Highlander's Virgin Bride

Stepping out from the shadows he hid in, Ryder allowed the hand holding his sword to fall to his side, the blade of the weapon hitting the stone floor of the castle battlements with a metallic sound which made Colby still standing by the little platform, turn quickly around.

“I kent ye’d find me,” he said blandly, sounding entirely unsurprised to find Ryder standing before him. “Ye were always good at finding things, Ryder. Good at killing them, too, weren’t ye?”

“If yer talking about yer faither,” Ryder said cautiously, his hand tightening on the handle of his sword, “Yer right. It’s nae secret that I killed him, and it’s nae secret why I did it, either. He plotted against me from the moment I became Laird, just as he plotted against me faither before me. I killed him before he could kill me, and ye ken that’s what he wanted.”

“Yer faither deserved it,” Colby spat, his eyes flashing with anger. “He deserved every bad thing that came to him. Ye said as much yerself.”

“Aye, he did,” Ryder said calmly, never taking his eye off the man in front of him. “He did deserve it. But I dinnae. I tried to make peace with yer faither after mine was gone. I wanted only peace. For me to live me life without always wondering who was coming for me next. But he wouldnae have it. He wouldnae stop until he took what was mine --- and what he believed was his.”

“And why should he not?” Colby’s voice shook with anger as he took a step towards his foe. “Why should ye have land, and men, and ready money? Why should ye have so much when we had nothing?”

“Nothing?” Ryder laughed mirthlessly. “Ye call this nothing?” He gestured around him, his arm taking in the castle and its ground. “Ye had more than most men ever dream o’, Colby! Ye and yer faither! Ye even had a family who loved ye, which was far more than I ever had. Nay, yer problem wasn’t that ye had nothing. It was that nothing was ever good enough for ye. Yer greedy, Colby, like yer faither before ye. Ye cannae stand to see another man succeed, can ye? Ye cannae stand for me to have anything ye lack. Even Meredith.”

“Meredith?” Colby’s lips turned upward in a smile that was more of a snarl. “I wasn’t interested in yer wife, Ryder, I just let ye think I was because I kent she was yer weak spot. I might not have been interested in her, though, but I think it was obvious she was interested in me, wasnae it? She was certainly always pleased to see me, if ye get me drift.”

Ryder knew the man was goading him, doubtless to try to buy himself some time to make his escape, but all the same, it was almost impossible not to rise to the bait Colby dangled so dangerously before him.

“Daenae ye talk about me wife,” he spat, his hand twitching to raise the sword in his hand. “Ye aren’t fit to speak her name.”

Colby shrugged impassively.

“Is that right?” he said softly. “Same old Ryder, I see. Always thinking ye can tell folk what to say and do. Always wanting to be in charge. But then, look how easy it was for me to take yer precious Meredith away from ye? Ye dinnae look quite so bold then, did ye?”

This time Ryder didn’t even flinch.

“Words,” he spat, taking a single step closer to his enemy. “Just words. That’s all ye have, Colby, isnae it? Yer too much o’ a coward to fight like a man, so ye take the easy way out, every time. Paying someone else to frighten two lassies while ye distracted me with whisky. Ordering yer soldiers to come and take Meredith, while ye sat here in the safety of yer castle, like a spider in its lair. Only it’s not looking quite so safe now, is it, Colby?”

As if on cue, a spark from the flames that licked up the sides of the castle fizzed through the cold night air to land on the flagstones at their feet. Colby’s eyes swiveled to follow it, and Ryder took advantage of his momentary distraction to take another step forward.

“Nothing to say?” he asked, menacingly, his hand still gripping the handle of his sword. “Or have ye just realized that yer attempt to hurt me has only hurt yerself? This castle ye were so desperate to protect will be razed to the ground. Yer men have all deserted ye. Ye cannae buy loyalty, Colby, ye can only earn it. And ye never have. Ye did this to get more land and more money --- or so ye say, anyway. But now ye have nothing.”

As he spoke, Ryder continued moving forward. Now he was well within striking distance. He could finish this now if he wanted to. Colby, however, had yet to raise his sword, and Ryder would not strike until he did. He hated him --- oh, how he hated him! And he would kill him, too. But he would do it with honor. If they were to fight, it would be a fair fight, and so his sword remained by his side as he looked his rival in the eye.

“Aye, I have nothing,” Colby said, bitterly not seeming to realize the danger he was in. “Just as I always have. But no more do ye, Ryder, without Meredith. And ye nearly lost her, too, didn’t ye? It was so easy for me to take her from ye. I just wish I’d killed her while I had the chance.”

It was too much. With a roar of fury, Ryder sprang forward, his sword raised at last, as he prepared to silence the man in front of him for good. He moved fast, but either he had underestimated Colby’s skill as a swordsman, or the man had uncommonly good luck because, just as Ryder’s arm came down, Colby’s flew up, slicing through the thick leather of Ryder’s overcoat and biting into the flesh below it.

Ryder howled in agony as the force of the blow sent him reeling backward, only just managing to stay on his feet. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see blood spattered on the flagstones, but there was no time to worry about the extent of his injury, for Colby was upon him, his face a white mask of anger as he bore down upon him.

This time, however, Ryder was too quick for him, dodging quickly out of the way of the sword that came flashing down upon him and ignoring the pain in his arm as he used both hands to raise his own weapon, expertly blocking Colby’s attempts to strike.

I didnae ken he had it in him to fight like this, Ryder thought, as the two men danced around each other, the sharp sounds of steel against steel joining the crackling of the flames behind him. From somewhere far off in the distance, he thought he heard Meredith’s voice calling his name; it could not be her, for, wherever she was right now, her voice surely couldn’t reach him on top of the tower, but the thought that she was out there somewhere, waiting for him to come back to her, spurred him on.

Already Colby was starting to tire --- he could see it in the paleness of his face and the way his breath came in loud gasps, but he was fighting, not for fun this time, or for practice, but for his life, and he was determined to fight to the last.

“It’s nay good, Colby,” Ryder shouted above the noise of the flames, which crept ever nearer. “There’s nowhere for ye to go. Even if ye manage to kill me, ye’ll never make it back down through these flames.”

“And the same could be said for ye,” Colby panted, fending off another blow. “The only way out is down, and neither of us would survive that fall.”

He was right, of course. It was the glaring flaw in Ryder’s hastily made plan, and he had known it as soon as he had emerged onto the roof. But he would not think of that now. His only thoughts were of Colby and Meredith and how he would never allow the one to harm the other, ever again. If he died up here, so be it. He would die protecting the woman he loved more than life itself, and, with that thought, he threw himself forward, forcing Colby back to the edge of the platform they stood on.

“Stop!” Colby cried, realizing how close he was to a fall that would certainly kill him, even if Ryder did not. “Stop, Ryder! We can talk! We can come to some understanding, surely?”

His face was rigid with terror as he begged for his life, but Ryder simply laughed mirthlessly as they continued to fight.

“Surely ye ken me better than that, Colby?” he snarled, moving ever closer to the edge of the tower, to where darkness awaited. “Surely ye ken that as soon as ye took Meredith, ye were as good as dead, man?”

“Ryder,” Coby pleaded, his earlier bravado completely gone. “Please, Ryder. Please...”

Pathetic, was Ryder’s last thought before he flung himself forward, his sword slicing through the cold, smoke-filled air until it found its target on the white flesh of Colby’s throat. To beg for his life after trying to destroy mine. Well, no more.

Colby’s eyes widened in shock and then froze as a long, guttural choking sound came from his mouth. For a seemingly endless moment, he stood there on the castle battlement, his figure outlined by the light from the moon, before he fell backward, disappearing into the inky blankness below. On the castle wall above him, Ryder lowered his sword, at last, his heart hammering loudly in his chest. He did not need to look down to know that he had seen the last of Colby Green, but there was no time to feel jubilant because there was still one more problem to solve.

He somehow had to escape the burning tower.