Page 224 of Tales of Highland Loyalty

"Och," Ainslee's hand went to her mouth. For a few seconds, she thought he was dead. Then, he began groaning.

"Malcolm? Where is he?" Ainslee shrieked out loud, but the noise was so loud that no-one heard her. With the jostling from the crowd, it was impossible to hear, or see. Turning to Marisse, she was just about to speak, when she saw him.

Malcolm had appeared, holding a sword straight to Bruce's neck. His stance was defiant, but on the ground, Bruce was beginning to rally.

"Where are all the guards?" hissed Marisse, seeing the madness all around. Ainslee just shrugged, too busy keeping her eyes on Malcolm. Then, she yelped.

"Mal, watch oot!"

Ainslee gasped, as the not-dead Bruce suddenly made a grab for Malcolm's leg. Pulling it hard, he succeeded in toppling Malcolm, who crashed to the floor.

"Malcolm!" Ainslee was shrieking, but she could barely be heard. Yelling all around surrounded her, the noise closing in and almost drowning her own thoughts out.

Jostling hit the crowd, but something kept them back. Screwing up her eyes, Ainslee picked out a few of the guards, their backs pressed to the fight.

Now Malcolm was on the floor, thrashing and flaying. Ainslee felt a cold hit her heart at the sight of him floundering. Desperately, she attempted to break through the human chains, and help him, but Marisse forced her back.

"Are ye rocket? Marisse dragged her away, pushing her roughly into the corner. Around them, men chanted, Ainslee felt her anger surge.

"Wheesht! Get away!" she said, shooing her friend, but Marisse would not let her.

"Ainslee, ye great walloper, ye'll be killed!"

For a few minutes, their fighting threatened to overshadow the ruckus at the top of the hall. Finally, Ainslee gave up trying to win against Marisse and watched, in creeping horror, as Bruce pummeled Malcolm with his fists.

"Noo," howled Ainslee, impotently. She was close up against the line of guards. Malcolm still hadn't seen her yet, leaving Ainslee sobbing impatiently.

Bruce had the upper hand. For minutes, he was swaggered, with Malcolm at his feet. Ainslee felt sick. Then, out of nowhere, Malcolm swang up, grasping Bruce tight.

A huge cheer rang up from the crowds. Malcolm had Bruce in his grip, and although he struggled to get away, this time he could not.

Malcolm did not rest for one minute. Grabbing Bruce, he knocked him over, beating him into a retreat, before brandishing the Duncan Sword at his head. Now they were quiet.

An uncanny hush descended on the Duncan hall. Marisse held Ainslee, who found her heart to be throbbing hard in her chest.

Bruce struggled, floundering like a landed fish, as Malcolm towered above him. This went on for what felt like hours, until the crowd's low hum grew into a roar.

"Malcolm for laird!" shouted one of the villagers.

"He is the true heir!" yelled another, only just audible over the din. Pretty soon, the whole room was cheering and stomping their feet.

Europheria rising, Ainslee grinned crazily at Marisse. "He's done it! He is the new laird!"

With Bruce on the floor, it certainly seemed as though it was, but an elder, watching from the front line coughed quickly.

"Only if the auld laird acquiesces," murmured a dark-haired elder.

The weight of the room shifted to Bruce. Listless on the floor, he groaned.

"Aye," he said simply. A huge cheer rose in the room.

Excited, Ainslee leaped in the air. "Hoo, Malcolm! Hoo!"

At last, he saw her. Through the chaos and the noise, Malcolm's confused eyes fell on her.

"Ainslee?" He stood still, his mouth falling open. "But..."

Ainslee felt her heart surge, cheered on by the crowd, she rushed forwards, suddenly.