Page 65 of Highland Guard
The retainers nodded and left.
Dalziel said, “It still makes little sense why he would send an assassin to kill you when he needs you to wield the relic.”
“Aye, FitzOsbern gains nothing from your death,” Beiste replied.
Naomi suddenly had a thought that chilled her to her marrow. “Unless tis not my death he wants.” Without another word, she sprinted out of the Keep with an urgency to find her husband.
***
KIERAN WOKE AFTER Arefreshing sleep and went in search of his wife. Finding her note, he got dressed and thought of joining her at the Keep. He grabbed his sword and targe and headed out to the stable.
He was whistling a cheerful tune when he stepped inside, but instinct alerted him to a presence. Kieran turned a moment too late and felt something sharp stab him deep in the side. In a haze of movement and the swishing sound of a cloak, he saw a dark figure emerge from the shadows. He wore what looked to be meshed armor and had ink markings on his face. He held a spear in one hand and a war club in the other. Kieran pivoted out of the way of the club but felt the tip of the spear pierce his shoulder.
“Fuck!” Kieran growled as his attacker moved so fast to strike again. But this time Kieran raised his targe and blocked the club. Then he blocked the spear with his sword. He dodged several more blows aimed at his head and barely rolled out of the way.
Adrenalin was kicking in now as Kieran fought to remain on his feet. But even then, he knew he was dying. He could feel the blood draining from his earlier wounds. His attacker had aimed to kill, and it would not be long before Kieran lost consciousness.
“Who are you?” he yelled as he staggered backward, trying to steer clear of the swinging club and spear.
“I am Death,” the man calmly replied.
Kieran swore again as his attacker moved with powerful strokes, battering against his targe. Kieran went on the offensive and ran straight at the man, smashing his targe against his face. The man grunted and then hit back with a powerful blow that knocked Kieran off his feet. His shield flew several yards away.
Kieran was now crawling backwards on the ground, blocking the hits with his sword. He regained his footing, but he was losing too much blood. Kieran prayed he had enough strength to battle on. He was concerned about Naomi’s safety if he died. Despite his best efforts, he weakened as the war club crashed against his sword over and over. Weakly blocking it, he fell onto his knees. Struggling to stay awake, his eyesight dimmed. Kieran knew it was only a matter of time before he could fight no more.
“Naomi,” he rasped. Wanting the last word uttered from his lips to be her beloved name. As he pitched sideways and dropped to the ground, he knew his attacker was aiming one final blow at his head.
Kieran braced to receive it when he heard a familiar voice shout, “Get away from my husband!”
Kieran watched as a figure leapt through the air. His wife, his beautiful wee wife. But was it really her? She looked more like Valkyrie. Her movements were fluid and precise, just like his attacker. Her quarterstaff rotated as fast as a flickering candle flame. She stood over him and blocked the blow to his head. She expertly rotated her weapon and pivoted and moved from side to side, blocking her attacker’s spear and club.
Kieran saw it all in disbelief. All he could do was lay there helpless as his breathing labored.You can beat him, love. Use that quarterstaff,were the only thoughts running through his mind.
Naomi knew she was in a battle for Kieran’s life. And she would not lose. She stared at the Immortal and realized he was familiar. “It’s you. You were with the men who killed my papa.”
“Si, Augusto, he was weak and deserved to die.”
“He was braver than you will ever be!”
He swung his war club, and Naomi blocked it again.
The Immortal said,“Movere de via. Eum mortuum volo. Vivere potes.”– Move out of the way. I want him dead. You can live.”
Naomi replied,“Si moritur, moriar. Non permitto cor meum.”– If he dies, I die. I will not let you take my heart.
He seemed to pause for several seconds, contemplating her words, then his eyes became colder. “Then you will both die at my hand,” he said.
Naomi had to focus because he was adept at his weapons. He rotated the spear like a quarterstaff and swung his club at the same time. It took all her years of training to dodge the hits and block his attacks. She jabbed his side and narrowly escaped the tip of his spear several times.
“I commend your trainer. You fight well,” he said. “But no one can best me with a simplestick. To make things fair, I’ll just use one weapon.” He threw the war club aside and then twirled his spear.
“Think what you want. I will be the last one standing when this is over,” Naomi replied.
He threw his head back and roared with laughter. That was the opening Naomi needed. She remembered Brother Mateo’s words.“With this simple quarterstaff, your enemy will underestimate how dangerous you really are until it is too late.”
Naomi gripped her staff with her left hand on the tip and her right-hand halfway down the middle, then in a surprise move she sprinted straight for him. He braced for the attack, but just before reaching him, Naomi stabbed the front end of her staff into the ground. Then she used it like a pole, and vaulted her body into the air, both feet aimed straight for his face. She connected, as her body weight slammed straight into his face. His head and neck whipped back so hard it made a cracking noise, and he seemed to be in a daze. Naomi dropped back down and said, “That is for my husband.”
She gripped her quarter staff and rotated it again and hit the side of his temple hard. He was shaking his head trying to focus and barely blocked her hits with his spear.
