“Be swift! Be fierce!” he shouted to his men, riding across the frontline as he looked into battle-ready faces. “‘Tis time tae deliver a message about the strength of our clan. But ‘tis also time tae show our mercy. Kill nae one ye can do without killing. For our name! For our clan! For our people!”
“For our clan! For our people!” The roar of men filled the air, deafening and terrifying.
“Then let it be done.” Darach gave the battle cry and urged his horse down the hill. The Robertsons descended like avenging hellfire with a message of destruction.
The MacThomas men were ill-prepared. They faltered at first, unsure whether to attack or run. And then after a rallying cry, they surged forward. They clashed, and the ringing sound of steel resounded at the bottom of the hill. Darach quickly cut through the first two men he encountered with a deft swing of his sword.
He could see the surprise and the fear in the eyes of the soldiers. They hadn’t expected to encounter a fighting force such as this. He glanced quickly to see his men running through them like they were not present. Arran was strongly cutting a swath through the men while the rest of his soldiers dispatched their foes with expert speed and deft use of their weapons.
Darach had set his sights on Keith MacThomas, who was still on his horse. The huge beast circled, and its rider hacked away with his broadsword, scattering men around him.
Darach single-mindedly fought through a path toward him. He was the only one who could stop this madness, and he needed to speak to the laird himself. Soon there were only a few soldiers left between him and his target. Darach lifted his voice over the noise of the battle at Keith.
“Yer a fool for attacking this way, MacThomas. I’d hate tae spill the blood of more of yer men. Stand down!”
A fierce anger shone in MacThomas’ eyes. He raised his sword, gathered the reins in his other hand, and kicked his horse forward. He charged at Darach, letting out a bloodcurdling cry. Darach got himself ready for the attack and deflected the blow.
The force jolted him, and he grabbed at his reins to hold himself steady.
Suddenly, a group of soldiers in the MacThomas army broke their ranks and fled. It caused a commotion, horses trampling around, spooked and wild. An even worse commotion than the battle itself rose into the air as the men turned and fled. The uproar brought back a distance between Darach and his foe. It was now clear the MacThomas soldiers were woefully outmatched as their captains yelled retreat, but his men didn’t just retreat—they fled.
Darach signaled his men to let them go, and he almost did not notice one of the soldiers bearing down on him with an arcing sword from his rear. Several warning screams went into the air, and when Darach turned around, he could see the determination on the warrior’s face.
Darach brought his sword up quickly, and the blades met with a resounding clang as he blocked off the man’s attack. The soldier was less ready for the impact than he was, and the blow made him stagger backward. Darach knocked his opponent's sword from his hands with his second strike, and it clanked to the ground.
The man was now weak—losing blood. A crowd of his soldiers circled around quickly and raised their swords to finish the man off. Darach raised his hand, and they paused.
He could see death staring back at him from the depths of the man’s eyes. He had accepted fate as only a warrior could. He gazed around at the dying battle. MacThomas men were scattered across the landscape. Just a few were dead, some wounded. Some fled on foot, while others ran their horses into the ground to escape the battle.
The man sank to his knees and bowed his head in front of Darach in acknowledgment of defeat. “Finish it,” he muttered.
Darach stared down at him for a long moment, and then he slowly lowered his sword. “I have another plan for ye.”
“Ye will go back tae yer laird,” Darach said slowly. “And ye will bear my message.”
The man slowly looked up at him and then nodded.
“Ye will tell Keith MacThomas that his daughter is safe and healthy. She is my guest. Tell him that I demand an audience with him tonight. Let’s settle things amicably instead of him wasting his warriors on a needless war.”
He signaled his men to help the warrior mount a horse and send him riding towards the MacThomas camp.
* * *
It was not long before a return message came from the MacThomas camp. They had chosen a neutral clearing to meet, and no one in the group was to come into it armed.
Darach took a deep breath and squared his shoulders as he crossed the door into the makeshift tent. Caelen, Wiley, and Arran accompanied him while a group of skilled soldiers was hiding in the woods just a few hundred feet away in case this turned out to be a trap. He could guess MacThomas had the same stashed somewhere.
The man was standing in the corner of the room when he came in. There was a stiff silence for a couple of minutes while Keith gazed at Darach.
Darach noticed the man looked physically unhurt from the battle himself, but his pride must have suffered a great wound, which was even more dangerous. A man like Keith MacThomas was strong enough to hold a vendetta and enact revenge, but two things would probably make him stop to think. He had his daughter in the Robertson castle, and he would have noticed that the Robertson soldiers didn’t go for the kill with his men.
The laird’s scowl was instantaneous, but a mask soon came over his face to hide his true feelings. “Ye hold something more valuable. A daughter is nae equal tae a soldier,” the laird gritted between his teeth.
“Think him more of a friend. He’s an advisor, someone important tae my court in these perilous times. Surely ye understand the importance he brings me.”
Keith scoffed and shook his head before looking at him again. “He was important enough for ye tae abduct a noble lady and bring her tae yer accursed keep?
Darach narrowed his gaze at the much older man. “Just an eye for an eye, my laird. I wouldnae be able tae bend yer ear without leverage. Ye weren’t ready tae listen that night, and ye would never have listened.”