by Fiona Faris
“I am no’ goin’ inside that there forest. Whit if we get lost an’ we cannae find oor way out?” one of them asked Rory.
“Dae ye no’ see the path laid oot in front o’ us, ye dunderheid?” Rory replied with a sarcastic tone.
“But we hae nae idea whit lurks in those woods.”
“Suit yersel’, ye coward,” Rory remarked, then commanded his horse to march through the dense brush.
The warrior blushed; no clansmen took being called a coward lightly. So when the rest of the men followed Rory, the warrior reluctantly followed.
The group eventually departed from the forest to find themselves in an immense field, as the fading sun shone a dim splay of light across the land. It would not be long before the sun dipped below the horizon, and Rory could not discern which direction he should go next. After several minutes, he decided to venture eastward to the closest village.
He reached into his bag and pulled out a small piece of tartan and a stone. He leaped off his horse and trekked to the edge of the woodlands and smothered the piece of tartan with the stone to make an identifiable landmark.
Rory climbed back onto his horse to resume the mission.
The party advanced east, past the woodlands. Rory was confident he would find Andrew at the closest village or, at least, the inhabitants would know some detail of his whereabouts.
* * *
A disappointed Andrew was at the end of a fruitless journey which yielded no return of warriors to join his army.
Freya spotted his horse from a distance and sprinted to him. Andrew had been absent from the village for nearly a week, and she was eager to hear if he was fortunate in his undertaking. However, as she approached him, and he leaped off his horse, his expression told her everything without the need for words.
“How did ye fare, Andrew?” Freya still dared to ask.
Andrew shook his head and merely walked past her into the cottage.
Inside the small dwelling, Freya pressed the issue.
“I dae no’ understand how this could be? There was nae one willin’ tae join yer cause?”
Andrew sighed as she kicked off his boots by the door. “Either they had nae idea whit I was talkin’ aboot oor they had nae interest joinin’. I am aboot ready tae abandon this plan, Freya… I hae nae idea whit tae do…”
She pulled him towards her for a kiss. Andrew returned it and held her in his arms for a while. The comfort of her embrace lifted his mood after an exhausting journey.
“We will find a way, Andrew. Please, dae no’ give up hope now. I want this jist as bad as ye dae. Ye hae nae idea how bad!”
A soft knock on the door interrupted their embrace, and Freya opened it to find Sorcha.
“Freya, is Andrew ‘ere?”
Freya turned to Andrew to see if he minded her knowing he was back. He motioned his arm forward to go ahead.
“Aye, he jist returned a few moments ago. Is somethin’ wrang, Sorcha?”
“There is a burly man, much like Andrew, ‘ere an’ he’s asked tae see him,” Sorcha explained. “I hae nae doubt the man is a Murray.”
“Rory!” Andrew shouted, striding towards the door. “Aye, he is a Murray, but a good one.”
Andrew rushed outside and there stood Rory.
“It’s been a while, ol’ frien’,” Rory said with a grin.
“How did ye find me, brither?” Andrew asked as he embraced him with a slap on the back.
“Ye know I am a tracker. Ye’re no’ the hardest lad tae find from the Highlands.”
“Tell me, how mony from oor clan did ye convince tae join us? Please, give me some good news,” Andrew pleaded.
“Eight plus mysel’, sae that is nine in total,” Rory answered.
“Only nine, eh? Weel, that should make oor numbers closer tae even, but we are still short. The village lads I hae persuaded tae join me still need more trainin’. But we are close.” Andrew inwardly reveled in his newfound sense of hope with Rory’s surprise arrival.
Freya and Sorcha stared at the two in bewilderment as they caught up and discussed Andrew’s strategy. Freya, in particular, was amazed at Andrew’s sudden change in attitude regarding his planned attack. He had been ready to give up.
Rory turned his attention towards Freya, and whispered into Andrew’s ear, “How is yer bonnie o’er there?”
Andrew raised a finger to his lips to shush Rory from speaking too loudly.
“No’ ‘ere; I will tell ye aboot it inside. Come on, let’s hae a drink an’ go o’er some battle strategies, eh?”
The two Murray warriors spent the rest of the evening burning the midnight oil. By sunrise, they had devised an infallible tactic on their impending assault on Blair Castle.
Chapter Seventeen
A village near Arncroach, Scotland, a few days later
“Ye said ye had eight lads who were committed tae the battle, Rory. Where the hell are they?” Andrew asked his clansman as they stood outside the cottage.
“I rode ahead o’ them when I tracked yer path. They are back in the woodlands. They camped there overnight,” Rory explained.
“I need ‘em here. I hae tae go o’er the battle plan an’ I want ‘em tae spar with the new recruits. That is the only way tae get ‘em up tae speed.”
“Aye, I agree. Some o’ the Murray men who joined us are amang the best fighters in the clan. They are almost as skilled as ye and I!”
Andrew laughed. “Come now, I daen’t know aboot that.”
Both men chuckled with heart, the lighthearted bantering temporarily banishing away their tension over the upcoming battle.
“Weel, let’s go get ‘em, shall we?” Rory said.
“Aye,” Andrew replied and clapped his friend on the back.
The two men shortly departed for the woodland where the other Murray fighters were waiting.
In the village, Sorcha was staring at the expression on Freya’s face as the two women did chores in the barn.
“Freya, whit is wrang with ye?” Sorcha asked as Freya stitched a ripped piece of her arisaid.
“I cannae help but feel this knot deep within my stomach. I feel as if I am goin’ tae vomit,” Freya replied, her face contorting with discomfort.
She flung her sewing supplies to the ground and ran towards a pail, dry reaching into it.
Sorcha rubbed her back from behind.
“Relax an’ take deep breaths,” Sorcha said softly.
Freya slowly regained her breath and sat down on the straw floor, her arms wrapped around her stomach.
“I am sorry, dear Sorcha. It jist a’ got tae much for me jist now. Sae much has happened tae me… tae us… oor clan,” Freya explained, her voice matching her downcast expression.
“Now, now. It takes a strong an’ courageous woman tae survive whit ye went through. Nae one will blame ye for feeling this way,” Sorcha said, pulling Freya to her bosom.
“I simply want this conflict tae end. Is that tae much tae ask?”
“Ye an’ I both,” Sorcha agreed.
Later that day, Freya took a walk around the village, the warmth of the sunlight and fresh air easing her concern. Soon, one of the village lads approached her.
“Freya, pardon the interruption. The men want tae know where Andrew is. We are eager tae commence training again. It has been o’er a week now since we hae received instruction,” they asked her.
“There is nae need tae worry. He has gone tae get more reinforcements – Murray men who also believe in his cause,” Freya replied.
“They will no’ betray him?” the lad asked, looking apprehensive.
“I trust Andrew an’ I implore ye tae as weel. An’ ye need as many fighters as possible if ye even stand a chance against yer foe.”
The lad hesitated as if doubts were still churning through his mind. “Aye, thank ye, Freya. I will,” he finally said.
“Ye will see fer yoursel’ whit kind o’ fighters they are. They will give ye hope.”
The lad gave a small smil
e, nodded, and then walked back in the direction he had come.
Freya did not blame him for having qualms about the battle. Similar thoughts constantly filled her mind too. A slight breeze caressed the leaves on the surrounding trees, many of them fallen to the ground with the changing of the season. The crisp air picked up speed, and Freya wrapped her arisaid around her tighter. She used the sun to deduce the time and knew sunset was not far away.
She longed only for Andrew’s gaze and touch. His absence journey was almost unbearable. She missed the warmth of his body next to hers and his masculine scent. Freya had yet to confess her inner agony over the impending battle with Donald. She lived every day in a state of apprehension about the risk Andrew would be taking to ensure his clan was never again involved in a barbaric attack like the one on her clan.
Just at that moment, laughter could be heard on the distance, and Freya noticed it was Andrew and Rory. They were leading a group of brawn-looking men. Two of the faces in the struck immediate fear in her. They were the two guards who had harassed her in the cell at Blair Castle. She was dumbfounded as to why they’d chosen to betray their chief.
Before the group reached the cottage, she stepped back inside and lay down on the cot, her earlier reservations rekindled.
A few minutes later, the cottage door opened and Andrew walked in beaming.
“Freya, come quick! Ye must behold this sight,” he announced.
“I know they are ‘ere, Andrew. I saw ye a’ ride in. But I cannae go oot there. No’ with those men present.”
Andrew frowned. “I am no’ sure I get ye meaning’?”
Freya sat up and glared at him. “Two brutes ye hae brought with ye are the guards who pestered me in the dungeon.”
Andrew understood now and gave a light sigh. “They will no’ dae anythin’ else tae ye. I swear it, Freya. Ye hae nothin’ tae fear,” he said and sat down beside her.
“Fer yer sake, ye better be right! Jist keep those brutes away from me, ye hear?”
“Aye. Ye will no’ see ‘em. Ye hae my word,” Andrew replied and leaned forward to press a soft kiss against her forehead.
Andrew left the cottage to show the Murray warriors where they would reside for the duration of their stay in the village.
“A’ right laddies. There are two cots in each cottage, sae two o’ ye each tae a cottage. Choose yer sleepin’ friens wisely,” he said with a chuckle.
After the Murray clansmen settled in their cottages, Andrew showed Rory to a smaller cottage which would be his alone.
“If ye need anythin’, daen’t shout fer me,” Andrew jested. “Trainin’ resumes at sunset. ‘tis time tae get a’ these men ready ‘cause come the day o’ the battle, the devil goads us towards Hell!”
Andrew went back to the cottage he shared with Freya. She was still on the cot, only lying down with her back facing him. He assumed she was asleep, but Freya was wide awake, unable to fall asleep due to her apprehension. It was as if her nightmare had the potential to come to life. The worst thing was that Andrew was too focused on his lust to destroy Donald to notice her inner conflict.
Beyond the cottage, excitement was rife among the soldiers. They all felt a new sense of hope and courage to step onto the battlefield and fight for their freedom. Despite what fate had planned for them, they vowed to give the Murray chief and his men the thrashing of their lives.
Chapter Eighteen
“On yer feet, men!” Andrew shouted at the top of his lungs.
He woke everyone at dawn. His army had grown to twenty fighters, but the Murray clan members still under Donald’s control were a few men more. Andrew grimaced at the thought of some of them dying in battle, but he understood the necessity of what his army needed to accomplish to secure peace amongst all the clans in the region.
All of the members of his battalion lined up in single file, and Andrew was pleased with their discipline and obedience. His smile was as bright as the clear morning sky as he could not contain his excitement to see how deadly his army would be.
“A’ right, ladies. I want my new recruits from the local villages taw pair up with fighters from the Murray clan. It is time we really got ye loons caught up tae speed,” Andrew said. “Oh, an’ this time everyone will hae broadswords. Nae more o’ these wee lassie swords.”
“Aye, aboot time!” One of the younger lads chuckled.
Andrew glared at him. “Be careful whit ye wish fer. Ye hae a whole new type of fighter tae go up against now. Ye will really see whit this fight is a’ about.”
Andrew finalized the pairings with a ‘baptism by fire of sorts’, so that they learned quickly.
“The intensity o’ the battlefield will be far fiercer at Blair Castle. Ye can count on that.” Rory laughed at the new recruits.
The Murray fighters dominated the villagers in countless rounds of sparing. One of Freya’s former guards earned a sparing victory in less than ten seconds. Everyone, including Andrew, was baffled by the utter display of domination.
Andrew did not let up against the young fighters as they had to fail and face defeat over and over again before it was time to invade Blair Castle.
The lad who faced off with Andrew was the only one of the loons who displayed vast improvement in swordsmanship, maneuvering, and overall fighting instincts. Andrew was pleasantly surprised at his sharpened techniques since they’d last seen each other. The lad earned three consecutive victories in sparing against three separate Murray combatants.
“A’ right! I hae seen enough. Ye are in fer a fight now,” Andrew stated as he grasped his broadsword and approached the talented lad.
The lad licked his lips as he had secretly practiced every day while Andrew was away. He was determined to become a lethal swordsman.
Andrew and the younger man stared at each other. The field became so quiet that only the breeze ruffling the surrounding brush could be heard.
They lunged at each other simultaneously, and it was a back and forth display of blocked thrusts and slices of their broadswords. Andrew attacked him on both sides to locate a weakness, but his sword was deflected each time.
Andrew swiped at the lad’s feet, but the lead leaped into the air and thrust at him before his feet planted back onto the ground. Andrew barrel-rolled across the dirt to dodge the surprisingly vicious onslaught.
“I see ye hae been fine-tuning yer skills while I was away. I am impressed!” Andrew said as he struggled to catch his breath.
“Oor last duel was an embarrassment. I swore tae ne’er suffer sich a defeat again,” the lad remarked.
“Ye are closer tae bein’ ready than I thought, but ye still hae a thing oor two tae learn,” Andrew said before he managed to shove him to the ground with his forearm.
“Whit are ye doin’?’ the lad complained as Andrew stood over him victorious.
“Always remember tae take advantage o’ no’ only the sword, but yer ither limbs as well. Sometimes they can be yer handiest allies,” Andrew lectured him.
Later, Rory confronted Andrew about the way the lad performed in the spar against him. He was concerned Andrew had lost his touch in hand-to-hand combat.
“How could ye let that lad battle ye like that? He is practically a wean. I bet ye he has no’ even shagged afore,” Rory mocked Andrew.
“Haud yer wheesht, Rory! A’ this proves is that I am an fittin’ instructor. That lad could no’ hold the sword efter bein’ hit with one thrust afore I started with him. An’ now look at him! He has nearly turned intae a vicious animal.”
“Are ye sure it is no’ just ye? I hae seen ye battle the likes o’ men twice as large an’ twice as skilled as that wee pup jist now. Ye’re no’ losin’ it?”
“If ye daen’t believe in my tutelage, then ye will see fer yersel’. Startin’ tomorrow, he is yer sparrin’ partner. Ye will learn soon enough, Rory!”
“I will take yer word fer it, Andrew. We hae more important matters tae discuss in private.”
Andrew pondered what could possib
ly be on his friend’s mind.
After the sun sank below the horizon and the moon rose in the sky, Andrew went to Rory’s cottage.
“Sae, oot with it, frien’. Whit is sae important that we had tae speak away from the ithers?” Andrew asked as the two men sat by the small peat fire.
“Are we close tae bein’ ready tae attack the castle, Andrew?”
