Chapter 22
Everything was chaos. All around Reid was a churning mass of men and horses, of shouting and screaming, the stink of sweat and fear.
They’d taken the Campbell forces by surprise, giving his men a momentary advantage as they’d hurried to reorder their lines, allowing the fleeing villagers to escape with their Muir warrior escort. But his advantage would not last long. His forces were already being surrounded by the long line of Campbell’s infantry.
“To me!” Reid bellowed to his men. “Hold the line and dinna let them flank us!”
He didn’t know if anyone heard him. His words were swallowed by the chaos. A Campbell warrior bore down on him, using a long pole to try and unhorse him. He managed to chop through the pole then kicked its owner in the chest. He yanked on the reins and slewed his horse around. It was a stolen mount, unused to him as a rider, but he had to give it to Campbell’s grooms, the horse was well trained and obeyed his every command.
He looked for his men. They were all there, still behind him, still fighting fiercely. Thomas and Clyde seemed to have appointed themselves his personal bodyguards and despite ordering them to stay back, well away from the front line, they were hacking and slashing with the best of them, showing a skill of which Reid was proud.
Still, he’d have to have a stern word with them about disobeying orders when all this was done.
Almost all of his hundred men from Dun Treve had broken ranks with Laird Campbell and decided to follow him. Reid had felt a strange flush of pride and gratitude when he’d arrived at the clearing where they were to meet. He’d expected a handful, no more. But to his surprise, he’d found the clearing full of men and horses, all heavily armed and waiting for his command. How they’d managed to sneak away from Campbell and steal horses without being caught he’d never know, but he was proud of every one of them.
The second wave of Campbell’s forces crashed into them, this time a line of heavy horse and Reid and his men suddenly found themselves fighting against heavily armed men on horseback. They wore a motley collection of different plaids, marking them out as members of various clans and Reid guessed they must be renegades, men expelled from their clans and forced to make a living by fighting for whoever paid the most.
Men just like him.
What had Campbell offered these men in order to induce them to fight? Coin? Prestige? Or the chance for revenge like Reid? Whatever the reason, they fought with a ferocity that drove Reid’s men back, forcing them closer and closer together. In only moments they would be entirely surrounded and then it would only be a matter of time before they crumpled under the Campbell onslaught.
He dispatched a red-headed man swinging an ax, then stood in his stirrups and raised his sword over his head. “Stand yer ground!” he bellowed to his men. “Dinna let them break through!”
If they did, then this was all for nothing. The villagers and the Muir rear guard would be caught and killed and Campbell would march to Dun Calas where Abigail was sheltering.
Despite his rousing cry, he could see that his warriors were only moments from breaking. But then a ripple went through the Campbell line and he saw men yanking on their reins, trying to pull their mounts around to face the other way. Squinting through the seething mass of men, he spotted what had suddenly caught their attention. An army was streaming down from the meadow, heavy horse in front and lines of infantrymen behind.
They wore Muir colors.
Relief washed through him. Cinead had arrived and that meant Dun Calas had been warned. That also meant Abigail was safe—at least for now.
His men let out a ragged cheer as the Muir forces smashed into the Campbell lines. Reid dropped back into his saddle and pulled his horse around, scanning the battlefield. There. He made out a thick knot of warriors guarding Campbell’s standard on the hillside. That was where he needed to be.
“Yah!”
Setting his heels to his horse’s flanks, he sent the beast galloping in that direction. He kept his eyes fixed on Campbell’s standard, even as warriors tried to block his path and bring him down. Using all his experience of years of horsemanship, he veered away from some, cut down others, leapt over more, instructing his mount to kick out at them as they went.
It would end today, one way or another. Either Campbell would die, or he would.
He barely noticed the line of destruction he cut through the Campbell forces, but all of a sudden, he was hammering over open ground, his horse’s hooves splashing through puddles and thumping on sodden turf. Up ahead, atop a flat-topped rise where he could survey the battle, Campbell’s standard snapped in the breeze. There was no sign of the man himself but a white tent had been set up in front of the standard, circled by guards.
They were led by Domnall Maguire.
“Ah, here he is!” Domnall bellowed as Reid raced towards them. “The traitor returns!” The man’s face was twisted into a sneer, his eyes blazing with the hatred Reid had always known he felt for him. “Take him down, men!” he bellowed. “Cut the traitor’s black heart out!”
The guards spurred their mounts at him. Reid didn’t slow but sent his horse thundering in their direction, mud and turf flying. The Campbell guards drew their swords, the blades glinting in the light, and spread out in a line, blocking his approach.
At the last minute, when his horse was only a few feet away, Reid kicked his feet free of the stirrups and leapt from the saddle, leaving the Campbell guards swiping at empty air. He hit the ground and rolled, coming up to his feet and sprinting. He had no interest in the Campbell guards and fighting them would only slow him down. What he was really after lay in that tent.
