Chapter 20
O’Connell was not gentle as he herded Magnus away from the camp. The bastard was strong, he had to give him that, but not as strong as Magnus himself. Even with his wrists bound together, he could have laid O’Connell out with one double-handed blow or snapped his arm with a well-aimed kick, except that the blade of the man’s dagger lay against his jugular and one wrong move would have his lifeblood spurting into the dirt.
So he didn’t retaliate as O’Connell pushed further into the ravine, around a corner of granite, away from where his sword-brothers were fighting. How Emeric and the others had found him he had no idea, but his heart had soared with hope as they’d materialized out of the darkness and began attacking the camp. Yet that had quickly turned to dismay when he’d seen how outnumbered they were. They could not hope to win and yet they’d come for him anyway.
Guilt chewed at his insides like a starving rat. They shouldnothave risked themselves for him. He wasn’t worth it.
Still, at least Isabelle was safe. He’d seen no sign of her with Emeric’s band and for this he was profoundly grateful.
The outlaw leader shoved Magnus roughly into a small clearing bounded on all sides by thorny trees. McRae, along with a good number of his men, was waiting for him in the clearing, sitting on his carry-chair. His eyes, cold and calculating, landed on Magnus.
“I’m so glad yer friends could join us,” he said. “Killing a few members of the Order of the Osprey only makes things sweeter.”
“It’s over, McRae. Give yerself up to the Order and I promise ye will get a fair trial.”
McRae laughed incredulously. “Can ye believe the nerve of this man?” he asked O’Connell. “He’s in my power and hestillthinks he has the right to give orders! The arrogance!” He focussed on Magnus. “Yer friends will die, Magnus. They’re outnumbered and outmatched. They’ve thrown their lives away for ye. How does it feel to be the cause of their deaths?”
Magnus knew he was right. Emeric hadn’t brought enough men to be able to take the camp. He must have known the odds of their success were slim and yet he’d come all the same. How many more deaths would be on his conscience?
Magnus swallowed thickly. He couldn’t bear it anymore. “What if we strike a deal?”
McRae’s eyes narrowed. “What kind of deal?”
“Tell yer men to stand down. Spare my sword-brothers and I’ll do whatever ye want.”
“Ye know what I want!” McRae retorted. “I want yer name smeared across the kingdom as an outlaw. I want ye to live the life I’ve been forced to live! Besmirched. Reviled. I want every memory of Magnus Kerr the noble warrior destroyed!”
Magnus took a deep breath, steadying himself before speaking again. “Fine. I will do what ye want. I will pretendto be an outlaw, I will live among ye—just let Emeric and the others go.”
He knew what he was agreeing to. If he did this, everything he’d ever sought to be would be destroyed. Magnus Kerr, the decent man, would be no more, and Magnus Kerr the ruthless thug would take his place. He would become the man that Eamon McRae had always sought to make him.
But Isabelle, Emeric, and his friends in the Order of the Osprey would be alive. He’d pay any price for that.
He met McRae’s gaze. “I give ye my word. I will do yer bidding. I will become what ye wish me to. Just let them go.”
McRae stared at him for a long time. Then a slow smile spread across his face and his eyes flashed with triumph. “Oh, my boy! How I’ve missed ye. This is an auspicious moment! This is the moment the old Magnus Kerr dies. This is the moment ye are reborn!”
The words struck Magnus like a blow, and for a second, he felt as if he were falling into an abyss. He saw his life before him, the trials and difficulties, the victories and losses, all of it dissolving in the dark, gaping maw of despair. And yet, even as he stood there, on the precipice of his own destruction, he felt an odd sense of calm.
Choices weave our fate, Magnus Kerr. And ye are at a crossroads.
He doubted that this was the crossroads that Irene had meant but it didn’t matter now. The decision was made and there was no going back.
Yet fate, or destiny, or Irene MacAskill, weren’t quite yet done with him, it seemed.
Even as he felt himself sinking into a dark pit of despair, a strange sound broke into his thoughts. A sound that brought a chink of light in the darkness, a spark of hope in the gloom.
Barking.
