by Mia Pride
An overwhelming and volatile anger flooded her senses and she lashed out at him, punching him in his face and causing him to reel back with surprise. “You are… the worst… foulest… man alive! I was happy, Caleb! Brennain loves me and Glennis! Why couldn’t you have just stayed away! You would really take me and Glennis away from a safe place and put us on new people who may not want us, just so you can have your revenge for him stealing that which you have nay concern for? Are you mad?” she screeched, and kicked him in the shin. Still holding Glennis, she could only do so much and felt awful when her daughter began to cry in distress.
Caleb wiped blood off his nose and scowled at her. “You wee bitch,” he said in shock. “You hit me.”
“You ruined my life! All I have ever done was protect your daughter and you must make us suffer so much just to save your pride? I hate you! I loathe you! I shall not move a step further! You cannot do this! I will not allow it!” she screamed at the top of her lungs and started to run, jostling and frightening Glennis, but knew it was her only chance. She would find her way back to Brennain, no matter what. Caleb could drag her and Glennis to the furthest corner of the world, yet she would find her way back. Still… she was determined to find her way back now, not years from now.
She took a step in the direction they had come from, though she was already lost and had no idea how to find her way back. Caleb reached out as swift as lightning and pulled her back into him. Morna clutched Glennis tightly and braced herself. “You are not going anywhere, but where I tell you to go, Morna!” Caleb growled. “I wish that wee bitch had died along with her mother, then I wouldn’t have to deal with her or you! But I will not allow another man to just steal you as if he is better than me!”
“He is better than you! How dare you speak that way about your own child! It is not her fault you stuck your dirty, wee cock in her married mother—” Before she could finish her rant, his hand came up and struck her across the cheek, making her head snap back from the impact and causing it to instantly throb with pain.
“Hold your tongue, bitch! I’ve had enough of you!” He shook her hard, causing her teeth to rattle as Glennis wailed in her arms. Fear took hold. Mayhap Caleb had more fight in him than she thought… at least where a woman was concerned. He seemed to flee from any fair fight.
“Get your hands off them!” A voice so loud and so full of venom that it made the hackles on the back of her neck rise, called from behind her. Nay… it could not be…
Caleb shoved her away and she fell onto the soggy forest floor, still wet from last night’s rain. Curling into a ball, she successfully protected Glennis from the impact, but it was too late to protect her from Caleb’s wrath.
Brennain stormed through the trees like a demon on the warpath, sword in hand and a chilling look of murder in his eyes. She had never seen this side of Brennain before, but now she knew exactly why he was one of Tuathal’s best. “I will gut you here and now, Caleb. Draw your sword!”
Morna scrambled to her feet, clutching Glennis, and ran toward Brennain who instantly shoved her behind him but didn’t dare break his terrifying gaze on Caleb. She saw fear flicker in Caleb’s gaze. He was a trained warrior and could, in fact, fight well, but usually preferred leisure, ale, and women to training. She wondered how often Caleb had drawn his sword as of late. Most likely he evaded the need to touch his sword all together, she guessed. She had a feeling he would not be avoiding the fight this time.
Steeling his gaze, Caleb pulled his sword from his leather belt and narrowed his eyes on Brennain, but surprisingly began to back away. “I do not wish to fight, Mac Greine!”
“Because you know I will kill you.”
“Because they are not worth the fight,” Caleb spat, and scowled at Morna.
“If they were worth you crossing the sea to steal from me for revenge, then they must be worth your pride, at least. Come now, Caleb. Do not betray yourself.”
In typical cowardly fashion, Caleb turned to run, but a wall of men jumped down from the trees all around, surrounding Caleb, leaving no way to escape. Morna gasped and clutched Brennain’s back, but felt relieved when she recognized all the faces of Brennain’s family around her. His brother Flynn, cousins Eoin and Duncan, Freyne, Alastar, his uncles Garreth and Liam, his father Brocc, even Jeoffrey and Àdhamh, all stared menacingly at Caleb and held swords in hand, except Eoin and Freyne who were equipped with impressive bows, quivers slung over their shoulders, arrows already nocked.
“Face me, you coward!” Caleb looked like a deer engaged in a hunt and Brennain was the hound with his teeth bared, ready to tear at his throat. And just as a frightened deer would, Caleb tried to push around the men, apparently overestimating his strength compared to Flynn, who did not even bat an eye when Caleb attempted to shove him.
An arrow flew and pierced his thigh, causing Caleb to stumble and wail, collapsing onto the forest floor. Morna gasped again and closed her eyes, turning away so Glennis could not watch either. She knew the arrow had come from Freyne… who was a faery. His family was indeed strange, but they were here now… to protect her and her child. Tears rolled down her cheeks as emotion flooded her. She trembled but tried to remain strong for Glennis. She did not know what would happen next, but Brennain was back, he was here, and he was hers.
“Nice aim, as always Freyne,” Brennain said calmly. “Take him back to his king’s camp. Let him know he has a traitor in his midst. Let him handle the man since he is too much a coward to fight me,” Brennain spat, and then she felt his strong arms wrap around her and Glennis, who continued to wail in Morna’s arms.
“Papa?” Glennis cried when she saw Brennain, and launched herself into his willing arms.
“Not yet, wee one, but I intend to remedy that right now. Then nobody can ever take you or your mama from me again. Come.” He kissed Morna softly, yet there was still a hardness in his gaze that she was not sure she would ever grow accustomed to. “Mal’s army is marching from the coast. Within hours, he will be upon us. I have just enough time to make you my wife before I must fight again.”
Her knees buckled beneath her and she clung to his side as he sheathed his sword and grabbed her, pulling her close. “All will be well, Morna. I vow it.”
She hiccupped, the tension of the day’s activities finally catching up with her and the throbbing in her head intensifying. She knew she must have a bruise across her cheek and the metallic taste of blood still lined her lips. Brennain grimaced and ran his thumb across her lower lip, wiping away the fresh blood. “I was looking forward to running that bastard through,” he growled to himself. “Bloody coward.”
All Morna could do was nod in agreement and clutch her arms around his waist as they slowly walked away, Glennis in his arms and every man in his family surrounding them still. She was safe… for now. Still, the heavy ball of dread hung low in her belly. Brennain wanted to marry her right this moment and while she should feel elated, all she could feel was fear and foreboding that nothing was well at all.
* * * *
The bruise below Morna’s eye and the blood coming from her lip made Brennain feel ill. His stomach churned with a burning hatred. If he had no honor, he would have cut Caleb down, but the bastard had refused to fight and Brennain had been taught at a young age that there was no honor in a one-sided battle. He hoped King Ailbert would make that lout fight in battle regardless of his wounds. Brennain would cut him down without guilt the next time he saw him.
Morna quivered beside him as he held her close, clutching Glennis to his other side. He loved these two lassies and wanted nothing more than to be a true family… as soon as possible. The walk back to the village was tense and silent, his family surrounding them and on alert for danger. War was imminent. Every man felt the weight of blood yet spilled on their overburdened minds.
As they came back through the gates, it seemed every woman in his family rushed toward Morna to make sure she was well and safe. Seeing how easily his family had accepted her truly made him f
eel lighter. After deciding she was well, and seeing the glare in Brennain’s eyes that told them all to give Morna space, they slowly wandered away and went back to preparing for the battle. Though Tuathal already had men in place all around the outside of Ráth Mór, defenses needed to be made just in case any man broke through the lines.
Looking down at Morna, his anger came back. “Are you all right, mo chroí?” He touched her cheek and she flinched. “I am so sorry. I want to rip him apart limb from limb for daring to harm you.”
“’Tis all right now,” she whispered, though he saw her shiver and knew she was still very shaken up by her ordeal.
“What can I do to help you?” he asked, guiding her back toward his family home.
“Honestly?” she asked, and gripped his tunic sleeve, causing him to stop in his tracks and frown down at her.
“Of course, I wish for your honesty.”
“I know you want to get married immediately, but I am much too overwhelmed and sore and saying my vows through a fat lip whilst the enemy marches toward us is not how I ever imagined marrying you. Can we not wait until this battle is over and my face is healed?”
He saw the anxiety in her eyes and knew she feared that her words would upset him. How could he be mad at her at this moment when she needed his support more than ever? “Of course, we shall wait, love. I cannot deny wishing to marry you with haste, but we have waited this long and I want our wedding day to be special. Mayhap I was hasty in expecting you to marry me with a war on the horizon. This is a stressful time for all. Let us get you and Glennis inside where ‘tis safe, then I am afraid I need to join my men and prepare for the arrival of Mal and the Rómánach.”
As they opened the door, Morna stepped in and shivered again. He feared she was in a state of shock and brought her over to the fire, sitting her down carefully on a cushion. Throwing a few new logs on the fire, he then wrapped a warm wool blanket around her shoulders as she cradled Glennis close to her.
“He is still alive, Brennain. What if he comes for me again? Even Tuathal couldn’t stop him. He is Glennis’s true father. Nobody can stop him. He will want his revenge.”
“Leave him to me, Morna. He will not come near you again. I vow it. Now just get warm and try to get Glennis to take a nap. I am sorry to have to leave you, but I must. You are safe here… as safe as you can be. But, Morna…” She looked up to him with her large glassy-blue eyes and his heart skipped in his chest. He was about to say the hardest words he had ever said in his entire life. “If they do… get into the village… just run, Morna. Grab Glennis and hide in the woods, get out of the village… get to the shore. Get back to Miathi, if necessary. If I do not come back to you and our plan to chase off the Rómánach fails, I need to know you will be safe.”
“Brennain… you will be all right. Do not speak this way…”
“I may not be, love. This is war. Tomorrow is not promised. I want you to stay safe. Promise me. You will not wait around for me. You will run.” She shook her head as if to deny him, but he kneeled down to her level and grabbed her shoulders. “Do not deny me this. I cannot go into battle wondering if you will be safe. You must promise.”
She opened her mouth, then shut it again and nodded her head. “Aye, I promise. But only because I would do anything to keep Glennis safe.”
Brennain nodded and stood up again. “We are going to frighten off the Rómánach, Morna. They think we are savages, so we shall be. Nay matter how I look when I return, do not be afraid of me.” Her brow furrowed in confusion and her lower lip protruded, but she nodded and accepted his words.
“I love you, Brennain. Be careful.”
“I love you too, Morna. I pray to all the gods that I return to you, and when I do, we shall plan our wedding.” He bent down swiftly and gave her one last hard kiss, then forced himself away from her and Glennis and out the door without looking back at all that mattered to him in the world.
* * * *
“Whose bloody idea was this anyway?” Brennain groused, as he allowed Flynn to smear blue paint in strange patterns all over his chest and arms. Àdhamh came over with a handful of lime juice and rubbed it in Brennain’s hair without asking, then ruffled his hair until it stood on end. “Ow!” Some of the lime juice dripped into his eye and he cursed, swatting Àdhamh away. “And your hands are cold, Flynn!”
“The Rómánach think we are savages, so we will make them believe it is so. Now, drop your trousers,” Flynn said calmly, already naked and covered in blue paint. He wore a large horned helm that made him look a foot taller than he already was and had images of demons mixed with circular patterns painted all over his chest.
Brennain pulled the tie off his trousers, not at all concerned with the nudity. He was more concerned with the cursed lime juice making his eyes water. “Why didn’t I get a cursed helm instead of this sticky juice?”
“Because you were gone.”
“I was burying the Treasure of Danu!” Brennain protested! “What were you here doing? Making love to Maggie every night, batting your lashes and smiling like a cursed fool?”
Flynn looked up at him and grinned. “Aye. I was. And… I got the helm.” Just when Flynn started to paint lower on Brennain’s body, he grabbed the paint from his brother and growled. “I can paint my own bollocks, arse.”
“As if I would touch your bollocks. I know where they have been. Now hurry up. We need to move.” With a low grumble, Brennain smeared more blue paint all over his body, praying they looked crazed enough to frighten off the foreign army. He knew his people were already larger in stature and more muscular than the Rómánach, yet they were not as advanced and would need to take advantage of their enemy’s fears. Mal was already on land, but the Rómánach should be arriving by boat soon enough and when they did, they would encounter an army of naked blue men with horned helms or spiked hair, shouting and wielding their weapons of choice. It was a long shot, but the best they had. If the Rómánach did not flee, then the men of Ériu and Alba would be ready to fight. Fighting naked would mayhap even be less cumbersome than tunics and trousers, Brennain mused.
“To answer your question, t’was our idea,” a familiar voice said from behind Brennain, and he looked over his shoulder.
“Mack! Bryant! I wondered if I would see you before the battle.” Brennain turned and noticed his companions from Miathi were also naked and painted blue already.
“Aye. We came over with King Ailbert’s army. After our time undercover at Barochan Hill, we learned precisely what the Rómánach think of us and what they fear most. They do not understand us, and that is an advantage. The Picts on the southern border of Alba have used similar tactics to keep the foreigners away. King Ailbert and King Tuathal agree ‘tis our best chance,” Mack said.
“Aye,” Bryant nodded. “If it worked for the Picts it can work for us, aye?”
Brennain was not so sure, but he hoped they were correct, especially now that he was completely naked and ready to go into battle.
“We saw Caleb being returned to our camp with an arrow through his leg. Would you know something about that?” Mack asked with a slight grin on his face, but Brennain only became angry once more.
“Aye. That bastard tried to take Glennis away from Morna, knowing she would not separate from her daughter. I came home from my latest mission just in time to find the village in an uproar, my mother crying, and the men in my family seething with anger. Once I discovered what had happened, I did not care that our kings agreed Caleb had a right to his daughter. I went after them and my family followed. The moment I saw that piece of shite strike her across the face, I meant to kill him, but the coward refused to fight me, instead trying to flee. That’s when my cousin’s husband struck him through the leg with the arrow. So tell me… what is to become of him? He is a traitor, after all.”
“Aye, that he is. King Ailbert has him tied to a tree. He cannot fight with an arrow through his leg, nor can he be trusted. The man will either die of the wound or become a slave as
a punishment for his treachery,” Bryant said wryly. “He is better off dead. If I were Caleb, I would pray that my wound festered and took my life before ever becoming another man’s slave.”
“Good. The man deserves whatever fate he gets. Though I wished to be the one to take his life, I will have enough blood on my hands by the end of this battle. One less death on my conscience.”
Just then, a horn blew and all the men turned to see Tuathal standing before them, covered in blue paint and wearing the largest horned helm Brennain had ever seen. The man was a wall of muscle, though Brennain made certain to keep his eyes above the waistline. He had never been surrounded by so many naked men, but he had never been surrounded by blue men, either. “Listen, men!” Tuathal shouted, dominating the forest with his echoing, powerful voice. Hundreds of men stared in his direction. “The time has come. This is it. Mal approaches on land and the Rómánach approach by ship. We have the numbers, the strength, and the passion to save Ériu!”
All the men around them cheered and raised their weapons into the air. “’Tis up to us to save our land, women, and children. ‘Tis up to us to protect our traditions and our way of life! These foreign men will not take thousands of years of pride away from us on this day!”
“Aye!” The earth rumbled all around Brennain as horses reared and stomped their front hooves and men shouted their approval.
“Mal Mac Rochride has caused many deaths and much turmoil, and he will continue to do so as long as he lives! You may take out his men! But save me Mal! I want his head!”
“Eoghann is mine!” Flynn shouted from beside Brennain, and everyone nodded and roared their agreement. Before the last battle, it had been Eoghann who tricked Maggie into trusting him, and then he stole her away and delivered her to Mal’s camp. Eoghann had grown up with Maggie and Àdhamh but had become one of Mal’s men in the end. Every man knew that Flynn had been eagerly awaiting his revenge against the man who had put his wife into harm’s way.
