiven was getting away, so she grabbed another arrow, nocked it, and let it fly, but she missed. She was reaching for another when everything changed. One of the men running away with MacNiven changed his path and ran straight for Magnus.

Magnus was badly hurt, and he was in no condition to spar with the man who was headed his way. But MacNiven’s man had a short distance to go before he would reach Magnus. It might be enough for her to fire one more arrow at MacNiven. Reaching for another arrow from her quiver, she turned back toward MacNiven. But from the corner of her eye she saw Magnus stumble. A fall could be fatal; his attacker would be upon him in but a moment. She glanced back at MacNiven, who was almost too far for her arrows to find their target. If she helped Magnus, the blackguard would be gone. She’d have no chance of repaying him for all the trouble he’d caused—all the men who had died because of him and all the women who had been mistreated.

She had to make a choice, and she found it easy.

Magnus.

Under no circumstances could she allow MacNiven’s man to hurt Magnus. She swiveled her bow toward the man who was rushing toward Magnus. She let the arrow fly and hit the lout in his heart, dropping him instantly. As soon as she was sure he was not moving, she slid down the tree and ran hard for the opening in the curtain wall.

“Magnus, are you hale? What happened? What is wrong?” She was almost upon him when she noticed the amount of blood on his trews. Fear shot through her. “Oh my, look at the blood. I must get you to my mother. You’ll need stitching, cleaning, and poultices.”

When she reached his side, he wrapped his arm over her shoulder. His face was pale, but he looked alert. “Ash, get my horse. I may not be able to get myself up on him if we wait much longer.” She saw the problem in an instant. It would be physically impossible for her to lift him onto the animal. He had to be able to assist.

They made their way through the curtain wall, and then Magnus gave her a wee push. “Go. Get my horse. Do not worry about them; they are on the run. He only has a few men left and he’s taking them with him.”

“Magnus, I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.”

“Nay, lass. You did not take a sword to me. I should not have tried to hide in the bushes. Jake has told me for years that I am too big to conceal myself. It does not help that I always pick the wrong places. Now go. Please go, and do not slow.”

As she took off to retrieve his horse, she yelled back over her shoulder. “You are bleeding too much. My mother always says to press down on your wound to get the blood to stop. Try it, please, while I get your horse.”

Praying she could get the beasts back to the curtain wall in time, she ran even faster.

When she returned, she could tell by his color that he was not doing well. “Magnus?” She noticed he was pushing on his wound.

“Aye?” He glanced up at her.

“I need to say something, and then we shall get you home. I love you, and I’m quite pleased that you love me. Now, see if you can mount and I’ll help you if you’ve need of it.”

His beautiful smile lit up his face. “That pleases me. I’ll make it home for you, Ash.” He gave her a quick kiss, then managed to get up on the horse, though she had to steady him to keep him from falling off the other side.

“Mayhap I should ride with you, give you something to hang on to?”

“I weigh so much more than you that I fear I would pull you off with me. Besides, the horses will travel faster with a lighter load. If I cannot hold myself up, I’ll lay across the horse. He’ll get me home.” The horse whinnied in response, nodding his head as if he understood. “We have but a day’s journey left. I think I can make it.”

Ashlyn stood next to his horse and took a moment to check his wound, lifting his hand to see how much it continued to bleed. “I think it has almost stopped, but I wish to pinch it a bit longer. My mama says you must pinch a wound to get it to stop bleeding. Continuous bleeding is what does the most damage. She also says ‘tis important to clean a wound, but I cannot get your trews off to do that.”

“I put some snow on it while you were gone to get the dirt out. To my surprise, it stemmed the bleeding some. Lass, I think we need to leave. MacNiven is heading south. We are going north. They’ll not bother us; as usual, the fool has chosen to run, and he’s running exactly where we were hoping he would go. Logan is south along with the rest of our team. Mayhap they will meet along the way.”

She guided her horse over to a log so she could stand and mount, then they headed out. The sun was almost at its peak, so they wouldn’t make it home before dark, but they would move along as quickly as possible and hope for no delays.

“I think it would be best for you to conserve your strength by not talking, so I’ll wait until later to question you.” She said a quick prayer that they would get home before he fell off his horse.

Magnus led the way and Ashlyn fell in behind him until they made it to the meadow. Most of the path had already been trampled, and they had hit a few areas that had even less snow than they’d seen further south. They moved their horses to a gallop whenever they could. She said so many prayers, she knew not what else to say.

Dark was almost upon them when she noticed Magnus was having trouble keeping his head up. Now was the time to talk to him, to try to keep him awake. She pulled her horse abreast of him.

“Magnus.”

“Aye, love?” He cast a grin at her from the side. “I like saying that.”

“And you have no idea how grateful I am to hear it. But tell me what you learned. Was it MacNiven?” She was certain of it, but she needed to keep him awake.

“Aye, ‘twas him. I saw his eyes, and he recognized the Grant plaid. He only said that they were leaving. He told his men that he wished to get out before any more Grants arrived.”

“The women. I believe they could have been Cedrica and Lorna. Did you see them? Do you think they took them?”

“Aye. I think MacNiven must have taken them, if only so that he’ll have two more whom he can stand behind in battle. I heard someone tell Donal to get the women. I think they head south; my guess is for the Buchans.” His head leaned forward as his body swayed.

“Magnus!” she yelled. He jerked his head up.

“I prefer for you only to yell my name when you’re in my arms, lass.”