Chapter 28
“Ye willnae escape yer fate, Magnus!” Keegan dashed across the bloodied grass, closing the distance between them. “Turn and face me!”
The coward didn’t seem bothered by the notion that he was retreating, that he couldn’t be strong enough to face the wrath that he’d earned through his horrendous actions over the years. Magnus didn’t stop, rushing forward and shoving warriors between him and Keegan at every opportunity.
It didn’t matter if they were McCallum or Brahanne; Magnus looked to sacrifice anyone he could to give himself even just a few more moments of life. Keegan dodged them, winding through the bodies as he drove forward toward his final opponent.
“Ye are a coward!”
Keegan took a blade, stuck into the ground by a fallen warrior, and threw it into the side of a wagon up ahead.
It diverted Magnus’s retreat, steering him back toward the castle as Keegan hoped.
The laird was right on his heels when Magnus foolishly darted further into the hectic center of battle, and he was forced to stop.
The world dropped away, and Keegan stood face-to-face with the man.
He could see the blood-stained brow of his father, struck down heartlessly with a knife in his back.
He could see his mother just a few feet from his father’s body, how he’d clearly been trying to save her, and how it didn’t matter because Magnus had run both of them through.
On a day that was meant to be about peace, no less.
It was hard to understand how much evil could be contained in such a simple-looking vessel.
Magnus stood a few inches shorter than Keegan, and he didn’t possess as much muscle strapped to his frame.
And yet, the man was menacing, staring out with those hazel eyes that looked too much like Willow’s.
He was favoring his injured side, still recovering from the last time that they’d fought.
“Ye havenae any more claim to this land than anyone else, Brahanne! It should belong to them who’s strong enough to seize it!”
The wind blew, ruffling through the sweat-drenched blond locks at the top of Magnus’s head. Keegan could feel the chill of it dance over his own flushed skin, a minute relief from the heat that swelled through his blood.
“Me family has been tendin' to this land for generations, Magnus.” Keegan’s voice was low and strong, carrying with it the memories of pain that haunted him each day. “Ye willnae have somethin' simply because ye wish it so.”
“I will achieve greatness! I will fulfill the great work of me faither! I willnae let a single thing stand in me way to doing so!” He sneered, the malicious gleam in his eyes as bright as ever. “Yer parents will attest to that! And yer brother! Yer clan! And yer sweet little Willow!”
Keegan charged forward. Furious grief and anger so powerful that it nearly made him sick funneled through his blood—hot and consuming and unyielding. Swinging his blade in a low arch, Keegan targeted Magnus’s legs.
Just in time, the man threw himself to the side, rolling across the grass before scrambling up to his feet once more.
As Keegan bolted toward him again, Magnus swung his own blade up, flinging up dirt as it carved through the topsoil and right in front of Keegan’s face.
He was barely able to shrink back enough to keep his face from being split in two.
But the move also opened Magnus’s opposite side for an attack, so Keegan lunged to the side and jabbed his sword forward.
He made contact but only slightly.
Magnus swung back around, and Keegan was forced into a backward roll, the edge of Magnus’s weapon glancing across Keegan’s shoulder. He hissed, gripping the spot as they squared off once more.
“Ye ken that Willow was still a virgin.” Keegan pulled his hand away, glancing down at the bright red smear across his palm. “The MacMillan…they had nay way of sayin' so for certain. Ye told them so that they might cancel the engagement. Dinnae ye?”
Scoffing as if he actually had the gall to be offended, Magnus put a hand to his chest, feigning such hurt.
“Come now. Can ye truly think so little of me?”
Dropping his head and sinking his weight into the balls of his feet, Keegan glared all the harder. “Yes.”
He lashed out, launching one, two, then three attacks at Magnus. The other Laird barely managed to parry them, but the bastard had done enough to keep himself out of harm’s way.
“Ha!” Magnus chuckled wildly. “Well, alas, I’m afraid that the MacMillans simply dinnae wish to be parted from their bit of land after all.”
Wiping the sweat from his brow, Magnus flicked his straggly bangs back from his face.
“Land?” Keegan’s brow furrowed deeply, and he didn’t dismiss the notion that the bastard could very well just be taunting him into letting his guard drop. “What on earth are ye blatherin' on about?”
“Och, of course. Where are me manners?” Magnus circled the sword over his head before bringing it down, and Keegan countered with a strong block.
“I forgot to mention that they would be giving me a portion of their land for the dowry. When they saw how verra upset I was to be losing such a prize—and perhaps nae that concerned over Willow’s fate—they said they dinnae wish to go through with it after all.
Can ye imagine? Such an insult to me clever thinkin'.”
Keegan’s arms shook as he held off Magnus’s attack, but the laird was stronger than his competition, and he was able to throw the man back.
“I can imagine nae wantin' to be associated with someone who cares more for a piece of land than his own sister. Aye.” Keegan shook his shoulders, forcing himself to ignore the fatigue that was grinding on his muscles.
“Yer ‘clever’ thinkin' is a polite way to disguise yer lack of consideration for yer own family or anyone else’s.
All ye care about is seizin' more territory.”
Magnus stepped back once, looking over the battle that raged all around them. After a moment, he met Keegan’s eyes again, an unsettling grin pinned to his face.
“Why, Laird Brahanne, ye’ve finally figured that out.” He swung his sword in his grip, watching the movement before sneering at Keegan. “How unfortunate as ye’ll be meeting yer end and nae able to use the knowledge to yer advantage.”
With that, Magnus rushed forward, jabbing his blade in a snapping attack forward. Keegan jumped out of the path, knocking Magnus’s sword to the side before circling it back around to slice through the man’s extended arm.
He screamed, reeling backward, and Magnus gripped at the slash, coating his hand in blood.
“Would ye nae do me a kindness,” his voice was rough, the screech filling the field around them, “and just die!”
Magnus lunged, and Keegan was only barely able to duck out of the way.
As it was, the move sent Keegan into the muddy ground, and his body ached from the abrupt stop.
He’d been injured himself, and the cuts and bruises each burned in their own unending sting that nearly overpowered the fury driving Keegan to keep going.
As Keegan got his wits about him, Magnus slammed down over the top of him, and Laird Brahanne threw up his blade at the last moment to block his opponent’s attack. The clang of their swords rang out into the night, and Keegan could see the crazed look in Magnus’s eyes despite the low light.
They scrambled through the dirt, spinning and toppling over each other until Keegan was butted up against the side of a wheel, his sword flung out of his grip and several yards away.
One of the flaming wagons was just beside him, and the heat from the roaring fire was disgustingly intense at this proximity.
He could feel it dry out his eyes, making them ache for moisture.
“I will be Laird of all Scotland!” Magnus screamed, his rational mind evidently left far behind. “Nae a single man will stand in me way!”
Magnus stabbed down, and Keegan jerked his head to the side. The sword sliced into the ground. It gave Keegan the chance to knock Magnus away from it, and he palmed the side of the man’s face, shoving it toward the wagon’s side.
It hit with a thud, making Magnus faltered, and Keegan surged up, snatching the blade for himself.
Roaring back at him, blood dripping down the side of his face, Magnus pulled his smaller dirk from his belt.
But this was done, and Keegan sliced across the back of Magnus’s hand, forcing him to drop the knife.
“Ye…” He sneered, his wild stare penetrating into Keegan’s skull. “Ye think that this is yer win? Ye will never be a true laird. Ye are a fool, and ye willnae keep this land forever.”
Keegan held up the blade, leveling it at Magnus’s sternum as he stood pinned back against the wagon. There was no escaping his fate this time, and Keegan focused on Magnus, unblinking, as he finished their arduous fight once and for all.
“This is me home, and I will defend it as long as I am able. But…”
Taking a step forward, Keegan began to steadily push the point of the sword into Magnus’s chest. He hollered and gripped the blade, his failing strength not strong enough to stop its inexorable journey through him.
“Unlike yerself, Magnus, securing me land isnae the most crucial thing to me. I am here to defend nay solely the earth beneath me feet,” Keegan shoved harder, sinking the blade in and causing Magnus to cough up a glob of blood, “but the people who stand on it. We willnae bow to the likes of ye or any other who has no value for family and clan.”
“Ye’re…” Magnus could hardly speak now. “Ye’re…soft. J-Just like…yer whore.”
The sword jutted forward, making a fiendish noise of tearing viscera before it sunk into the wood behind Magnus and secured him to the burning wagon.
“Ye willnae speak of Willow like that again.” He leaned in, twisting the blade as he whispered into Magnus’s ear.
“And ye will die with this knowledge. Ye have underestimated yer sister’s worth.
Both of them, in fact. And now, the McCallum line will end with ye.
Willow is a Brahanne this day, and there are none of yer family who will carry on yer name. ”
Keegan worked the blade through Magnus until the hilt hit his breastbone. His ragged cries soared off into the night before the end finally claimed him. The fire taking the wagon he was pinned to blazed higher, and Keegan was forced to stand back from the scorching heat.
It would claim Magnus’s body, and Keegan would let it.
“Me laird!”
He spun around to the sound of Rodrick’s voice, and he saw his man-at-arms still trying to get Damon off the field and to the healer. The soldiers around him blocked the path, but as Keegan roared the Brahanne war cry, they turned to him, seeing their fallen Laird McCallum being engulfed in flames.
“Ye will leave this land and never return!” He gestured back toward Magnus. “Lest ye be wishing to join yer former laird in the ground!”
Swords dropped to the ground, and the warriors made their retreat—defeated this final time. They wouldn’t dare to return, after all, not after today.
Keegan rushed to Rodrick and Damon, helping to scoop up his brother. There was still too much red, and they needed to get him to the healed as quickly as possible or—
No. Keegan would not even let himself think it, but there was no denying the gravity of the situation.
“Keegan…” Damon’s voice was a ghost of its former self.
“Shh,” Keegan urged. “Save yer strength. We’re gettin' ye to the healer.”
Rodrick eyed Keegan across Damon’s fallen head, his expression devastating in its seriousness. Keegan just shook his head. They would not entertain that notion. Damon was making it off this battlefield safely, and they would restore him to full health.
He couldn’t lose another one of his family to Magnus’s plots. He just…couldn’t.
“I have him, Rodrick. Find Willow. Melissa and Lilith. I need to know of their safety. Understood?”
There was a hesitation, but then Rodrick nodded. “Aye.”
Without a further word, he sprinted ahead of the laird, and Keegan hurried with his brother toward the healer’s room.
Nae a one of ye. I’m nae losing a one of ye.