His brow creased in a mixture of anger and pain. He could do nothing but watch as his beloved captain's strength slip away under the enemy's pressure. How he wanted to lift himself up, grasp his sword and run it through the villain's body.

But he could not. His broken body screamed in pain every time he so much as blinked. And he felt slightly light-headed from all the blood he was loosing from the slash across his back. It was all a blur now that he thought about it. How did the man get him from behind? A face appeared in his mind. Ailsa, his sister, was smiling down at him. He smiled back and the vision disappeared. He had to survive for her.

He looked around using only his eyes. Moving his whole head was too painful. To his left, he saw Devlin, his childhood friend, stabbing a tall English soldier. In two seconds the man was dead. Devlin was always the better fighter. He stood tall on the battle field and caught sight of his wounded friend. In seconds he was at his side saying, "Darin, are you alright? What happened?"

"I'm fine. Help Captain." Darin replied.

"No…" Devlin couldn't finish. All of a sudden an arrow whizzed into Devlin's arm and he slumped to the ground. He didn't speak again and lay unconscious.

Darin strained to see were the wound was but couldn't see anything. Is this how it ends? Both of us dead? What about Ailsa? What will happen when we are gone?

Darin closed his eyes. He was always told giving his life for his country was the greatest honor. He supposed it was too late to disagree.