Page 81 of The Mad Highlander
The ebb and flow of the fight changed drastically from that point onward, and as Murdoch’s men were driven back, some of them began to flee—their leader lost. McCabe’s men remained, and that meant Laird McCabe was out there somewhere.
The battlefield thinned, and Cayden found new strength with the arrival of Hunter and additional forces. He cut down eleven more men before he heard his name called. When he looked around, some of the enemy had their hands in the air. He spotted Duncan with his sword pointed at a cowering man on the ground.
Cayden walked over to see Laird McCabe on the ground, caked in dirt. He held his palms up and made eye contact with Cayden.
“Please, Me Laird. Please spare me. He made me do it.”
“Laird Murdoch is dead,” Cayden said.
“Aye, guid,” Tristan stammered. “I tried to warn ye. I would have killed him meself if I had the chance, and?—”
“Enough!” Cayden shouted. “There’s nay need to beg for yer life; the decision is already made.”
Tristan deflated with a sigh of relief.
“Ye are nae to leave the battlefield alive,” Cayden told him.
“What?” Tristan scrambled through the dirt toward Cayden, ignoring the sword pointed at him. He was almost at Cayden when he diverted course. “Ashton! Please, help me, laddie! Please tell them who I am. I’m so glad to see ye alive.”
Cayden turned and beamed at Ashton. He had not seen head nor tail of him since riding together, and he let out a long sigh and smiled before patting Ashton on the back.
“What say ye, Ashton?” Cayden asked.
“I’ll kill him meself.” Ashton’s face was smeared with blood, and he did not look seventeen anymore. He was a man hardened by battle—the Laird of McCabe Castle.
“Nay,” Cayden said. “He will die but nae by yer hand. There is another who deserves it more.”
Ashton looked around to see Hunter standing close. The look Hunter gave Tristan was not a glare. There was no anger within his eyes, only guilt.
“If I have yer blessin’,” Hunter said.
“Aye, ye do,” Ashton replied.
Cayden placed his arm around Ashton’s shoulders and led him back toward the castle. There was no fight in any of the men, and those who were still on the battlefield were being rounded up to be taken to the castle, and the ones who had fled were being chased down.
As they walked away from Tristan, they heard a fleshy piercing noise followed by a gurgling and then a soft thud.
“Time for us both to go home,” Cayden said.
33
Iris braced herself along with the others when they heard footsteps from the other side of the door. A fist pounded at the wood, shaking the door.
“It’s done!” came the shout. “The battle is won!”
“It could be a trick,” Robyn suggested.
Margot fished the key from her dress pocket. “Nay, I ken and trust that voice. He’s a loyal servant.” As she walked to the door, she addressed the entire room. “We have won! We are safe! We have won! We are safe!”
The other ladies joined in with the chant. Iris joined in too after removing her hand from atop her dirk. Her breathing quickened to a point where she thought she might pass out, and she might have stumbled and fallen if Astrid had not taken her arm. Iris held onto the woman as they ambled toward the door.
Margot unlocked the door from the inside, and when it opened, a cool draft washed the room and swept up their worries, carrying them out of the room before they exited.
Iris focused only on her breathing.
The war is won. We are free! But at what cost?
“I cannae be happy until I see his face,” Iris whispered to Astrid.
