Highlander Enchanted(74)

“Ye betray him and his father by fighting his sister,” Cade replied.

The knight’s sword lowered. His gaze was troubled, distrusting of Cade yet torn by his sense of duty. “I stood by once when Lady Isabel was in danger,” he said finally. “I cannot do it again.” He offered Cade a hand and pulled him up.

Cade steadied himself and nodded. “I willna forget this.”

“I would hope not. I may have no home to return to after this.” A flicker of mirth was in the older man’s gaze.

One of the guards glanced back then whirled with a shout.

The master-at-arms shoved a sheathed short sword at Cade and whirled, slashing one challenger down before locking swords with the other. Battle lust flooded him, and Cade pushed his fatigued body to fight. He and the knight hacked through the guards and those allies who chose to remain rather than flee.

Breathless, Cade leaned heavily against the horse he had been riding.

The knight stood beside him, observing those in the valley.

All but Isabel and another warrior had left the ridge opposite them and barreled down into the valley, striking while the first line of Laird Duncan’s army was in disarray. Trees, rocks and mud continued to assist the seillie and MacDonald warriors. A low fog bloomed into existence suddenly and spread until it covered the entirety of the valley, blinding Cade’s enemies.

“This is not natural,” the knight muttered.

“’Tis not,” Cade agreed. He straightened, keen mind acknowledging the seillie tactics would work well for a quick battle, but they would need more than mud to drive Laird Duncan from their lands. “Ye ‘ave a name?”

“Geoffrey.”

“Cade.”

“Can you ride, Cade?”

He nodded and mounted his horse. Settling with the short sword in one hand, his gaze locked on Richard’s knights, headed up the opposite ridgeline towards Isabel and her single guardian. Fear tore through him, driving back his weariness.

“Ride, Geoffrey!” he said and kicked his heels into the horse’s sides.

Cade raced down the hill, whispering for the seillie magic of his clan not to impede his path. Boulders rolled away, and mud solidified into dirt beneath his horse’s hooves. The tree trunks had not made it this far down the valley, but the fog parted for him to pass through it.

Reaching the lines of Laird Duncan’s men, he began to hack and maneuver his way through the warriors, followed closely by Geoffrey. The fire of battle lust drove him beyond his exhaustion. The men of clans MacLachlainn and MacDonald fought a short distance ahead of them, striking Laird Duncan’s men under the cover of seillie treachery. Cade guided his horse with his knees in their direction. His short sword was light enough for his tired body to handle but also made it far more difficult to slay those before him. It did not sweep off men’s heads with one stroke. It barely kilt men with a single stab, and he was soon frustrated by the small weapon.

Reaching a pocket of quiet, Cade glanced up.

Isabel and her guardian were charging down the hill, fleeing the English knights pursuing her.

“Brian!” he bellowed and held his breath, uncertain where his cousin was on the battlefield.

“Yea!” the answer was faint, distant.

“Isabel!”

Cade plunged back into the battle, fixated on the scarlet cloak visible through the fog. Swords sliced his arms and legs, but he forced himself onward, maiming and killing as he went, unable to think of anything other than Isabel in danger.

A surge of Laird Duncan’s warriors fleeing boulders or mud or some other seillie treachery smashed into him and carried him away from Isabel, towards the center of the battle. Cade’s horse went down under the retreat of the panicked men. His own fall was broken by the body of a warrior, and Cade scrambled up quickly to avoid being stampeded. The wave of men slammed into another large group before stopping. Cade staggered and struggled to find his footing. His weapon was gone, and a quick look left him dismayed.

He was too far to help Isabel, whose attackers were closing in.

With a roar, he shoved those nearest him away and snatched a sword from the hand of a dead warrior, stumbling and fighting as he plummeted through the bodies towards the scarlet cloak. He scanned those between him and her with desperation, praying to find a familiar face. Blood poured into his eyes from a cut across his temple, and he swiped it away.

Fear and anger fed his strength, kept him on his feet when the muscles of his arms and legs burned and quaked. The shouts of men and clash of weapons faded until it was a dull roar, and all he heard was his haggard breathing.

He saw naught but the scarlet cloak and slashed at anything that came between him and it. His own body was beginning to slide from his control, and he stumbled often enough for new pain to shoot through him.

The scarlet cloak disappeared once, and he panicked, screaming for Isabel at the top of his lungs.

Onward he plowed through the men, driven by the madness and unseillie magic that were quickly becoming his only buffer against collapsing.

At long last, Cade broke free of the battle and sprinted. The fog cleared for him, displaying the scarlet cloak once more.

She was kneeling on the ground, surrounded by the English knights, with a furious Richard pacing before her.

Isabel disappeared from his view as another swarm of men came between them. Cade hacked and shoved his way through them, relying on brute force. He dropped to his knees as he emerged on the other side and struggled to catch his breath.