Chapter 26

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

T he laird let the guard continue on. He then turned and stepped back into the room. Looking at the guards that still surrounded them, he said, “Bring them with me.”

Iseabail could not help but feel hope in her heart. Four of them were no match for Sutherland and his clan, but Owen’s father had arrived. She could only imagine her letter had something to do with his arrival, but how he had found them, she did not know. As the guards pushed them down the corridor, following their laird’s long strides, she realized she didn’t really care. They now had a chance.

Several minutes later, they were led into the courtyard outside, where Clan Sinclair stood waiting for them. They had broken through the front gate, and with Madigan and Daire seated on their horses, the warriors of the Sinclair clan, a huge crowd of men, stood behind them, ready for battle.

Sutherland’s men had obviously been pushed back, and now stood in opposition, ready to defend the castle. Laird Sutherland turned and grabbed Owen, pressing a blade to his throat. Upon seeing their laird, his men parted, and Laird Sutherland moved in front of his men. Eventually, he came to a stop and called out to Madigan.

“Ye are surely a mighty force, Laird Sinclair. But are ye really willing tae lose yer only son?”

Madigan gave the laird a steady look, while Daire glowered down at him.

“Ye only have one choice here, Laird Sutherland,” Madigan said, sounding far calmer than he ought to under the circumstances. “Me clan and I will leave if ye release these prisoners. There isnae any need fer all this bloodshed. Look around ye. We outnumber ye three tae one. Release the prisoners, and we will go and leave ye in peace.”

“What kind o’ a fool dae ye take me fer?” Laird Sutherland spat. “Dae ye really expect me tae believe ye’ll just leave if I let them go?”

“I give ye me word,” Madigan replied. “There is nay greater honor than a man’s word. I am only hear tae bring me son safely home.”

“This son?” Sutherland growled, pressing the dagger deeper into Owen’s throat.

Iseabail gasped, fearing that the madman might actually kill him just to prove a point. But a second later, she felt a solid, warm hand on her arm, and glancing beside her, her father gazed at her steadily. He was trying to convey to her that she should remain calm, but she could not. How could she, when the man she loved might be murdered before her very eyes.

“I think it is plain tae see, Laird Sinclair, that I have the upper hand here,” Laird Sutherland continued.

Madigan still did not flinch, and straightening himself on his horse, he said, “Then clearly, ye dinnae ken me son at all.”

In the blink of an eye, Owen twisted himself in such a way that the laird lost his grasp, and a few seconds later, Owen stood beside his father’s horse.

“Och, thanks be tae the gods,” Iseabail whispered.

“Now, me laird,” Madigan said again. “I will offer ye one final time. Release the prisoners, and we will leave ye in peace. At this moment in time, I have nay grudge tae hold against ye.”

For the longest moment, a deathly silence fell upon all those present. Everyone was waiting with bated breath to see what Laird Sutherland would do. As far as Iseabail was concerned, he was being given an opportunity to save both himself and his men. Surely, any man with an ounce of common sense would take that offer. But then, Laird Sutherland was a proud and power-hungry man. Pride had been many a man’s downfall, and she doubted it would be much different in this case.

When Laird Sutherland opened his mouth and broke the silence, it was not with a reply to Laird Sinclair, but with a direction to his men.

“Attack!” he bellowed.

Proving her summary of him to be right, the laird had chosen war instead of peace, and the soldiers and guards of Clan Sutherland launched toward Clan Sinclair screaming a battle cry.

Laird Sutherland replied with a command of his own, and his men roared into battle. A second later, a deafening sound of yelling and clashing metal rang throughout the courtyard.

“Och, dear God,” Iseabail cried, as her father grabbed her and pulled her into him.

Keane had secured a sword from somewhere, and just as Laird Sutherland turned toward Iseabail, her huge brother ran in front of her and toward him with his sword high above his head. But the laird lifted his hand, and Keane was stopped in his tracks, for he roared out in pain as the laird used his power against him.

“Nay!” Iseabail screamed, watching her brother suffer the immense pain she herself had experienced earlier.

Owen came rushing behind the laird, battling men left and right; men coming from every direction to protect their chief. He looked as though he were about to be overpowered, when Daire arrived at his side, and the two men battled back-to-back.

Madigan also appeared, giving Owen a chance to make his way forward, and with his sword held high, he ran toward Laird Sutherland screaming. The laird spun on his heels, and drawing his sword, he and Owen clashed, their swords clanging together, strike after strike. But as strong as Iseabail knew Owen to be, the laird seemed to be stronger. Given his age and level of unfitness, Owen ought to have no problem defeating this man, and yet, Laird Sutherland was overpowering him, strike after strike.

“The crystal,” Iseabail whispered, suddenly realizing the reason. “The crystal is making him stronger.”

She watched in terror as Laird Sutherland pounded Owen over and over, until eventually, exhausted from the strength of the laird’s strikes, he stumbled and fell to the floor. Sutherland did not stop there, and launching forward, he lifted his sword high, ready to implement the killer blow.

Laird Sinclair, searching for his son, saw what was about to happen, but was too far away. Still, he left the man he fought and ran, punching and shoving soldiers in his way to get to his son.

Owen lay there, terrified of what was about to occur, but then, the strangest thing happened. Laird Sutherland seemed to halt, as though frozen in time.

“What is… what is happening?” Sutherland cried.

Suddenly, a panic washed over his face, and his hands went to his throat. His face became redder and redder, and he gasped for air, even though no one was near him. Madigan arrived, and stopped dead at the sight of what was occurring before him, for the man appeared to be suffocating.

“The crystal,” Iseabail gasped. “It is finally turning against him.”

Hearing those words, her father let go of her arm and moved forward. Grabbing a sword from beside a slain soldier, he ran through the battling men without a sound. Coming from behind the laird, he raised his sword up high, bringing it down into Laird Sutherland’s back.

Laird Sutherland actually looked surprised as he fell forward onto the cobblestones beneath him. Final gasps left his lips, and a few seconds later, the man closed his eyes and expired.

Not a second later, Madigan turned to all those battling. “Yer chief is dead,” he bellowed. The clanging of swords faded, and eventually, everyone turned to look at Madigan. “Go home. There need be nay more bloodshed here.”

Slowly, but surely, bewildered men began to walk away. Some lifted the wounded from the ground, but clearly, with their laird dead, they had no more stomach to fight.

Owen was just struggling to his feet when Madigan turned back to see him. As father and son’s eyes met, Owen beamed a smile and Madigan launched forward and threw his arms around him, pulling him to him in a strong embrace.

Iseabail ran to Keane, who now was on his feet after the dreadful pain he had been subjected to, and their father ran toward them, all three hugging each other tightly.

“It is over now, me dear,” her father murmured. “It is all over.”