Page 5 of A Healer for the Obsessed Highlander
He should have consulted the council before riding off. Instead, his temper had driven him to act impulsively, and now here he was—hunted.
“I see him! He’s across the moor, heading into the woodland!” the voices echoed behind him just as Marcus reached the edge of the moor and raced into another wooded area.
Marcus was relieved to ride into the thick of the woods once more. He was not familiar with this patch which had him on edge. He slowed and turned his horse in a circle, catching sightof the hills to his left. He knew that to be the way back, so he raced in that direction.
The forest thinned suddenly, and Marcus found himself in a clearing. A flicker of relief was quickly extinguished as figures emerged from the shadows, blocking his path. His horse reared as an arrow thudded into the ground at its hooves, and Marcus was thrown to the ground with a grunt.
He rolled to his feet, his hand instinctively flying to the hilt of his sword.
“We circled around. Ye were not expecting that, were ye?” one of the assailants mocked.
“Nay, he’s nae from these parts, and it shows,” another man sneered.
“Come on then, ye skulking bampots,” Marcus growled, his voice low and steady as he rolled to his feet and brandished his sword.
His eyes darted between his assailants, three of them now circling like wolves.
“I’ll send ye back in pieces,” he added, his tone sharp and unyielding.
The first man lunged, and Marcus sidestepped swiftly, bringing his sword up in a sharp arc. Steel clashed against steel, the sound reverberating through the clearing.
“Is this all ye’ve got?” Marcus sneered, shoving his opponent back with brute force.
“I’ve fought lads twice yer size who had more courage!” the attacker taunted, his voice filled with scorn.
The man growled and swung again, but Marcus was quicker, delivering a precise blow to the man’s arm, disarming him. A swift kick to the chest sent him sprawling into the dirt.
The second assailant came at him with a wicked grin and a heavy axe. Marcus ducked the first swing, the blade whistling inches from his head.
“Ye swing like a drunken farmer,” the axe wielder taunted, his tone mocking and disdainful.
Marcus slashed his sword across the man’s side before he could recover. The assailant howled in pain, staggering back.
“Go on then, crawl back to whatever hole ye came from,” Marcus spat, his words laced with venom.
The man fell silent, collapsing in a heap. There was no time to catch his breath before the third attacker charged, bellowing a curse.
“Ye should’ve stayed away,” the man hissed, his voice dripping with malice.
Marcus gritted his teeth, his strength surging as he shoved the man away.
“And ye should’ve stayed in yer mother’s skirts,” Marcus retorted, his words cutting as his blade lashed out.
As the final assailant stumbled, Marcus stepped in for the finishing blow, but the rogue, with a desperate burst of energy, slashed wildly, his blade slicing into Marcus’ side. Pain flared hot and sharp, but Marcus didn’t flinch.
“Nae today,” he growled, his voice guttural and raw with determination.
With a roar, he brought the hilt of his sword down on the man’s head, the blow dropping him like a stone. Breathing hard, Marcus staggered back, his hand pressing against the wound at his side. Blood seeped through his fingers, but his eyes remained sharp, scanning the clearing for any sign of more attackers.
Marcus gritted his teeth against the searing pain in his side, his hand pressing firmly against the wound. His blood flowed, hot and sticky, staining his tunic and dripping onto his saddle as he mounted his horse.
“Damn the lot of ye,” he growled under his breath, the throbbing ache in his side making every breath labored.
Straightening with effort, he urged his horse forward though his strength was waning. The world blurred slightly at the edges, the trees around him seeming to sway unnaturally.
“Hold it together, lad,” he murmured to his steed, his voice hoarse and strained.
He tugged at his kilt, pulling it high enough so that the belt now sat over the wound. He groaned in pain, but it would help stop the bleeding a little. A makeshift bandage for the time being.
