Page 135 of Bride of Mist
“Adam retrieved it, searchin’ for rats in Gaufrid’s bedchamber.” She furrowed puzzled brows at that. But there was no time to explain. “Come on.”
She flipped the dagger once in her hand, clearly eager to use it. “What do we do now?”
“The battle has begun,” he said, nodding toward the yard below.
Her face fell as she peered down at the chaos in the courtyard. “Twelve of my clan against an army of mercenaries?”
“Not exactly.” He threw back his hood and gave her a wink. “Follow me.”
Fergus couldn’t understand what had gone wrong.
How his perfect plans had gone to shite.
He’d wasted two years of his life kissing Gaufrid’s arse while carefully keeping him under his thumb.
He’d proved his loyalty, incinerating an entire town under a false banner just to rid Gaufrid of his meddlesome brother.
He’d sent Dougal to certain death at the hands of the savage Rivenloch clan. And though the devil had inexplicably dodged that fate, Fergus had at least managed to lock him behind bars.
Fergus had assembled a host of mercenaries unlike any in the Highlands. An army to strike fear into the hearts of anyone who even thought of infiltrating Darragh. Bloodthirsty thugs, miscreants, and outlaws who wouldn’t squirm when it came to ruthless slaughter.
He’d unmasked the pesky wench who’d followed Dougal home and managed to leverage her as a hostage against one of the richest border clans in all of Scotland. And even though Gaufrid had had to spill her blood when Rivenloch refused to ransom her, Fergus would still profit handsomely off their horses and armor, once they were defeated.
Theywouldbe defeated. Theyhadto be.
Fergus was admittedly shaken by the fact that someone on the inside had let Rivenloch through the gates. Still, there were only a dozen enemy warriors. Darragh’s forces numbered over a hundred. Defeating the piddling company should be child’s play for his mercenaries.
Why then was he staring down at a bloody tangle of perplexing mayhem in the courtyard?
As he hurried along the perimeter of the wall walk with Gaufrid and Morris, insulated by burly guards at their fore and aft, he squinched his eyes at the pandemonium below.
And suddenly he saw it.
Servants who should have been cowering in corners, hiding inside the hall, hunkering down in the safe havens of the stables and storerooms, were instead pouring out of the keep to join the fray.
At first, he assumed it was some sort of spontaneous uprising. Weary of subservience, the peasants were apparently taking advantage of the attack on the keep to stage an overthrow.
Their efforts were doomed to fail, of course. They would die, as any untrained commoner would, on the blades of hardened soldiers, crushed by the boots of men who lived and breathed warfare.
But looking closer, he saw that was not the situation. And when he perceived the truth, it felt as if claws of ice clenched his heart.
The servants throwing back their hoods to join the fray looked like no peasants he’d seen before. If he’d given them a second glance, entering the great hall this morn, he might have noticed they were not the usual servants.
These men and women wore chain mail beneath their cloaks. They were broad-shouldered and tall in stature. They brandished, not the mallets of blacksmiths or the fire irons of kitchen lads, but the fine steel swords of seasoned warriors.
A half dozen, then a dozen, then more of the armored fighters unsheathed and engaged his mercenaries. Some wore grizzled beards. Some were beardless youths. Some were maids, as fierce and vicious as the men. They roared and charged, lunged and slashed, felling his knights as if they were pawns in a game of draughts.
“What’s happened?” Gaufrid squeaked as they scurried toward the stairs at the remote end of the wall walk.
Fergus, too upset to explain, merely growled at the whimpering laird. “Just go!”
“Where are we goin’?” Morris asked.
“Down the stairs,” Fergus snapped.
Where they would go after that, he didn’t know. It was clear something had gone very wrong. Who the imposters were, he could guess. It had to be Rivenloch’s forces that had infiltrated the ranks of the mac Darragh clan.
But how? And how many were there? Enough to overwhelm Gaufrid’s army? Enough to seize the castle? If Rivenloch had managed to steal inside the keep, was the castle surrounded? Were there more of them lurking in the wood?
