The Knight and the Seer (21 page)

“Aye.” The housekeeper giggled. “Though I must say I can’t quite believe what I’m doing.”

“Nor I,” he admitted before turning away.

Logan sat astride his horse, watching the scene of chaos unfolding before him. The smile of victory had long ago been wiped from his lips.

His army was in shambles. Men were dropping to their knees in fear. Others were tossing aside their weapons and fleeing to the nearby forest, with shouts of witchcraft and devilment on their lips. Even the bravest among them, who had fought in the cruelest of battles, were afraid for their lives, for this was a new kind of enemy, and they had no idea how to defend themselves.

He turned to his most trusted warrior. “This is madness. Call back our army.” To Sabrina he shouted, “We must join those who are fleeing, else we will fall under this witch’s spell.”

Sabrina had just taken up her reins when Fergus Logan saw the golden-haired witch rushing to the assistance of a village wench who had fallen to the ground.

Seeing his chance, he nudged his steed into a gallop and reached down, scooping up Gwenellen.

“Nay. Release me.” Though she scratched and bit and struggled, she was no match for this man’s strength.

In the blink of an eye he pulled his knife from his waist and pressed it against her throat.

His voice carried over the meadow, to the place where Andrew was just dispatching the last of the enemy warriors. “Andrew Ross. You will toss aside your own weapon and order your people to do the same, before kneeling in the grass, or the woman dies.”

Andrew looked up to see Gwenellen in his enemy’s arms. With a sense of horror he noted the knife at her throat, and the thin line of blood already staining the bodice of her gown.

The sight of it had his own blood freezing in his veins as he threw down his sword.

One by one, as the villagers saw what was happening to Gwenellen, they tossed aside their buckets and basins, their tubs and farm implements before floating to earth and dropping to their knees in the grass.

In quick strides Andrew made his way to where Fergus Logan sat astride his mount. “Release the woman, Logan.”

Fergus threw back his head and laughed. A cruel, chilling sound that sent fear through the hearts of all who heard it. “Aye. I’ll release the woman. When it pleases me.” His voice hardened. “But first you will taste my justice, for I have long awaited this day.”

He thrust his sword with such strength the tip passed through the flesh of Andrew’s shoulder, sending him staggering backward, where he dropped to his knees in the grass.

Gwenellen’s cry of horror pierced the silence.

With teeth clenched against the agony, Andrew pulled the weapon free, causing a river of blood to spill from the gaping wound. He was in too much pain and shock to do more than let the bloody sword drop from his nerveless fingers as he struggled to his feet.

Logan laughed again. A shrill, frightening sound of madness that was echoed by Sabrina, who seemed completely unmoved by the bloodshed.

His words were equally frightening. “Now, Andrew Ross, before I’m through with you and this woman, you’ll rue the day you ever heard the name Fergus Logan.”

Chapter Nineteen

T
he villagers, who had been so jubilant scant minutes before, now went eerily silent as they watched the horrifying scene unfolding before them.

All their lives they had heard tales about the monster, Fergus Logan, and his cruelty toward anyone who dared to defy him. They had no doubt he would enjoy killing the young woman who had caused his humiliation. Especially if her death should bring pain to his sworn enemy. And then he would complete the cruel torture of their laird until he joined Gwenellen in death.

Andrew swayed, determined to remain standing before his enemy. He pressed a hand to the wound. Blood spilled through his fingers and ran down his arm.

A boiling, impotent rage seethed within him. “Your war is not with this woman.”

“Nay. But I have the sense that she means something to you.” Fergus watched Andrew closely as he tightened his grasp on Gwenellen and pressed the razor-sharp blade to her throat until she cried out. Seeing the flare of nostrils, and the quick flash of quiet rage in his opponent’s eyes, he threw back his head and roared. “You needn’t say a word, Andrew Ross. Your face tells me all I need to know.”

He turned to the haughty woman beside him. “How quickly he changes allegiance, my love. It would seem the reason he didn’t come seeking your release is because he has lost his heart to another.”

“Only because she bewitched him. Look at her. How could any man lose his heart to the likes of her?” Sabrina tossed her head. “Not that I care about his foolish heart. Perhaps when you’ve finished with him, you should cut it out. It would make a fine feast for forest creatures. But before you kill him, I want him to kneel before me.”

“As you wish, my love.” Logan turned a feral smile on Andrew. “A pity about your choice in women. That one…” He nodded toward Sabrina. “…cared nothing about you or your father. You were both merely pawns in our little game. And this one…” He grabbed a handful of Gwenellen’s hair and tugged her head back sharply, causing even more blood to spill from the cut along her throat. His voice rose, so that everyone in the meadow could hear him. “This one is going to die slowly before your eyes, so that you will see and understand the wrath of Fergus Logan. After the witch and your laird are dead, you will be given the choice of kneeling and swearing allegiance to me, or joining them this day in death. Now, Andrew Ross, you will kneel to my woman and to me.”

Instead of doing as he commanded, Andrew stood tall, his voice causing all heads to turn toward him. “I’ll not kneel to a coward.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed with sudden fury. “You dare to call me a coward, when you are the one standing here with neither weapon nor army?”

“Only a coward would take out his vengeance on a helpless woman. As for me, I need no army. Nor do I need a weapon. If you were a true warrior, you could prove it by ordering your army to step back and allow us to fight man to man, with nothing but our fists, until only one is left standing.”

“I need prove nothing, Andrew Ross. I am already the victor in this battle. And to the victor belongs the spoils.”

Andrew could feel his strength ebbing, and was desperate to goad his enemy into a fight before it was too late. Perhaps it was already too late for him, but a distraction might save Gwenellen’s life. “There has been no victory here, because you refuse to fight.” He could see his enemy considering. To drive home his point he added, “Unless you’re such a coward you’re even afraid to face a wounded man who has no weapons.”

“I have no fear. Of you or of any man.” Logan turned to a hulking warrior and thrust Gwenellen into his arms. “Hold firmly to the woman and see that she doesn’t try any more of her witchcraft.”

To his men he shouted, “You will stand back until I’ve vanquished my foe. Then, any of these peasants who refuse to kneel and swear allegiance to me are to be killed at once.” He turned to Andrew with a chilling smile. “Know this. As soon as your death is accomplished, your woman will be passed among my men for their pleasure. Before they have finished with her, she will beg to join you in death.”

He leaned over and cupped Sabrina’s chin in his hand, pressing a kiss to her mouth. “This won’t take long, my love.”

“A moment.” Sabrina took a ribbon from her hair and tied it around his arm, then gave him a dazzling smile. “Remember that before you end his life, Andrew Ross must kneel to me. It will bring me much pleasure.”

“I’ll not forget.” Logan slid from the saddle and stood a moment to study his opponent. Pointing to the blood-soaked ground at Andrew’s feet he gave a laugh. “You could save yourself a great deal of pain, and spare me the effort of exerting myself, if you would simply kneel now, before it’s too late.”

“And miss the satisfaction of planting my fist in your face?” Andrew stood even taller. “I make you this promise. Never will I bend my knee to you.”

“Then I’ll have to be satisfied with your bloody body prone before me.” Fergus pulled a knife from his waist and sprang.

The crowd gasped, and many of his own men were heard muttering that it wasn’t a fair fight, for the agreement had been to fight with fists, not weapons.

Andrew was able to dodge the attack, but just barely. As he sidestepped, the blade of the knife caught his arm, adding another layer to his pain. He twisted back and closed his hand around Logan’s wrist, squeezing until the knife slipped to the ground.

“Now, Fergus, despite my wounds, we’re evenly matched.”

“Why, you…” Angered that he’d lost his weapon, Logan brought his knee to Andrew’s groin. With a grunt of pain Andrew dropped to the ground and sucked in several quick breaths, struggling to clear his vision.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Logan poised to kick. He caught the booted foot and tugged, causing Logan to land on his back. Like a cat Logan twisted free and rolled aside, evading Andrew’s hands as he made a grab for him.

When the two men regained their footing and faced each other, Logan was clutching the bloody sword, which he’d snatched from the grass.

Andrew eyed him warily. With each movement he was losing more blood. Soon, he knew, his body would simply fail him. “I see you’re incapable of fighting with honor. Are you so afraid of my fists that even now you must resort to weapons?”

“Honor is for fools and dead men, Ross. I’ll use whatever I must to defeat you. And defeat you I shall. Do you know why?”

Andrew began to circle slowly, waiting for an opportunity to spring.

Fergus kept him in his line of vision. “The queen has long favored your clan, Ross, while choosing to ignore my offer of counsel. I wonder how long she can ignore me when she learns that her precious Highlander was too weak to defend his own land and people? When she learns that I am now laird of lairds? I wager that Sabrina and I will be given a royal welcome in Edinburgh, and your warriors will be replaced by mine.” He chuckled. “I will become the power behind the Throne.”

“Is that what this is about?” Andrew paused, his head swimming. “It isn’t just my land you covet, but the power of the Throne?”

“My father told me that there was a time when we were highly regarded, until he angered Mary’s father, James. Now she has returned from France, and has continued the slight against our clan. I’ll not stand by and let that French king’s whore humiliate me.”

“I’m not surprised that you would slander our queen.” Andrew’s words were slurred, and he knew that the pain would soon take him down. “But even if you spend a lifetime at Court, you’ll never be a noble, Logan. You’re undeserving of the title.”

Infuriated, Fergus thrust his sword and Andrew managed to duck before coming up behind him. With a viselike grasp on his throat he caught Logan’s arm and twisted until the sword dropped to the ground.

“You’ve broken my arm.” Logan’s howl of pain had the crowd of onlookers moving closer to form a circle around the two men.

“Do you concede?” Andrew’s breathing was labored.

“Aye.”

At Logan’s whispered words Andrew released him.

The moment he was free Logan turned and butted his head into Andrew’s chest, driving him backward. As soon as his opponent was down he leapt on him and began pummeling him about the face until Andrew’s eyes were swollen shut.

“An old trick my father taught me,” Logan muttered. “I had no intention of conceding, you fool. I simply do whatever it takes to win, even if that means lying, cheating and taking advantage of my enemy’s weakness. And your greatest weakness is that honor you wear like a badge.” His hands closed around Andrew’s throat and he began to squeeze. “You’ve no more strength left to fight me. Now will you taste my vengeance.”

Gwenellen, nearly crushed in the arms of Logan’s warrior, was forced to stand by and watch as Andrew slid closer and closer to death. His face was bloodied beyond recognition. His strength throughout this ordeal had been unbelievable, but she could see that his wounds were taking their toll. Though his will remained strong, his body was quickly failing him.

“Oh, Andrew.” Her cry seemed to stir him momentarily. “Please, my love. You mustn’t die.”

The sound of her voice wrapped itself around his heart. What would happen to her if he failed? It was more than he could bear to contemplate.

Calling upon every ounce of strength he possessed, he gripped Logan’s hands and managed to pry them loose. With a snarl Logan curled his hand into a fist. Before he could make contact Andrew rolled aside, and heard his opponent’s grunt of pain as his fist encountered hard-packed earth instead.

There was a ripple of approval from those around them. Even Logan’s warriors seemed to be silently cheering for the man who refused to die.

Andrew staggered to his feet and stumbled backward.

As Logan got up and started toward him, several in the crowd began to murmur aloud.

“That’s it, m’laird. Don’t let him get too close.”

“Stay on ye’r feet, m’laird. Ye mustn’t fall now or he’ll be on ye like a dog.”

“He’s a coward, m’laird. Afraid to fight ye with just his fists. Watch now. A show of strength and he’ll run.”

Their words were lost on Andrew. All he could hear was a strange buzzing sound in his head. All he could feel was pain. Still, all his training as a warrior had taught him to focus completely on the enemy.

Fergus Logan came into his line of vision, and he heard the ripple of voices raised in alarm a moment before he saw the glint of a knife in Logan’s hand, which he’d retrieved from the grass.

“Too weak to fight me without help, Logan?” His taunt, spoken between bloody lips, had his opponent lunging.

This time Andrew was ready. He planted his feet, determined to absorb the blow. As Logan swung the knife in an arc, Andrew’s hand clamped around his wrist and twisted. The two men fell in a heap and began rolling over and over in the grass.

While the crowd watched and waited in breathless silence, the two men went as still as death. Finally Fergus Logan pushed himself up and took a halting step toward Sabrina, who was still astride her mount.