Page 79 of The Highlander's Illicit Bride
They clapped each other on the shoulder and Struan gave him a nod then turned and disappeared into the shadows of the thick woods that surrounded Cluny House. It took him a few minutes, but he finally found the hatch to the passageway Isoldehad described. He squatted down beside it and waited. He heard every bird fluttering by and every small creature skittering through the undergrowth.
Then the sound of men shouting and the ring of steel on steel sang out, shattering the stillness of the night. Battle had begun and that was his signal.
Moving swiftly, Struan strained but pulled the hatch open. A ladder plunged into the darkness beyond, and he quickly descended. Once he hit the hard packed dirt at the bottom, he drew his sword. He gave his eyes a moment to adjust as well as they could to the gloom and once he could see well enough that he didn’t fear running into anything, he plunged into the murky depths of the tunnel.
Below ground, the sound of the fighting up top was blotted out and Struan found himself encased in an eerie silence broken only by the sound of his breath, quick and shallow. The tunnel was sloped upward and after several minutes, Struan found himself at a doorway. His stomach churned, not knowing what lay beyond it. Gripping his sword tighter, he drew in a deep breath then let it out slowly.
It’s time tae get me braither back…
Struan pulled the lever and heard a sharp click. A moment later, the door swung outward, and he moved swiftly through it. He strained his ears and reached out with his senses but heard nor felt anything. He was alone in a large stone chamber with rows of cells lining it on both sides of him. It was dark in there aswell, but it was light enough for him to tell the secret passageway opened into the keep’s dungeons.
A low, rough laugh echoed around the room. Struan’s heart leapt into his throat, and he spun around, blade raised. A match was struck and a moment later, an oil lantern was lit, dispelling the shadows at the far end, revealing Dougal MacPherson. But it was who knelt on the ground beside him, bound in chains that captured Struan’s attention.
“Finlay,” he gasped.
Dougal’s blade rested on his brother’s shoulder, the edge of it pressed against the side of his neck. Struan knew that one quick flick of the wrist would open his neck, and he would bleed out. Finaly was thinner than the last time he’d seen him. He bore some bruises on his face and he was pale and gaunt, but otherwise looked better than he’d expected him to. His eyes glimmered in the light of the lamp, and he shook his head, desperation on his face.
“Ye shouldnae have come fer me, Braither,” Finlay said, his voice hoarse and ragged.
“And yet, I kenned he would,” Dougal said with a laugh. “Yer braither is yer weakness. The one thing in this world that would make ye dae somethin’ stupid. And ye did.”
“Let him go,” Struan said, his voice tight. “Yer fight is with me.”
Rage burned through Struan’s veins. His heart pounded in his ears, and he felt the blackest of furies settling down over him. Dougal pushed Finlay down, then slowly advanced on him. The light from the lamp gleaming off the edge of his long and slightly curved blade.
“Come on then,” Struan said.
With a howl of fury, Dougal charged in. Sparks flew when their blades met and they exchanged blows, neither of them getting close to scoring a hit. Struan feinted left, then came back around and sliced, a blow that would have disemboweled Dougal. But he was ready for it and turned his blade aside. He stepped backward a few steps and laughed.
“Ye’re slow and predictable, Struan,” he said. “I’m startin’ tae think ye’re nae the warrior Murdoch claimed ye tae be.”
Dougal charged in, raining down overhanded blows that forced Struan to defend. With his arms up though, he left his midsection exposed and Dougal, quick as a viper, drew his dagger and thrust for his belly. Struan saw the flash of steel a moment before the hit landed and was able to turn himself. The edge of the blade sliced along his oblique, opening a shallow furrow. Struan grunted as warm, thick blood spilled down his side, but he was able to spin away.
With a laugh, Dougal held the dagger up and admired the edge of it, painted red with Struan’s blood. His eyes narrowed and a look of almost rapture crossed his face. It was as if the scent ofblood excited the man. Struan clenched his jaw and shut out the stinging pain. Dougal raised his eyes to Struan and smiled.
“’Tis such a lovely shade of red, eh?” he purred.
“Ye talk too much,” he replied. “Let’s get on with it.”
“In a hurry tae die?”
“If it means nae havin’ tae listen tae ye runnin’ yer gob anymore, then aye.”
Struan roared and rushed in, delivering a series of thrusts and slashes that Dougal was able to parry—though just barely. Fueled by rage and determination to not let this man succeed, he fought like a man possessed. His blade flashed and spun; sparks flew as he connected with Dougal’s sword. The man’s reactions slowed and his face glistened with beads of sweat as he was forced to defend against Struan’s fury.
With a last burst, Dougal went on the offensive again, slashing with his dagger as he brought his sword down in overhanded arcs. Though tiring, the man was still fast enough that if Struan’s concentration flagged for even a moment, he would be in great danger.
As if he sensed victory was at hand, Dougal’s maniacal laughter rang in his ears. His overconfidence though, was his undoing.
I willnae let him win…
Dougal brought his sword down in an arc meant to cleave Struan’s skull, but he saw it coming and was able to sidestep it. His blade rang off the stone floor where Struan had just been standing, throwing him off balance. Struan seized the moment and stepped forward, driving the point of his blade into the man’s chest. He gasped and a wet, gurgling sound rose in his throat. Struan drove it into him harder, the point of his blade erupting from his back.
“Served ye about right.”
Dougal looked up at him, his eyes wide in disbelief. Struan smiled coldly at him then ripped the blade from the man’s body, letting him fall to the ground where he lay still. He watched for a moment as a crimson pool spread out beneath him.
Struan looked up to see his brother staring back at him, his eyes wide and filled with a renewed light of hope. His smile trembled and his eyes glistened with tears. Struan rushed over to him and used the pommel of his blade to break the shackles that held him. He helped Finlay to his feet, encouraging him to move slowly.
