“We are under attack!” one of the guards shouted from the ledge above.
Feradach’s eyes flared with outrage. “’Twas a trap!” Helunged, swung.
Rónán ducked and rolled, shoving to his feet directly behind his foe.
As Feradach’s blade cut air, he lurched back, lost his balance, and tumbled toward the edge. The knight’s fingers caught a jagged stone as he slid over the side. Feet dangling above the slam of waves far below, his breaths blasting out in frantic gasps, through the snow-smeared gusts, he met Rónán’s gaze. “Help me.”
“Aye, I will give you what you will deserve.” Sword in hand, Rónán started up the cliff to where the clash of blades screamed from above.
“You canna leave me to die!” hestrangled out.
’Twould be fitting penance. On a muttered curse, Rónán spun on his heel. Aye, ’twould be proper as well to let him rot in the dungeon for the harm he’d served so many. He strode over. As he reached down, the warrior’s fingers slipped.
Eyes wild with fear, Feradach’s scream entwined with the lash of wind as he plummeted past sheer rock. As if a hand from Hades, a large swell rose up, engulfed him as he reached the sea. Water exploded on the side of the cliff; then the enormous wave receded in a violentsnarl of white.
Within the angry churn, naught remained but the blueish-green surge of the nextincoming swell.
’Twould seem God had made his own decision on the cur’s fate. Rónán looked toward where the men were fighting, unsure who had arrived to help him, but thankful braced his leg against the pain, and started to climb.
As he crested the rocky incline, Rónán stilled. His Templar brothers and Bran, along with warriors he didn’t recognize, drove the enemy back. After a quick prayer thanking God for the miracle, he jumpedinto the fray.
A short while later, with Lord Ardgar’s men defeated, Rónán stared at his friend, Stephan MacQuistan, Earl of Dunsmore. Throat raw with emotion, he shook his head. “I canna believe you are here.” He scanned his fellow Templar knights—Sir Thomas MacKelloch, Earl of Kincaid, Sir Aiden MacConnell, Earl of Lennox, Sir Cailin MacHugh, Earl of Dalkirk, and other brave, loyal men he’d fought with over the years. “How?”
“A while back, a pirate—Bran, as he asked to be called—sailed to King Robert with news of the attack upon theAodhand Lord Sionn’s capture.” Stephan paused. “The Bruce ordered that I take two crews and freethe nobleman.”
“Since then, I, as others, helped Lord Sionn escape,” Rónán said, his mind whirling as he tried to takeeverything in.
“Aye.” Stephan wiped his sword clean, “Which we discovered was your intent as we came across the same pirate en route to inform King Robert.”
Men parted as Bran swaggered forward, a salty grin on his face. “After a brief misunderstanding—”
“We thought we were under attack,” Stephan said dryly.
The pirate chuckled. “Once I ordered the flag lowered, I explained that Lord Sionn had been freed.”
“I thought it prudent,” Stephan said, “more so with the Lord Ardgar’s interference in the Bruce’s seizing of Scotland, to seize Murchadh Castle. Bran insistedon joining us.”
Mirth twinkled in the pirate’s eyes. “Canna missa good fight.”
Rónán stared in disbelief. “You captured the earl’s stronghold?”
“Aye,” Thomas said, stepping forward. “Believing there to be no threat about after his knights rode off to attack you, the lackwit left the portcullis open.” He glanced around, frowned. “I had assumed you were traveling witha large force.”
“I was.” Rónán nodded, his head still reeling as he fought to take it all in. “’Tisa long story.”
“One,” Cailin said as he moved next to Thomas, “you can tell us after we get you to the castle and tend to your wounds.”
“Aye,” Stephan said. “Now we must finish taking care of matters here.” He scanned others within his force who were rounding up Lord Ardgar’s men. “Those who refuse to swear fealty to King Robert willbe imprisoned.”
Rónán grunted. “A kind fate when all they offered those seized was death.”
Stephan nodded. “Indeed.”
* * * *
The scent of roast venison, onions, herbs, and bread filled the great hall as Rónán lifted his goblet and drank deep. With his wounds tended to, though exhausted, he felt better. However anxious to depart to see Lathir, to let her know he was alive, ’twas imperative to ensure Murchadh Castle was secure, with a trusted guard in place before the Templars sailed away. As they would soon set sail, neither did it make sense to send a runner. Nor with Lathir’s focus turning to Kieran, was it wise to allow his mind tolinger on her.
Rónán took in his Templar friends, stunned by the turn of events. The strategic stronghold that days before had belonged to his enemy was now King Robert’s. No doubt a fortress his sovereign would leave to his brother, Edward, who held aspirations of becoming king of Ireland.
