Highlander's Kiss

by Amy Isan

  “I see ye are treating our guest with the respect he deserves.”

  Colin smiled. Gavin snapped back. “I’m sure yer daughter will be happy to see how her husband-to-be is going to look for her wedding day. Just clean and trimmed up.”

  Maxwell smiled, shrugging off Gavin’s words. “It donae matter. I think I have something that’ll interest you. It just arrived this morning.” Gavin didn’t take his eyes off Maxwell until the King produced a box he had been hiding. He took a step closer to Gavin and flicked his eyes down to it.

  “See? Shall I open it for you? Since it looks like you’re... occupied.”

  Gavin grunted. Robert slipped the small bit of twine that was binding the box together and opened the top. A bloody organ was resting in the swatch of hay at the bottom of the box, the red smearing the straw like spilled wine.

  Gavin’s face contorted. “Nay... ye canae be saying...”

  “Oh, I am. This is Elyn.” Robert turned over the organ in the box, the small thing twisting as the hay stuck to it. Robert watched Gavin intently, gauging his reaction.

  Gavin searched for words, his eyes darting between Robert’s horrid smile and the box. “Nay, I donae believe ye. If that was her, that would mean Katrine is here too. It hasn’t been long enough.”

  “Hmm, very interesting, Gavin,” Maxwell said. “But she is here. She’s waiting up in her chambers.”

  Gavin struggled to remain calm. He stared at the contents, trying to make sense of it, trying to decide if it was really Elyn’s. Did it even matter? If it wasn’t, what poor soul had lost their insides to Maxwell’s wickedness? Gavin released an anguished scream, less out of sadness and more out of pure rage. He fought against his chains and thrashed, the metal clinking loudly on the stone. As Gavin fought, Robert’s face beamed.

  “You’ll pay for this Robert, mark my words. If not today... soon.”

  “I’m sure I will,” Robert laughed. He turned to leave, but stopped to nod for Colin to continue. The young scribe eyed Gavin with sympathetic eyes, but hid his sadness before Robert turned and could catch him. The door to the dungeon slammed shut behind them, leaving Colin and Gavin alone once more.

  Colin lashed Gavin again, but Gavin didn’t have the energy to feel anything anymore. He had gone numb to it all. It didn’t matter if Robert was lying or not, it was still wicked what he had done. Gavin clenched his jaw and gritted his teeth as each lashing seared him. He didn't grind his teeth out of pain, but heartbreak. Where was Elyn? If she was here, was she bleeding out? Was she already dead? Gavin’s heart sank. He had to find a way out of this hell.

  ***

  After the lashings, Gavin was left to fight for his rest. The way he was strung up made it almost impossible to sleep, and he found himself slipping in and out of lucid nightmares. Dreams where he was forced to watch Elyn be tortured, a much worse punishment than what he had endured.

  Hours later, in a state of stupor, he was unlocked from his shackles and hauled back to his cell. He was locked back inside the giant cell with Barron and the others scattered around, some sleeping and others still awake and alert. Barron was grasping the bars when Gavin had been thrown in, and he quickly knelt down next to him and surveyed the damage.

  “They really got ye this time didnae they?” Barron said.

  Gavin grunted and spit. “Worse.”

  “What?”

  “He claims to have killed Elyn. He said Katrine was here and we’d be married at any moment. But I donae know if I can believe him... I can still feel her, Barron.” Gavin swallowed a mixture of spit and blood. “I can still feel Elyn out there, somewhere.”

  Barron nodded grimly and secured his cloak over Gavin’s ravaged body. “Rest, lad, everything will work out.”

  “I know it will — if it donae, our clans are finished.” Gavin grew weak as the words left his lips, and he quickly fell back to sleep.

  Chapter 8: Barron

  Barron stood up and watched over the Laird. He had spent his entire life watching over him, like a second father. It pained him to see the Laird in such agony, but there wasn’t much he could do in that damp and dark place. He turned and approached the others to talk in hushed tones.

  “Patrik, come here,” Barron said. He brought his finger to his lips and gestured to Gavin.

  “What is it?”

  “We need to find a way out of here. We canae do anything in this state, but if we could get out, maybe we could find out if they have Elyn at least. I donae know if Gavin has the strength to fight his way out of here if he thinks she’s dead... or worse. We’ll have to carry him.”

  Patrik nodded solemnly and glanced at Gavin. “What’s the plan?”

  Barron stroked his beard and thought hard for a moment. “A distraction. Didnae Gavin tell us about how Elyn got him out of here? I think I have an idea.”

  ***

  Barron waited for the right moment. He had been keeping track of the time by carving dashes into the wall with a loose rock, and what passed as their food was set to arrive any moment. He laid on the floor and pointed to Patrik to begin.

  “Help! Someone help!” Patrik shouted as loudly as he could. He only paused to look at Gavin, who hadn’t budged an inch despite the noise. “He’s dying! If ye donae help him, it’ll be on yer heads!”

  Footsteps pounded outside in the hallway and the door was quickly unlocked and shoved open. Two guards stepped into the dungeon and stared into the cell, where Patrik was feverishly squeezing the bars. He pointed at Barron with dire urgency. “He’s sick or something! Ye gotta help him!”

  The guards chuckled and shook their heads. “Who cares about him? If we let him die it’ll be one less mouth to feed. The King only cares about the Laird.”

  Patrik fumed. “If ye donae help him I’m sure the Laird will make himself as uncooperative as possible. I reckon that trouble will travel back to the guards who caused it.”

  The guards looked at each other and one of them sighed heavily. He slipped the key out of his pocket and waited. “Stand back, all of ye.”

  Patrik took a step back, and the guard opened the cell door. He quickly stepped inside and knelt down next to Barron, who opened his eyes and brought his hands up around the guard’s head before he could react. He quickly head-locked the guard, his body crumpling to the floor. Before the second guard could step in, Patrik jumped on his back and knocked him off balance, making them both tumble against the wall with a loud clang. Barron climbed to his feet and rushed forward, taking the loose rock he had been using for time-keeping, and cracked it against the guard’s head.

  Barron looked up at Patrik. “Come on!” He snatched up the guard's sword. “These things are tiny, how do they expect to hurt anyone?”

  At the back of the cell, Barron shook Fingal and Duncan awake. “Come on ye layabouts, we hafta move!”

  They scrambled to their feet, nearly stumbling over each other in their stupor. They clung to their cloaks in confused shock, before gaining a sense of what was going on. Duncan donned his cloak and wiped the drool shining on his cheek.

  Barron turned and grabbed Gavin by his shoulder. “Gavin, wake up.”

  Gavin mumbled in his agony-stricken sleep and tried to push Barron away. “Leave me, I’m better off dead here.”

  “Nonsense, we donae even know if Elyn is alive or not. Ye said it yerself, ye can feel her, canae ye?” Barron stood, bristling with energy. His ears were tuned to the sound of anyone approaching. So far, no one had heard their attack. “We hafta go.”

  Barron pulled Gavin upright, but Gavin slumped and fell back down to his shoulder. “Do ye really want to stay here and marry Katrine? Do ye not want to find out if Elyn is out there somewhere, dying?”

  Gavin twitched, and his face changed. Barron watched as the Laird turned to look at him with his lined and beaten face. “Go. I’ll hold you back. If they catch us all, we’ll be killed no matter what. I canae imagine what they’ll do to me if they caught me outside the prison.” He coughed and held out his
hand. “Go and get help. They’ll be watching for you, but you’ll be able to get away. They’d make sure I didnae, and they’d only follow me anyway. I have to do this, Barron, but ye donae. If they haven’t hurt Elyn, they certainly will if I went missing.”

  Barron released Gavin’s shoulder and let him drop back to the ground. It was useless. It wouldn’t be wise to go stomping around the castle with five men in tow anyway, it would risk all of their lives. Barron turned to Patrik and the others.

  “He’s right. We canae all go — it’s too dangerous. Patrik and I will go, if we’re caught they’ll punish us, but not ye lads.”

  “Ye mean we’re not gonna escape?” Fingal said.

  “I donae care how dangerous it is,” Duncan said as he climbed to his feet. “We’re coming too, no matter what.” He looked to Fingal, who nodded in response.

  “Aye.”

  “All right, I canae deny your lads' ambitions. We’ll escape, and we’ll come back with an army to take back this wretched castle. I just hope it won’t be too late by then.”

  Patrik nodded grimly and looked down at Gavin’s depressed state. He retrieved the sword from one of the fallen guards and stepped over the unconscious body carefully.

  Barron yanked the door open with a howling screech, before he and the lads stepped into the hallway to sneak off into the castle depths.

  In the hallway, Barron and the men pushed themselves flat against the wall and sneaked down against the stone. They only stopped to listen for guards that were talking down the halls.

  At the hall crossing, Barron gestured for Patrik to stay down. Barron slid and squatted, before peering around the corner and looking to see if anyone was around. The coast was clear. He considered going straight for the stables, but he had to find out if Elyn was safe or not. After thinking for some time, he waved for Patrik to follow, but for Duncan and Fingal to stay behind.

  They made their way toward the stairs leading and up to the chambers. He was sure he would find some information up there, even if he had to kill someone to do it.

  Surely someone in the chambers would squeal if a blade was put to their neck for long enough.

  ***

  Barron and Patrik reached the top of the stairs and ducked down low. A highlander stepped into his chamber and shut the door behind him. Barron hadn’t had a chance to see the man’s face, but he didn’t care. He figured he would be the best target.

  He crept forward, holding his short sword down low, ready to swing upward in case anyone stepped out of the room. Barron nodded to Patrik, who stepped forward and grabbed the door, twisting the handle and pushing it open. Barron quickly took a step inside and held his sword out, ready to gut anyone who might be ready for an attack.

  A lone man cowered in the corner, the sudden invasion of his room surprising him. He held up his hands and his face twisted with fear. Barron advanced on him and pushed him down to his bed.

  “Shut up and donae speak unless ye want to lose yer tongue.”

  The man nodded and tried to stifle his cries.

  “What’s yer name?” Barron asked. The man shook his head and bit his lip. “For God’s sake’s man, ye can answer my question. It isn’t a trick.”

  “Colin.”

  Barron’s eyebrows raised. “Eh?” He recalled hearing the name when Gavin had been taken from the cell earlier that week. “What do ye do around here, Colin?” Colin shivered and shook his head. “Are ye refusing to answer? If ye donae make use of your mouth I’ll make sure ye never can again.”

  “I’m in charge of the prisoners...”

  Barron eyed Patrik and nodded. He frowned. “That would be us, Patrik. I take it yer the one who’s been leaving Gavin in such a sorry state... ye realize he’s a Laird, donae ye? What are ye, some petty executioner?”

  “He’s a traitor,” Colin said, summoning his courage. Stubborn. Barron wasn’t surprised.

  “Yer the only traitor I see here,” Barron said. “Now... this Elyn business.”

  “The whore?”

  “Careful with yer words. Speaking isn’t yer strong suit. In fact, it’s a luxury I’m grantin’ ye. Is she dead?”

  “Nay. She’s still in Kinfauns.”

  Barron shrugged and lowered his sword. “I reckoned that. Come on, yer comin’ with us.”

  Colin shook his head furiously and backed against the wall, his arms still held up. He froze as he realized he had no where else to go. “I’m not going anywhere with ye.”

  “I’m sorry,” Barron began, “Did ye think ye had a choice? I canae have ye runnin’ off and blabbing about us now, can I?”

  Barron stepped forward and closed the gap between them, grabbing Colin by the wrist and dragging him away from the wall. He shoved his chest against the door and leaned in close. “Now listen here. Yer gonna escort us out of the castle, say it’s Maxwell’s order if anyone gives ye trouble.” Barron could feel Colin’s hesitation, but he slowly gave in to Barron’s strong grip. “Now, I know what ye may be thinkin’, you’ll just blab to the first guard ye see and they’ll take care of us, but donae worry. If the guards catch us and throw us back in jail, I’ll make sure that you’ll be crippled for the rest of yer days. Understand?”

  “Don't you think that Maxwell will punish me much worse if I let some prisoners go?”

  Barron chuckled. “I'm sure Maxwell wouldnae be kind to ye, but even if he kills me and my kin, I'll make sure yer kin and family suffer for the rest o' their days.” Colin nodded slowly. He swallowed hard and looked over his shoulder and met Barron’s eyes.

  Barron sheathed his blade and pulled the scabbard off his belt, before twisting it and hiding it inside his clothing. He pushed it down along the length of his leg, giving him a bit of a hobble, but otherwise hiding it well. Patrik followed suit, while they kept an eye on Colin, who began to dress for his departure.

  ***

  They stepped out of the chamber and made their way down to the entrance of the castle. Barron followed Colin from behind. Colin was instructed to keep his hand on Patrik’s shoulder, as if he were detaining him. As they descended the first flight of stairs, a highlander caught sight of Colin and the men. He strode up to meet them.

  “Colin, how are ye?” The guard sized up Barron and Patrik, and his face soured. “Looks like ye got some company. What’s going on here?”

  Barron bristled, but kept his cool. Colin hesitated, and spoke quickly when he remembered Barron’s eyes on the back of his head. “Just takin’ these lads out back to give them a severe whipping. I wanted to get some fresh air, is all.”

  “Aye... sometimes the dungeon gets a little rank after all donae it?”

  “Aye, aye,” Colin looked away, and the guard seemed to get the hint.

  “Well, I’ll see ye tomorrow then, donae stay up too late.”

  “Aye, I won’t, Leod, I won’t.”

  After the guard left, Barron pushed on Colin’s back and urged him forward. Colin stepped hesitantly and began to move again.

  “Wait, go through here, I want to speak to Gavin.”

  “Are ye mad?” Colin said, “If we go in there, the whole deal is off.”

  “I donae care, this is more important than either of us.” He pushed Colin toward the right side of the hall and Patrik led them back to the dungeons. They passed Fingal and Duncan, who followed them back into the keep.

  At the door, Barron pushed past Colin and unlocked it. He quickly stepped forward and banged on the metal bars. “Gav! Gavin, wake up!”

  Gavin stirred and turned to look over at Barron and the men, but was surprised to see Colin with them.

  “What’s that arse want?”

  “He’s got something to tell ye,” Barron said. He eyed Colin and swatted his back, knocking him forward. Colin stumbled and grasped onto the bars to keep from falling. He stared at the two limp guards and his jaw went slack. “Go on,” Barron insisted.

  Colin threaded his fingers together and stared at the ground dumbly. Gavin had risen to his feet and wa
s staring at him through the bars, fire blazing in his eyes. Barron was sure Colin’s beads of sweat weren’t from nervousness, but from the heat coming off Gavin’s soul.

  “Elyn is alive. King Maxwell tried to trick ye.”

  Gavin yelled and slammed his fist on the cage. He wrapped his fingers around the cold metal and squeezed, the sound of his rough fingers creaking through the room. “I knew it.”

  “I told ye, Gavin. I thought ye needed to know.”

  “Thank ye, Barron.” Gavin smiled and let go of the bars.

  “Alright,” Barron said, casting a long look at his Laird. “It’s time to get going.” He grabbed Colin by the arm and began to pull him out of the chamber. Patrik stopped.

  “Wait, we should do something about these guards. If they wake up and find four prisoners missing, I’m sure they’ll know what’s going on.”

  “Yer right, we need all the time we can get...” Barron looked over the crumpled soldiers and then looked to Gavin for advice.

  “Lock them in the dungeon. They’ll find it comfortable there, I’m sure.”

  “Good plan.” Barron said. He pulled at Colin again. “Ye have the key to the dungeons, donae ye?”

  “Aye...”

  Barron released his grip and knelt down to pick up one of the guards. He hoisted the body over his shoulder and stood up. Patrik followed suit, squatting and picking up the second guard. With a long look, Colin nodded and walked out of the dungeon first, and led the men down the hall to the torture chambers.

  After unlocking the door, they deposited the unconscious men in the corner and relocked the door. It would be some time before anyone found them, or bothered to answer their cries for help. Anyone passing would probably figure they were Gavin or his highlanders screaming from Colin’s torture.

  They strode back to the main hallway and resumed their charade. Patrik was leading again, with Colin’s limp hand on his shoulder. Barron took up the back, and Duncan and Fingal followed him. They walked through the halls and encountered no other guards or highlanders who they had to lie to.