Page 79 of Rebellion's Fire

“Yield,” Adam said briefly.

The men yielded. Lanson didn’t pay them enough.

He doesn’t paymeenough.

*

Up until themoment Donald challenged Lanson, everything had been going pretty much as Adam had planned. By judicious revealing of the men’s movements, they’d drawn the foreign army to the plateau above the marshy area. Weighed down by horses and armor that sank them deeper into the bog with every step, every stagger, the foreigners not only lost their advantage, they became easy targets.

There were other hills, other traps that would have worked as well, but the hill marsh had been Adam’s preference. It made the battle familiar because this was where he’d seen it in a dream.

However, he wished he’d paid more attention to that dream. He couldn’t remember from which side the others would attack, and fresh new arrivals could still turn the tide back in Lanson’s favor.

He became aware of the duel between his brother and Lanson at the same time as Findlaech yelled, “South!” above the din of battle. Meaning that Lanson’s missing men were arriving from the little glen to the south—which was how Adam would have arranged it.

He had no choice but to cut these men off before they could damage his own. Since it was Henry who led them, he didn’t kill him. He supposed Henry would see it as a mean trick, but Adam wasn’t playing games. He needed this done quickly so he could get to Lanson.

Leaving his men to disarm Henry’s, he ran back to the main fray, pushing and hacking his way through the unsteady fighting to where Donald had engaged Lanson. They were no longer there. A scattering of armor, half-ground into the marsh, showed where someone had discarded his disadvantage.

Fear twisted Adam’s heart. Lanson was a formidable fighter, and he’d be as determined as the MacHeths to kill his enemy’s leaders. If he’d killed Donald…

All the old anxieties of childhood rushed upon him. His sword came up, apparently of its own volition, to parry an attack. Adam forced the man back and cut him down. He was no longer that terrified child. He was a man with responsibilities and a task to complete. Worrying about Donald would not save his brother.

As if a mist cleared before his eyes, he suddenly saw Donald again, struggling over a fallen soldier and round a terrified, struggling horse, to reach…Lanson, who was wielding his sword with fury against several men of Ross who had difficulty getting near him. Lanson could see Donald coming back for him and waited for him with grim impatience.

Only, according to Adam’s plan, itcouldn’tbe Donald. Christian wouldn’t forgive him. And Lanson would be just as happy with Adam.

It was like one of those dreams where whatever your efforts, you just couldn’t reach your goal. Adam pushed grimly through the fighting, screaming men, hacking and cutting his way toward Lanson with maddening slowness, eventually reaching him at almost the same time as Donald.

“I’ll do it,” Adam yelled at Donald, buffeting Lanson to send him staggering backward. Adam stood between his brother and Lanson. “Round the rest up, make them stop.”

Donald scowled under the mud and blood. “Adam—”

“It’s me,” Adam said, parrying Lanson’s furious attack. “Please.” He didn’t really know what he was saying. His mind was all now on defeating his enemy. A hated enemy who’d done so much to hurt his people. To hurt Cairistiona.

Lanson was strong, with more power in his right arm than Adam had expected, even after fighting so long.

“You’re an imbecile,” Lanson ground out, driving him back. “Your time is up. Your father will die. Your family will all die, by my hand or another’s. It makes no difference. Even if you kill me, the king’s men will come.”

“Not,” Adam said, lashing his sword into Lanson’s side and going on the attack through his opponent’s astonished yell of pain, “if the king doesn’t know you’re dead.”

Even through his agony, Lanson’s eyes widened. Parrying Adam’s attack, he held his own. “You’d murder me? Bury my body in a dark corner and hide?”

“Is this murder?” Adam wondered. “You’re on our land.”

“You have no land!” Lanson snarled, sweeping his sword inward in an attack clearly meant to cut off Adam’s left arm at the elbow. “You’re nothing but outlaws.”

“We have land,” Adam said, forcing up Lanson’s sword before it could do more than break the skin. Blood ran down his forearm to his wrist. “And we’re taking yours back,” he added, to rile him.

Lanson laughed. “You can’t hold my land. You can’t even hold my wife, who is even now on her way home.”

It was like a blow in the stomach, and it allowed Lanson another hit, a low cut to his thigh which could, he knew, bleed like a stuck pig.

It didn’t matter, he reminded himself. When this was done, they’d find her again. Donald would take her home to Tirebeck as planned. What harm could come to her in daylight while all the ruffians in the area were beating each other’s brains in on this marshy hill?

“Your wife is a loyal lady,” he said, panting now with the effort as he forced Lanson back with a series of sword clashes. He wished he hadn’t left his dagger in Henry’s leg. “You don’t deserve her.”

Lanson laughed, an exhausted, labored sound. “So, what are you going to do about it, fool?” He bent suddenly and charged at Adam with a roar. His head thudded into Adam’s stomach.

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