“I, lord adjudicator, under a decree by the honorable Lord James Stewart Langland do carryout the punishment. Twenty-five lashes for Colin McGregor given this day for crimes committed against the safety of the clan.”
“Twenty-five lashes,” some woman in the crowd said with bated breath.
“That will kill him!” Shane shouted a loud protest.
Colin looked at his friend and warned him with a shake of his head to be quiet.
Locklorn DeGray stepped up behind Colin and with a fistful of Colin’s shirt ripped the back down and away from him. Locklorn leaned in. “I don’t like what I’m about to do, but I will not hold back.”
“You must follow your own code – I don’t fault you because of that, nor will I hold any ill will against you.”
Locklorn whispered low enough that just Colin heard him, “Stay alive lad, long enough to kill Darmon the bastard.”
Colin didn’t reply. So many in the clan hated Darmon, but none of them would dare move against the conniving man, for none would move against their chieftain. Colin held his next thoughts until after the whipping. The sound of the leather uncoiled behind him. The swooshing sound the whip made just before Locklorn released it on his back sent chills through Colin, his brow furrowed.
The pain came upon Colin before the first crack of the whip rung in his ears. By the third and fourth hit he didn't hear the whip at all – just pain after pain as the leather contacted his bare back. With the tenth strike, a warm gush flooded Colin’s back. A child cried in the crowd and screamed, “He’s bleeding…!”
At fifteen whips the full weight of Colin’s body hung on his arms, his muscles untied themselves. His legs were like wet weeds after a rain storm, heavy and lifeless. His eyesight became foggy and elusive. The surrounding sounds were unrecognizable and after a time they were just echoes.
Colin hugged the pole. Splinters from the rough wood pierced his skin. A white milky mist invaded his sight and for an instant he thought fog rolled in from the moor. He saw the form of a person appear before him. Without a doubt the shape of a woman, her face covered with a hood, Colin saw her honey eyes glowing from under the cowl. She outstretched her arms and cried, her voice echoed. “COLIN… HELP ME… WHERE ARE WE? PLEASE I DON’T KNOW WHAT’S HAPPENING… HELP ME…" Colin’s eyes blurred. The woman’s image shattered before him like a broken window; her pleas still calling out to him as her form disintegrated in front of him.
For a moment Colin glimpsed the woman’s terrified eyes. They consumed him for a split second until the sting from Locklorn DeGray’s whip reeled him back; the woman’s plea for help replaced by the crack of the leather.
When the twentieth lash cut into Colin’s back he winced, but he refused to cry out. The woman’s face now an agonizing memory and Colin struggled not to black out – he considered the woman nothing more than a hallucination, yet she seemed so real.
With another strike from the whip, Colin passed out, the agony too much for him.
After what seemed a long time, someone cut Colin’s ropes; half-conscious he dropped to the ground unsure of what was happening around him. Through his blurred vision Colin saw Shane’s wife, Lonnie, trying to get to him, but Shane held her.
Colin’s back raw. The cool breeze of the late day air chilled his sweaty body. He fought not to black out and took deep breaths. His tongue stuck to the top of his arid mouth, he wanted a cup of water, but refused to satisfy Darmon by hearing him beg.
Instead Colin found a hidden strength and pushed himself up on his hands. His arms struggled to hold his weight, but he refused to collapse back to the ground.
Gasps and whispers came from the onlookers as he moved past them. The world spun, and Colin fell to the sod.
“Let me go…!” Lonnie protested, breaking free from Shane’s grasp, she rushed to Colin’s side, seconds before the world turned black.
The Langland clan encampment – Dalnaspidal Scotland
April 16, 2442
The day after his punishment, Colin McGregor stood on his feet, he used the side of the tent to keep himself from falling over. The searing pain tore up his spine like sandpaper against the skin. With every movement came a cutting slice of shear agony, but he refused to allow it to define him. He wouldn’t give Langland or Darmon the satisfaction.
The camp doctor told him he’d seen men die from less and ordered him to remain in bed. Colin refused – telling him, “Death will have me soon enough doctor. I won’t lie down and allow him to think he can have me now. I have too much to do.”
The doctor collected his medical bag and told Colin, “I think you’re daft not to take my advice. Those wounds will fester and turn infectious without proper care.”
“They’re not wounds doctor,” Colin said refusing to allow the torment of his pain show on his face. “They’re scars, and I wear them with honor. Scars that will be a constant reminder that all men get old, much like Lord Langland.”
“He is still our clan chieftain lad, remember that,” the doctor said before bidding Colin a good day.
Colin didn’t reply. He’d sworn off the clan, from the moment the first lash sliced into his flesh he’d become a loner. His sights set on striking out on his own were in the forefront of his mind.
Colin grimaced, and he let out a cry. With every move, every twitch of the skin and every flinch of a muscle, he stood in sheer torment. His teeth grind together, and his jaw hurt. Though in incredible agony, Colin refused to succumb to the pain.
From a chest at the end of his bed he removed a freshly laundered black shirt. He hoped the dark color would mask the blood seeping from the wounds. He pulled it on, and a tear stung his eyes when he lifted his arms above his head. His legs buckled, and Colin fell to the floor. He grabbed the end of his bed to steady himself.
“Colin,” Shane yelled surprised when he entered the tent. He reached down to help Colin up.
“No don’t – don’t help me!” Colin snapped. He didn’t want to be seen weak, even in front of his best friend. With a tight grip on the end of the bed, he forced himself to stand. The veins in his head popped out as he strained. With a deep breath Colin looked at Shane, he saw the concern in his friend’s eyes. The lifelong friends exchanged a glance. Neither of them said a word or anything, but Colin knew what Shane was thinking. He should be dead. He should have been dead a long time ago.
“I brought you this.” Shane handed Colin a cane. “I thought it could help.”
Images of Lord Langland walking with his cane filled Colin’s thoughts, and he pushed it away and said, “I’ll manage without it.”
“Yeah, thought you might say that, so I brought this too.” Shane held up a half bottle of whisky.
“That I’ll use,” Colin said mustering up a smile. He found two cups on a table in the corner and poured a healthy shot in both.
“To your recovery,” Shane said when he took the cup.
They both gulped their drinks and Shane asked, “So what did it mean, Colin?”
Colin lowered his cup, and eyed Shane inquisitively, said, “What did what mean?”
“The woman Colin, the woman calling your name,” Shane said. “What did it mean, where did she come from?”
Colin poured another drink, up until that moment, he thought it was a hallucination brought on by the beating. He swallowed down another gulp, and asked, “You saw her?”
“Aye, and so did everyone else. The women ran with their children in tow. Men drew their weapons and Darmon ran back into Langland’s tent squealing like a pig. You were pretty far gone to see everyone’s reaction, but it was a sight to see. Some say you were calling on a demon to aide you, others thought it was the Mother Mary come to set you free. Whatever it was, it sent the clan into a tizzy.”
Colin set the cup down and eyed Shane, with a level tone he said, “I don’t know who she was – but whoever it was, she knew me pretty well.”
Neither of them said a thing for a long time. They passed the bottle back and forth between
them until all the whisky was gone.
Finally, Shane cleared his throat and asked, “When do we leave?”
Colin offered a painful grin and said, “Figured you’d ask.”
Shane tipped his cup at Colin and swigged down the last of his drink.
“I suppose I should have known I couldn’t keep it from you.”
“Well?” Shane asked agitated
“What about your wife?”
“She’s going with you,” Lonnie said when she entered the tent. She put her hands on her hips, asked, “Did you two think you could survive without me?”
“So, when do we leave?” Shane asked.
Pain shot up Colin’s back. His body tensed, and in a rugged tone said, “We need to get some provisions together. Water, food, bedding, everything we’ll need.”
“I can do that,” Lonnie said confident.
“Shane, make a list… you know what we’ll need.”
Shane’s long narrow face tightened, and he asked, “What do you have on your mind?”
“I won’t lie to you. I mean to find my sister. And to do that, I’m going to kick over a few ant hills until we’re noticed.”
Shane looked at Lonnie, and asked, “You understand this will be dangerous?”
“Do I look daft, Shane Gibson?”
Colin laughed, the soreness from the open wounds tightened. He buried his face in his hands.
“Are you, all right?” Shane asked.
A buzzing sound drew Colin’s attention to his bed. Painfully he lifted his mattress and withdrew a small com-device. He sat on the bed and looked at it.
“Is that a communication link?”
“Lonnie, shush –” Shane said.
Colin flipped open the cover on the device. An alpha text message flashed across the small screen. It read: Imperative that we meet. Come to Four Corners. Colin handed over the device so Shane could read the message.
“It’s him, isn’t it?” Shane asked.
Colin took the com-link back and closed its cover. He stood from the bed. His legs struggled, and he let out a grunt. He looked at the cane Shane brought him. He detested using it, but he would need all the help he could get to make the trip to Four Corners.
“You’re not strong enough to make it,” Shane said in a sharp protesting voice.
Colin snatched up the cane, and said, “Lonnie, you get us some supplies together while Shane and I meet our contact."
“Are you sure you want to do this? I mean we don’t trust Avery Lexor.”
“You’re not going anywhere until I put some ointment on those wounds,” Lonnie said pointing at the bed. “Sit back down and I’ll add a dressing too.” She pulled Colin’s shirt, and he let out a yelp, sinking his fingers into the thin mattress.
“You’re not serious about this are you?” Shane sat across from Colin as Lonnie applied a mixture of herbs and oils to the wounds.
Colin gritted his teeth when the damp mixture touched his skin, and between hitched breaths said, “Avery failed to help me rescue my sister. For that he and I have a score to settle.”
“Let’s just hope he doesn’t burn us,” Shane said.
Four Corners wasn’t far from the camp, a plateau where the loch met a mountainous region and a perfect place to land a shuttle. Through all his hardships, Colin’s thoughts were always of his sister.
His only link to finding her came through Avery Lexor. Lexor had been his partner in the past. He didn’t trust the man, but he paid well. Over the last several years, Colin had been working for him, doing Avery’s dirty work. It was an uneasy alliance but sometimes it was worth the risk. When Colin’s sister was taken, he trusted Avery enough to believe he would help rescue her. A promise he failed to keep.
The journey to Four Corners took less than an hour. With Colin’s condition the trek had been arduous and slow. The cane came in handy and Colin used it to steady his pace. Shane followed guarding his footing even though Colin told him he didn’t have to. Like a true friend Shane insisted.
The early evening haze covered the sky when Colin and Shane made it to Four Corners. A foggy mist covered the loch and hung in the air at the tip of the plateau like a shroud. An unmarked shuttle was heard landing sometime before their arrival and they found Avery Lexor outside the sleek craft when they made the final climb onto the plateau. As always, the high-born dressed in a neatly pressed gray suit. He wore matching grey shoes that shined, even in the hazy dim evening light. Gold rings adorned each of his fingers. He stood prideful.
“You’re late,” Avery said – chin held high. He eyed Colin and said, “You look like shit.”
Sarcastic Shane replied, “Well, he’s been better."
Avery eyed Colin, and asked, “What happened?”
“You sound almost concerned,” Colin said.
“I’m not a heartless man,” Avery replied.
“You could have fooled me,” Colin said. He straightened his stance mocking Avery.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Colin leaned on his cane. He struggled to breathe, and said between deep breaths, “My sister, high-born. You promised to help get her out of the breeding camp. What happened?”
“That was out of my control.”
“Before, you were so sure you could get her out, or was that ever your plan?”
Avery pursed his lips, and explained, “She was taken before I could act. It wasn’t my fault.”
Colin staggered forward, each step a chore. He said, “I should kill you here and now.”
“You can barely stand. Let alone have the strength to kill me. How are you going to do that?”
“I’ll see to it,” Shane spoke up. He tapped his splinter rifle with his fingers.
Avery’s skin flushed. With a dry voice he said, “I can still help.”
“You know who took her?”
“She is now a personal servant of the Lady Da’Mira Tannador.”
“Tannador,” Shane said.
“I’m done with you high-born,” Colin said allowing his cane to fall to the arid ground.
Avery took a precautionary step back, leveled his voice and said, “And lose any chance of getting her back. I can help.”
“How do I know you will?”
“You don’t. But do you want the one chance to find her slip through your fingers?”
“Can you help or not?”
A thin smile graced Avery’s lips, and in a cautionary tone said, “Difficult, but not impossible, if I do it.”
An incredible pain gripped Colin’s back as he reached out and grabbed Avery by his grey jacket. He tossed him against the shuttle hull, and with an enraged tone said, “I’m not in the mood to be played with high-born.”
The shuttle pilot bolted from the ship to help Avery. “I wouldn’t do that,” Shane said pointing his rifle at the man. “Back away and put your side arm on the ground.”
“My sister,” Colin said. Spit splattered from his mouth, hitting Avery in the face. “I want her back. And you will see it happens.”
Avery’s arrogant expression didn’t waiver, he snorted and said, “I’ve done a lot for you and your clan over the past several years. I’ve kept you informed of spies – I let you know when the Orlanders were near! And I think it’s fair if I ask one more thing in return. Then, I will consider getting your sister back to you.”
Colin freed his grip from Avery’s jacket and backed away. He stood hunched over, the excruciating pain imprinted on his face. “What do you want us to do?”
Avery pointed at a large rock and said, “First I want you to sit down and take off your shirt.”
Colin gave Avery a blank stare.
“If you’re going to destroy the breeding facility at Dalnaspidal, I will need you in better shape than you are.”
“He’s going to do what?” Shane asked, surprised.
Avery looked at his pilot and ordered, “Go inside and get the medical kit.”
“It’s all right Shane. Lower your rifle,” Col
in said and sat on the rock. He struggled to remove his shirt; with every movement he thought he was going to pass out.
“Tomorrow the family Tannador will be having a reception for their arriving son. Every family will have a representative in attendance at the party,” Avery said as he rummaged through the medical kit. “For months now, I have been seeding a widespread movement among the slaves. They are becoming unified and tomorrow night they intend to show their unity in a moment of insurrection.”
“A noble gesture,” Shane said watching Avery closely. “But why would you help the slaves?”
“I have my reasons,” Avery replied giving Shane a narrow glance.
“But what does it have to do with us?” Colin asked.
“After the last slave uprising, punishment for insurrection became swift and harsh. But if a rebellious attack here on Earth happens to a breeding facility–”
“You think the slaves will see it as a sign to rebel?” Colin asked.
“I do,” Avery replied.
“Bold,” Colin said.
Avery stepped behind Colin with some ointment spray in hand. He gasped when he saw the gashes.
“Looks brutal doesn’t it?” Colin asked.
“You shouldn’t even be alive.”
“Yet here I am,” Colin said.
“How do you expect two of us to destroy a breeding facility?” Shane asked.
Colin cringed when the spray hit his open wounds. He gritted his teeth and tightened his hands. Medical supplies were non-existent in the clan. Clean water and Lonnie’s herb mixture worked as his medicine. After a few seconds of Avery’s treatment, the pain was gone, and besides some tenderness he felt better than he had since before the lashings.
“I don’t want you to destroy it. Just disrupt it enough to draw attention away from the slaves display.”
“There’s more to our attack on the breeding complex, than simple distraction, isn’t there?” Colin asked.
“Da’Mira Tannador has always been a champion of the weak, caring for slaves, protesting breeding facilities and challenging her father’s authority.”
Origin Expedition Page 9
