The Betrayal - By Ruth Langan Page 0,39
to dress for the feast.”
“Thank you, Ardis.” Kylia sipped the tea and stared into the flickering flames of the fire, before setting the cup aside and letting her head fall back.
Deliciously warm and content, she was soon fast asleep, with the wolf pup curled up beside her.
The dream was so real she could hear every clang of metal as sword met shield. Could feel every blow as the Highlanders and barbarians came together with clubs and dirks and finally, with their weapons lost on the field of battle, nothing but their fists.
She heard the voice of one, raised above the din. His face was so like the face of her love, his voice so familiar, she sucked in a breath in her sleep. “We fight to the death, lads. For the lives of all those we love are in our hands this day.”
This, Kylia knew, was Stirling MacCallum, father of the man she loved.
She saw him take a knife thrust to the shoulder and reel in pain. In sleep she absorbed his pain and clutched her shoulder, as he clutched his.
“Ranald. Behind you.” Despite his wound, he bent to retrieve a sword from the grass and attacked the one who had struck down his friend. As soon as he’d managed to run the barbarian through, he dropped his sword and knelt beside the man he loved like a brother. He brushed fair hair away from a face contorted in agony, and stared down into pale gray eyes. “Nay, Ranald. Hold on, my friend. I’ll finish off these strangers and take you home.”
Ranald’s voice was soft, breathy, and oddly boyish for one so big. “I’m dying, Stirling.”
“Nay. You cannot leave me. Think of Hazlet, my friend. Let her love give you the strength to live.”
“If only I could. Be kind to her, Stirling, for she’ll need your kindness, your strength, to see her through what is to come. Don’t let her hide away in shame.”
“Why should she be shamed? You fought like a true Highlander, Ranald. No greater love can there be than this, that you would give your life for those you love.”
The dying man shook his head. “You know your sister’s fierce pride.”
Stirling smiled. “Aye. There are none prouder than Hazlet.”
“She’ll retreat in anger and pain. Tell her…” Ranald’s voice was coming in short bursts now, as his life slowly drained away. His fingers curled around his friend’s wrist as he struggled to say what was in his heart. “Tell her to confide in your Mary, who has a kind and compassionate heart. And tell Hazlet I love her more than life itself.”
“You’ll tell her yourself, as soon as…” Stirling watched as the light went out of his friend’s eyes and they stared vacantly. His own filled with tears and he caught Ranald to his chest, rocking him gently while he absorbed the pain of grief. “…as soon as I take you home, my friend.”
It was a blow to his head that brought him out of his numbness and grief. Releasing his hold on his friend, he took up his sword and drove back the attacker, only to find two more. As he fought them off, three more appeared, and then a score, until his vision was filled with an army of barbarians, screaming and shouting as they moved in for the kill.
Standing alone, the bodies of his fallen comrades littering the field, he sustained more than a dozen wounds, any one of which would have killed a lesser man. But he fought valiantly until at last, bloody and beaten, his sword dropped from his nerveless fingers and he sank to his knees.
The barbarians were on him, with swords and clubs, until the grass ran red with his blood.
The pain was overwhelming now. So much pain he wanted to cry out. Instead he held his silence, robbing his enemy of their final triumph.
His last thoughts were of the love he felt for his wife, Mary, and infant son, Grant, as he gave up his life.
Kylia sat up with a jolt, her body fevered, her mind troubled. As awareness slowly dawned, the pain she’d been feeling receded. But though it diminished, it didn’t entirely disappear. Bits and pieces of it remained with her, reminding her again of the price warriors paid so that those they loved could remain free.
The barbarians had invaded their land in order to take captives. The Highland men would be sacrificed so that the women and children would be enslaved. Their plans had been foiled by