Relic - Jaid Black Page 0,6

battle scars, he realized those who didn’t know him well thought him all brawn. ‘Twas a mistake, that. And oft a deadly one. Angus had always relied on his cunning as much as his strength. He was getting out of this dungeon and that was that.

“I take it you’re done with waiting,” Colban remarked as he walked over to where Angus stood. His second-in-command and lifelong friend had the good sense not to tease him. “Shall we get on with escaping then?”

“Aye.”

“Are we stealing the healer?”

“Aye.”

“Even though our swords canna save us?” Colban blinked at the black look Angus threw him.

“Shall I run mine through you?”

Colban but blinked again—his way of laughing. Angus frowned.

“I prefer you to remain the grim mon of gloom and doom who I ken,” the laird snapped. “’Tis fortunate for you I am ever fond of your wee mother. Otherwise I would bluidy well—”

A commotion of sorts broke out on the floor above them, bringing an end to Angus’ sour promises. The laird squinted as he strained to hear what was happening. He had thought to hear the familiar clashing of swords as Karriks descended on the castle, yet he heard nothing of the sort. He glanced at Colban who looked equally confused.

“They must be here,” Doctor said with a sigh. “Lucky me.”

The old mon’s tone belied his claim to good fortune. Yet another oddity about the very odd healer.

The door above the stairwell opened and three Englishmen in chainmail ran inside. They pulled the door closed behind them and, swords raised, made their way down the stairwell to stand before the barred cell.

Angus’ gaze was deceptively bored. As soon as they opened the cell, he would disarm them and kill them. He was insulted that the English occupiers of the Lowlander castle had sent but three inferior men to fight him. Then again, they didn’t ken they had the fearsome Highlander warlord in their dungeon. A pity, that. They’d learn their mistake soon enough.

Bothwell Castle had fallen in and out of Scottish hands for as long as the laird could remember. The English king, Edward I, was said to be amongst those who were to fight for the stronghold, which was the sole reason for The Karrik’s presence near to Glasgow. Angus had as much use for the Lowlands as he did for England, but he wanted the head of the English king. When Edward I had failed to show, Angus and his men had turned north to return to the Highlands. ‘Twas then that Doctor appeared in front of his galloping horse…

Angus frowned at the memory. Mayhap he should have run the wee mon over, yet trampling an old mon dressed in the cloak of a statured priest was not in his nature. The laird wasn’t particularly religious, yet neither did he wish to spit in God’s eye. Judging by the finery of Doctor’s cloak, he had the appearance of a priest the church held in high esteem.

Thinking to pay penance for the many souls who’d parted from this world by his sword hand, the laird had decided to help Doctor. He’d told his men to continue on without him, that he would catch up with them the soonest. Colban had remained at his side as he always did and the others had obeyed his command. Thirty heartbeats later, they were surrounded on all sides by the English.

The laird’s first thought was to fight them. His second was to let them take him that he might learn their blackguard king’s whereabouts. When Colban reached for his sword, Angus stayed his hand with a glance.

The Highlander “captives” and the priest who he’d later learn was no priest had been all but paraded through the keep en route to its dungeon. Edward I had been nowhere in sight. ‘Twas a wasted errand, but one the laird had planned to correct after a few hours of sleep. He’d had his sleep. ‘Twas time to fight.

“Ye thought to send a witch and a warlock here to do your bidding?” one of the English spat. “Ye be dead men—all of ye!” His face was a mottled red. His eyes bulged from their sockets. “Kill the prisoners!” he shouted at the other two Englishmen. “Kill them all!”

Afore the soldiers could open the cell, the door to the dungeon flew open. Two figures shrouded in hooded cloaks much like the one Doctor had worn afore the soldiers absconded with it appeared at the top of the cement stairwell. The much smaller