Chapter 20

20

W hen the Viking guards called out that the enemy was upon them, Alasdair realized one of them had seen Isobel kill their fellow watchman. Alasdair, Isobel, and the rest of the men with them raced through the passage between the beached longships into the open to fight the other guards on the shore.

“Inge!” one of the men shouted.

“She’s a traitor!” another man shouted.

Alasdair was glad they called her a traitor because the rest of his men would realize she wasn’t one of the Viking raiders. He still couldn’t believe how deadly and quick-acting Isobel reacted when faced with danger. She was a tactician at heart. But that was when using subterfuge. In open combat?

He worried about her safety.

“Dinna kill her!” one of the men said. “Vigge still wants her.”

Six Viking raiders came at them, but then Hans and the men with him raced around the hull of the first longship, approaching the Vikings from their flank.

Though Isobel and Hans had already killed two guards, Alasdair realized a couple more had been hidden from their view, and now they still had to eliminate six.

The men began fighting one another. The men's swords and axes gleamed in the dim light and flashed as they clashed and fought against each other. Alasdair locked eyes with his mortal enemy, the ax-wielding Viking, who had said Vigge wanted her. No one would take Alasdair’s mate away from him.

The Viking's ax was already stained with blood, a sign that he had recently killed.

With a roar, Alasdair lunged forward, his sword slicing through the air towards his opponent. The Viking swung his deadly ax, the steel clashing against Alasdair's blade with a deafening sound.

The impact reverberated through Alasdair's arm, nearly causing him to lose his grip on his sword. Alasdair's face was twisted in determination as he fought to eliminate the brute. They were matched in height, but the Viking was much stockier, giving him some advantage as he slammed his shield against Alasdair and knocked him back.

The air reeked of newly shed blood and sweat, mixed with the metallic tang of weapons clashing. The scent of fear, aggression, and adrenaline hung heavily on the sea breeze. The clash of swords, grunts of exertion, and shouts of battle filled the air, punctuated by cries of pain.

Alasdair stood tall and fierce among the chaos and carnage, his sword slicing through the air with deadly precision, cutting the Viking’s sword arm twice. He howled in pain. Every clash of metal and strike of muscle echoed with the power of his determination to protect those he loved. But the Viking seemed immortal, not faltering under Alasdair’s brutal attacks.

Every move he made against his opponent was calculated and precise—not made in anger, every strike filled with a fierce need to protect what was his. The battle was going on all around him, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the threat before him. In the worst way, he wanted to know where Isobel was and if she was okay.

The Viking angrily swung his ax, losing his focus, too filled with fury. Not once had he managed to strike Alasdair, which was good. If he struck a blow, Alasdair could be dead.

Suddenly, Isobel was flanking the Viking, her sword bloodied. She dove low at the man and sliced the Viking’s leg. The man growled and swung his ax at Isobel, not caring that their mission wasn’t to harm the lass.

The gods seemed to be guiding Alasdair’s hand as he thrust his sword into the Viking's chest, seeking to protect Isobel from the Viking’s wrath.

The man collapsed to his knees, his eyes losing their luster, and he dropped to the rocky ground in death. Alasdair pulled Isobel to her feet and glanced around at the bodies of the guards scattered and lifeless on the beach, their blood slipping through the pebbles. His men were heaving with exertion. Alasdair hugged Isobel and kissed her cheek.

“Bury the bodies in the ocean, burn the ships,” Alasdair commanded.

Everyone began hauling their bodies into the ocean.

“Is anyone injured?” Alasdair asked.

“A few cuts, but nothing like the wounds I gave to the one I fought,” Erik’s brother, Logan, said.

Alasdair had hold of Isobel’s hand and couldn’t let go if he had wanted to. The ships were set on fire.

Alasdair said, “Let’s go. We need to get to the croft.”

“Through the woods from these cliffs,” Isobel said. “We canna just ride through the meadow. They will be ready for us. Some will be in the woods in case we go there. Some will wait in the bracken.”

“How do they know you?” Hans asked.

“They were the human Vikings with which Isobel and her kin stayed. We need to let the others know to join us in the woods from where they are now,” Alasdair said.

“I’ll swim to the other beach, climb the cliff there, and guide them to the woods,” Hans said.

“Aye. We’ll begin the climb here then,” Alasdair said.

Alasdair and the others climbed up the cliffs while Hans swam to the cave and beyond.

“Once we reach the top, we’ll wait for the others to join us.” Alasdair glanced at Isobel. “Nice knife throw.”

She smiled at him. “I was waiting for someone else to eliminate him, but didna want to wait too long.”

“No one had time to react like you did.” He wanted her to teach his men how to throw like that. Some were passable, but maybe with her tutoring them, they’d be as good at it as she was.

When they neared the top of the cliffs, Alasdair peered over and listened, sniffing the air simultaneously. Birds twittered. He didn’t hear anyone talking or moving about in the woods. He smelled the scents of several men he didn’t recognize.

As soon as he climbed onto the top, he moved into the forest, staying low, the bracken and boulders giving him cover. Isobel and the other men with them joined him, just as cautious, lifting their noses to smell the scents.

The Vikings were probably hunkered down in the woods and the bracken near the croft, waiting for Alasdair and his men to rescue the hostages.

But then someone gruffly said nearby, “Do you smell smoke?”

Only the Vikings hiding in the forest wouldn’t know that Alasdair, his friends, and pack members had set their longships on fire. Several headed in Alasdair and the rest of his party’s direction at a run.

The men Hans was bringing hadn’t arrived yet, so Alasdair and the others would have to tackle however many there were here.

He looked to see where Isobel was, but she had vanished. Alasdair’s heart lurched when he realized she was no longer with him, which had him worried that she had gone alone to try and reach her family at the croft.

The men headed in their direction were nearly upon them when Alasdair and his men jumped up and swung their swords to cut the Vikings down.

“’Tis an ambush,” one of the Vikings cried out. “You will pay for this.”

But Erik quickly dispatched him, and several other men killed the seven Vikings trying to reach the cliffs. Alasdair had backed up to the cliff while one of the Vikings came at him. At the last minute, the Viking dove for him, and Alasdair leaped out of the way, hitting the ground, hoping the man had fallen to his death below the cliffs.

The Viking cried out as he fell, and then Alasdair heard a thud at the bottom of the cliffs. The man sprawled out on the jagged rocks, staring lifelessly at the sky.

“Has anyone seen Isobel?” Alasdair asked.

“Nay. I thought she was with you,” Erik said.

Then Hans and the rest of the men joined them. Hans shook his head. “Sorry, we were too late to help.”

“I’m sure there are more up ahead. Let’s move quietly. Though the fighting here might have alerted others closer to the croft.” Alasdair just prayed Isobel would keep herself safe.

They headed through the woods as quietly as wolves stalking their prey. If the other Vikings were far enough away, they might not have heard the men fighting in the battle. Only the wolves could hear sounds that were far away.

When they were closer to the croft, they paused and listened. They could hear some people speaking quietly, and then someone coughed. Not in Alasdair’s party, but the Viking’s, he suspected. “If you cough again, I’ll kill you myself,” one of the men in the bracken said.

Alasdair motioned to his men to move forward, and before they knew it, they were facing a new foe, the Vikings sitting on their arses on rocks hidden in the bracken, not expecting Alasdair and his men to show up. The battle began at once.

Isobel couldn’t wait any longer to attempt to rescue her family and Dawy. She left her mate to fight, certain he would be successful in his fight against the raiders, but she couldn’t let a moment pass while her kin and Dawy were being held hostage.

She left the force and moved through the bracken, grateful for its cover. But she was careful to move quietly, listening and sniffing for scents, not rushing through the ferns, which could be her undoing.

She was angry with the clan for taking them hostage, but she wouldn’t let that, or impatience ruin her chances of succeeding.

She didn’t find anyone in the bracken, much to her surprise. She expected to have a force to fight here and there. Then she worried. What if her family wasn’t even at the croft? What if Vigge and his men had taken them somewhere else?

Then when she ran for the croft, anyone watching from the woods could surround the house and take her hostage. She hadn’t thought of that.

But then she saw Leif look out the window. She instantly felt some relief, knowing he was alive and there. Depending on how many raiders were in the woods, they might be able to fight them until Alasdair and the others arrived.

The only way to the house was to cross the open meadow. She would be exposed and vulnerable, but there was no other option. With determination in her posture and fear in her heart, her shoulders straight and chin up, her sword in her hand, she strode towards the small building, ready to confront whatever awaited her.

As she drew closer, she saw Leif watching her through the window, his expression one of surprise and concern. He shook his head slightly, trying not to alert whoever was in the house that he was warning her to stay away. She didn’t have a choice.

Alasdair and the others would be here soon to help her, but she had to try to stall the hostage takers from harming her family and Dawy or, in the best-case scenario, free them.

She grabbed the drop latch, feeling the cold metal in her hand, hesitating to pull it to open the door. Her heart beat like crazy, her knuckles turning white as she gripped the latch. She feared what she would find within.

Now or never.

She opened the door slowly, and it creaked, announcing her arrival. She half expected to see Vigge holding everyone hostage. Instead, she saw Ari’s cousin, Olafur, holding a sword on Libby, his meaty arm around her shoulders. The scent of fear filled the air, as did Olafur’s aggression. Isobel’s heart dropped to her stomach.

Drummond and Dawy were sitting on the floor, tears in their eyes. Dawy was tied up. Drummond and Libby were free. Everyone was helpless, their tears starkly contrasting with Olafur's narrowed eyes, filled with suspicion and malice.

Leif’s hands were tied behind his back, and Olafur said, “Sit, Leif.” He motioned to the bed.

Lief sat down on the box bed.

Olafur was blond, with a thick blond beard and shaggy brows. His blue eyes were hard and calculating. “Shut the door, or Libby dies.”

Without hesitation, Isobel closed the door behind her. “Throw your weapons on the floor.”

She dropped her sword close by. She wasn’t a fool. If she had any chance of using it on Olafur, she would.

“Your sgian dubh also.”

She pulled her sgian dubh out of her boot. Could she quickly throw it at Olafur and hit him fatally in the head before he killed Libby? She desperately wanted to eliminate him and free her family and friend, but she couldn’t risk it. She dropped her sgian dubh , but like her sword, not too far away from where she stood.

Olafur had a temper, and she didn’t say anything, not wanting to provoke him.

“I dinna know what Vigge sees in you. Who would want a woman who doesna want him back, eh?” Olafur shook his head. “We stay here until he arrives. He is with the others, ready and waiting for the Scots from the castle to come through the woods.”

She prayed that Alasdair and all the others were eliminating the Vikings in the woods, and none of them came to harm. If anyone did, she would feel it was her fault because they wouldn’t be there if it weren’t for her.

“So if you think they will come to your aid, they willna. We didna believe you would come here alone. Unless you didna get word that your kin were being held hostage so that you would go with Vigge and return home,” Olafur continued.

She held his dark-hearted gaze with one of her own. “So you have me. Let the others go. Vigge doesna care about the rest of them.”

“Mayhap no’, but Funi will. Where’s the slave?” Olafur and the others in the clan never called her by name. She was considered less than human.

Wouldn’t they be surprised to learn that she was more than human?

“Elene has returned to her family.”

Olafur didn’t need to know she was nearby at the castle, though she would be safe enough. She was glad Agnes was safe there also.

“We’ll have to return her home and take any others who managed to survive our last attack.”

In her peripheral vision, she saw Conall stand. Her heart began skipping beats. He was just out of Olafur’s view, so he ran for it and leaped out of the window where the shutters stood wide open.

Olafur swore and yanked Libby to the window. “He willna get far because my other men are waiting in the woods there.”

She prayed his other men wouldn’t kill her cousin if they ran into them.

But when Olafur was distracted, Isobel grabbed her sgian dubh off the floor and threw it at the back of his head.

Alasdair and his companions had killed the last batch of Vikings who continued to fight them. Some had run off, and Alasdair figured they were done with the fight, outnumbered, and wouldn’t win. Even so, they wanted to track them down and ensure they didn’t come here again and try to take Isobel and her family hostage or kill them.

But he was certain Isobel was at the croft and would be in a world of danger. He told Erik, “I’m going after Isobel—to the croft to see if she’s there.”

“Aye. We’re going after the last of the men,” Erik said.

“Good luck.”

“I’m going with you,” Hans told Alasdair.

“Lorne, go with Erik.”

“Aye.”

Then Alasdair and Hans headed out of the woods and into the bracken. A wolf suddenly darted past them. Alasdair smelled Elene. What was she doing out here? He wanted her to stay within the walls of the keep.

She woofed at them but didn’t stop. She raced to the croft, and they ran after her.