Page 117 of Fang & Fury

He had the advantage for an instant or two, and he took it.

Rolling naked onto the muddy ground, he bounced, panting, to his feet, and grabbed a fallen sword. He cut his gaze to Ailsa, and she met his eye.

“Ready?” she panted.

He nodded, and then they were running.

The others were just ahead now. Bree had reached Cailean and was shouting something to him. The chief-enforcer nodded before shouting to Alar. Whipping around, his twin blades flashing, Alar called an answer back. At this distance though, Darach could hear nothing but the roar of battle.

A blade hissed past his face, and he reeled back just in time to avoid having his nose sliced off. An axe hurtled by then, so close he felt it whisper against his thigh.

Fighting naked wasn’t ideal.

He had nothing to protect him, but he couldn’t focus on that right now.

He needed to reach that inner circle—and Gregor.

Swinging around, he engaged the warrior who’d just come at him again, axe raised, screaming curses.

He ducked and then struck, his blade biting into his throat.

The man crumpled.

Ahead, the others had fought their way through the surging Circines and engaged the inner circle. There, the fighting grew frenzied, blood spraying, and cries puncturing the sharp morning air.

Darach and Ailsa were just a few yards behind it all now, but they needed to reach the thick of things too.

Cailean and Alar had broken through. Skaal was with them, snapping and snarling as she plowed into Niall’s bodyguards.

The circle around the king wavered and then collapsed.

Bree rushed forward. Whipping out a throwing knife, she hurled it at Gregor.

Time slowed.

Darach’s gaze tracked that blade, watching it sail through the air, rotating expertly.

Thud.

It slammed into Gregor’s left shoulder.

Niall cursed, and both he and Maol lurched sideways, leaving Gregor exposed.

Around them, the fighting grew even more savage as Cailean’s enforcers and Tae’s warriors joined in. Darach and Ailsa pushed their way through the fray—and, all the while, Darach kept his focus on Gregor.

The druid staggered. Another knife followed, slamming into his gut.

Gregor roared, his legs collapsing under him. He sprawled upon the muddy ground, and an instant later, Bree, Cailean, Alar, and Kayla formed a ring around him. Meanwhile, the enforcers and warriors formed a barrier of their own, keeping the Circines at bay—and hemming Niall and Maol in at the same time. Aye, only one of the king’s bodyguards still breathed; the bodies of the rest of them now lay sprawled upon the ground.

Standing on the edge of the circle, Ailsa at his side, Darach watched as Bree reached for another knife. “Time to die, shitbag.”

“Wait,” Kayla cut in. “Don’t kill him yet … we need some answers first.”

“I’m not giving you anything.” Gregor reached for a knife strapped to his thigh.

Bree slammed her boot down on his wrist and pinned it to the ground. “Right,” she growled. “Let’s find that tattoo then.”

Her companions shared quick looks, and then they were on him. The men held the enraged druid down, while Bree used her blade to cut away at the thick leather vest covering his chest.