Page 100 of Cottage in the Mist
With a nod to his cousins, Bram ran up the steps, but was stopped by one of the tower’s guards. The man raised his claymore, his eyes narrowed as the deadly blade began its descent. Bram pivoted, and then swung his own weapon. The man fell, only to be replaced by another. Bram lunged, cutting the man across the arm that held his weapon. Behind Bram, on the stairs, Ranald fought a second man. Iain, still in the courtyard, fought alongside Jeff and Fergus as they held off others.
With a twist and a parry, Bram drew the man off and then made quick work of him, stepping over his body as he and Ranald, with the others on their heels, took the last of the stairs, dashing through the opening of the tower, through the hallway and into the great hall. A place meant for comfort, it offered only danger now. It too was full of flame, and lined with enemies.
Bram’s heart screamed at him to hurry. If he did not then that which was most precious to him would be lost. For a moment it felt as if he’d lived this moment before, but he pushed the thought aside as he surged into the fray, moving toward the stairway at the far end of the room, fear urging him onward. He had to get to Lily.
He quickly dispatched one man and then turned to find Ranald at his back, two men circling them both as they twisted together, trying to keep their enemies in sight. Behind the attackers, Iain and Jeff emerged from the din, killing the men with swift blows. With a jaunty grin, Ranald tipped his head to his cousin and turned back to the battle at hand.
Bram, grinning despite the severity of the situation, made for the staircase, Fergus fighting ahead of him to clear the way. Suddenly the battling warriors parted, and Bram could see a man standing guard at the foot of the stairs.
Frazier.
With a bellow of rage, he charged forward. This was the man who had killed his father. The man who had betrayed him and taken Lily. And for that he deserved to die.
His sword reverberated with the first strike, the older man’s mouth open in a snarl. The two of them circled each other as if in a dance, the steps intricate and deadly. Frazier swung, but Bram blocked the blow with his claymore, then pivoted and returned the strike, catching Frazier on his thigh.
Blood oozed from the wound and the man stumbled, but quickly regained his balance. “I’ll see you in hell,” he cried as he lifted his claymore above his head, but in his zealous need to answer Bram’s blow, he left his body unguarded, and with a swift thrust, Bram drove the blade home. Blood gurgled from the man’s mouth as he dropped to his knees and then fell to the floor.
Bram stepped across the body and then ran up the steps, taking them two at a time, knowing that Lily’s life depended on speed. Ranald and Iain were close behind him, leaving Jeff and Fergus to keep the rest of the warriors at bay.
Lily struggled against her bonds. She was surrounded by shadows, the windows boarded shut, the torches here unlit. Malcolm had tied her to the bedpost. Her arms were stretched around it, rope binding her wrists. The post rose up at least eight feet, probably more, ending with a flourish that connected to the bed’s canopy. She blew out an exasperated breath. There would be no sliding out of this one.
The smell of smoke was thick here. Oppressive. Frightening. Her eyes watered, and somewhere below her she could hear the clanking of metal against metal. Swords, her mind whispered. Which could only mean one thing. Bram was here.
Joy and fear warred for a place in her heart.
A candle flamed in the darkness.
“He comes.” The voice was low, grating, the words an eerie echo of her thoughts. A shiver ran up her spine. She turned toward the light and the sound; nothing was visible except the flame, and the shadowy shape of a hand and an arm.
Malcolm.
“Who?” she asked, the words a whisper, her heart already sure of the answer. “Who comes?”
Malcolm didn’t reply, but he stepped close enough for her to see his face. See the demented gleam in his eyes. She looked down between the gaps in the plank floors to see flames flickering below. She jerked her head up, recognizing now thatflames also wreathed the doorway and licked at the floorboards and walls.
More men—warriors—stepped from the shadows, their weapons raised. It was a trap. She opened her mouth and screamed.
At the top of the stairs Bram froze, the thick smoke disorienting him. The fire was much worse here. Pushing forward, he breathed through the heavy wool of his plaid, keeping sword at the ready, Ranald and Iain still behind him. The first chamber was empty. As was the solar and the chamber beyond it. But then from down the narrow hallway he heard a scream.
Heart thundering in his ears, he ran through the flames and smoke. A timber fell, glancing off his shoulder, and he hardly felt it, the need to find Lily overriding everything else.
He called for her, his voice swallowed by the raging fire. Another timber fell, and a wall collapsed. He jumped across a gaping hole in the floor, landing hard but still moving. The doorway loomed ahead edged in flames, the smoke and fire roiling like some kind of evil spirit. Iain reached out a hand to hold him back, but he shook it off. Lily was in there. She needed him. Nothing was going to stop him. Nothing.
Ignoring the danger, he sprinted forward, bursting through the opening, again calling her name. And then, through the shimmering heat, he saw her, tied to the bedframe, her long hair unbound, her green eyes wide with fear.
A shadow moved behind her. Rage threatened to engulf Bram. “God’s blood, what have you done?”
“Naught but what you deserve,” came the answer as his uncle stepped into view.
“Go back,” Lily screamed. “It’s a trap.”
But he pushed onward, stumbling as still more of the burning tower fell. “I’ll no’ leave you.” His words were whipped away by the inferno surrounding them. But he knew that she had heard him.
Other shadows moved into view. He was surrounded. Ranald and Iain surged forward, moving to stand between Bram and his challengers, their backs to him, swords facing out. As they moved to defend their position, Bram turned to see his uncle edging away. His body wanted to follow, to fight. To finally have vengeance on the man who had killed his father. But the fire was taking hold, moving across the floorboards toward the bedpost where Lily was tied.
He turned from his uncle, his entire being focused on Lily. She was his life. His blood. Without her, he would be nothing. There were only a few feet separating the two of them now. There was bruising on her face and a trickle of blood at the corner of her beautiful mouth, and he swore if given a second chance there would be hell to pay.
But right now, he had to get her free.
