"Do it!" Cailean snarled, fighting off another blow. More men flooded through, and Fergus and the others ran forward to meet them. "Go! Warn them!"
Darren's protesting sound was loud, but Cailean cut him off.
"That's anorder!" Cailean told him.
"Be safe," Maeve whispered, and then two sets of hurried footsteps let him know that, to his relief, the two of them had done as he had asked.
He wanted time to explain to the others his plan, wanted time to strategize, but of course, he didn't have it. Twenty men pressed down upon the group of six soldiers, and while all the rebel warriors were fighting with everything they had, Cailean didn't know how long they'd be able to keep it up.
A slice from a sharp knife narrowly missed Cailean's face. Fergus's sword was there in an instant, wounding Cailean's attacker, and the Bruce cousin now stood firm by Cailean's side.
"How long do ye think we can hold them off?" Fergus grunted, raising his sword in a defensive position.
"As long as it takes," Cailean told him, and the two of them launched forward into the fray.
* * *
Maeve and Darren rushed through the passageways, hand in hand to make sure they stayed together, following the marks that Darren had left on the walls. They almost tripped on the stairs, fleeing as fast as they could, but they managed to keep each other upright.
When they reached the first crossroads, though, Maeve stopped, hesitating, and looking off to the passageway on the left.
"What are ye doin'?" Darren demanded, tugging at her hand. "Come on! We need tae hurry!"
"Ye go ahead," Maeve told him. "There's somethin' I need tae do."
Darren stared at her. "Are ye insane? I'm nae leavin' ye here, what if?—"
"Darren, please. Go! We dinnae have time tae argue!" Maeve interrupted. "I'll be fine!"
He stared at her, obviously torn. They could still hear the sounds of the rebels and the ambushers fighting above, and though the rebel warriors were skilled, it was clear they wouldn't be able to hold them off for long. Maeve thought of how she and Cailean had taken down all of those soldiers in the woods, but here, they didn't have the advantage of the trees, or stealth, or being able to take on their attackers one by one.
Suddenly, to her surprise, Darren pulled her into a brotherly hug. "Whatever ye're gonnae do, do it fast and do it safely," he told her. "And make sure that big eejit Cailean gets out of here alive."
"I will," she promised. "Whatever it takes. Go and warn the others. Let's make sure we get yer home back."
Darren released her and with one more look ran off down the corridor back the way they came. He only stopped to grab a torch from one of the brackets as he ran. Maeve fervently hoped it would be enough to light his way and help him escape out of here before it was too late.
Once his flickering light had disappeared around the corner, she took a deep breath and turned toward the left path, then hurried forward.
There was no Eoin by her side now, but as her feet paced along the cold stone floor, it felt like the memory was enough to guide her. He'd led her through these passages to her freedom, and lost his own in turn. Now it was time to return the favor. She wouldn't leave him here to rot, not after everything he'd done for her.
She reached another crossroads. Was it left or right? Panic filled her as she realized she couldn't remember. What was she doing? Had she gotten lost? Had this just been a foolish plan, or was there any chance she could actually save them?
What was waiting in the dungeons, even if she did make it? Eoin, she hoped. And Breana? No, her sister would not be there; Breana would be a prisoner of a different type, trapped with Kyle in the main castle in a gilded cage. Maeve knew that kind of prison well. It was one where she'd spent her whole life until the rebel cause had set her free.
"I'm comin'," she whispered, both for her sister and for Eoin. She needed to think. She couldn't let either of them down.
She was all too aware of the battle going on not far from her. Part of her ached to return and fight by Cailean's side. She was anxious about the tiny force's chances against a whole ambush, but she knew she couldn't focus on that now. The prisons weren't empty, and maybe there would be someone there to help. Certainly, Eoin was a skilled fighter; surely he'd be able to help their cause?
Left or right? Maeve knew that if she made the wrong choice, she was dooming not only Eoin, but Breana, Cailean, Fergus and the others, and maybe even herself. The pressure weighed down upon her, threatening to suffocate her, and the panic built so high it felt like she couldn't breathe. She was so afraid. Even now, after everything, she was afraid. What did that make her? Was she not strong enough for this? Had she failed? What if her fear left her paralyzed, and by the time she made a decision, it was too late?
Then she heard a voice in her ear, whispering from her memory. Senan's voice, echoing back from their early training, what felt like so long ago, even though it had only been a few short months. "A smart person is always a wee bit afraid. It's what gives us the power tae overcome."
Maeve stood up a little taller. Yes, she was afraid, but she would not let that fear and anxiety overwhelm her. Instead, she would do what Senan taught her — and what Cailean taught her. She'd take her weakness and she'd turn it into an advantage.
Searching back in her memory, she tried to remember that night. She turned around to face the passageway where she'd just come from, visualizing running into it instead of away from it. And there it was, clear as day, Eoin leading her from the passage from the left and toward freedom. She had barely noted it at the time, but now it was there in her memory, as though it had just been waiting for her to revisit it.
Letting out a shaky breath, Maeve turned back to the passages and chose the one she remembered, hoping that she was doing the right thing. She wondered who would be guarding the prison now that Rod and Brian were dead, and was surprised to find she felt nothing but a grim satisfaction at that knowledge. She had expected guilt to rush through her as it had done when she'd first killed the soldiers, but Cailean's words about how a warrior had to do what needed to be done were dancing in her mind.
