Mist Warrior (53 page)
David and his father entered with two men, leaving one outside the door and the last holding the horses. Branan wait
ed
until he heard voices in the hovel. Then he made a soft whistle through his teeth, like a tiny cricket chirping. Shadows moved in the woods around him, ghostly and without substance.
The man guarding the horses dropped silently, his throat slit
,
and
the same fate quickly followed
for
the m
an at the door. Branan heard another soft cricket sound and stalked from his hiding place.
Branan's men covered the windows while Branan
,
with Duguald, Gavin
,
and the Scotsmen gathered at the door.
Inside
,
he heard the voices rise in heated discussion.
Branan nodded at Duguald.
With a roar
,
Duguald broke the door down and lunged through, Branan and Ga
vin followed. Duguald
killed one of the guards before the man's sword cleared his scabbard. Gavin fell on the second and Branan's gaze locked on the stooped man only a pace away. Strickland.
The man who murdered his parents.
Branan lifted his claymore.
The stooped man straightened, throwing back his cloak. Dimly, Branan's mind registered that old man Strickland had suddenly turned into an unfamiliar giant knig
ht;
one who pointed a crossbow at him.
In less than a heartbeat, Branan's thoughts also told him to stop
,
but it was too late for his body to listen. In the midst of his swing, the bolt launched from the bow and slammed into Branan's right shoulder, staggering him back a pace. Pain blasted through him and his hand went numb
. H
is claymore hit the floor with a dull thud.
Stunned, Branan focused on David
,
who grinned maniacally. The
n
Branan
saw the m
a
n he
had
thought was the Jewish money-lender. Honend"e wore armor and also lifted a crossbow. The bolt sailed past Branan, narrowly missing his head, and struck a man behind him.
He heard shouts and battle cries outside–the sound of men dying.
A bloody trap!
Another man charged him and Branan simply reacted. Fury at his own stupidity surged through him. Branan drew his dagger with his left hand and roared. His vision tinted red, his fists flew with devastating effect. He felt no pain, he knew only burning rage.
They would kill him this night,
but he vowed he would take David with him
,
even if he had to do it with his bare hands.
****
Catriona sat at the table to eat when Edmund burst through the door.
“
My lady,
”
he cried, the alarm in his voice uncharacteristically ill contained.
“
Your brother and Jamie approach.
”
Terror shot through her. She had been expecting some sort of word on Branan's foray against Strickland
,
but now knew something was terribly wrong.
She bolted to her feet and ran after Edmund.
“
We were just closing the gates for the night,
”
Edmund said
. H
e paused only to take her arm while descending the narrow flight of stairs to the bailey.
“
We heard a hail. Your brother is leading the mount with Jamie slumped over the back.
”
“
Oh God,
”
she whispered, reaching the last stair and sprinting for the gates.
She saw Gavin and his state nearly made her scream. Blood soaked his left arm, his hair and the left side of his face. He led the horse
,
but had flung his right arm over its neck. Both he and the horse limped badly. Jamie, as Edmund had said, was slumped over the back, his plaid dark with blood. It took a moment for her to realize
,
he was tied to the saddle.
Four more men followed, all woundwedze=ed badly, barely able to keep their feet.
“
Branan?
”
she whispered.
“
Where is he?
”
But her question went unanswered as a low rumbling sound caught her attention.
Greystoke
tore his
focus
away from the wounded and stared into the darkness. Suddenly his face lost all color.
“
Close the gates!
”
he roared and grabbed Catriona's arm. Without so much as a by your leave, he hauled Catriona back toward the keep.
“
Close the gates!
”
he bellowed again.
“
Greystoke
,
”
she gasped, trying to wrench free from him.
“
What's wrong with you?
”
The rumble grew louder. The gates slowly swung closed
,
but a rider burst through, trampling two wounded men. He carried a javelin and galloped straight to the windlass that control
led the gates and portcullis. The rider
jammed
the javelin
into the machinery
,
which ground to a halt.
“
Get those gates closed!
”
Greystoke
barked.
“
Form a shield wall, get pikes on the line. Prepare for cavalry!
”
More horses galloped through the gates
,
followed by men at arms. They slew everyone within reach. Another horse charged in
,
but slid to a stop and reared. Strickland satStrh. Another on
its
back, his dark eyes glittering with hatred. Catriona's blood ran cold. He was supposed to be at the meeting with the money-lender. A trap, she belatedly realized, Branan
had fallen into a trap and was probably dead. That's why Gavin
had
returned in such a state.
Greystoke
hauled her into the keep and shoved her toward the stairs.
“
Lock yourself in the solar,
”
he said and threw the bar on the door.
“
The escape route is worthless since Strickland knows about it.
”
“
Branan,
”
she whispered, tears coming to her eyes.
“
He's probably dead.
”
“
We don't know that,
”
Greystoke
snapped.
“
But it matters not, I swore an oath to him that I would defend you with my life and I will uphold that oath. Now go!
”
A sharp thud sounded against the door and
Greystoke
readied his sword.
Catriona fled up the stairs, her heart screaming
Branan’s name
in agony.
Unleashed
Branan slammed into the hard stone floor and lay still for a moment. Blinding pain cut through his skull and blood streamed into his eyes. Heavy manacles bound his wrists with a length of chain between them
. H
e could not find the strength to lif
t his hands and wipe it away. Branan
from the sword wound
. It bled copiously, soaking his trews. The barb of the crossbow bolt remained embedded in his shoulder. Three gashes
,
about the size of the span of his hand
,
angled
across his chest
and
also bled
heavily
. Someo
ne grabbed the chain linking Branan’s
manacles together and dragged him across the floor. He groaned as the action sent new waves of pain through him.
He tried to pull his wits together. The chain on his manacles was heavy and about twice as long as he was tall
,
with a ring
sliding over the links
. A soldier yanked
the ring
over
Branan’s
head, hauling violently on his arms
. A second man took a heavy sledge, a spiked hook in his left hand,
and pounded the
hook with the ring
into the mortar of the stone wall.
“
You're awake,
”
a voice growled. A booted foot slammed into
Branan’s
jaw, snapping his head back. Stars exploded in h
is vision and darkness hazed the edges of his vision
.
“
Cease,
”
a voice barked.
“
I need him conscious for this.
”
Branan fought back the blackness
, again trying to blink his vision clear. Slowly
,
he focused on someone standing a few paces away. Strickland watched him, his lip curled into a sneer
,
his dark eyes glittering with hatred
. Next to him stood a short man;
his bastard heir. David's body was squat and thick
,
but by no means fat. Branan had discovered that fact when the bull had charged and tackled him, taking
Branan
out of the fight completely.
His awareness expanded, acknowledging his surroundings. Strickland walked to a
chair at the high table and sat-in a
chai
r with Branan's heraldic device
.
Branan blinked, certain his eyes deceived him.
T
his was not the great hall in Penrith castle. Horror blazed a mindless p
ath through Branan
. This was the great hall at Brackenburgh.