14
A HOLLOW VICTORY
Something was wrong.
He hated to think so poorly, but he knew that there was something amiss. Looking for the problem, Seamus scanned the courtyard. It was the same, familiar scene he had spent a lifetime avoiding, but it was not the battle he had imagined. He watched his men fight against Campbell's guards, only to find that the men they were up against were not the usual caliber of fighters that Campbell kept around.
They had been able to push into the courtyard too easily. He knew that Campbell had two or three times as many archers as those seen on the ramparts. Men who should have been attacking from above at this very moment, but weren't. When he was here last, spying on Campbell, the Laird had amassed an army nearly double the size of the rebel army. Yet, there was no sign of those numbers now. Instead, it seemed as though every one of Campbell's men was fighting off two or three rebels at a time. It was an unfair fight, to be sure, though not in the way Seamus had anticipated.
Still, he wasn't one to waste an opportunity. He had made it inside Murray Castle. Not only that, but he was winning. He intended to keep things going in his favor.
Flora fought alongside him, never letting him get more than three or four steps away, not that he wanted to go far. It anchored him, knowing that she was so close. At this distance, he felt as though he could keep her safe.
“This is it,” she told him, echoing the words he had told his men only minutes before. “This is what ye have been waiting for.”
“What?” he all but shouted, the noise of the fray drowning out her words.
“Find Campbell,” she called back. “End this war.”
Her words sparked something in him that pushed aside his doubts and made him start swinging his sword again.
Together, they moved through the bloodied battlefield. Seamus lost count of the number of men he disarmed or felled. He didn't care. They didn't matter. All that mattered was getting to Campbell. He loathed the death that surrounded him now, the cries of anguish as men breathed their last. More than anything, he wanted it to end. He needed it to be over. And the only way to see to that was to find Campbell and put an end to it all.
They worked through the men, often with Flora's back pressed against his. It was nearly impossible for his mind to filter out the significance of what they were doing, of where they were. His eyes darted over to the whipping post that sat in the center of a platform Campbell had built long ago. Seamus had watched countless men and women lose their lives on that platform. He had seen his people endure untold horrors. Images that he would sooner have burned from his mind floated to the surface. It was that very platform, that very whipping post, that had started all of this. Had it not been for that boy, for his old governess, Winfrey, pleading with him to save her grandson, none of this would have happened. It was a sobering thought.
“That will be the first to go,” he promised himself. “I will tear it out and burn it myself.”
Finally, they managed to clear a path to the stone steps that led to the castle doors. Enforced with iron bars reaching from top to bottom, Seamus wasn't sure how they would breach the castle itself. He contemplated for a moment that they might have to go back to get the battering rams once more. But just as he was about to tell Flora his plan, the doors swung open, seemingly of their own accord.
Flora and Liam both moved nearer to Seamus, all of their eyes on the dark and empty doorway. He almost held his breath as he waited to see what would come next. The noise of the battle behind him faded as more and more Campbell men fell, but he knew this was only the beginning. They had already used so much energy to get this far, that it would be rather ingenious of Campbell to save his best men for this moment. To wait until the rebels were weary from the journey to the keep, breaching the gates, and taking out as many guards as they had would all but ensure their victory.
Seamus swore under his breath, fearing that they had walked into a trap. Something had been wrong from the very start of this, and he had ignored all the warning signs. He had ignored it all. He cursed again, earning a concerned look from Flora. Before he could answer her silent question, before he could call for a retreat, a voice echoed from within the castle walls.
“Do ye ken, I think I am in the running to become Laird Campbell's favorite. After all, Callum Drummond has long since filled that position. It is a spot that has been in desperate need of filling since ye killed him.”
An odd mixture of relief and dread coursed through Seamus. It wasn't Campbell waiting for them, but he didn't know if this was any better.
“Who is that?” Flora whispered, her voice full of alarm.
“Master Archie,” Seamus called out in greeting and answer. “I am surprised to find ye here. Have ye been sent to doCampbell's dirty work? Is the man still too weak to fight himself? Or just too cowardly?”
Archie stepped out of the shadows and sneered. Another two dozen men emerged from the castle with him. They all took their position on the steps, though none dared to join in the fight. At least, not yet.
“Ye were always too cheeky for yer own good, Seamus.”
The man took half a step forward, twirling his sword around on his wrist.
“Too cheeky and ye never learned when to leave well enough alone. Och, well. I suppose it is too late for ye now.”
“From where I am standing, it is Campbell who has never been able to leave anything alone. He is the greedy one, nae me. This was nae his land to take. I intend to right that wrong.”
Archie tsked, shaking his finger at Seamus with a nonchalance that ignored the battle happening entirely.
“So devoted too. Well, lad, as much as I enjoy talking with ye, I promised to deliver Campbell a gift, and I never break my word.”
He took another step forward. The pure evil in the man's eyes nearly caused Seamus to take a step back. But this wasn't a fight he could run from. It wasn't one he wanted to run from.
“And what is that?”
