Putting all his weight behind it, Donald backhanded him. Before the man could recover, Donald had his foot on his chest and pushed him to the ground.
Davenport laid there, stunned, his arms wide. Donald came at him, aiming at his chest, but the man kicked him away and rolled to his feet.
“I thought the bow was your weapon.” They circled each other.
“I never said I couldn’t fight with a sword.” Donald’s voice rang with command, his lips twisted in a mocking grin. “You misjudged me.”
There was nothing more to say. Each knew this was a fight to the death.
They ran at each other. Their swords clashed. Donald brought his sword, which was under Davenport’s, up and over – once again forcing the man’s sword point to the ground.
At close range, Davenport tried to punch him in the face, but Donald was ready. A quick step to the side and he jabbed his elbow into the man’s stomach.
Davenport grimaced but recovered quickly. They parried and their combat moved into the depths of the cave. The only indication the fight continued was the sound of metal striking metal.
The fight came back in front of Andrea and the vicar.
In the open space, Davenport swung his sword low, aiming at Donald’s feet. Donald jumped over the blade. But the momentum of Davenport’s move carried him around. Now behind Donald, he thrusted the pommel of his sword into his back.
Donald dropped his sword as he grabbed at his back and slid down the side of the knight’s tomb. Davenport kicked the weapon away.
“Did you like my touch with Mother Simone?” He held his sword at Donald’s chest. “She heard my confession. Every word of it and could do nothing. She begged me to seek God for help. The pitiful woman made me laugh.”
With his eyes on Davenport, Donald reached into the debris of weapons at the bottom of the tomb searching for something, anything he could use.
Andrea moved, creating a distraction, but Rufus stopped her with the point of his sword.
“Bring them both here. This is a good place for her to watch him die,” Davenport said.
Donald had to keep his focus. The vicar and Andrea’s lives depended on him. If he had to fight with his hands, so be it.
As Rufus moved the vicar and Andrea toward Davenport, the vicar grabbed the chalice from the top of the tomb and threw the tainted water at Rufus.
The man dropped his sword and tried to wipe the water from his face.
As Donald placed his hand on the ground to get to his feet, he found a metal hilt. He pulled the sword from the debris and stood.
With each breath, he set his resolve. This was his final battle. Andrea’s life was the prize. By God’s toes, let the ancient warriors of his clan give him the strength to succeed.
The MacDougall warrior raised his sword up high. “Victory or death!” He yelled the ancient battle cry. It echoed through the cavern.
The battle cry set the berserker free. The warrior tested the weight of the ancient sword as he stalked his prey and prepared to fight.
Davenport came at him. Donald didn’t move. With a swipe of his sword he knocked the weapon away, nicking the blade badly. The warrior kept advancing. He stared into Davenport’s eyes and saw his confidence begin to crumble.
Stroke after stroke the warrior attacked, driving his enemy back. His sword rang loud, promising justice. They battled to the opening of the cave until the villain ran out of ground.
His feet began to slip on the loose rocks at the rim of the entrance. Stones clattered over the side, landing against the boulders that were strewn on the beach.
The warrior’s blade flashed as he brought it over his head and sang when he brought it down. He kept advancing, sending his opponent to the very edge. One foot slipped on the loose pebbles and Davenport lost his balance.
The warrior reached out to grab Davenport, but he pulled his hand away. His arms wind-milled as he fell backward.
It seemed as if time slowed. For a heartbeat, Donald stared at Davenport’s sneer and then he was gone.
The warrior stood at the edge of the cliff and looked down at the mangled body forty feet below.
When he turned to the others, it was just Donald who stood before the vicar and Andrea.
Andrea stood at his side. They moved away and went to the vicar.
“May God forgive me. Rufus is dead. At least I was able to hear his last confession.” The solemn vicar stood and moved away from the man.
Andrea found the chalice laying on the floor and picked it up.
“Where are you taking that?” Donald asked.
“No one should have this,” she said. “We must send it back where it came from. It’s the only way to destroy it.”
They went behind the boulder to the small altar. Andrea replaced the chalice in the niche. Donald took the stone he had removed and set it back in place. The water that had previously been a trickle began to flow faster over the rocks.
Their task done, they turned to leave. The room rumbled and shifted. The stone Donald set fell backwards onto the chalice shattering it into a thousand pieces. All that was left in the center of the niche was the chalice’s red stone.
“Quick.” Donald grabbed the vicar and pushed Andrea ahead of him. As they reached the narrow doorway, they heard a loud scraping sound. Donald pushed Andrea and the vicar out of the room.
He swung around in time to see the niche’s keystone give way. Its point crushed the red stone and sent a burst of red dust into the air.
Again, the ground shook beneath their feet.
“Donald,” she screamed.
“Leave!” Donald yelled above the din, his back to them.
“Not without you.” Andrea pulled him around.
He shook off her hand. He didn’t need to see the horror in her eyes when she
