The hillock had become a sea of black and yellow striped tents illuminated by torchlight, the air filled with the thrum of activity and the clang of practiced weaponry. Flags emblazoned with an ebony wolf on a golden backdrop dotted the expanse, the pennants whipping in the chill pre-dawn wind.
Inside one of the twenty tents of the military camp, the leader of the Iron Wolves paced back and forth. Despite being in his element, standing on the eve of battle, he found himself uneasy. His second in command pretended not to watch, focusing on sharpening his blade by the central hearth fire.
“He should have returned hours ago,” Dominik said with a shake of his head.
Aiden had left the camp midday yesterday to visit Castle McCormack. Someone needed to get a message to Mairi, and Connor’s brother seemed the most logical option. Not only was he an unknown entity, he was a knight of a distant laird, thereby privy to considerations the other members of the Iron Wolves wouldn’t receive. They had hoped those considerations would keep him safe from harm.
“There be many a reason why the lad might be late, Captain,” Graeme offered. He’d been making the same assurances to Dominik for hours. “He may have been unable to get back in time and holed up somewhere. Or perhaps he couldn’t adequately turn down an invitation to dinner. Whatever the reason, I’m sure Aiden is fine. He’s a tough lad. He can handle himself.”
Dominik continued to pace the length of the tent, pondering the attack that should already be underway. “Let’s go over the plan one more time,” he said, finally plopping himself down into one of a handful of camp chairs scattered around the space.
“Upon Aiden’s return,” Graeme started, “or at your command,” he corrected, “the bulk of the Iron Wolves will ride on horseback toward the main doors of the castle, led by yers truly. With any luck, the forces will be severely diminished, or at least demoralized, from the consumption of too much drugged wine the night before. Regardless, we will command the attention of the laird’s men.” He put down his great sword and leaned forward, his hands resting on his knees. “Meanwhile, ye will lead a small band of skirmishers around the outer walls of the castle, through the orchards, and into the secret entrance that leads to the kitchens. From there, ye will take out whoever ye need to get the doors open for us. Finally, we save both the lassies and make sure Ru is never able to hurt anyone else ever again.”
Dominik gave his second a sly smile. “Sounds easy enough, donnae it?”
The sounds of a commotion erupted outside, startling Graeme and Dominik to their feet. The tent flap opened up, and Aiden ducked in, cradling a bundle in his arms. He strode into the tent and laid what Dominik realized was a young boy down on the cot at the other side of the tent. The mercenary didn’t wait before descending on his companion, reaching out to shake his hand in greeting.
“Apologies for keeping ye waiting, Captain,” Aiden said as they grasped each other’s wrists.
“What happened?” Dominik asked, filled with questions. “Who’s the boy? Is it Euan? Where is Mairi?” The inquiries tumbled out of him.
Graeme put a hand on his leader’s shoulder, stopping the interrogation. He held out a wineskin for Aiden, who took a long swig and handed it back.
“I’ll tell ye the short version because I ken we need to move.” Aiden dropped himself in the camp chair by the cot, and Graeme and Dominik followed suit, dropping into their respective seats. “I was detained in the cells beneath the keep alongside the little one,” he pointed to the boy in the bed with his thumb, “but Ru’s mother—Alesonne—came and set us free. She got us out of the keep through a secret exit that leads out to the water on the west side, and we made our way from there.”
“What about Mairi? Why dinnae ye get her out too?” Dominik asked.
“Mairi is, as far as I know, safe. But Alesonne said she was under lock and key in the rooms above. There was a guard. Same thing with Jenna—her cell was locked with a key only some woman named Ysenda has, so no way to get her out either.”
“I see.” Dominik’s expression turned dark.
“If Mairi is sequestered then, how will the plan work out?” Graeme asked. “Was she able to drug the wine?”
“Again, Lady Alesonne. She said she’ll do what she can, if I promised to take little Euan with me so he would be safe.”
“That’s it then.” Dominik looked Aiden up and down. “Are ye ready?”
Aiden stood, taking a deep breath. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
“Then we ride. Now.”
Dawn’s light was just peeking over the horizon as Dominik, and ten of his best men crept along the eastern wall of the great old castle. They circled north to the coastline, then came in along the ramparts, all in the hopes of avoiding the front entrance to the south. Graeme and the rest of his forces had approached in full sight to that direction, diverting all of the castle’s attention to the approaching army on horseback.
Finally, Dominik reached the location of the hidden doorway. He felt for the recessed latch and jiggled it, but nothing happened. Biting back a curse, the mercenary captain pulled his lockpicking tools from his hip pouch and knelt in front of the door.
“Nothing is ever easy, is it?” Caelan remarked from behind him.
“Nothing worthwhile anyway,” Aiden replied.
The tools slid easily into the mechanism, and after a few tries, there was a click. Dominik tried the latch again, and the door pushed inward, allowing them passage.
One at a time, the men followed him through into the inky darkness of the secret corridor. They didn’t dare light a torch, so instead, they picked their way along the wall in pitch blackness. Luckily there was little in the way of twists and turns, and after a handful of minutes, they reached a dead end.
Feeling around at waist height, Dominik found another latch much like the first, and this one slid open with oiled ease. The warm smells of spices and baking bread greeted the men as they stepped through into a small pantry with but one door opposite their entrance, leading out into the main room of the kitchens. The space was quiet, save for the humming tune of one shorter woman ahead of them with her back turned. She worked over the ovens, tending the fires of the bread they could smell.
Dominik inched his way through the doorway, sneaking up behind her. Quickly, he wrapped his arms around her, silencing her with a hand to the mouth. The woman stiffened under his hold. Close to her ear, he whispered, “We mean ye no harm. I am a friend of Mairi, and I’ve come to rescue her and rid this land of the beast ye call laird. What say ye?”
Hoping for an agreeable response, he released his grip over the woman’s mouth. The woman let out a yelp before he could cover her mouth again.
“I see I cannae count on ye not raising the alarm.” He looked behind him and cocked his head to Caelan, who came forward. “Gag her and tie her up, lest she shout for help.”
Caelan nodded, grabbing a rag to use as a gag as he tied the woman’s hands behind her. Her eyes were wide with fear, but she complied as Dominik’s brother led her back to the secret passage, tying her up just beyond the pantry. She’d stay hidden there for only a short while, but hopefully, that would be all the time the small band needed.
They regrouped in the main room of the kitchen, then moved to the double doors. Outside was a short hallway that opened up into the great hall, and Dominik could see the laird’s throne from where he stood. The seat was empty now, and he hoped that meant the man was somewhere in his chambers, sleeping off the drugged wine from Alesonne.
Dominik led the group of ten around the corner. The great hall was a mess of spilled drinks and hours old food, the dwindling candles dripping piles of cream-colored wax upon the wooden tabletops. A handful of men were scattered about. They looked like they’d fallen asleep where they sat or stood, their goblets spilled in puddles of red wine. Putting a finger to his lips, the group split in two. The first group, led by Caelan, snuck south through the room, picking their way through the upturned benches. They passed through the arching doorway that would take them to the series of doors that currently separated them from the rest of the Iron Wolves outside the castle. Once the gates were opened to the waiting army, half of that group would backtrack to the barracks in an effort to dispatch any knights still groggy from too much wine.
Dominik, Aiden, and a third man, Eamund, stole across the back of the great hall. Their mission, unlike the others, was to breach the inner rooms of the castle in an effort to confront Ruairi head-on. Dominik cursed to himself for not the first time. If only he knew where Mairi was, where she was being held against her will. Instead, he’d go to the second-best location—Ruairi’s chambers. Not only was it the most likely place for the bastard to be, but there was also a good chance Mairi was being held there as well. As they passed through the doorway, they heard the clash of steel in the other direction. He and Aiden exchanged looks but then continued forward. Dominik would have to hope his men could handle themselves, for now.
It was not long before they stumbled upon their own bit of trouble. Two guards, awake and unbothered by wine or other substance, stood at attention at the base of the western staircase. One was tall and broad, his face bearing a dark complexion and even darker hair. The other was slender, his hairless chin betraying his youth. Eamund stumbled, rousing their attention.
“Halt,” the dark-haired man called.
With a collective shrug, the three men drew their blades. Dominik sported his dagger and short sword, Aiden his dual axes, and Eamund a two-handed broadsword. They rushed forward on the two men, intent on silencing them before the alarm could be raised.
Aiden reached the big man first, slashing him once then twice across the chest. Eamund followed, plunging his large sword forward and through the tender flesh right below the man’s sternum. The smaller man’s eyes widened in fear as he watched his companion slump lifelessly to the floor. He opened his mouth to shout, but before a sound could escape, Dominik cut the man across the throat, sending a torrent of blood down the front of his breastplate. The slender guard fell to his knees, and both men were silenced for good.
All three men bounded up the staircase two steps at a time, not wasting time waiting to see if their commotion summoned more guards. The last time he was here, Dominik had taken the servant’s passages up to Ruairi’s room. The path was different this time but far more straightforward. At the top of the steps, he took a right, then a left, seeing the large corridor leading to Ruairi’s chambers open wide before them.
Two guards stood stoic in front of the chamber doors. Dominik instantly recognized one as Steffen. Before the knight could sound an alarm, he growled a challenging shout, running straight for him. Steffen turned at the sound, his two-handed blade swinging high to meet Dominik’s incoming blades. Now close enough for a better look, Dominik noticed the puffiness around Steffen’s reddened eyes. The wine had taken its toll, it seemed. The stout man was just better at hiding its effects. Taking advantage of his position, Dominik shoved the man backward, and he stumbled slightly, his feet losing purchase beneath him. He staggered, disengaging his weapons just as Eamund came up to crash into the second guard, easily overpowering his single blade with the weight of his weapon. Recognizing Steffen as the more dangerous opponent, Aiden swept one of his axes out, badgering his guard and allowing Dominik the space he needed to kick at the door to the chamber. The latch rocked, locked from the inside, and Dominik barely had a chance to kick it again before Steffen’s great sword came in for another swing. He ducked, letting Aiden deflect the blade, and kicked out one last time. The force of his boot splintered the heavy wood, and a jolt of pain shot up Dominik’s leg in retribution. The door crashed inward, just in time for him to see Ruairi dart to the right, out of his sightline. He gave chase, but Ruairi had disappeared into the bathing room. The same room Mairi had come from the very first night Dominik had snuck into the castle. The room was empty. Ruairi was gone.
Before Dominik had a chance to ponder the impossibility of that fact, he found Steffen right on his heels. He had managed to knock Aiden to the floor before charging, but the lithe man was already on his feet sooner than Dominik could shout his name.
The pair faced off against Steffen, trading blows until a shout of pain echoed from the hallway. They watched as the body of the nameless guard fell to the ground, skewered by Eamund’s blade. The quick end allowed Eamund to join the fray that had moved into the bed chambers. Seeing Aiden and Eamund had Steffen covered and distracted, Dominik sheathed his short sword and slashed at the hanging tapestries with his dagger, searching for the one that could be hiding a servant’s passage. He was about to give up hope when the last expanse of cloth—this one of a great dancing bear—fell to the stone floor with a muffled thud. There was a break in the rock and the cleft of a door. Checking back one last time, Dominik dove into the unknown blackness, hoping it would bring him to Ruairi, Mairi, and most of all, his revenge.