Deryn sprinted for all he was worth, Mara shooting ahead of him, barking madly. Her noise alerted the MacKay men and they turned their heads, surprise shooting across their features. But these were hard, well-trained men, and in the next instant, they adjusted to Deryn and Mara’s sudden appearance.
The one holding Madeleine yanked her backwards, his grip tightening, while the other drew his weapon—a wicked looking sword that gleamed in the sunlight—and swiveled to face Deryn, dropping into a fighting stance.
“Back off!” he shouted. “This isnae any concern of yers!”
“On that, I’m afraid we disagree,” Deryn replied. “Let them both go and maybe ye will walk out of here!”
The man made a gesture to his companion who began dragging Madeleine and Rory backwards.
“Deryn!” Maddy screamed, her voice hoarse. Rory was bawling with terror. The sound of it sent protectiveness burning through Deryn like fire.
“Let them go!” he shouted again.
“Canna do that,” the man replied. “They belong to Laird MacKay. Ye got a problem with that, ye take it up with him. Last chance, friend. We dinna want this to get nasty.”
Deryn was done talking. He whistled a command to Mara and sent her racing past the first man. She leapt at the second with a snarl, grabbing the hem of his plaid and tugging savagely. The man stumbled and that was all the help Madeleine needed to tear herself from his grasp. Clutching Rory to her, she backed off, her eyes wide with fear. The MacKay man growled and kicked out at Mara, but the dog dodged him easily, still tugging at his plaid and stopping him from going after Madeleine.
Deryn turned his attention to the man blocking his way. He recognized him vaguely and wondered if he’d been present when he’d first escorted Madeleine to Torryn Keep. The man raised his sword threateningly.
Deryn halted, hefting his own weapon. It had been many years since he’d used it in battle, but if he thought he might have gotten rusty in that time, he was mistaken. It felt right in his grip, like it was an extension of his arm.
Once a killer, always a killer,he thought wryly. He let the tip rest in the dirt and waited for his opponent to make the first move.
The man licked his lips, his eyes flicking to Deryn’s weapon and then up to his face. Did he recognize him? Did he realize it was Deryn the Destroyer standing before him?
The man moved suddenly, his blade swinging in an economical movement that suggested he was an experienced swordsman. The blow was designed to catch Deryn’s weapon and disarm him before he could make a strike of his own.
But Deryn’s blade wasn’t there anymore.Hewasn’t there anymore. As his attacker moved, so did Deryn, pivoting wide of the man’s swing, stepping inside his guard and pressing the tip of his sword against the man’s throat.
“Drop it,” he growled.
The man dropped the sword as instructed.
“Wise choice.” Deryn stepped close and hammered the hilt of his sword into the man’s temple. He dropped like a stone. Deryn was already moving, covering the distance between him and the second man in less than a heartbeat. Seeing him coming, the MacKay man desperately tried to turn, but Mara still had his cloak clamped in her teeth and in his thrashing he’d gotten himself wound in the long fabric.
Deryn laid him flat on his back with a punch to the temple.
He turned, scanning the terrain for any more of MacKay’s men who might be hiding, but saw none. The next instant he was almost knocked from his feet as Madeleine cannoned into him, throwing an arm around him and squashing Rory between them.
He stiffened, unused to such contact, then found his arms going around them both in return. He buried his face in Madeleine’s hair, inhaling the clean scent of her.
“Mama! You’re squashing me!” Rory cried indignantly.
Madeleine stepped back with a shaky laugh, wiping at her eyes. “Sorry, sweetie.” She looked around—at the men lying unconscious on the ground, at Mara wagging her tail eagerly—then at Deryn.
“You came after us,” she said.
“Aye,” he replied gruffly. “I did. Come on, we canna linger here.”
He grabbed her arm and led her hurriedly from the dell where the unconscious men lay. They went downhill, through a tangle of brush until he judged they’d traveled far enough.
There, he halted and scrubbed a hand through his hair as he gathered his thoughts. “What are ye doing, lass?” he said finally. “Why did ye run away?”
She bit her lip and looked away, the relief draining from her expression to be replaced by wariness. She put Rory down. “Why don’t you go and play with Mara while I talk to Deryn, sweetie?”
Rory chased Mara as she danced away across the ground, yipping excitedly.
Maddy huffed out a breath. He put a hand on her shoulder and she flinched. “Tell me,” he said softly. “Tell me the truth.”
