The warrior looked around at the chaos around them before he did as Irvine stated and walked away, disappearing into the night. Irvine rolled his shoulders and continued on, hoping that he could stop the bloodshed tonight.
His clan’s warriors wouldn’t attack innocent people. This was the work of someone evil, someone who wished to get his own plans in place, and that was likely leading the clan now.
Irvine spied Leathen fighting off a warrior near the barn, and he raced to help, catching the warrior on the shoulder and causing him to spin around to face him.
“Ye bastard,” the warrior sneered.
He wasn’t one that Irvine recognized, and he raised his sword, giving him a hard smile. “Careful now of wot ye say, for it might mean yer death.”
The warrior snorted, raising his sword that was already stained with blood. Whose blood, Irvine was afraid to find out.
“Ye wilnae care for wot I have tae say, for ye will be dead.”
Irvine laughed harshly and then charged the warrior, their swords clanging in the night. Using every move that his father had taught him, Irvine met the warrior thrust for thrust, grunting as he felt his body respond in kind.
The warrior’s sword caught his shoulder, and Irvine grunted as he felt the searing pain, backing off so his opponent couldn’t run it through the rest of the way.
“I see yer blood!” The warrior grinned, looking as if he thought he had bested Irvine.
“Perhaps,” Irvine drawled before he swung his leg out and caught the warrior’s legs, sending him crashing into the snow. Before he could recover, Irvine was driving the sword into the warrior’s chest, grimacing at the blood that spilled out on the snow. “But yers is far brighter.”
The warrior made a noise, then stilled, and Irvine pulled the sword out of the warrior’s body, feeling no happiness in what he had just done. The warrior had been part of his clan.
“Irvine,” Leathen gasped, causing Irvine to look at the old man who was slumped against the barn. “Wot are ye doing, lad?”
“I’m helping,” he grunted as he reached out to lend the leader his arm.
Leathen leaned on him, limping as they moved forward away from the dead warrior. “But this is yer clan. Ye just killed one of yer warriors.”
“That warrior was naught a warrior of mine,” Irvine replied as he and Leathen entered the barn. The horses were whining in their stalls, frightened by the sounds outside.
Leathen collapsed against the stacked hay bales, sweat dotting his brow. “I dinnae know wot is going on.”
“Mah great-uncle,” Irvine stated, his jaw clenched. “He wants the farm. He knows yer secret.”
Leathen blew out a breath. “But ye came back tae fight with us?”
While Irvine wanted to explain why he was here, there were more pressing matters first. “Stay here,” he growled as he stepped back. “I dinnae know wot else he might do.”
“Go find mah daughter,” Leathen rasped. “Please.”
“Aye, I will,” Irvine promised. “I will find her.”
The leader looked as if he wanted to say more, but Irvine was already moving to the door, stepping back into the bitter cold. He spied Malcolm fighting off two warriors and hurried to help him, making quick work of one of them while Malcolm finished off the other.
“This is wrong,” Malcolm replied as the warrior fell into the snow.
“There’s naught we can do but fight alongside the tenants,” Irvine said grimly, wiping his sword on his breeks. They hadn’t asked for this fight, nor would they survive otherwise.
Malcolm set his jaw, but he held his sword aloft. “Then we fight.”
Irvine cleared his throat and walked away, cutting down another warrior on his mission to find Bridget. He had to find her.
He had to save her, or else all this would be for naught.
16
Bridget raised the rake in her hands and hit the warrior on the back of his head, listening to him howl in response. Her shoulders ached from the times she had raised the rake, but there were far too many warriors to stop.
