Highlander’s War of Clans
Adamina Young
Contents
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Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Highlander’s Tempted Guard
Prologue
Chapter 1
Also by the author
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Prologue
The golden sun was rising in the sky. Birds sang and animals roamed about the fields of the forest, happy to forage for their meals and frolic with their families.
But the previous afternoon, a thunderous rumble had made the ground shake...
It was as loud as a storm, but the sky was still clear. A few wispy clouds hung against the sapphire canvas, witness to the carnage that was about to take place below. The peace of the forest was shattered as two angry clans met in battle. Armies made of hardened warriors and ruthless men were clashing. The air thrummed with the angry song of steel crashing against steel. Arrows whipped through the air. Axes were driven through armor and flesh. Bones cracked and death howls rose through the air as scarlet blood flowed as deep as a river across the green grass.
The men were all Highlanders, members of the Frasier and McClearey clans. These two clans had been mortal enemies for generations. While there had been bouts of peace over the years, it was only ever fleeting. Hostilities always erupted again and battles were fought, wars were waged, and there was only ever enough time to heal the wounds before something happened to inspire hatred again.
The Frasier clan was led by Malcolm, a fierce warrior with red hair and a flaming beard. His eyes blazed with anger and he spoke in a booming voice that made the walls of his castle rattle. He was a tall man, said to have the blood of giants in his ancestry, just like his father before him and his sons after him. He had taken up the mantle of war from his father and in battle he was like a raging tempest, whirling with his great war hammer, sending men flying as he caved in their chests. The force of his war cry was enough to inspire his men to even greater heights of bravery and they charged in around him, ready to give their lives for their charismatic leader.
On the other side was Bryn McClearey, a man who was more on the slender build. He had spent most of his life out in the forest, running with the wolves and hunting his prey. His mind was a tactical one and he had a reputation for being shrewd on the battlefield. He fought not just for honor, but for his family too, especially his eldest daughter Caitlin. His eyes were always darting about, looking for an opportunity to strike and prey on his enemy’s weakness. He wielded his sword gracefully, moving about the battlefield as though he was dancing. There was a brutal elegance as he made his way through the enemy troops, slashing and slicing at them, leaving a sea of blood in his wake. Blood and thunder raged in their minds as they both urged on their troops, but everyone else was collateral damage.
They wanted each other.
The rhythm of the battle shifted. It was impossible for Bryn to not know where Malcolm was, as the huge man stood out amongst the rest. His biceps glistened with sweat as he whirled his war hammer around. Bryn winced as he heard the crunch of bones breaking and a haughty laugh. He saw his troops run around and flank the onrushing enemy. It was as though they were trying to hold back the tide, and while he had confidence in his men, Bryn knew that the quickest way to end the fight was to end the threat posed by Malcolm.
Bryn used the bodies of the Highlanders as a shield. He shifted and dodged around the dancing soldiers as he made his way closer to Malcolm. Blood dripped from his sword and the smell of battle made him want to retch, but he quelled the urge and continued on his way, never taking his eyes off Malcolm.
The leader of the Frasier clan was hollering uproariously as he threw himself into the battle. There was nothing he enjoyed more than throwing himself into the heat of war and testing his strength and mettle against his foes. One by one they all charged at him, and one by one they all fell back. He strode forward, marching over a sea of dead bodies, his mighty hammer swinging like a pendulum, dealing mortal wounds to all who met it. But Malcolm’s eyes were always drifting across the battlefield, trying to find his equal—the man named Bryn. He was as wily as a fox, and Malcolm knew that he would have some plan to try and gain the upper hand. He squinted as he looked through the swirling morass of bodies, but Bryn did not appear to be anywhere.
Malcolm wasn’t going to let that worry him though. He continued his devastating destruction and waited for Bryn to come to him.
Eventually, the blade of a sword flashed and Malcolm turned around. Bryn had managed to sneak around and kill the two men on Malcolm’s right-hand side. The blade had caught the sun and Malcolm moved with surprising agility, evading the strike. He swung his hammer back, a low strike that aimed to sweep Bryn off his feet. Bryn hopped over it and Malcolm cursed. The two men glared at each other. Bryn’s hair fluttered as it caught the breeze, while Malcolm’s was tied into a tight ponytail. Bryn held his sword tightly and his entire body was rigid with tension, poised to strike at any moment. Malcolm was more relaxed but still wary. Bryn was more dangerous than he appeared.
“I wondered when ye’d creep up on me,” Malcolm sneered. “Are ye always gaeing tae move like a ghoul creeping through a courtyard or are ye gaeing tae face me like a man?”
“We must take advantages where we can find them,” Bryn replied quickly, his mouth twisting into a smirk, “but dae ye want tae talk or dae ye want tae fight?” His words were met with swift action as he struck powerfully, trying to thrust through Malcolm’s defenses while the man was not on guard. The blade gleamed as it struck through the air and it would have pierced Malcolm in the middle of his stomach had he not stepped to the side, narrowly avoiding the blade. Bryn cursed and scowled as Malcolm retaliated. Instead of swinging his hammer, he thrust it forward like a battering ram. Bryn hopped back as Malcolm charged. If there wasn’t so much hostility and fury in the air it would have been quite a comedic sight to see these two warriors chasing each other. Bryn was on the back foot and kept twisting his neck back to glance behind him, making sure that he wasn’t going to lose his footing. An arrow sailed through the air and landed by the two men. Malcolm’s eyes blazed with anger. Bryn was shocked by the arrow and his attention was stolen. He failed to see the trailing leg of a dead man, and stumbled, falling to the soft ground. He yelped as Malcolm roared and lifted the hammer above his head. One strike and it would all be over. Bryn could almost feel the weight of the hammer coming down upon his chest.
Summoning what strength he had left, Bryn twisted and rolled out of the way as the hammer came crashing down. Mud flew up as he scrambled to his feet and struck out with his blade, slicing Malcolm across the back. Malcolm screamed in pain and swung his hammer around. The end of it caught Bryn’s sword. The terrible vibrations almost made Bryn
drop the sword. It took all of his stamina to brace himself against the painful sensations that ran all the way up his arm. He gritted his teeth and brought his mind to focus as he braced himself for the next attack.
Again and again, the two men had fought, and none could prevail over the other. And none would prevail today either.
Their vigor and their physical strength were in balance as was the strength of their clans. Deep down both men respected each other. It took a real warrior to recognize one and that was what led them to halt the fight. Whoever won would have no men left to rule over...
“Enough for the day?” Malcolm said, out of breath.
Bryn tilted his head, wondering if this brief interlude was a trap. Perhaps he had wounded Malcolm more heavily than he had first suspected.
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He looked around and realized as well that they would both lose all their men and strength if this went on. He raised his sword and a few men that were close to them came to an halt without letting their guard down.
“Let us meet tomorrow! To negotiate. Enough for the day!” he shouted.
Malcolm nodded.
As the warriors around them slowly stopped, the order spread like a wave until it reached the furthest ends of the battlefield. None of the warriors showed sighs of relief seeing their leaders coming to a halt. But most—if not all—of the men were indeed relieved. Not because they lacked courage, but because they all realized that this battle was leading nowhere.
Malcolm and Bryn met the next morning and nothing indicated that the two men were close to killing each other the previous day. Their conversation began with no introductions as soon as Bryn entered Malcolm’s tent.
“Here we go again.” Bryn sighed. He did not expect much to change. But Malcom had other plans.
“Dae ye remember when we used tae duel as wee ones?” Malcolm asked.
“Hah! Neither one of us could get the upper hand,” Bryn replied, surprised by the words that came out of Malcom’s mouth.
When they had grown up there had been peace between the two clans and the boys had spent quite a lot of time together as they were both of noble blood. They had tested their strength and often fought to a draw. In another life, they may have been friends, but their fathers had reignited the conflict and the heirs had continued the sins of generations. But as they stood there in that tent, they looked at each other and remembered the times they had spent together as children.
“I’m nae sure anything hae changed. We could fight here for forty days and forty nights and still, there would be nae victor,” Malcolm said. “We would lose all our men.”
Bryn was surprised. The mention of childhood had brought to mind nostalgic memories from a time when things were so innocent and simple. Back then there had not been a thought of war or that they would ever fight because they hated each other. In truth, neither man could claim that they hated each other now. They were just fighting because that’s what their families did.
“Dae ye ever wonder what we are fighting for?” Malcolm asked.
“It hae crossed my mind more than once,” Bryn said. “I’m nae sure if anyone knows why this all began in the first place. What dae ye actually hae on ye mind Malcolm?”
“I dinnae ken really, it’s just when we were fighting my mind was taken back tae our childhoods and I just thought…why are we daeing this? Dae I really hate ye? Is this gaeing tae happen tae our children tae? I dinnae ken if I want Rhys tae follow in these footsteps. Is there nae a better way?”
Bryn arched an eyebrow. “I’m surprised tae hear that from ye. I hae never known ye tae turn away from a battle.”
“Aye, I know ye may think this is some trick, but look at this. I enjoy a fight as much as the next, but only when I know what I’m fighting for. Meeting you again in battle like this, it makes me wonder what we’re really daeing. There’s nae honor in fighting an empty war, and that’s what this is. Can ye honestly say ye’d feel good if ye took my head home with ye?”
Bryn shifted uncomfortably and licked his lips.
“I cannae say I hae ever thought of ye dying. The conflict between our clans has gone on for generations.”
“That’s just my point! What’s the point in a war that never ends? We’re leading our men tae death, and one day it’s gaeing tae be our own flesh and blood. Bryn, I think it’s time we changed things,” he said.
Bryn almost laughed because it was so incongruous that the most feared warrior in the land would ever suggest that peace was the only solution to war, but it was something he had considered.
“I suppose I agree with ye tae some extent. As a man who has considered all options I hae thought about peace, but it needs tae be a peace that lasts. We cannae just repeat the mistakes of the past,” Bryn warned.
“Aye,” Malcolm said. He stroked his beard and gave the impression that he was thinking on the spot, although he had been considering this matter for some time. Bryn had always been the better thinker of the two, but Malcolm knew the other man underestimated him. He had to hide his smile as this had all been considered before this battle had even begun. “It haes tae be something that lasts, but the solution tae me is obvious. We both hae firstborn children at an age they could both marry. Since it’s time they wed anyway, why nae tae each other? We can bring the clans together and never hae tae worry about gaeing tae war with each other again.”
Bryn considered the matter. It was, of course, a plan he had thought about before. He had never suggested it because he hadn’t believed that Malcolm would go for it. The fact that Malcolm had suggested it was surprising, considering his reputation for being a brute, but perhaps it showed that he was getting wiser in his old age. Losing all their men is something no wise leader desired.
Bryn thought about all the lives that had been lost because of the conflict with the Frasiers. Because of the history shared between the families, it was difficult to trust Malcolm, but Bryn thought the risk was worth it as they stood to gain peace, and peace meant that they could flourish. He wasn’t sure that Caitlin would enjoy the prospect of marrying Rhys, but he would make her understand that she had a duty to do for the clan.
The only question was whether he trusted Malcolm or not. He looked at him for a few moments and made his decision.
“I agree, Malcolm,” Bryn said. They clasped arms and nodded at each other, sealing their agreement, and soon the air was peaceful again. Generations of warfare and hostility had made tensions rife, but something as monumental as marriage was perhaps the only thing that could save them.
But if this failed then there could never be peace, and neither family would stop until the other was vanquished.
1
Caitlin was sitting in the hall of the McClearey home as her mother, Violet, and her aunt, Iris, attended to her. Violet was twining flowers in Caitlin’s auburn hair, while Iris was rushing about making sure that everything was in order. Caitlin pouted and her muscles twitched, for she was restless. Three months had passed since her father had returned from battle in a good mood. At the time she thought he had won and the war would be over for the time being. After all, if there was anything that was certain it was that the Frasiers and the McCleareys would attack each other. That was the saying around these parts. Peace was just a break between the conflict. It seemed inevitable that it would start up again, so when Bryn had sat his family down and explained what had happened, they were all unconvinced.
Violet seemed to be thrilled, while Caitlin’s siblings had mixed feelings. The four brothers were all younger than her and were eager to become warriors. They ranged from nine to sixteen. Caitlin herself was eighteen and had left the flush of youth behind as she entered womanhood. Her skin glowed with a virtuous bloom and the distance between her brothers had never been greater. They were all rough. Mark, her eldest brother, had started to grow a beard. Dominic and Pip would not be too far behind in that regard, while Callum was still just a baby compared to the rest. They raised a ruckus as they disagreed with Bryn’s decisi
on, while Caitlin remained quiet. She glared at the boys to try and get them to be quiet as Bryn explained everything that happened.
“Why would Malcolm agree tae such a thing?” Violet asked.
Bryn pursed his lips. “It seems that when we were fighting his mind was taken back tae our childhood, when we dueled as boys. We looked around and saw all our men dying. The clans hae lost sae much. Eventually, there will be naething left. He speaks sense. This is needed sae we can grow again and flourish.”
“It’ll just last a few years and then one of ye will find a reason tae gae tae war or one of ye lads will,” Iris said, jerking her heads towards the boys. Mark puffed out his chest and nodded, as though it was a thing to be proud of. Caitlin let out a tittering laugh.
“Oh Mark, ye act sae brave at the dinner table, but I dinnae ken what chance ye would hae in a war. Ye cannae even beat me with a sword!”
Mark glared. “I just gae easy on ye because ye are my sister.” His cheeks turned red and the way he spat out his words showed that he had been disturbed by what Caitlin said. She wore a smug smile as though she had proven her point, and turned back to look at her father, who looked aggrieved at the shouting between the people at the table.
“Let’s all calm down.” He opened his palms and made a soothing motion. “Ye dae hae a point, Iris. Peace hae never lasted for tae long between us, which is why we hae something that makes the agreement ironclad.” His gaze fell upon an unsuspecting Caitlin, who was completely unprepared for what Bryn was about to say. When he revealed that he had agreed to marry her off to Rhys Frasier, the future laird of the Frasier clan, she wasn’t sure what to think, although it certainly wasn’t something she was keen on. Not only had she never met the man, but she had always been brought up to hate the old enemy!
Highlander's War 0f Clans (Scottish Medieval Historical Romance) Page 1
