The second guard stretched. “Hold me cup,” he said.
“Get it yerself,” the third grunted.
“Useless.” The second stumbled into the dark, following the same track.
Neil waited until their voices faded before moving again, crossing the last yards on silent feet.
The man stopped at a tree and fumbled with his laces. “Saints.”
Neil caught him from behind, clamped a hand over his mouth, and snapped his neck. A sickening crack pierced the air, and the guard bucked. Neil pulled out his dagger again and drove it fast into the man’s chest. His breath left him in a rush. Unlike the first, he didn’t give much of a fight.
“Rest,” Neil whispered.
He returned to the crates and grabbed the sword again. The steel pommel felt rough and heavy in his hand. He hadn’t held one in a long time.
A wave of determination washed over him as he tightened his grip on the pommel. A few more guards down, and he could finally be on his way.
Or he could just leave and let them discover the bodies in the morning. It could be his own way of sending a message.
“Aye,” he muttered, his breath fogging in the cold air. “Aye, I could do that.”
He untied the horse, gathered the reins, and put a foot in the stirrup. The scars all over his body pulled as he swung himself up. He swallowed the pain and set the sword across his thigh.
“Oi! Who is that?” a voice called from the fire.
A cup clattered. “Tam?”
“Nae Tam!” the first voice shouted. “The Wolf, ye fools. He escaped.”
Men scrambled, and a bench toppled over. Neil heard the hiss of swords being unsheathed and exhaled.
Two guards made a run for horses, but he was faster. He gently kicked the stallion with his heel. The horse surged, rearing on its hind legs, before darting across the woods and towards the darkness. Neil pressed his thighs against the beast’s flanks, ignoring the way his body throbbed with every gallop.
Nothing more to do if the prize was his freedom now, was it?
The wind whipped at his face, and his shoulder burned where the guard had stabbed him. As he rode further down the dirt path, realization dawned on him. Perhaps it was because he couldn’t stop thinking about what they had said about his wife, or the mere fact that their voices followed him as he ran.
Nay. He wasn’t interested in sending a message. He wanted to finish it once and for all. Maybe one of them could tell him something about Alex.
He drew the horse to a halt, turned him, and took a blade in each hand. The night gave him space, cold and wide.
The first pursuer came at him hard, his teeth bared, his blade bobbing with each gallop of his mount. Neil steered his horse across the path and drove forward, slamming into him. Hooves struck flesh and bone, and the rider went under with a broken cry.
The second man swung from the right, close and reckless. “Take him,” he screamed. “Take him alive.”
“Come close and see,” Neil taunted.
They met knee to knee. Neil blocked a blow with his sword, drew his dagger, and drove it up under the man’s ribs. The man’s breath left in a sharp wheeze. He slid off the saddle, his body dragging across the dirt until the stirrup let him go.
“Two,” Neil said.
A third rider charged, his chin tucked, his eyes narrowed. His blow came clean. Neil blocked it with his sword, shoved him back, then swung as hard as he could. His blade sliced through the man’s neck, severing the head from the shoulders. The body thumped to the ground, and the horse sprang forward.
“Three,” Neil muttered under his breath.
Only one rider remained. He circled wide, then charged, his teeth bared. Neil met him with the flat of his blade, caught his wrist, and knocked his sword from his hand. The man panicked and tried to throw himself away, but he couldn’t do it fast enough. Neil kicked his knee and sent him to the ground. Then, he dropped after him, planted a boot on his chest, and pressed the sword’s tip to the hollow at the base of his throat.
“Where is me braither?” he asked, his voice level. “Where is Alex?”
