Page 75 of Leila’s Legacy

Niall’s sword caught on Alban’s arm and a bright blossom of crimson bloomed on his white shirt, visible in the parting of his cloak. The injury did not appear to slow Alban down as he continued to evade the blows. At first.

Several hits later, his movements began to slow as exhaustion worked into his muscles. And that was exactly what Niall had expected. What he needed.

“Ye’ll pay for what ye did to Leila.” Niall swept his sword left, then right. Too quickly for Alban to evade the hit.

Niall’s blade sank into the soft side of Alban’s torso. His eyes went wide with surprise. Niall pulled his weapon free and watched as his opponent staggered back in shock. Niall should walk away, mayhap use Alban as a means of escaping the other clansmen.

He could return to Werrick Castle with Leila, to live out their life. Except that Alban and Lord Armstrong would get away with all they’d done. Mayhap do it to someone else.

Niall stepped closer and let every awful memory pour over him.

When Alban had tried to rape Leila.

Another step.

How he’d terrified her to the point of mutilating herself to obtain a weapon.

Niall stopped in front of Alban. “Yer da will pay for what he made me do to Leila and what happened with my da. Ye both will.”

On the final word, he shoved his sword into Alban’s chest, between the plates of leather in the gambeson so the sharp sword punctured through bone and cartilage. Niall didn’t stop pushing the weapon into Alban until the hilt touched the man’s stained gambeson and blood flowed hot over Niall’s hands.

A choked cry issued forth from Alban’s mouth, along with a string of pink saliva. Niall pulled his weapon free as the first Armstrong guard crashed into him.

The attacker was too close for Niall to strike with his sword, so he slammed the pummel of his weapon into the man’s back. The guard grunted in pain and released Niall. He jabbed his blade into the man’s shoulder as a second man descended upon him. Then a third, and a fourth.

Sweat poured down his brow and stung his eyes. There was a saltiness in his mouth, but he didn’t know if it was from sweat as well, or blood. It had been reckless to kill Alban. He knew that. But he had to do it.

A life for a life, and he was not done yet.

Niall thrust his sword where he could, finding critical hits. He’d always been a damn good warrior, but even a damn good warrior could not take on twelve reivers and walk away unscathed.

The first blade nicked Niall on the forearm of his sword arm. The second strike was a gash to his thigh that left his leg weak and heavy. The third was a fist to the eye that sent him reeling backward. He fell to the ground, battered and bleeding.

Leila.

Her image rose in his mind, the way she’d looked at him with fear when he left her. Even without her visions, she had worried it might come to this. He’d seen it the night before, when regret creased her brow for having told him about his father’s death.

A foot raised over Niall’s face, preparing to come down and end his life.

“Nay,” one of the guards said. “The earl will want to deal with him personally.”

With that, Niall was hauled to his feet, head lolling, and put roughly on the back of a horse. Lord Armstrong would seek to claim vengeance for his son, but Niall still had his own to see to. For certes, when this war was over and done, vengeance would only be claimed by one.