Chapter 27
The footsteps rushing through the hall created a backdrop of what sounded like drums, and Keegan hurried to the north side of the wall as quickly as his legs could carry him. Exertion already burned in his muscles, but there was enough at stake that he paid little attention to the strain.
As he crested the turn around the final section of the hallway that led to the external stairs to the wall, Keegan saw Rodrick dashing down from the opposite side.
“Me laird!” He called, and the two of them drove themselves faster toward each other to meet in the middle. “What’s happened? I heard of an incomin' threat? What is all this?”
Keegan reached for Rodrick’s arm, clasping it as he pulled the man close.
Battle was a strange sort of dance or game.
While he was aware that there was danger, Keegan knew that he could only allow himself to acknowledge it to a certain degree.
If you were to dwell too much on the potential outcome, allowing fear to cloud your judgment, it would be the death of you.
“Melissa,” Keegan locked eyes with Rodrick when they pulled back from each other, “have ye secured her?”
Rodrick nodded. “She is bein' escorted to yer room to reside with yer wife.”
“Good.” Keegan worked his stare over the men lining up on the wall and just beyond it. “We daenae have enough. If Magnus is attackin' with the entirety of his forces…”
Rodrick cast a stern look over the warriors among them. While the man was skilled at keeping his expression neutral or even jovial, there was no mistaking how his brow ticked down.
“Yer orders?”
Keegan sucked in a deep breath. “Keep the forces here. I shall go out to meet the bastard. If he drops, I ken the others willnae risk their lives. We must focus on ending that bloody Magnus once and for all.”
“Aye, me laird. I will be at yer side.” The two of them stared out over the open area in front of the wall, the darkness clouding the area and creating limited visibility. “How will we ken when he—”
But before Rodrick could finish his inquiry, the sky lit up with pockmarks of yellow amid the blackened sky. They grew, long tails streaking behind them as they rushed forward through the air, and Keegan’s stomach dropped.
“Archers!” He yanked Rodrick down toward the wall, taking cover near the stones. “Get down!”
The words were out with just enough time to keep too many of his men from falling prey to the flaming arrows. Still, they stuck into the thatch and softer materials of the castle, slowly setting fire to anything that might catch.
“Bloody bastard!” Keegan cried out, roaming his eyes over the wall to see if his own archers were in place. “Return fire at will! Daenae let the night hinder ye!”
Many of his men took heed of the call, gripping and yanking free some of the flaming arrows near them and returning fire with them.
It secured much greater visibility, lighting some of the dry patches before the castle ablaze.
It would be a problem to let it burn for too long, but first things first.
“We cannae just light up the fields,” Keegan grumbled to himself, trying to parse out another move. “We must find a way to see the bastards as they approach.”
The seconds dragged on, and another volley of arrows flew over their head. Conveniently in a way, one landed in a cart of hay set out for the horses, and as it erupted into flames, an idea struck. Keegan hopped to his feet, rushing down the stairs to the main courtyard.
“Set the wagons on fire with the arrows! Shove them out into the field!”
He’d curated a trust in his judgment over the years, and his men leaped into action to heed his command.
Several bodies rushed about in a chaotic but purposeful mission to seize the still-burning arrows and load up the hay carts with them.
When the flames were roaring high, they all worked as a team to shove the wagons through the main door while Keegan’s own archers defended it.
“Get them out into the field! Use the light and fight these bloody McCallums back!” Keegan surged forward, helping Rodrick and some others to push the first cart through. “Buaidh no Bàs!”
“Buaidh no Bàs!” his warriors returned, and the frenzy of battle filled Keegan’s blood as potent and more than the strongest liquor.
His arms burned as they heaved the weighed-down cart forward, and in a rumbling thunder, the wheels took off through the field in front of the castle and tore off down the small hill’s decline.
Keegan brandished his sword raising it overhead, and he ran up the back of the wagon through the flames to jump from the front. His screaming call caught the attention of three McCallum warriors hunkering down in the dark, and he was on them like a demon bursting from the inferno behind him.
The billowing heat was intense, but Keegan hadn’t remained in danger long enough to get burned, and the surprise drop he earned over the small group of men was well worth it.
He swung down through one man as they all gaped at him, in awe of the sight, and Keegan’s first opponent was down in one clean slice.
“Ye will face only death today!” He cried out to the warriors in front of him and the other that were now being lit up by the three, then four, more burning wagons that created a blanket of visibility. “I wouldnae put it past ye to run now. But ye will not take me land or the spirit of me people.”
The display was enough to have several of those gathered glancing about at each other, second thoughts about the success of this attack infecting them. A handful, perhaps five or so, did turn tail and run, and Keegan was glad for it. Any reduction in number would benefit him.
Still, the others sunk into their haunches, ready to give their lives.
“So be it.”
Rushing forward, the line of McCallum men flooded toward Keegan and his assembled forces. They were like great waves on the ocean crashing into each other, the clang of their swords, the white caps of foam exploding out from the abrupt collision.
“Keegan!” Rodrick called out, and he looked back over his shoulder at his man-at-arms, who was pointing to the east side of the castle.
Enemy warriors were scrambling to the bolted doors, trying to break their way inside. He hadn’t deployed all his men to his location, and Keegan ground his teeth.
“We cannae divert. We must find and take down Magnus. It is our best option.”
Rodrick nodded, understanding flashing over his face. They would lose some in the castle. There was no way around it. Because if they split up, if they let Magnus push forward through this line, it would be the end of the entire Brahanne clan.
Refocusing, Keegan turned his attention to the encroaching soldiers rushing down from the tree line ahead. At the front, he could see one very particular man astride a horse. He sprinted forward along with a handful of other cavalry fighters, and Keegan glared, his stomach clenching down hard.
“There!” The laird pointed. “Magnus! Prepare for riders!”
The men next to him stepped a ways back, but not without tossing the spears strapped to their backs into the ground at sharp angles. The horses would not see them until it was too late. Or at least, that is what they all hoped.
Booming blows struck the earth as the horses’ hooves smashed into the dirt and brought them closer. Keegan and the others needed to wait to see if they would stumble over the trap.
“Wait, men. Hold this line until they tumble.” He did not shout, and the tension in Keegan’s spine bit down. “Ye will hold this line. Ye will nae allow them any closer. This is our home. Our castle. And ye will defend it.”
An eerie silence—the calm before a lightning strike—gripped the men. Keegan watched intently, gripping his sword so that the edges of the wrappings dug into his hand.
Closer. Just a bit closer now.
The calvary hit the line of spears, and the leading horse—Magnus’s man-at-arms—hit the spears first. It buckled as the point jabbed into its shoulder, and then it was up arse over head.
The spill was enough to trip up some of the other riders as well, and those who did not hit the spears were forced off course to divert out of the way of the falling horses.
“Now!”
They all dove into the chaotic mess of limbs and whinnies, striking down the fallen soldiers and weeding through the McCallum calvary until they reached the heart of his men.
The battle was brutal in moments; ferocious attacks and gruesome deaths dealt in seconds as the fight between the two clans came to a head.
But there simply weren’t enough of Keegan’s men.
Still, more warriors poured down from the treeline, and Keegan feared for the worst. He would go out on his feet, as any Laird and warrior wishes, but he couldn’t deny how he already ached for missing Willow.
Be safe, lass. Please, God, let her be safe.
“Ye think ye can stop me, ye bastard whelp!”
Keegan turned over his shoulder to see the mad frenzy in Magnus’s stare.
He rushed toward him, his blade raised high over his head.
Facing the man, Keegan prepared to stand off against his lifelong foe, but another warrior from his left jumped into his peripheral vision, slicing his dirk through Keegan’s bicep.
He hissed, swinging a fist into the man’s face as he blocked the strike of his sword with his strong arm.
The warrior’s head jacked back only a bit as Keegan punched him.
He could still hear Magnus running toward him from his other side.
It was an unlucky situation. Defending himself would be all the harder, and even a tiny opening would be enough for Magnus to end him now.
Dammit. Think Keegan!
The flaring noise of a horn burst through the night from just to the west of the tree line. Momentum froze, and all eyes looked to the source of the sound. Cresting over the other side of the hill, several riders funneled into the battlefield, heading straight toward Keegan’s location.
“Buaidh no Bàs!”