Highland Stone

by Sloan McBride

  "The light will be with us. I dunna know the castle but I know MacKay. He fights dirty. We have the sun at our backs in the battle."

  "What if the women be dead?" Archibald asked.

  Alaxandar's hand flashed to the dirk on his belt, ready to throw with deadly accuracy. His head whipped around to see Archibald frown. He had only voiced the question that had been plaguing them all.

  "Then I skewer and skin every member of the MacKay clan, starting with the chief himself," Alaxandar said. His father nodded then strode to the rest of his men to explain the battle strategy.

  * * * *

  Carrick stood in the doorway of the great hall watching his chief. "What are ye going to do?"

  "I will do as planned."

  "MacLeod will fight to the death afore he gives in. Ye have killed members o' his clan and that will be repaid by deaths."

  "We have been through many battles."

  "We be fewer in number."

  "Rhianna spoilt me plan to align with Ross when she ran away." He spit on the floor as if saying her name made him sick.

  Carrick moved further into the room. "There be naught else she could do."

  MacKay glared at his first born. "She dinna do her duty."

  "Ross would have killed her."

  "Aye, but we would have been bound by the oath."

  Carrick turned away disgusted to look at his chief, his blood. "Ye bring destruction to our clan."

  MacKay threw his sword on the wooden table before him. "I shouldna have sent ye to England for schooling. Ye have grown weak in your thinking." The man at arms appeared in the doorway. "I will do as planned," his father said. He turned to the man silently waiting and motioned to the maps on the table.

  "What ye do brings chaos and death. We need growth and new life for the MacKay Clan to be strong again."

  "Ye talk foolishness, Carrick. That 'tis your máthair's doing. This be how we deal with our enemies. We take what we want."

  "There be another way. I—" Carrick gestured to the tapestries on the wall.

  "Stop." MacKay slammed his hands on the table. His sword fell to the floor. The clang echoed in the room. "Leave me."

  Carrick sadly turned away and left the room. His sigh made MacKay stiffen his back as though a pole ran through it.

  * * * *

  Kara paced the room from wall to wall. It killed her knowing Alaxandar waited just outside the gates and she couldn't get to him. She'd racked her brain but still hadn't come up with a plausible way of escape. She heard a voice at the door.

  "Move away from the door, Reg. Get down with the men." Carrick opened the door.

  The look he gave Eleyne was both sad and compassionate. "Fighting will break out at dawn." He moved closer to Eleyne. "I canna say where I will be during the battle." He spoke softly while brushing her cheek with the back of his hand. She turned her face into his palm. Eleyne leaned into him but Carrick jumped back and dropped his hand. He walked to the window to watch the men gather weapons and set up stations. "I have dismissed the guard. When the fighting starts, follow this hall to the south side o' the castle. There be a stairway that will take ye to the buttery. Behind the tapestry be a door to a short tunnel, leading outside the castle walls. Find your clansmen and get away from Strathnaver." He shifted his shoulder against the wall. "Only death awaits ye here."

  Kara felt a mixture of excitement and sadness. This young man held a world of misery on his shoulders but did the right thing and let them go. "What will happen when we escape?"

  He drew his gaze from the window. "I willna let the chief's greed endanger ye." He turned so his back was against the wall. "There be many who wish an end to the wars and killing."

  "Why don't they do something then?" Kara asked.

  His laugh held no amusement. "They be afraid o' the chief. He would kill them where they stood."

  Eleyne moved closer to Carrick. "What will he do to ye?"

  Carrick's eyes softened. "Dunna fuss, lass. Ye must make ready. MacLeod will be here at dawn." He started toward the door but stopped long enough to place an intricately-carved dagger in Eleyne's hand. "Guard yourself."

  Eleyne touched his arm and turned a beseeching look on Kara.

  "I'll see if there are cloaks or something to cover us." She walked into the small alcove to give Carrick and Eleyne privacy. She waited a couple of minutes then returned to see Carrick rub his thumbs at the corners of Eleyne's mouth then kiss her. "Ye are so beautiful." He stared into her misting eyes and turned to go.

  "Carrick," Eleyne called. He stopped with his hand on the door, but did not turn around. "I—"

  He left.

  Eleyne knocked over the chair next to her, venting frustration. "Ahh," she screamed.

  Kara kept her distance until the tirade passed. "Are we ready?"

  Eleyne whipped around. "Aye." She stabbed the wooden table with the tip of the dirk.

  Kara knew how she felt.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  A thick fog covered the ground. Alaxandar had seen many battlefields covered in white and red. Red, the blood of Scotsmen protecting their land and their clans. He'd drifted away from the others to get his head ready for the fight. A small ritual he always performed before he went into battle. Unsheathing his broadsword, he swung it around to the left and the right. The swishing sound calmed him.

  Through rustling trees he heard men stirring. Archibald had dispatched some to cut down trees for use as battering rams. They also cleared more trees to set fires around the castle walls. The sun broke through the clouds with the first rays of the day. Soon, the fog would disappear and the war would begin.

  "If ye find Eleyne dead or alive," the chief roared. "Bring her to me."

  The men mounted, Alaxandar, Murdo and Iain all in line with their chief. He raised his sword. "We ride!" he yelled, spurring his horse into action.

  * * * *

  Kara heard the cries and her insides sank.

  "That be me father, Kara." Eleyne grabbed the dirk from the table. "I need to get to him afore too many are killed." She faced Kara. "If what Carrick says be true. I willna stand by and watch MacKay send his clan to their deaths."

  Screams echoed through the windows. "Come on," Kara said.

  No guard stood at the door so they ran down the hall. In the small buttery, Kara moved aside the tapestry to open the secret door. A MacKay man yelled and raced toward them. Kara grabbed the dirk from Eleyne's hand.

  "What are ye doing?" Eleyne gasped.

  She shoved Eleyne toward the door. "Go. I'll hold him off." I can't believe I'm doing this.

  "I canna leave ye."

  "It's imperative that you get to your father before it's too late. If you see Alaxandar," she smiled, "tell him I'm all right. Go."

  Kara faced the angry Highlander, who pointed a sword at her and grinned. With a mighty yell he lunged forward. His sword grazed her side, slitting her dress and her skin. She screamed and grabbed the wound. Her hand came away smeared with blood.

  When he lunged again, she moved to the side and he roared past, crashing into some barrels. Her slight form and quickness worked in her favor. Using all her body weight, she slammed her hands and arms down on him and plunged the dirk into his neck. He fell to the floor with gurgling sounds escaping his throat. Blood pooled at her feet, a combination of hers and his.

  Pain gripped her side. She needed something to staunch the blood flow. Her feeble effort to rip material from her clothes was useless. She was fading fast.

  Kara turned toward the passage, aggravated at the loud buzzing in her head. Sweat beaded her brow and blurred her vision. It grew warm. She reached to open the door, fell down to one knee, then everything went black.

  * * * *

  The gates opened within minutes of the start of the battle and MacLeod's men stormed the walls. Alaxandar plowed through the enemy, cutting them down, one right after another. His desire to find Kara fueled his rage.

  Unbeknownst to him, Eleyne broke through the woods on
the south side of the castle in the midst of the fighting.

  Alaxandar was in the middle of a hand-to-hand battle in the bailey close to the gates. He laid the man out with little effort. Jamie fought at his side. A MacKenzie rider burst through with Eleyne holding on behind him.

  Dispatching another MacKay warrior Alaxandar ran to his sister. "Did they harm ye?" he yelled over the battle noise.

  "Nay, we were not harmed."

  "And Kara?"

  Eleyne hesitated. "She be well."

  "Where?" Alaxandar looked around the area.

  She jumped off the horse and grabbed his shoulder. "Ye must find the chief and stop the fighting."

  "Get ye gone from this place," he ordered.

  "Alaxandar, listen. The MacKay clansmen want an end to the fighting. 'Tis the chief that be reiving and killing. Dunna make the whole clan pay for the chief's greed."

  "How do ye know these things?"

  "I canna go into that now. Too many have died already. Please find Father."

  Alaxandar knew that Eleyne believed what she said to be true. He wondered if Cuilén and Ramsey were having any luck. Glaring at the MacKenzie rider, he hollered. "Get her outta here."

  The rider pulled her up and spurred his horse away.

  Alaxandar fought back into the castle in search of his father. He found him in the great hall embroiled in a fight to the death with Conar MacKay. Both men had suffered several serious strikes, were bleeding and angry.

  "Your time has come," Drummond said, spinning and slicing into MacKay's mid-section.

  "I dunna die so easily." MacKay swung around, pulling a dirk and sticking it into Drummond's arm.

  "Ye will die this day," Drummond said through clenched teeth.

  MacKay deflected a blow with his left arm and slashed Drummond's shoulder.

  His honed skills served Drummond well, for on the next swirl, his blade hit home.

  MacKay dropped to his knees.

  Drummond wasted no time in thrusting his sword into MacKay's stomach and twisting it several times. Conar MacKay would rise no more.

  Drummond collapsed.

  Those surrounding the fallen leaders ceased fighting, looking to Alaxandar in expectation. He rushed to his father's side.

  Cuilén fought his way to them. Between heaving breaths, he said, "We got one o' the old women to talk. There arena' many men left alive, old ones and a few wee babes. The chief has all but diminished their ranks through his useless pursuits."

  With the chief lying on the floor and remembering the conviction of Eleyne's words, Alaxandar spread the word that every MacKay who lay down his sword would be spared. More than a half-hour later, the battle sounds quieted, except for the moans and cries of the wounded.

  Carrick MacKay pushed through the crowd. Covered in blood, a small amount of which was his, he stood before Alaxandar clutching a sword in his left hand. Alaxandar's fingers flexed over the hilt of his sword. Standing over his father's prone body, he glared at Carrick. "Need we continue?"

  Carrick glanced at the chief's unconscious body and then at Conar. "Nay, MacLeod. It be done." He sheathed his weapon.

  Alaxandar lifted his broadsword in turn.

  "Wait," Eleyne screamed and ran closer to Carrick. "Hear me first."

  "Nay, Eleyne," Carrick said in a solemn voice, as he reached toward her. "'Tis what must happen to save me clan. Go."

  Alaxandar grabbed Eleyne's arm and pulled her to him. "What goes here?"

  "Aye," Cuilén said. "'Tis men's business, gel, though happy I be to see ye unharmed."

  She shook her arm free from her brother. "Dunna kill him." Glancing at Carrick over her shoulder, she said, "He helped us escape when the fighting started. Carrick dinna know what had been done till Kara and I were brought to Stathnaver." She swiped tears from her cheeks.

  Alaxandar knelt next to his father while Cuilén checked the chief's injuries. Blood seeped through the grimy clothes, mixing with the blood of enemies who had died.

  "'Tis true that ye helped them escape?" Alaxandar asked.

  Carrick gazed at Eleyne and his eyes softened. "Aye, MacLeod."

  Eleyne's cheeks turned crimson at the sound of Carrick's voice.

  "We will speak later. Lock him in the tower," Alaxandar ordered.

  Jamie and Iain escorted Carrick from the hall.

  "The rest o' ye, help with the wounded."

  Eleyne sighed and fell against a wall to keep from withering to the floor. Worry clouded her face when she looked closely at her father. His wounds were serious. She hurried to his side and began ministering to him as she'd helped her mother do many times.

  Alaxandar approached her. "Eleyne, where be Kara?"

  "We went to the buttery. One o' the men found us. She stayed behind so I could get away."

  Alaxandar ordered the entire castle searched. He started in the buttery. Kara lay on the floor, her hand reaching for the hidden door. Her face was smeared with blood and so pale. Alaxandar was afraid to touch her for fear she'd be dead. Her breasts rose and fell with shallow breaths. He cradled her head and picked her up. He found a chamber and laid her on the bed.

  "Bring clothes, hot water, needle and thread," he yelled. He ripped the side of her dress. Bright red blood flowed from the wound, making it difficult to see the severity of the cut. He gripped covering from the bed and pressed it against her side, applying pressure until the hot water and clean cloths arrived.

  Carefully, he cleansed the wound. Kara winced a couple of times and moaned, but did not awaken. The MacKay females tried to get in to see to Kara, but the fierce scowl from Alaxandar kept them in the hall.

  "Alaxandar, let the females in to sew Kara up," Cuilén said.

  Cuilén and Ramsey took him by the elbows and all but dragged him from the bed so the women could tend to Kara's injuries.

  "Ye must leave," an older woman told them. "We will take care o' her, lad."

  Reluctant and weary he strode from the room and braced his back and right foot against the wall just outside. A few moments later Kara screamed and he rushed toward the door only to be waylaid by Ramsey.

  It seemed like hours had passed when the women finally left the chamber. "She has lost a lot o' blood, but she be sewed together and resting."

  Alaxandar nodded absently, his eyes straining to see Kara. She lay still, her naked skin white against the gray tattered covering. As if making a final walk to the gallows, he tread lightly. Kneeling beside the bed, he clasped her hand and brought it to his forehead. "Me warrior lass."

  ****

  Night came. Grim-faced clansmen cleaned up debris from the ferocious battle. Women lit fires in all the rooms to ward off the evening chill and to keep the wounded warm. Alaxandar had left Kara's side briefly to check on his father.

  "He will be better on the morrow," Eleyne told him. "He needs rest. How fares Kara?"

  He shrugged. "'Tis uncertain." He stared down at the MacLeod chief, thankful his father was strong as an ox.

  "Eleyne," he said, glancing across the room. "We need to talk about what happened." He frowned. "Did MacKay touch ye?"

  "Nay," she grinned. "He yelled a lot and tried to order us, but Kara stood up to him."

  Alaxandar nodded. He had no doubt, knowing the way Kara felt about men telling her what to do. "Did Carrick touch ye?"

  Eleyne was silent a moment. "It wasna what ye think."

  A rage crept across his face. "How did he touch ye?"

  "Nay, Alaxandar. Carrick helped us. He be a good leader for his people."

  The breathless voice and dreamy eyes Eleyne had while speaking of Carrick MacKay did not escape his notice. He tucked that information away for later deliberation.

  Alaxandar visited the tower where Carrick was being held. Carrick paced the short distance with blood-stained hands clasped behind his back.

  "MacKay."

  Carrick turned to face him. "What will ye do to me clan?"

  "The chief be resting. We will talk in the morn."

>   Carrick sighed and began pacing again. "Ye know where to find me."

  Alaxandar chuckled. "I will send the women in with water so ye can clean up and tend to your wounds."

  "They be naught to worry about. Are the wounded being cared for?"

  "Aye."

  "MacKays and MacLeods?"

  "Aye, dunna fear. We will be taking care o' your clan till your fate be decided by the chief."

  "I be grateful for that." Carrick said, as he turned to stare at the fading light.

  Alaxandar wandered back to where Kara lay unconscious. He stayed by her bedside knowing only too well the kind of night fears that came with serious injuries. He brushed a strand of hair from her forehead and traced a path across her jaw. "So soft," he murmured.

  Through the feverish night, Alaxandar allowed no one to tend Kara except him. He wiped her sweat-dampened brow. "I canna say what me father will do, but Carrick seems to be a good man in spite o' his blood." He chuckled as he wrung the rag and bathed her body with cool water. "Eleyne tells me ye stood up to Conar MacKay. That dinna sit well with the likes o' him, to be sure."

  Taking a moment he stretched and eased the muscles in his back. Kara cried out and tossed with fever. Immediately, he was at her side, the back of his hand against her flushed cheeks. He leaned close to her ear. "Ye willna die. 'Tis an order." Her head turned toward his voice and he smiled. He knew she'd fight an order, especially if it came from him. "Dunna die, Kara," he whispered his plea.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Soft dawn light streamed through the window shining on Alaxandar's bent head. He longed to see Kara's smile.

  "Ye should eat, Alaxandar," Eleyne said when she strolled into the room.

  "I be fine."

  "Ye be no good to Kara if ye grow weak from hunger." Eleyne laid her hand on Kara's forehead.

  "How goes the clean up?"

  "It goes well. Iain headed back to Dunvegan taking news to the others."

  "And the chief?"

  "He be awake and hollering. I canna keep him abed. He went down to eat."

  "I need to speak with him." He glanced at Kara.