Chapter 32

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

A drian. After everything, the intruder was no intruder, but a traitor. It made sense - how they’d managed to slip into - and out of - the keep without raising the alarm, the way they had access to his every move. He knew now why the one kidnapper’s voice had sounded so familiar to him. Everything could be explained by the now-revealed traitor in their midst.

Darren knew the pain would hit later, when he’d fully realized the truth. As it was, he was locked in the cold, vicious focus that often came upon him in battle - a state that left no room for grief or the pain of betrayal. All he could focus on was the danger to Alayne, and the enemy who was the source of that danger. That the enemy wore the face of a friend didn’t matter - not right now.

He strode out onto the balcony, circling slowly to drive Adrian and Alayne away from the edge. He could see Adrian thinking frantically, trying to decide how much he’d heard, how much he could try to lie his way out of trouble.

“Dinnae bother. I ken enough.” Darren heard his voice, cold as winter ice, and knew Adrian would hear the truth in his words. He might not have heard everything Adrian confessed, but he’d heard how Adrian had planned to kill him, he’d been part of the kidnapping, and now he was threatening Alayne. Darren didn’t need to know anything else.

Every bit of false confusion and wariness washed away, leaving spite and hate so thick in Adrian’s face that Darren wondered how he’d never seen them before. How had Adrian hidden his hatred so well? Or had Darren just not seen it, too blinded by their kinship and the distraction of the Ranald Clan, as well as his guilt over his father’s actions?

It didn’t matter. What mattered was what was happening here and now. “Release me wife, and ye may live tae see taemorrow.”

“I’ll live. But ye willnae!” That was all the warning he had before Adrian drew steep and launched himself forward in an attack. He blocked, then blocked again and managed a riposte that put Adrian on the defensive.

The space was smaller than he would have preferred to fight in, and the fight was further complicated by the need to avoid the edge of the landing, the damaged stonework, and Alayne. Still, Darren was a warrior with more than two decades experience in fighting. He might still be bruised and battered from the beating Adrian had given him a few days ago, but he’d been in worse condition and survived. And Adrian, for all his skills, was nowhere near his match either in experience, training or strength.

The fight wove back and forth across the landing, then Darren managed to get Adrian on the back foot again, with an attack that opened a deep cut in his shoulder and hindered his ability to raise his blade. Darren pressed forward as Adrian staggered back. He’d considered taking Adrian alive, but with no idea who ‘Cyprian’ was, or who he was, the risk was too great. Besides, Adrian knew too much about the strengths and weaknesses of the clan.

He pressed his cousin backward, seeking the opening he knew would appear. Adrian’s eyes were widening with panic, and Darren pressed him harder. Then Adrian staggered, and he lunged forward, prepared to drive his blade home…

Something slammed into him from the side, hitting him hard and sending him crashing to the stone with enough forceto make his bruises, and his head, scream with agony. He’d no time to recover before a heavy boot stomped hard on his wrist, then kicked his sword out of his hand for good measure, before delivering a kick to his head that made stars dance in his vision.

Stunned and breathless, his vision blurred by pain, he heard Adrian’s winded voice speak. “Were ye taking a nap then Cyprian? Another second and ye’d nae have any partner.”

“Quit yer fussing. I arrived in time, did I nae? And now the great Darren MacLean is at our mercy. And this time, I’ve nae argument for whatever ye want tae dae tae him.”

Alayne felt her heart fall to her gut, a sick feeling washing over her to replace the relief she’d felt moments before. Darren’s arrival had given her hope, but the appearance of the second man, Cyprian, sent her plunging into despair once more. Especially when he sent Darren crashing to the stones, winded and wounded.

She tried to make a run for the stairs, but Adrian caught her before she’d gotten no more than two or three steps away. He laughed, a cruel sound that made her shudder and flinch away from him. “Did ye really think I’d let ye go, when ye ken as much as ye dae?”

“How… how did ye…?” Darren coughed the words out from the ground, his voice rough with pain. His rage filled gaze was on Cyprian, and the man chuckled unpleasantly.

“Adrian showed me a side door near the tower he leaves unlocked fer me. He said nae one ever comes tae this tower, so I was free tae take up residence here, so long as I wasnae seen coming and going. I’ve been here, biding my time fer when Adrian needed aid, or found aught o’ particular value. And if I was in need o’ wandering the keep, twas nae difficulty tae pretend tae be a messenger, going about me business on the order o’ War Leader Adrian.”

The man’s sneer was cutting, but at least it was impersonal, rather than the bitter, ugly thing that Adrian wore.

“How… long?”

“A fortnight… a month… a season… what does it matter? All ye need tae ken is that we’ve been partners fer some time, and we’ll be the ones tae finally defeat ye.” Cyprian waved a hand dismissively. He glanced at Adrian. “Have ye decided what ye’d like tae dae?” He nudged Darren roughly with his boot. “Ye could kill him easily enough.”

“I could, but I’ve an idea I like better.” Adrian sneered. “I say we kill his wife, and tell her braither that he did it. Even if Ranald doesnae kill him, he’ll be in the king’s gaol fer her death. ‘Tis only fitting. We’ll send her over the edge o’ the parapet, and claim he pushed her, because he hated her. Ye can play the part o’ a servant who came tae tell me ye’d seen the laird and lady arguing.”

“A worthy plan. Perhaps even a way tae find yerself a lairdship, or stewardship over the clan at least.” Cyprian nodded. “Shall ye push her, or shall I?”

Adrian responded by pushing her in Cyprian’s direction. “Ye dae it. I want tae watch the bastard’s face as his world falls apart.”

“As ye like.” Alayne tried to fight free, but a powerful backhand left her reeling and dazed. She dragged her heels, fighting with everything she had.

“Ye bastard!” Darren roared the words, and she saw, through tear-filled eyes, that he was struggling as hard as she was, but with as little luck. He was at too much of a disadvantage, wounded and unarmed and pinned to the stone as he was.

The parapet inched closer, and Alayne fought with every bit of panicked strength she possessed. It wasn’t enough. The crumbling stones shifted under her feet, and she tried to find some purchase to slow the inevitable progression.

Time slowed to a crawl, as if she was under a spell. She saw the edge of the balcony looming closer. She felt Cyprian’s hands like manacles around her arm.

Then there was a roar of fury from the doorway. Adrian turned, and Cyprian paused.

Two shapes slammed onto the balcony with a blur of bared steel and clan colors. One man kicked Adrian hard in the knee, then the jaw, and sent him skidding across the stones to crack his head on the low wall, on the left side of the parapet.

The other figure grabbed Alayne, and stabbed Cyprian, all in one motion. The man staggered back, gasping as blood blossomed across his chest. Alayne went staggering back in the other direction, away from the edge and into the arms of her rescuer.

Alayne’s breath came raggedly as she looked up to see Donall holding her close, one arm around her as he glared at Cyprian with a look that would rival dragon fire for heat.

She turned her head to see Marcus helping Darren up from the stone, a snarl to match Donall’s on his face as he glared at Adrian. “Ye traitor. I cannae believe I recommended ye tae take me place.”

Adrian scowled back, too winded to reply.

“Ye’ll nae ever… defeat me.” Cyprian lurched forward. He was clearly fading, a mortal wound bleeding over his clothing. He was also determined to do harm if he could.

He never got the chance, as Marcus took three steps sideways, knocked Cyprian’s blade to the side, then kicked him hard in the chest. Blood sprayed as Cyprian was flung backward, and over the parapet he’d intended to toss Alayne over.

“Nae! Ye bastard, I’ll kill ye!” Adrian lunged at Darren, who was still breathless and unarmed, unguarded now that Marcus had moved. A dagger was in the former war leader’s hand, and his eyes were filled with the madness of a ravening beast.

Marcus was too far away. Darren couldn’t move fast enough. Donall, however, acted without hesitation. He released Alayne, pressing her back against the wall for safety even as he lunged forward and stepped between Adrian and the wounded Laird MacLean. Alayne cried out as the dagger gouged her brother’s side.

A second later, Marcus MacLean’s blade was buried to the hilt in Adrian’s chest, exiting his back in a flood of crimson. The war leader choked and collapsed dead before he hit the stones.

Darren caught Donall and eased him down, checking his wound as he did so. “It glanced off yer ribs… hold still, man, while I put pressure on the wound. We cannae have a laird bleeding out on me tower.”

“’Twas… what I… was thinkin’... though ‘tis nae… me tower…” The words were hissed between harsh breaths, Donall’s face contorted in pain as he spoke.

“Hush yerself. Quit tryin’ tae talk.” Darren paused. “If ye were after proving ye had naething tae dae with Adrian’s mad scheme, I believe ye, and apologize fer sayin’ otherwise. Now please dinnae die, or me wife will never speak tae me again - assuming she doesnae kill me in turn.”

Donall managed a hoarse chuckle. Marcus snorted in amusement. Alayne collapsed to her knees at her husband’s side, near hysterical with relief.

It was finally all over - both the attacks from within, and the feud that had for so long divided their clans.