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A drumming sounds and then the Scotsmen march out in a much less organized formation. It’s more of a mob of warriors rushing onto the field. They fan out and form a line of their own, opposing the British.
“What’s happening?” I mutter.
“They’re lining up for a fight,” Duncan says. “We’ve got to help.”
And he rushes ahead before any of us can speak.
ChapterTwenty-Nine
I run after Duncan,but more, I run to stop this. I can’t believe these fools. All that has been sacrificed to save their lives, their entire world, and they immediately return to their petty squabbles? Did I make the wrong choice in saving this world?
Anger boils over in my thoughts, and as it does my steps become lighter. My muscles feel charged with electricity, and I run faster. I pass Duncan by despite his lead, and when I do it’s as if he’s doing a light jog, not a full sprint.
I focus on each step as I barrel down the hill, my biggest concern being I’ll misstep and fall. The land blurs I’m running so fast. I pass the British soldiers, the smell of dirty clothes and unwashed bodies filling the air.
I angle around them and then slide to a stop, standing between the two groups. When I appear, there are gasps of surprise followed by a smattering of cheers on both sides, and some shouts. I hold up my hands towards both groups in a silent demand that they stop before they begin this madness.
“No,” I yell, and my voice is louder than it has any right to be.
“Ach, Quinn, welcome back,” Chief Johnne says, hobbling forward, leaning heavily on a walking stick. One of his legs has a bloody bandage wrapped around it.
Horse hooves clap the ground as the British commander approaches. He stops a few feet away and dismounts, walking up while letting a squire hold the reins of his horse.
“Lady Quinn,” he says, bowing his head.
“What are you two idiots doing?” I demand.
They look at each other with obvious confusion. I glare at them each in turn.
“M’lady, whatever do you mean?” the British commander asks.
“You’re going to fight? After all of this? You have no idea what I’ve been through to save this world and you’re just what, going to return right to your petty squabbles?”
They look at each other again as I stand between them, still breathless from my run to stop this.
“Quinn, we are nae gonna fight,” Chief Johnne says.
“You what?” I ask, heart hammering so loud I must have misunderstood.
“M’lady,” the commander says, “I was about to return the castle to Scottish control before we leave for home. My men are tired and ready to see their families and their own beds.”
“You were going to.” I shake my head, having a hard time processing the words into something that makes sense.
“Aye, Quinn,” Johnne says. “He might be British, but he’s not a total bastard.”
“And he might be Scottish, but he’s less an ass than I would have ever guessed.”
The two men laugh at their own jibes. I drop my hands to my sides, feeling more than a bit foolish. Chief Johnne walks over and places his arm around my shoulders.
“Ach, Quinn,” he says. “Do nae feel bad. Come, tell us what you did. I’m sure this British fap will like to hear the tale as well.”
“What happened here?” I ask.
Duncan races up, his hands balled into fists, rushing right at the British commander. I realize at the last possible moment what he’s about to do and leap between him and the commander.
“Ach, Quinn, let me take that bastard out,” he says, trying to move around me but I’m able to keep him blocked.
“Wait, Duncan,” I say. “It’s fine. They’re not fighting.”
