I met Max’s eyes as we looked up, in the shadows the villain’s black cloak swept tae the ground around his legs, flickin’ in a gust of wind that was circlin’ through our war. He was holdin’a modern pistol in one hand and a longsword in the other. His eyes fell on us, then settled on Max and widened in recognition.
“Maximillian!”
Aenghus was runnin’ up the steps tae fight him, while Max and I were runnin’ taeward him across the courtyard, swinging as we went, shovin’ men aside.
Rannald yelled, “Ye finally decided tae join the battle?”
As we ran Max grabbed his rifle and pulled it intae his hands.
Ryan’s voice yelled intae our ears: “You got him? I can’t get the shot! Anyone got the shot?”
Rannald shoved Aenghus and yelled, his voice carrying over the music and the dying. “Ye are just a lad, ye asked yer uncles tae die for ye?”
Drones flew over the walls, swarming taeward Rannald.
Max raised his rifle and yanked the trigger, nothing but a dull click. “Och, ye useless iron bitch! Fire, damn ye, or I will melt ye down and turn ye intae a piss-pot for Torin’s horse!” He threw down the rifle and ran up the stairs, sword overhead, while I fought tae keep Rannald’s men from assaultin’ him from his back flank.
They met and sparks rang. Rannald was big and fought well, but I knew Max could win against him if the fates agreed. Max had trained with me in the pits of a sixteenth century world and also had a lifetime of rage fueling his sword arm.
But, Rannald stayed within the tunnel, protected from our drones and snipers, and was drawing Max in after him.
Max would be trapped, I couldna let that happen.
I fought four men, tryin’ tae get tae get there, when a crossbow bolt took me high in the left shoulder, spinnin’ me half around, knockin’ me against a wall — twas m’oft-injured soldier. Pain flared white-hot, but I had tae keep movin’. I snapped the shaft off and tossed it away. But then a bolt struck Max’s sideunder his armored vest,nae nae nae!Max staggered, blood blooming crimson down his side.
Time slowed.
From inside the dark tunnel opening, I saw Rannald’s eyes widen in triumph. Saw Max drop tae one knee, sword still in his hand.
Ryan was screamin’ orders I could nae longer hear over the blood poundin’ in my ears.
I was on the archer in four strides. With my claymore, I took him from collarbone tae hip, a clean brutal slice that would send him tae hell. Then I charged Rannald.
He parried my first swing, laughin’ as sniper rounds punched and nicked the tunnel walls around him. He spun and dove for the shadows of the sally port, his guards closing around him like a shield wall, blades and bodies blocking any clear shots from the ridge. Or from my sword, though I tried, hacking at the line as he vanished into the tunnel’s mouth. My men behind me lettin’ loose a firestorm, a barrage of bullets firin’ against walls, bombs blasted on the ramparts.
He was drawin’ me in if I dared. I looked back.
Max was on his knees, coughin’ red froth, and the prince’s life mattered more than his vengeance.
I ran tae him. “Stay with me, m’laird!”
Ryan sprinted up, weapon raised. “We have men outside the walls, there’s still a chance to get?—”
I said, “Max is wounded! Och nae, tis grave.”
Ryan knelt beside him, pressin’ hard on the wound. “Dammit, not again, we have to evac now!”
Max grabbed Ryan’s sleeve. “Did we get him?”
Ryan shook his head, looking around. Then he lifted the cloth he was holdin’ tae Max’s wound. “We don’t have time. Dammit, we gotta move!”
Aenghus spoke intae the radio: “Where do ye want us?”
Ryan looked down at the wound, then stood up and yelled, “Retreat! Time to jump!”
Aenghus’s voice: “Extraction Point, now!”
Charlie and I hauled Max up between us. Charlie’s left arm hung useless, blood soaking his sleeve, but he would not let go of his nephew. Aenghus covered the withdrawal, sword singing, cutting down two more of Rannald’s household knights as they tried tae close on us. Some of our soldiers fell in around us. I couldna tell how many were left, how many had lost their lives in the fray.
