The Highlanders

by Stuart Daly

  About the Book

  Passing two fiendishly difficult tests is just the beginning …

  All Caspan, Roland, Sara, Lachlan and Kilt need to do to become treasure hunters is undertake two final trials riddled with deadly traps and impossible puzzles.

  It’s vital that they pass, because the Brotherhood needs them for an urgent mission – one that could save their kingdom. The five friends must ride their Wardens to the north, into the highlands. They must locate the powerful ancient weapon hidden there. And they must bring it back to the King. But the burial mound they seek is far from abandoned. It’s inside a giant camp crowded with enemy warriors. How can they ever succeed?

  Contents

  Cover

  About the Book

  Title Page

  Dedication

  The Four Kingdoms

  Chapter 1: The First Trial

  Chapter 2: Riddles and Mistakes

  Chapter 3: Sara’s Self-Doubt

  Chapter 4: The Second Challenge Revealed

  Chapter 5: Traps in the Dark

  Chapter 6: The Induction Ceremony

  Chapter 7: The Map Decrypted

  Chapter 8: Shanty

  Chapter 9: Gramidge’s Secret

  Chapter 10: The Quest Begins

  Chapter 11: The Fight at Mance O’Shea’s Break

  Chapter 12: The Highland Fort

  Chapter 13: Plans at Dawn

  Chapter 14: Disguises and Accents

  Chapter 15: Infiltrating the Fort

  Chapter 16: Caber Toss

  Chapter 17: The Highland Feud

  Chapter 18: Inside the Burial Mound

  Chapter 19: An Unexpected Enemy

  Chapter 20: The Enemy’s Battle Plans

  Chapter 21: The Fight Inside the Longhouse

  Chapter 22: The Calm Before the Storm

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Coming Soon: Brotherhood of Thieves 3

  Copyright Notice

  Loved the book?

  To Dave Hardy, for showing me the true meaning of the word ‘friend’

  CHAPTER 1

  THE FIRST TRIAL

  Roland closed the door behind him, adjusted the lantern hanging from his belt and strode into the middle of the tower. ‘This doesn’t look too difficult,’ he remarked.

  ‘Speak for yourself!’ Kilt exhaled disparagingly.

  ‘The Masters wouldn’t have set us this task if they didn’t think we were up to it,’ Lachlan said. The muscular initiate followed after Roland. ‘Although, I’d say we’re all going to have to pull together if we’re to get through it.’ His voice disturbed a couple of pigeons roosting in the ceiling’s cross-beams. They flapped about the rafters before repositioning themselves. Lachlan glanced at Caspan. ‘Any ideas?’

  As one, the apprentices looked at Caspan. The former member of the Black Hand, the infamous thieves’ guild of Floran, joined his friends in the centre of the chamber and sighed. ‘Geez, don’t put the pressure on me.’

  Lachlan shrugged. ‘I just thought you’d be the best at this sort of thing.’

  ‘Thanks for the vote of confidence.’ Caspan studied the tower in which the Masters had set the test. Its circular walls, rising high above them, were punctuated with a series of six stone landings that ran around the interior circumference of the chamber. These were set at regular intervals all the way to the ceiling.

  The lower five ledges each contained a collection of objects: the first housed weaponry and armour; the second, pottery. Although his lantern allowed him to see the dark underside of the upper landings, not even Caspan’s sharp eyes could discern the types of objects inside. That would only be revealed when the wooden platform the apprentices were standing on was elevated. To reach the upper levels, they would need to activate the platform using a lever set in the wall on the ground floor. The platform would then continue to rise one level every ten minutes, lifted by a mechanism hidden beneath the tower. And this is when the test would become a race against time. On each ledge, amidst the dozens of objects, were two genuine Dray artefacts. The recruits had to find at least five of these before the platform reached the final, sixth landing.

  As Master Scott had explained, there was a chance that the platform could be stalled for an extra five minutes at each level – on the condition that the initiates lower a lever on each landing. Though this sounded easy, it could only be achieved after a riddle or puzzle had been solved.

  Two weeks had passed since Caspan and Lachlan had returned from Darrowmere. The siege had scarred Caspan. During the day, when he was busy training, he had little time to think about the Roon. But it was during the quiet moments before falling asleep, when his mind was free to wander, that the memory came back to haunt him. Battle-scarred and tattooed giants burst into his dreams as he slept fitfully, lacquered in a sticky, cold sweat.

  There was one face in particular that pervaded his thoughts – that of the Roon bodyguard he had fought atop the hill outside Darrowmere. The last he’d seen of the giant was as he was being escorted from the battlefield, towards the gaols beneath The Hold. Caspan knew those cells well, having been locked in there by General Brett, the commander of the Eighth Legion. He could picture now the giant sitting in the darkness, counting down the days until his release, brooding over the battle, in which Caspan had placed his dagger to the Roon lord’s throat, forcing the giants to end their siege. That moment, Caspan was sure, was etched in the bodyguard’s thoughts.

  Following their return from Lochinbar, the smallest of Andalon’s three duchies, the Masters had made the initiates’ training sessions more difficult. Caspan was certain this was on account of how well he and his fellow recruits had performed on the trip. His heart swelled with pride every time he thought of how they’d saved the north from the Roon invasion force. But now the Masters had far higher expectations of them. They trained with proper swords and explored old mines and caves almost every day, preparatory for when they would start entering Dray tombs and burial mounds.

  Caspan thought the way they had handled themselves on their mission north would have proven to the Masters that the recruits were well and truly ready to begin searching for magical Dray relics. But the Masters believed there was so much more to being a skilled treasure hunter. Granted, they might have to fight rival explorers, thieves and brigands in their quest for Dray weapons and artefacts, but they would also have to decipher ancient inscriptions, circumvent traps, climb sheer surfaces and solve riddles. The recruits had demonstrated some proficiency in these skills during training, but the Masters needed to see how they performed as a team and, more importantly, under pressure.

  Their three-month training period had come to an end, but the recruits would not be sent on missions until they successfully completed two tests set by the Brotherhood Masters – the first of which they were attempting now. Should they fail in either of the challenges, they would have to complete another month of training, further honing their skills, before they would be allowed to attempt the tests again. Caspan, like the rest of his friends, was determined to impress.

  ‘We need to stall the platform for as long as possible,’ he announced, moving over to inspect the circular wall. He was hoping he might be able to scale it and examine the ledges before they activated the rising floor. But there were no handholds whatsoever between the sandstone blocks.

  ‘Any luck?’ Sara asked.

  Caspan stepped back and shook his head. ‘So who’s working on the levers?’

  ‘Whoever’s best at solving puzzles,’ Roland suggested, and jerked his chin at Sara. ‘That’d be you.’

  The others nodded in agreement. What Sara lacked in physical skills – such as climbing and sword-wielding – she more than made up for in her
ability to read Ancient Tongue, the language of the Dray, and decrypt codes. Glancing at her now, Caspan thought it was a small wonder that she wasn’t carrying one of the musty old volumes she borrowed from the manor’s archive. A walking, talking repository of knowledge – that was Sara. During moments like these, he was extremely grateful to have her on his team.

  ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘But I need at least one of you to help me.’

  Lachlan, who had great difficulty reading and writing, shook his head dejectedly. ‘Count me out.’

  ‘And me,’ Roland was quick to add.

  It didn’t surprise Caspan that Roland would want to search for the Dray relics. Although talented in reading ancient languages, he loved being in the thick of the action. He was also the fastest of the recruits; a skill that might be useful in a test such as this. As time started to run out, the friends might find themselves dependent on Roland’s ability to race around the ledges to find the objects.

  Meanwhile, Caspan’s strengths lay in stealth and thieving, but he was also quick-thinking, which came in handy when solving puzzles and riddles. As much as he wanted to join Lachlan and Roland search for the relics, he knew he would be best suited to assist Sara. They’d worked well together three months ago in Briston, when they’d competed against the finest cadets in the kingdom and were selected to join the Brotherhood. Since then they’d fine-tuned their skills and learnt each other’s strengths and weaknesses, making them an even more formidable combination.

  Caspan glanced at Kilt, who was peering up at the landings, intentionally avoiding his gaze. ‘I’ll help Sara,’ he finally announced.

  Sara smiled. ‘Thanks.’

  Roland tilted his head and stared up into the tower. ‘So much for sitting back and relaxing for a day. Why couldn’t the Masters have just set us a challenge on the obstacle course, or, even better –’ his eyes glistened mischievously ‘– test us at the archery range?’

  Kilt cocked an eyebrow. ‘Maybe because they didn’t want you losing any more arrows.’ Roland feigned surprise and she sighed. ‘You know, you can’t shoot the sun.’

  Roland grinned, nudged Caspan and whispered, ‘I was sure that last shot was going to make it.’ He patted his chest, feeling for where his soul key normally hung around his neck. He pulled a dour face. ‘And they didn’t allow us to bring our Wardens. What type of joke is this?’

  Caspan agreed. He’d feel much more confident with his magical drake, Frostbite, by his side. The Warden had fully recovered from the wound he’d sustained during their journey to Saint Justyn’s. All the drake had to show for the injury was a scar on his belly, but it had been a warning to Caspan. In spite of Frostbite’s size and power, the magical drake wasn’t invincible. Although covered in steel-like blue scales, those on his belly felt like soft leather and could be easily penetrated by a weapon. This made him particularly vulnerable when in flight, and Caspan now knew it was extremely risky to fly low over enemy forces. They were lucky that nobody had been killed during their journey north.

  Setting his thoughts back to the task at hand, Caspan strode over to inspect the lever in the stone block against the wall. ‘We can’t always depend on our Wardens,’ he muttered over his shoulder.

  Roland nodded reluctantly. ‘Still, it’d be so much easier to fly up to each landing.’

  Kilt gave him a smug look. ‘That’s why this is called a challenge.’ She glanced at the others. ‘Are we ready?’

  Caspan drew a deep breath, puffed out his cheeks and exhaled slowly. ‘As ready as we’ll ever be.’

  His heart racing, he pulled down the lever.

  There was a loud grinding noise from beneath the chamber, as if some great beast had come to life. The floor vibrated, and the friends stood with their legs wide apart lest they lose their balance. Then, slowly, the floor rose.

  Caspan moved to the edge of the platform and gazed up at the approaching landing. His palms were slick with sweat, and he felt a rush of adrenaline course through his veins. Rather than make him panic, he had learnt many years ago to harness this nervous energy and use it to his advantage. He worked best when under pressure. When he used to thieve back in Floran, he sometimes chose to steal the purse of a difficult target: somebody with their money tucked under their shirt; or the necklace of a woman surrounded by suitors. He loved the challenge. The greater the risk, the greater the thrill. It kept him on edge and sharpened his senses.

  Roland joined him, his eyes dancing with excitement. ‘Time to shine, my dear boy.’

  Caspan grinned and nodded. He wiped his palms on the sides of his pants and stared eagerly at the approaching ledge. They were now almost level with it.

  ‘Get ready,’ he urged.

  The platform came to a halt. Roland cheered, and the initiates hurried onto the stone ledge. There must have been over three dozen pieces of armour, swords, helmets and shields on the small stone display pedestals along the narrow walkway. Caspan paid them only a fleeting glance. His focus was on the lever set in the wall and the adjacent sandstone dais with three large, concentric metal rings lying flat on its surface. Each was engraved with twelve sets of numerals. There was also a V etched in the stone, just above the top of the outer ring.

  Sara studied the numbers intently. ‘It’s a combination lock. We need to align the numerals in the correct sequence and pull the lever. Then we can stall the platform.’

  Caspan licked his lips eagerly. ‘What do the numbers represent?’

  ‘That’s what we need to work out.’ Sara searched the side of the block for clues. ‘Perhaps there are some instructions carved into this stone slab.’ Caspan joined her, but they couldn’t find any messages. Sara cursed in frustration and returned her attention to the numerals. ‘Maybe I’m wrong. Perhaps the answer lies in these numbers.’

  Caspan moved around to the opposite side of the dais. ‘You work on the rings. I’ll keep looking for an inscription.’

  Precious seconds passed before Caspan found it. The hairs on his arms tingling with excitement, he drew Sara’s attention to the shield engraved on the wall beneath the lever and hidden behind the stone block. He detached his lantern from his belt and placed it atop the podium, then rubbed his hand over the shield, removing centuries of dust and cobwebs. Three battle-scenes were engraved on its surface, curving around the face of the shield, each within a concave border.

  Sara knelt beside him. ‘Well done, Cas.’ She studied the shield for a moment, deep in thought, before sighing and shaking her head. ‘Any ideas?’

  Caspan raised a hand to indicate silence, his eyes darting back and forth across the shield. Then he grinned.

  Sara’s breathing quickened. ‘You’ve worked it out.’

  ‘Notice how the battle scenes are framed by curved borders? Well, I think they represent the metal rings on the podium. The scenes are also quite detailed. Perhaps they represent actual battles in history.’ He rose and directed Sara back to the rings atop the dais. ‘We might have to identify the year in which each of these battles occurred, then align the corresponding dates on the rings.’

  Sara clicked her fingers in sudden revelation and pointed at the battle depicted in the outer border. It portrayed warriors armed with axes and broadswords, and wearing hauberks, or mail coats, and conical helmets with nasal guards. They carried reverse-teardrop-shaped kite shields.

  ‘These look like warriors from the Cardington Mosaic,’ she said. Caspan stared at her blankly, prompting Sara to continue, ‘It’s the most famous mosaic created in history. I saw it once, when I accompanied my father to Cardington library. It’s over fifty feet long, and chronologically depicts Elric MacDain’s victory at the Battle of Morton Spike. After that win he was able to establish himself as king of Andalon.’

  Caspan nodded as he regarded the shield. ‘You’re right.’ He pointed at the engraving. ‘Here we have the death of Ulther Bloodcrest.’ Although he only had a limited knowledge of the battle, he knew that Elric’s rival, Ulther Bloodcrest, was thrown from his hors
e during a cavalry charge against enemy lines. Tragically, he was trampled to death by his own forces.

  ‘Well spotted.’ Sara clapped him on the shoulder then studied the numerals on the outer ring. ‘The Battle of Morton Spike took place over three hundred years ago, in 896.’ She stabbed a finger at the corresponding date. ‘And here it is!’ She turned to Caspan, her eyes glistening with pride. ‘We’re not a bad team, are we?’

  He smiled back at her. ‘The best.’

  Caspan was glad to have her by his side. Apart from thieving, he hadn’t learnt much during his childhood. Before training with the Brotherhood he had never read a history book in his life. He was fortunate that his mother had taught him how to read and write before she’d passed away, but that was as far as his education went.

  Sara turned the ring until the appropriate date was locked in place, then studied the remaining two battle scenes on the shield. ‘Now for the next one.’

  ‘Having any luck?’ Roland called from across the landing.

  Caspan’s gaze stayed fixed on the shield. ‘We’ve worked out how to lower the lever. It shouldn’t take us long now. What about you?’

  ‘We think we’ve found one of the objects. Kilt’s giving it a thorough check. Still, it’d be great if you can buy us some extra time.’

  Spurred by the good news, Caspan and Sara focused on the second battle. It depicted a lone warrior defending a bridge against dozens of attackers. The warrior was perhaps a foot taller than his enemies. He was a Caledonish highlander, judging by his tartan kilt and shawl draped over his shoulder, and the two-handed sword he wielded, with its distinctive, forward-sloping cross-guard. The dead littered the ground at his feet.