Chapter 23

Chapter Twenty-Three

James sat at the small table in the cell, watching as the light from the lamp flickered against the wet stone walls. He couldn't see outside, but even with an entire castle above him, he could hear the storm beginning. It was dark and ominous, and the smell hadn't gotten any easier to take in. Sitting there alone in the dungeons, he could almost hear the whisper cries of the ghosts of victims Angus had held down there.

A shiver went down his spine thinking that just the day before, the cells were full of people, his clan people. Waves of despair flooded him thinking of those souls murdered in the fields, their bodies burned in a pile. His family clan deserved more than that. Most people deserved more than that.

When James left, he knew his brother wouldn't make a good leader, but he had faith in the people of the clan, the elders, to steer him and help create a safe community. What James didn't foresee was the depth of evil that power would corrupt Angus with. He never, in his wildest dreams, thought that things would be as bad as they had become. He knew that was his own naivety. It was his want to see something good in his brother, but that was gone. He knew there was nothing left to save, so he had to save the clan.

The stone screeched as James pushed the chair back from the small table, walking over to the cot. He lifted up the blanket, staring down at his grandfather's sword. He wondered what his forefathers would think of taking his own blood's life with the sword that had, for generations, kept the clan safe and secure. Guilt riddled inside of him, but it wasn't nearly the amount of guilt he would feel if he were to leave them again. What if he failed at his duel, and left the clan and Blair in the hands of a madman?

As James reached for the sword, the sound of laughter echoed from the stairwell down the hall. James threw the blanket back over the sword and sat in the chair, staring at the lantern. The footsteps that grew closer were heavy, the sound of leather shuffling along the wet stone. Outside of the cell, a light lit up the wet stone walls across from his cell. James turned the flame down enough to keep eyes off of the cot.

Two men in guards' uniforms approached the cell doors. Both men were tall and muscular, one with a scar down his cheek. The scarred man smirked, tapping a key against the metal cage that James sat inside. "Lookie 'ere, just as we thought. Laird thought ye might 'ave been put in the guard's cell. Ye didn't actually think it'd keep ye safe did ye?"

James stayed perfectly calm, slowly standing from his chair. "Of course not. I also knew there was no way my brother would fight this duel fairly. Cowards rarely fight with honor, just like the ones that do their bidding."

Both men's faces fell. The other guard, not as bright as the scarred one, looked over at his partner. "Did he just call us cowards?"

"I believe he did," the scarred man replied, reaching through the bars with the key. "Funny, I couldn't figure out why Angus had a spare key made fer this thing so many years ago. I suppose so if a guard got locked in 'ere, he wouldn't rot, but this is definitely a better use."

He opened the door and walked inside, nodding to the other guard. "Hold him."

"How do ye plan to kill me then? Sword? How ye gonna explain that one, seein' ye burned all the other prisoners this morning?"

The scarred guard smirked as the other rounded James, grabbing his arms. He stood in front of James, shaking his head. "Angus wouldn't think of letting ye call him a coward, but he did have a message fer ye."

The guard reared back and swung, punching James across the face. Blood splattered from his mouth across the cell floor. The scarred guard put one hand on James' shoulder, whispering in his ear. "ye always did think ye were so special, a shinin' grace of the family. Arrogance gets ye killed."

James turned, staring at the side of the guard's face. "So does ignorance."

The guard swung again, punching James in the stomach. The other guard let him go, watching James fall to the floor. The scarred guard nodded to the other. "Do it."

The other guard blinked several times. "Are ye sure? I mean, he's pretty beat up already."

"DO IT!"

The scarred guard stepped back as the other stood next to James, pausing hesitantly for a moment before lifting his foot and slamming it hard down, onto James' hand. James gritted his teeth, grunting, not wanting to give the guards the satisfaction of hearing him scream. The scarred guard grabbed James' key from the table and they walked out, shutting and locking the door.

The scarred guard smiled at James. "Good luck swingin' yer sword with that hand. Υe should get it looked at by the healers. I'm sure they'd have some sort of elixir fer ye."

Both guards laughed and headed back toward the stairs. James sat back, grunting, pulling his throbbing hand into his lap. Blood spattered on the floor as James emptied his mouth, wiping his lips on the back of his sleeve. He wasn't surprised by the visit at all, and was quite surprised his brother had the willpower to not just have them kill him.

Many years had passed since he had left his clan, and James was starting to wonder just how good his brother had gotten with a sword. If he lost the fight, not only would his clan be under attack, but Blair's sisters would be doomed.

Blair followed behind McCleary to the bottom of the steps, periodically glancing behind her nervously. As McCleary stepped down, he stopped, putting his finger to his lips. He waved to her to follow him to the left. As Blair followed, she glanced down the hall, seeing a light flickering in front of one of the cells. McCleary pulled Blair into an empty cell, and the two stood against the back wall.

Echoing through the dungeon were muffled voices followed by a loud thud and grumble. Blair's eyes widened and she stepped forward, ready to run to James' aid. McCleary grabbed her and pulled her to him, covering her mouth. She struggled, but he was strong.

"We can't interfere," McCleary whispered in Blair's ear. "They'll kill all three of us."

Tears welled in Blair's eyes realizing she might just be hearing the death of James. The three stood silently in the cell, waiting, listening, freezing in place as laughter and footsteps grew louder. For a moment, Blair was sure the men would come to the cell and find them standing there, but as the steps approached, the voices faded off away from the dungeon. McCleary held onto Blair for several more moments and then inched forward and peaked around the corner.

He turned back to her and nodded. As soon as McCleary nodded at Blair, she took off, heading down to the now very dim light down the dank and wet hallway. As she rounded the cell, she gasped, finding James leaned back against the small table, holding his hand, his eyes shut. McCleary ran up behind her.

"James," McCleary hissed. "Are ye still alive?"

James kept his eyes closed as he talked. "Aye. Though it doesn't feel very good at the moment."

"Oh god," Blair whimpered.

James' eyes shot open and his head snapped toward them. "What are you two doin'? McCleary, why would ye bring her here?"

Blair gripped the bars of the cell tightly. "Cause he knew if he didn't, I'd have come anyways."

McCleary chuckled. "She's a bit persuasive."

James grunted as he pulled himself up onto his feet. Hobbling over, he gripped onto the bar and leaned his forehead to Blair's. "Ye shouldn't be here. Ye could get killed."

"I had to see you," she whispered. "I had to tell you…"

Behind them, McCleary turned and walked a bit down the hall to give them some privacy. Blair reached between the bars and wrapped her arms around James. He grunted and she pulled back, looking over his wounds. "Your hand, it's hurt. How are ye gonna swing yer sword?"

James chuckled through the pain. "I can fight with either hand. Besides, it's the rib that might make me spew blood all over Angus tomorrow."

Blair stared at him concerned for several seconds. Her face hardened and she slapped his arm. "I'm angry with you. You kept so much from me. You should have told me who Angus was when we were on our way."

"I didn't know he had gotten so bad," James sighed. "I thought fer sure that he would have grown up by now, but instead, he got worse."

Blair's eyes teared up again. "Why did ye have to challenge him like that?"

James sighed. "I promise, one way or another, we'll get yer sisters."

Blair groaned. "I know. I just…Oh, James I can't lose you…I…I love you too much."

Surprised, James looked up through the bars at Blair. Immediately he gripped her cheek with his good hand, pushing his forehead back to hers. "I may feel terrible fer leavin' my clan with Angus, but I will never, ever rest if I leave you with him. I can't. I won't. I love you too, Blair. I have for a very long time."

James tilted his chin forward and kissed Blair's lips, her salty tears dripping onto his skin. McCleary shuffled back up. "I'm sorry to break this up, but we really need tae get goin'. Who knows how many times they'll send someone to check on ye. I'm assumin' Angus' henchmen took yer key?"

James looked up at McCleary. "They did. I won't sleep tonight, but I'll be fine. I've got to get my hand workin' enough fer tomorrow."

Turning back to Blair, he kissed her again and looked into her eyes. "I will win tomorrow no matter what. I promise you that. I will win for myself, for my clan, fer yer sisters, and most importantly…fer you. Ye have my word."

Blair sniffled, kissing him one last time before standing and walking away. Before McCleary could follow, James reached through and grabbed his arm, whispering to him. "If fer any reason I fall tomorrow, ye get her out of here. Get yer family, and run. Promise me."

McCleary nodded. "Ye have my word. But ye better beat his pathetic arse tomorrow. He's got nothin' on ye. Not even with two good hands."

Blair turned and watched as McCleary hurried toward her, pulling her off into the dark. As she turned to take the steps, she looked back at the dim light in the distance. She couldn't lose James, not after everything they'd been through. Without him, she'd never find happiness again.