Chapter 4

Fighting Back

The coach lurched to a stop, almost tossing Ragnall and Holly from the seat.

Ragnall remained on his wife for a second more, holding her in his arms. He could feel her breathing, her chest rising up and down. He listened for a second arrow, but it did not come.

“Stay down,” he ordered.

“What is going on?” Holly whimpered.

Shouts came from outside. Ragnall sat up, keeping his head away from the window. He reached out and drew the curtain, needing to protect his wife.

“Are ye hurt?” he asked.

“No,” Holly said. “No, I dinnae think so.”

Ragnall held her shoulders as she remained flat on the carriage seat. He quickly checked her over and did not see any blood.

“Stay here,” he ordered.

“What is goi—” Holly turned her head and saw the arrow sticking from his arm.

“Ye’re hurt,” she gasped.

Ragnall placed his hand on her shoulder again, holding her down. “Dinnae get up. Ye dinnae move from here until I come back.”

Holly had seen the worry in his eyes, and she did not move. Her eyes moved back and forth from his eyes to the arrow in his arm.

“I will be back when I deal with this,” he said, trying to reassure her.

Ragnall grabbed his sword from under the other seat and quickly exited the coach. He stepped out as quickly as he could and then closed the door behind him.

“Where did it come from?” he demanded.

“We dinnae ken,” Craig bellowed. “Thomas saw it, but nae until it hit, and?—”

“Carry on,” Ragnall urged. “Aye, the arrow got me, but I’ll be fine.”

To prove his point, Ragnall grabbed the arrow lodged in his upper arm and yanked it out. He winced at the flash of pain, and as soon as it was out, a dull, manageable pain flared up his arm. He had suffered far worse than that before.

“We ken it came from somewhere over there,” Angus said, pointing to an area behind the trees.

It was a good place to shoot from. A small hill was beyond the trees, providing the higher ground to shoot from, and there was tree cover to remain hidden. Any attackers would not remain invisible, but the trees would hide them until they were spotted.

Whoever shot the arrow is a good marksman. They had to get it through the trees and through me window.

Angus and Thomas fell into step with the Laird, flanking him and partially shielding him while they searched the tree line for the assailant. Ragnall could taste victory on his tongue. He had waited a long time to draw blood, and he was sure it was time.

They did not have to find their attackers—their attackers came to them. Five men stepped from behind the trees, all tall and broad, all sporting shortswords.

Ragnall, Angus, and Thomas fanned out. They were quickly joined by Callum. Four against five was an uneven fight in most circumstances, but Ragnall only picked the best men to ride with him in case there was a fight. And there was a backup plan. If the fight did not go the way he planned, Craig Stewart had been instructed to have the drivers take off with the coaches, getting any precious cargo within to safety.

Ragnall scanned the five faces, hoping to see Fraser, but he was not among the men. Ragnall cursed his luck.

No, there is another out there.

None of the men carried a bow. Someone else had fired an arrow at him, and that man might have been Fraser. Ragnall just had to get through these five first before he could meet his destiny. It was more than enough fuel for the fight.

The five men set the fight in motion. They had obviously been instructed to go for the Laird, and all five charged at him. The Laird’s men had been well trained—Angus and Callum moved first, drawing the men on each flank away from the center of the battle, leaving three against two. Ragnall was sure he could take all three at once, but the battle was not about how well he could fight. It was about dispatching his attackers quickly enough to chase his enemy.

Thomas moved next, swinging his sword at one of the three men. The foe had to adjust his run, coming to a near stop. He raised his sword to stop Thomas’s swing.

And then, there were two.

The two men attacked together, just as Ragnall had expected. He had never been more sure that Fraser was behind the attack. He had many enemies, as most lairds did, but none so despicable as to attack him on his wedding day. And the way they went about the attack, obviously aiming for him, told him it was not an opportune attack.

Ragnall parried a blow and stepped to the side to dodge another.

A scream rang out, and he could not tell if it was one of his men or an enemy. He didn’t have time to check. Another attack came. Ragnall could not risk attacking just yet, or he would leave himself open. He might easily take one man down, but it would leave him vulnerable, unless he could maneuver himself so he would not be struck by both men.

It was easier said than done.

The attacks came thick and fast, but they were easy to foresee. Ragnall fell into a quick rhythm, blocking and dodging as three more attacks came in quick succession. Then, he found his moment. He dodged to the side and was able to take an extra step. He reached out and pushed his nearest attacker into the second man, and the attacker lost his balance. Before he could fall, Ragnall plunged a sword into the man’s chest.

The attacker fell to the ground when Ragnall pulled the sword out to reveal the second attacker behind, who looked afraid now. Still, he was not the kind of man who backed down from a fight, and he shifted the sword in his hand to check its weight.

“Who sent ye?” Ragnall demanded.

The man did not answer. He swung his sword, but he was too far from Ragnall to cut him—he was buying himself time now that it might be the last few moments of his life.

“Did Fraser send ye?” Ragnall boomed. “Where is he? Tell him to come and fight me like a man!”

The man attacked again, swinging his sword, but Ragnall blocked him easily and kicked out his leg, his boot slamming into the man’s stomach and knocking the wind out of his lungs.

Another whistle sounded in the air, but Ragnall had been waiting for it. It mixed with the sounds of the fight going on around him, but he was ready. He could pinpoint where the arrow had come from by its sound, and his attacker was not so brave, with his friend lying in the dirt.

Ragnall scanned the area and swung his sword to bat an arrow away. A thunk sounded behind him as an arrow penetrated the wood.

Not one bowman, but two.

The first two arrows were quickly followed by two more, and Ragnall batted them away with his sword. He made a step toward his hesitant attacker, driving him back, and then turned to face the arrows. Once again, he batted one away, but the second one hit the coach.

He heard Holly scream.

It was then that he realized they were not only going for him but targeting his coach, too.

A red mist clouded his vision. He expected Fraser to come after him, and he knew the story ended with one of them dying, but it was another thing to go after an innocent woman. Fraser was despicable for firing at her.

The attacker must have sensed the change in his mood, and he turned to run, but Ragnall was far too quick. The Laird swung his sword down, cutting the man’s back deeply. His second attacker fell to the ground. Ragnall spun and drove his sword into another man’s back, and he fell, too. He scanned the area to see his three men still standing.

He felt blood oozing from the wound in his arm, and he had been cut in the same shoulder, too.

“A horse!” Ragnall shouted as he spotted two men on horses on the hill behind the trees.

He did not see which of his men brought him the horse, only that a horse was brought. Ragnall jumped onto the horse and took off through the trees.

As he rode, the wind blew through his hair, and the branches whipped at his skin. He could not see who the two men atop the hill were, but he was sure one of them was Fraser. They both took arrows from the quivers on their backs and pulled back their bowstrings. Ragnall continued riding in a straight line, commanding that they fire at him.

They did, both at the same time. It was their mistake. Fraser was not an intelligent man, nor was he an astute leader. He conducted his affairs with cunning and coin.

As soon as the arrows were fired, Ragnall pulled his horse to the side, dodging both arrows with ease.

One of the horsemen reached for another arrow, but his companion stopped him. Something was said, and both men pulled on their reins to turn their horses around.

Ragnall pushed his horse as fast as it would go, but when he reached the top of the hill, he knew there was no point in continuing the pursuit. The horsemen had split, both going in different directions. It was a wise tactic, and it gave him a choice. Even if he went after one, he would only have a fifty percent chance that he was chasing Fraser. He pulled on the reins to halt his animal.

They were too far away and riding too quickly. Even if he chose the right man to pursue, he was not sure he could catch him. To try would be a waste of resources and time. He had sent a message to Fraser with the five dead men lying by the coaches.

Ragnall turned around and headed back to check if his wife had been hurt.