Kelpie felt it too. He began to back up as the man came toward him. I jumped from the saddle.
“Go! I won’t sacrifice your life. Go!” I said, slapping Kelpie on the backside.
Kelpie whinnied then took off. My dismount surprised my opponent. It threw him off guard. I took my chance. Moving fast, I spun my sword then ran him through. His claymore dropped from his fingers. When I pulled my sword out of his gut, his still-warm blood sprayed all over my pants. I sneered at him then turned and raced in search of Duncan.
The king was far afield, and the battle of men taking place around me was heavy. Dodging one assailant after the other, I pushed my way through. A young man wearing the colors of Moray was being beaten down by a Northumbrian soldier. I shoved Uald’s Gift through the Northumbrian man’s back, saving the Moray man’s life.
But then the boy’s eyes grew wide. “Look out,” he called, staring behind me.
I spun and dodged left, but felt the sting of a blade as it sliced my arm. I stared into the face of yet another English soldier. I snatched Scáthach from my belt and stabbed the man in the neck.
The soldier fell.
Offering my good arm, I helped the Moray man up.
“Thank you, sir,” he told me.
“Of course,” I said, but the man held on to me.
“Purple eyes,” he whispered.
I winked then turned and headed off once more.
Weaving around the fighting pairs, I soon had Duncan in sight. Foot soldiers skirmished between him and me, but at last, he was close. Five strong guards stood in a circle around him, one of which I recognized. MacDuff, the man with the badger symbol, guarded his king. My mind flashed back to that stormy night and the mud and the rain. Macduff had held the arrow on me, forcing me to choose between death and rape.
I glared at him and advanced.
Duncan fought, but not much and not well. His guards were strong and well-armed, but they were not invincible. As I neared Duncan, I saw one of his guards go down. Only four were left.
Seeing me approach, one of Duncan’s guards turned to engage me.
“Well, wee lad, what are you trying to do, make a name for yourself? I think not. Are you ready to meet your maker?” he asked me.
“My maker wears a red cloak and rides a raven. You might see her here at my side, and she will gladly take your blood,” I said as I began to circle around him.
He laughed. “I’ll send you to that bloody goddess.” He lifted his ax and moved to cleave me in half.
I danced behind him. Lifting Uald’s Gift, I drove it forward. But much to my surprise, I met with metal. The man had blocked my attack.
“Fancy feet. Does that come from all your lordly dancing? Who are you in that fine armor? My son is going to like that sword of yours.”
The raven laughed. “He won’t like it much when he finds it sticking out of your gut.”
This comment angered the man, and he swung at me. I bent low to the ground and struck my dagger upward. I cut the guard’s belly wide open, rolling away before a rain of blood and guts could cover me. The guard groaned and became silent.
Duncan’s bodyguards, including MacDuff, now numbered only three. He would retreat soon. I made way for him again, but someone grabbed my arm. I turned to find Banquo, who was also blood-soaked, staring at me through his visor.
“Thank the gods. Which way, Lady Raven?”
“In the direction of vengeance.”
“Let’s go.”
Banquo and I began to work our way toward the king.
“Your Highness, we must retreat,” one of the guards told Duncan, who cursed in reply.
“Let me take the king,” I whispered.
I realized then that a thin mist had settled on the snowy battlefield. Strange weather. But I also realized then that if I could get Duncan into the fog, he would be mine.
One of the guards turned. Sizing us both up, he advanced on Banquo. Soon, their swords were clashing.
I rushed toward MacDuff and Duncan.
Both men turned toward me. Duncan held his sword. MacDuff had drawn his bow.
Come the mist. Come the mist.
The fog swirled all around us, enveloping us in a dense mist. I felt the magic in the air.
“Stay close,” I whispered to Thora. “Don’t get lost in the fog.”
“Kill him,” Duncan told MacDuff, motioning toward me. As the king retreated, he nearly tripped on one of the corpses lying on the ground.
MacDuff turned to me. “Traitor,” he cursed. “Would you kill your king?”
Thora growled and bared her teeth.
MacDuff sneered, leveled an arrow at Thora, then shot.
I gasped.
Thora darted to the side just in time.
Scowling, the man reached for another arrow.
“You,” I said, my hands shaking with rage. I pulled off my glove, raised a single finger, and pulled magic from the air.
I scanned the ground, looking at my fallen men. “Wake,” I whispered.
Recognizing the gesture, MacDuff lowered his arrow. “Who are you?”
Making an arcane symbol in the air, one Andraste had taught me, I motioned to the bodies of the soldiers, men of Moray, lying on the ground around us.
“Wake,” I told them.
Slowly, the dead men, their bodies broken and bloody, rose to their feet once more, their weapons still in their hands.
“Kill him,” I said, leveling my finger at MacDuff.
The soldiers rushed MacDuff, Thora joining them, leaving me free to turn on the person I had come for.
Duncan.
He stared at MacDuff. The mist had been so thick that he would not have been able to see clearly what had happened, but he saw his last guard under attack. Duncan turned his attention to me. Seeing me approaching quickly, he moved backward.
“Come, lad. I am your king,” Duncan said as he continued to retreat.
“But you are the very man I have come to kill. Would you turn me away now?”
Duncan had long since lost his helmet. His hair was wet with sweat, his face dirty. He looked back at MacDuff. “MacDuff? MacDuff! Where did those soldiers come from? Boy, turn back. I am your king.”
I lifted Uald’s Gift. “I am no boy. And you are no king. You are a defiler and a cutthroat. And when you are gone, Scotland will know a new ruler.”
Duncan laughed then lifted his sword. “You’re wrong. Macbeth will never wear the crown.” He engaged me, but his moves were clumsy.
I laughed. “Who said anything about Macbeth? Your life, King Duncan, is done. I have come to cut your thread. Don’t you see? You’ve angered the gods, and I have come as their messenger.”
“What?”
“I have come as the raven, and the message is death,” I said then lunged at him.
Duncan blocked. “I know your voice. I know you. Who are you? You are no man.”
“I am the raven,” I said attacking again.
Duncan retreated. “No…no, I know you. Who are you?”
“I am the crone,” I said as I attacked again. Duncan and I circled round and round each other, attacking and retreating.
There was a sharp scream behind us as MacDuff fell.
“MacDuff,” Duncan whispered, pausing a moment, his sword drooping.
I lunged at him again. With the length of my blade, I cut a line down the side of his cheek. Blood poured down his face. He clumsily threw up his sword to protect himself.