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No one would suspect a wee lad like him to follow them. He could get close and kill the MacDougall when he didn’t suspect it.
Colin looked around. Everyone was busy. Mother was helping with the dead and wounded. Isbeil commanded the clan about, directing the wounded into the great hall. Tamhas, who had left his post by Colin’s door when the MacDougalls retreated, was helping carry the fallen warriors. Konnor was bandaging a wound on someone’s leg. There was no one on the walls anymore, save for dead bodies.
His grandfather’s sword!
He hurried into his bedchamber. After Konnor had fought Colin’s attackers, the sword had been cleaned and oiled and hung on the wall, glistening like new. Colin stood on a chest and took the hilt with both his hands. With a grunt, he lifted the weapon, only to have it sink back down and fall on the floor. It was almost as long as he was. No. He needed something smaller and lighter.
A dagger!
Colin hurried back to the wall. He saw a dagger lying next to a dead warrior. He grasped it, hid it behind his belt, and quickly sprinted down into the courtyard, through the broken gates, and after the MacDougall army, unnoticed by anyone.
* * *
Konnor frowned as he watched a tiny figure run through the castle gates and crouch behind a bush. He’d came to take any wounded from the northern wall down into the great hall where Isbeil could help them.
Given the disadvantage in numbers, Konnor was relieved at how few casualties they had. Most of the dead bodies belonged to the MacDougalls. As far as Konnor could see, Glenkeld had lost about fifteen men, though every single one who was still alive had wounds of some sort.
The small figure peeked from behind the bush, rose, and sprinted after the MacDougall army. A boy. There was something familiar about him… A white stick swung violently attached to the boy’s waist as he ran. A sword?
A wooden sword?
That couldn’t be…
Konnor’s blood chilled. Someone went passed him. “What the feck are ye looking at, man?” Tamhas asked him as he walked towards the nearest body. “Dinna have nothing to do?”
“Where the fuck is Colin, Tamhas?” Konnor growled.
“In his chamber, of course.” But his voice didn’t sound confident at all. Tamhas stopped and followed the direction of Konnor’s gaze.
Without saying a word, Konnor ran to check Colin’s bedroom.
Empty!
Tamhas stopped behind his shoulder. “No, no, no!” He darted towards the round stairs and down. “I left to help with the wounded when the MacDougalls started leaving.”
Konnor dashed after him, his heart beating heavily in his chest. His legs didn’t move fast enough, as though his feet weighed a ton and felt as cold as ice.
Tamhas ran towards the stables, and Konnor followed him, but all the horses were unsaddled.
“Goddamn it,” Konnor growled. “I’m going after him on foot. He isn’t that far.”
“Aye, man. I’m coming.”
Konnor’s muscles were tired from a sleepless night full of physical strain, battle, and nerves, but he gathered the remnants of his strength and willed his body to ignore the burning pain in his ankle. He sprinted after the boy.
The grass flashed under his boots, and a breeze chilled his sweaty body under the tunic and the leine chroich. There, he saw Colin about a mile in front of him, a small figure, about to run into the forest. He and Tamhas ran faster.
Konnor hoped the MacDougalls wouldn’t see the boy. If they did, and John MacDougall realized who the boy was, that was it. There was no way he’d let the boy go. The battle would start again, and no matter how wounded John was, there was no way the Cambels could win out in the open like this.
They’d lose Colin.
Konnor couldn’t imagine what that would do to Marjorie.
He had to retrieve him. He and Tamhas had to. Konnor sped up.
By the time they reached the first trees, Konnor was out of breath, and sharp pains from running stabbed his stomach. Tamhas and he stopped and hid behind the trees and peeked.
“There he is,” Konnor said.
