When the man’s face was a mass of blood, Torcall pushed him to the side and reached for the man with the dagger in his shoulder. The dagger had a long blade, and only half of it was in the man. It was perfect.
Torcall went for his eye first. With his heavy, balled fists, he punched the man’s face twice—each blow directed to an eye. The man wouldn’t use them ever again. The man’s arms flailed in the air; blinded by pain, he couldn’t fight. Instead, he screamed his pleas, but Torcall’s ears were deaf to them. Finally, he launched his fists straight for his neck. The man fell on his back, driving the dagger deeper into him and killing him immediately.
Torcall wasn’t done yet. Reaching for the man with the bloody face, he dragged him to his feet and kicked him to the ground again. Then, he began to kick him repeatedly. The scumbag would die by the sole of his feet.
Rannoch watched his cousin kick the other man to death. However, a whimper on the side distracted him. The woman who they had saved was watching Torcall kill the man. Her eyes were wide with terror, and Rannoch realized how traumatizing it would be for her to watch such.
Ignoring the pain in his legs from the beating, he ran to Torcall and tried to stop him.
“Torcall!” he called, but Torcall didn’t respond.
“Torcall!” he called again.
The woman’s whimpers grew louder, and she was openly sobbing now. Daring an injury, Rannoch put a hand on Torcall’s shoulder and pulled him away. Together, they stumbled to the ground.
“Torcall!” Rannoch called, “Listen to me. ‘Tis alright. Ye need nae fight anymore.”
Torcall’s eyes that had taken a shade of dark slowly cleared up, and he blinked. Then he closed his eyes and remained like that until Rannoch spoke.
“‘Tis alright. Ye are here, nae anywhere else,” Rannoch soothed.
Torcall opened his eyes and nodded. He was under control.
Rannoch stood and walked to the woman who was crying meters away from them.
“Leave me!” she screamed. “Leave me.”
“Ye must listen, lass. We only want to help ye.”
“Nae. He’s the devil!” she pointed at Torcall, who was wordless.
Rannoch moved to her and took her in his arms. “Ye must be calm,” he soothed, “he was only trying to help ye. He would ne’er hurt ye.”
Weary, the woman collapsed in his arms and wept until exhaustion overtook her.
Wordlessly, Torcall watched Rannoch soothe the woman. He berated himself silently.
“How could ye have let yerself be carried away again, Torcall?” he muttered.
Moments passed, and the woman had calmed down. However, she still wouldn’t look at Torcall.
“Where do ye live?” Rannoch asked her.
“Nae too far from here,” she muttered.
“We will take ye,” Rannoch promised. “Ye will ride on me horse,” the woman’s eyes widened in fear, “alone,” Rannoch added. “I will nae ride with ye.”
Calmed, the woman nodded and began to walk towards the horse, following Rannoch, who led her.
Torcall watched his cousin rise to his feet and walk towards his horse. Obviously, there was pain in his leg, and he wouldn’t be able to work.
“Let her take me horse, brother,” Torcall offered. “Yer leg should nae be stressed with a walk.”
The woman froze, and it became apparent that she was terrified of even going close to him or his horse, so Rannoch shook his head. “Nay,” he said. “she will ride me horse, and I will ride yers.”
With that settled, the journey began, and they headed to her home. They were gratefully received by the girl’s family and thanked them. They declined any gifts and soon were on their way again.
“Torcall, ye--”
