Outside, the camp was a seething mass of confusion. Mist still clung beneath the trees and the distorted sounds that reached Evan seemed to come from all sides—the bellowing of voices, the tromp of feet, the clang of steel on steel. Men came charging through the mist only to disappear again as quickly.
“This way!” Evan cried. He grabbed Hamish’s sleeve and pulled him through the murk, dodging tree trunks and tents, trying to get his bearings.
But he skidded to a halt as he spotted a large shadow emerging from the mist ahead. The shadow resolved into a group of armed men charging from the trees carrying farm tools, hunting spears, and old swords.
And at their head strode Niall.
Evan stared in uncomprehending shock. Then it hit him. These men were Campbell villagers, hastily cobbled together from both Niall’s and Evan’s lands. Understanding flashed through him. Somehow,somehowNiall and the others had gotten wind of what was happening today. But they’d not had time to coordinate with Bryce’s forces, so Niall had done what he could—he’d brought a band of volunteers here instead. For him.
Once again, he was horrified at what they were willing to do for him.
For the moment, the mist was working in the villagers’ favor and, from the noise all around, Evan guessed Niall had split his forces, sent smaller bands to attack at various locations and make MacInnes’ men think there were more attackers than there were. But their advantage would not last long. Drawing a dagger, Evan threw himself into the chaos alongside them, cutting down one MacInnes guard and ducking another. Hamish stayed by his side, laying about him with his fists, downing anyone who came too close.
“Evan!”
He spun at the familiar voice shouting his name. He scanned the mist. Then he saw her. Even obscured by swirling bands of fog, he knew it was her.
Ruby.
She materialized out of the murk holding a short blade, Charlie and several villagers to either side.
With a cry, he ran. Veering around trees and jumping over campfires, he sprinted with all he had, skidding to a halt in front of her.
Dear God, she should not be here.Noneof them should be here. There was no way this could end well.
“I willnae even ask how in God’s name ye are here,” he said. “Do ye remember the fighting techniques I showed ye?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“Good. Ye are going to need them.” He glanced at Charlie and the villagers. “Stay close, all of ye.”
He had to get them away. Once MacInnes’ men organized themselves, this would become a slaughter.
He led them roughly north, aiming towards where he thought the horses might be. If they could somehow steal those horses, they stood a chance. If not...
A man materialized out of the mist, raising a flintlock pistol. With a roar, Evan slammed into him and the shot cracked into a tree. He drove his knife into the man’s throat and kept moving, checking that Ruby and the others were following. All around them echoed the sounds of fighting. Up ahead, he heard the whinny of a horse and a sliver of relief went through him. Almost there—
Then Fergus Key stepped out of the mist.
“Where are ye going, Campbell?”
He swung a dagger at Evan who brought his knife up in a block. Their blades clashed. Key was strong, well trained. He slashed and ducked, driving Evan backwards, and it was all Evan could do to keep the man’s blade at bay. Then a rock crashed into the side of Key’s head and he staggered. Evan stabbed his knife between the man’s ribs. Key’s eyes widened and he made a low gurgling noise as he collapsed to the damp ground.
Evan looked around, saw Ruby hefting another rock ready to throw if needed, saw Charlie and the villagers back-to-back in a rough circle, weapons ready, saw Niall and Hamish fighting side by side in the distance, saw knots of villagers fighting with scythes and pitchforks.
But the mist was starting to clear. The sun had risen high enough to begin burning it off and small knots of Niall’s fighters were becoming obvious, losing the advantage of surprise. He heard bellowed orders—MacInnes’ voice—and suddenly menwere converging on them from all sides, flintlock pistols loaded and aimed.
Despair roiled through him. They could not win. These people were all going to die. And it was his fault.
A horn split the morning. Looking up, he spotted a line of mounted warriors through the shifting mists, and Evan recognized the man in the lead.
Bryce.
His elder brother raised his arm high. “Campbell!” he roared. His warriors came riding down the slope, through the trees, and crashed into the camp like a storm.
Evan barely had time to breathe before chaos erupted around him. The air was suddenly full of the sound of charging hooves, the retort of pistol shots, the stink of gunpowder.
“Get down!” he bellowed at those around him, grabbing Ruby and pulling her flat to the ground.
