Black Richard's Heart (The MacCulloughs #1) - Suzan Tisdale Page 0,134

and the men. If he moved too quickly, he risked being killed. If he didn’t move fast enough, Colyne and Daniel could be killed.

His heart banged against his chest, blood rushed in his ears as he fought hard to still his nerves. Lord above, he wished Richard was here. He would know just what to do.

But Richard wasn’t here; he was all alone and he needed to do something to save his little brother and his friend.

“Stop kickin’ me, ye little shite!” The tall man with the ginger hair had wrapped both arms around Colyne’s waist and lifted him off the ground. Another man, with dark hair and a long beard had grabbed Daniel. Daniel had been terrified to silence. Colyne, however, was cussing like a drunken Highlander who had just lost at a game of chance to an Englishman.

“I’ll kick yer ballocks into yer teeth!” Colyne shouted. “Ye bloody bastard!”

Raibeart worried his brother would anger his captor so much he’d end up ringing his neck. Had he not been so busy trying to find a path of rescue, he would have shouted at him to settle down.

Suddenly, the man yelled and cursed and dropped Colyne to the ground.

Daniel, having a closer advantage point had seen what Colyne had done and followed suit. His captor screamed and cursed right before dropping the boy. Both lads scrambled to their feet and took off running. Raibeart knew at once that the boys had each bit the men who had hold of them.

“Get him!” One of the mounted men called out.

Each of the lads’ captors ran after their prey.

“Not the blonde one, ye fools! Get the MacCullough brat!”

The dark-haired man quickly gave up his pursuit of Daniel, veered to his left, and went after Colyne. Raibeart cursed under his breath. Both boys were running in opposite directions. There would be no way for him to save both boys.

Colyne darted left and right, jumping over felled trees, dashing around bramble bushes, and was heading right for Raibeart! Three more men jumped down from their horses and joined in the hunt.

“Do nae let that brat get away or I’ll have yer heads!” shouted the apparent leader.

Colyne ran like the devil was chasing him. The group of men chasing after him fanned out in hopes that one of them would intercept the fast as lightning boy.

The ginger haired man tripped over his own two feet and fell to the ground right in front of Raibeart. ’Twasn’t until he rolled over that he caught a glimpse of Raibeart hiding behind the skinny log. His eyes grew wide as he struggled to his feet and tried to unsheathe his sword at the same time.

Raibeart’s short training and instincts kicked in. He jumped over the log and thrust his sword deep into the man’s chest before he even had a chance to fully disengage his sword from its sheathe.

With all his senses heightened, Raibeart spun in time to see another man coming right at him. This was nothing at all like any of the training sessions he’d had. This was real and terrifying.

Sweat beaded his brow, his upper lip, and neck, but he refused to give up. Deftly, he clashed his sword against his opponent, meeting it strike for strike, blow for blow. In a matter of several terrifying heartbeats, he realized there was a pattern to his opponent’s movements. Left, right, down, left, right, down. When the man lifted his sword to bring it down in an arc, Raibeart ducked low, swung out one leg, and knocked the man on his arse. A harried breath later, and Raibeart was slicing his sword across the man’s throat.

Two down, ten to go.

Raibeart had no idea where Colyne or Daniel had gone; all he knew was that he had to fight and fight hard in order to survive. Deep down, he knew these men were far more experienced than he, but he couldn’t give up. He’d rather die than give up.

Another man, much larger and taller than himself, was running across the uneven ground right towards him. Terror began to settle into Raibeart’s bones, but he shrugged it off. If this is to be the end of me, then so be it. Ye will die with honor.

Much like the last opponent, Raibeart fought bravely and deftly, matching every strike, every thrust, every blow. More than once, he could see surprise flash in his opponent’s eyes when Raibeart was able to deflect his strikes. Seeing that tiny glimpse helped to fuel Raibeart’s