“Probably fled durin’ the fight if I had to guess,” Matthew said.
His brother went silent then, the two of them listening to the forest, picking apart natural sounds from the invasive ones. It was eerily silent, though, the animals likely fearful of the predators in their midst. If it weren’t for the trail and the signs of continued struggle, Lucas might believe they were going in the wrong direction.
After several tense, silent minutes, a soft whimper drifted through the quiet. It was followed by a man’s sharp command to stop. The sound, the knowledge that someone was speaking to Elizabeth or Flora in such a way, made Lucas feel like a feral beast.
He and Matthew rushed in the direction of the exchange at the same time, their swords drawn. They spotted the group quickly. Five men were carting the girls. Elizabeth was crying, reaching desperately for Flora, kicking at the man holding her.
And Flora…
Blood dripped down her face, cresting over the swollen expanse of her cheek. Her hands were tied, her hair a mess from where she’d clearly been dragged. Yet, despite the fear in her eyes, there was the determination that he’d seen on the day he rescued her from the hunt.
He acted before the men realized they’d been followed. His first target was the one closest to him. In any other instance, Lucas wouldn’t have pierced through the man’s back, but men who hurt women, men who hurthiswomen, didn’t deserve any honor.
As he yanked his sword back, Matthew rushed forward, his eyes locked on the two men escorting Elizabeth. He ruthlessly sliced at the hands of the man who wasn’t holding his daughter, causing him to drop his weapon. His shoulder connected solidly with the man’s core, knocking him to the ground.
Lucas didn’t have time to observe, nor be glad at how efficient his brother was. Now that he’d started this fight, Flora was in much more danger than she’d been before. He had to move quickly before they hurt her further.
He ran at the two of them fast, his weapon at the ready, his face a twisted, animalistic snarl. It was a threat enough to make them release Flora. As they pulled their own blades, Lucas attacked.
The man furthest from Flora was his first target. Keeping an eye on the second, Lucas swung ruthlessly. His opponent barely avoided a killing blow, jumping back moments before the steel connected with his body.
“The more ye struggle, the more I’m goin’ to make this hurt,” he growled. “Ye’re dyin’ either way, though.”
“Ach, ye think ye can take two of us?” the man snapped back, though it was shaky, thrown by the near miss.
Lucas didn’t indulge in the conversation any further. He attacked again, not allowing lesser men to distract him with words when they were physically incapable of keeping pace with him.
This time, he feinted toward the first man before swinging at the second. His sword found its home in the flesh of his enemy’s side. Even before he fully removed the blade, blood seeped through his clothing, dark and viscous. It still wasn’t enough to make up for what he and the others had done to Flora and to Elizabeth.
With as much force as he could, Lucas threw the man to the ground, already turning toward the other before his body hit the dirt. He sneered, anticipating the man’s first move, side-stepping the arching swing. Then, he answered with his own volley of blows.
Lucas caught the man’s arm in a savage strike, cutting through the fabric and digging into his skin. He pulled back, the edge of his blade dripping crimson. Leaving no time for him to recover, Lucas drove the blunt end of his sword into his shoulder.
“Ah!” the man screamed as he collapsed onto his knees. He held the injury, grimacing up at Lucas. “Ye damn bastard!”
Lucas raised his sword, ready to deliver the final, killing blow, when Flora spoke, broken but a voice of reason in the cloud of his suffocating rage. “Nay, Lucas. What if he has information? One of them needs to be able to speak.”
His sword came down, lodging itself firmly in the man’s shoulder. Another pained sound escaped him, but somehow, Flora had become the voice of logic. Lucas spared him for now because she was right.
He had no idea if this was a targeted attack or if the men were simply a group of bandits. They could be part of the larger organization that they were hunting down. Or worse, they could be involved in another syndicate of men that hurt women and girls for their own sick thrills.
“Ye’re right,” Lucas said, his voice barely audible over the cries of anguish coming from below him. “Ye’re absolutely right, Flora.”
He looked over his shoulder then, finally checking in on the battle his brother was fighting. One man was dead, and the other would be soon. Matthew went straight for the man’s heart, thrusting him to the ground with all of his body weight.
As soon as his hands were free, Elizabeth launched herself at him. The sobs she’d been trying to stifle broke free. She buried her face in her father’s neck, her little hands clutching at the back of his doublet as she sought comfort, reassurance, steadiness.
Letting out a shaky breath, Lucas turned his attention to Flora. The bleeding just beneath her eye had slowed, a scab beginning to form. Her cheek was bruised, and her shoulders were slumped, but she was alive.
He stepped over the man still writhing in pain on the ground, knowing that he wasn’t going anywhere soon. Slowly, so as not to spook her, Lucas knelt in front of Flora. She didn’t flinch or try to get away when he reached forward to push her hair from her face.
With a gentle touch that contradicted the violence he’d just enacted, he traced his fingertips over the curve of her face. She hissed slightly, only half a breath, when he grazed the most tender spot. Still, she let him examine her, staring up at him with a trust he never thought he’d see from her.
“Are ye all right?” he asked, the question feeling insignificant, the answer obvious.
“Aye,” Flora whispered, her eyes flitting behind him to the reunion unfolding. The corner of her mouth twitched, her body seeming to sag with relief. “The only injuries I sustained were on me face. I suspect it would have been much worse had they managed to get away with us.”
“Ye’re right about that. Ye took out one of their men,” he said, low and private, just for her. He reached for the restraints binding her wrists, untying them deftly. “I cannae imagine they were too happy about it.”
