Highland Archer

by Hildie McQueen

  “I have no family. Nor do I have a clan.”

  “There is much you do not know.” There was little warmth in the laird’s gaze and he was reminded of the same look he’d received all his life from the McLeod. “Return to McKenzie lands with me. You will be treated better than if you go out there.” He motioned to the courtyard. “How do you think they will respond once they realize we are brothers?”

  Valent looked toward the courtyard. If he went with the McKenzie, then Ariana would be left unprotected. She clung to him and Valent could only wonder how well he would be treated once the McKenzie learned Valent was one of the men who’d killed his people. “I will remain.”

  The laird stalked to the doorway and pushed the doors open then called out to his men. “Allow them to pass.”

  Chapter Eight

  The Battle

  “Allow my brother and the women through. Let them go.” Valent’s twin brother signaled to the guardsmen in the room and two came forward. “Escort him to wherever he wishes to go. Ensure no harm comes to either him or the women.”

  Valent struggled to remain upright. At thirty years old, it was unfathomable to finally meet the boy he remembered in his dreams. His twin, identical, no less.

  So many times, he’d considered what would happen if they finally came face to face. His answer was abundantly clear by the tightness in his chest and lack of ability to breathe.

  However, this was not the time to show weakness.

  His brother was the laird of the McKenzie Clan who’d just attacked and taken over the McLeod keep. Valent had grown up on McLeod lands after being abandoned there as a three-year-old foundling.

  For the second time, identical eyes to his met Valent’s stare and, for an instant, he saw a flicker of warmth. “Your name is Darach. Mine is Steaphan.”

  It was as if someone punched him in the stomach. The air left his lungs and, for a long moment, Valent could not move. He swallowed past the large mass that formed in his throat. It took thirty years to finally learn his given name. “My name is Valent.” He blinked away the moisture in his eyes. “I am no longer that boy your family gave away.”

  His twin shook his head. “One day you will learn all that is the truth. For now, I will not push the issue.” Steaphan McKenzie stormed past him to the courtyard.

  Valent finally understood the reason for his mistreatments by the previous two lairds. His entire life, both McLeod lairds, father and son, were barely able to hide their hatred whenever he was present.

  Rage coursed through him not just at the McLeods for never telling him the truth, but also at the man who just walked away for what he represented. The family that had thrown him away like rubbish.

  Ariana trembled against him bringing his attention to their current situation. On his other side, her maid, Lily, pressed against his side, as well.

  The McKenzies had invaded the keep after he and other guards were ordered by Ariana’s youngest brother, Beathan, to kill McKenzies. An innocent group of McKenzie clansmen out hunting, not aware of having trespassed on McLeod lands.

  They’d killed all but one, who Beathan sent back with a message warning the McKenzies against trespassing. That was all the proof the McKenzies needed to attack. That they’d waited almost three weeks to do so was what caught the McLeods off guard.

  Donall McLeod, the laird, Ariana’s eldest brother, was presently hanging in the courtyard.

  On his way in from the village, Valent saw Beathan, the younger brother, tied to a pole, a prisoner, his immediate future uncertain.

  The third brother, Ceardac, may have escaped. Valent had yet to see him about.

  Right now, the pressing matter was to get Ariana and her maid away from the disaster that was their home and deal with the situation at hand at the village.

  Valent wished he could protect her from the sights outside the keep. There was utter death and devastation of her people.

  “Come. Let us go to the village. We can find you a place to stay until they leave,” Valent whispered to her while giving Steaphan’s retreating back a pointed look. “They will not remain on McLeod lands for long,” he said louder.

  The guard who stood beside them clenched his jaw, the dislike for them palatable. “Do not be too sure.”

  They walked through the familiar courtyard and Ariana let out a cry at spotting Donall’s body. “I must go to him.” She took a couple steps only to stop when McKenzies blocked her path. There was pure pain in her eyes when she looked to Steaphan who stood in the center of the courtyard. “Will you at least allow us to bury our dead?”

  The laird looked to the body and then to her, his face as if made of granite. “My dead were left in the open for animals to feast upon. Their families were not able to give them a decent burial. Yet, you ask it of me? For the man who ordered innocents to be killed?”

  “Please?” she asked one more time her hand outstretched toward her brother’s body. “I cannot leave him like this.”

  Steaphan looked to his guardsmen. “Follow them as far as the village.”

  “Come.” Valent took her arm pulling her, once again, gently against him.

  Lily took her other arm. “Yes, milady, we must go.”

  With one last look to her brother, she allowed Valent to guide her away. Once outside the gates, he assisted Ariana and Lily to mount his horse. Valent whistled for his dog. Arrow came running from somewhere near the gates and they set off.

  He and the dog walked alongside the horse toward the village, which was about an hour’s walk away. The guards followed at a distance, seeming almost as if they were more interested in a conversation than ensuring their safety.

  Valent figured they spoke of the resemblance between the brothers. How Steaphan and he were mirror images of each other.

  Some of his lifelong questions were answered. The boy he’d dreamed of over the years. Now he understood why, in his dream, both he and the boy who remained behind crying looked the same. Each time, he’d been confused at it seeming to be the same boy. He thought it was he, both taken and left to remain behind.

  The walk to the village allowed him to ponder Steaphan’s words. He’d said there was much he didn’t know. Valent wasn’t sure he wanted to know the truth any longer. Now that he knew he was a McKenzie, bitterness took the place of the previous curiosity. The McKenzie Clan was not far away. They could have come looking for him. Even if enemies over the years, that should not have stopped them from searching for so young a boy.

  From what the McLeod, Ariana’s father, said to him once, the McLeods had not taken him, as the laird had often wondered how he’d been deposited there as a child without anyone noting a stranger at the keep. According to the late laird, he’d been well fed and cared for prior to being a foundling for whoever decided to take pity.

  The village came into view and Ariana looked down to him. “Looks like most of the dwellings remain.”

  Although surrounded by McKenzies camped on the outskirts, the village was eerily back to normal, smoke coming from the inn’s chimney, the market set up in the center where many gathered around a bonfire, talking.

  Upon spotting them, several people rushed to greet them, eyeing the McKenzie guards with distrust.

  Valent assisted Ariana and Lily to dismount. Ariana turned to look at him. “We must talk.” Her gaze roamed his face as if assuring herself he was still the same person.

  “Aye. Get settled. I will find you.”

  Ariana and Lily were bustled away by the villagers to the inn.

  Valent wasn’t quite sure what to do other than to see what, if anything, the village men planned. Other than guess the McKenzie’s next move, there was little to be done.

  Once the McLeods of the north or from the Isle of Skye came, it was sure they’d battle against the McKenzies. By killing the laird and taking over the keep, the McKenzies declared war on Clan McLeod.

  Valent found the blacksmith just inside his shop along with ten men. “Ah, there you are.” The man motioned h
im over. “Tell us, what did you find out? Why were you allowed to return unharmed?” Every face turned to him with various levels of expectation.

  Not ready to disclose information on his identity, Valent reached for a cup and poured ale into it from the nearby pitcher. “They have killed the laird and captured the younger brother, Beathan. Most of the surviving guardsmen are kept as prisoners.” Everyone began asking about relatives and whom he’d seen. Valent tried to remember as best he could, the irony that if he were one of the dead or captured, no one would be asking for him. He touched an older man’s shoulder. “Your Keddy is alive. I saw him with my own eyes. He is held prisoner, but well.”

  Tears sprung to the man’s eyes and he nodded, relief evident. “Thank ye for telling me so.”

  “What news do you bring? Are we to fall under a new laird?” another man asked.

  The room became quiet and Valent met the men’s gazes. “The McKenzie did not say anything other than to instruct me to bring Lady Ariana to the village.” He took a breath. “They block any way into the keep. They know if we travel north we cannot escape without entering another of McKenzie Clan’s lands.”

  Sidigh, the blacksmith, pounded the table. “They know we cannot get away or send word to the McLeods of Skye, either.”

  “My apprentice went. He left earlier upon realizing we were under attack. I pray he makes it,” Valent informed them.

  “And us, what are we to do now?” Everyone looked to him as if waiting instruction. Valent wasn’t sure when it was decided he was to lead them. But he knew it was imperative someone did.

  “We must gather weapons, bring them here to store. Get all the men together and prepare for when the battle begins. They will not leave the lands without one last attack, I can sense it.”

  The men began to talk at the same time. Most had very little battle training. He wondered if they’d be able to provide more than a feeble opposition if attacked by the seasoned McKenzie warriors.

  He moved away and paced, going over different battle plans he’d learned over the years. The men, seeming to sense he needed to think, kept away, their conversations soft. Finally, Valent went to them and looked to each face.

  “Gather all the men in the village. Have them come here after dark. We do not want the McKenzies to suspect we gather.”

  He’d devised a plan, not a very solid one, but, hopefully, one that would work.

  It was time to find Ariana and ensure she was well. There was little he could do for her at the moment. Her world had been turned upside down on this day. She’d lost her entire family and home. However, there was a chance, although small, that the McKenzie would abandon the keep without destroying it before returning to his home. If so, she could return and reclaim it.

  However, her life was forever changed. If all three of her brothers were dead, she’d have to find a husband and soon. When other McLeods came, her relatives would want to find her a husband right away to become laird.

  His gut clenched at the thought of her married to another. He knew a lowly guardsman, an archer like him, had no right to feel that way, even after a night of passion when she’d come to his cottage.

  A Scot with no name or clan of his own could never aspire to marrying a lady like her. His heart, however, did not understand logic and it clamored for her to always remain with him.

  The lowering sun brought a chill to the air. He pulled his tartan around him. It was of muted colors, no clan affiliation, just a garment to keep him warm. He walked around the edge of the village noting where the McKenzie’s camp started and ended.

  At the inn’s entryway, he was greeted by the smell of food and warmth from the fire in the large hearth. Ariana sat in the corner. Next to her sat the ever-present handmaiden, Lily. He could not bear to stay a distance away so he moved toward them. When she looked to him it was obvious Ariana felt the same way.

  She held out her hand. “I wondered if you would come. I am not sure what to do.”

  He sat next to her, but did not take her hand, aware the other people in the room watched them. A bowl of food was placed in front of him and he began to eat. Between bites, he looked to the bowl in front of her. Ariana’s food had become cold. “You should eat. There is much to be done and we need to maintain our strength.”

  It was good to see her high spirit remained by the angry glare she gave him. “I can’t possibly eat, right now. How can you act as if nothing happened?”

  It was best to ignore her question, as his answer would only anger her further. The fact that he felt nothing for the dead McLeods was not something Valent needed to admit. Not just the dead did he not care about, but also the clan who inhabited the keep. All of them could rot in hell for all he cared.

  Just before the attack, he was set to leave, to go far away and not return. Now that he knew where he came from, which clan had allowed him to be taken as a child, there was little reason to remain any longer.

  He ate another spoonful of stew and pondered the situation. Until someone came to defend Ariana and keep her safe, it was his duty to remain on McLeod lands. The already difficult decision to go elsewhere would be compounded the longer he remained there.

  Her heavy sigh conveyed her sadness. The situation was dire, indeed. Of course, once the other McLeods arrived, they’d be better matched against the McKenzies.

  Clan war was imminent. With her future so uncertain, he understood why she could not find the desire to eat. At seeing her so defeated, Valent knew, until she was safe, he could never leave her.

  “Eat. Ye have to maintain your strength. There is much to be done.” He dipped a chunk of bread into his broth and gave it to her.

  Ariana ate the bread, but nothing more. “You are a McKenzie.” Her statement was flat. “What will you do now?”

  “Nothing different. They are not my clan.” As an archer, he’d been too far from the front lines in battles against the McKenzies to see his brother’s face. How had none of his fellow guards ever mentioned it? Perhaps, too enthralled in the battle, they’d not stopped to look at faces. He rarely did when fighting, not wanting to remember the face of those he felled with his arrows.

  Two men neared the table and awaited permission from Ariana to sit. When she kept her gaze down, he motioned for them to sit.

  Tiobald, an old guard, lowered his bushy brows. “We number less than thirty. That is counting the injured men at the stable.” He scratched at his long beard. “How many of the McKenzies are there?”

  “You cannot be thinking of fighting,” Ariana exclaimed, taking in the older man. “They number ten times as many.”

  “However, they are divided,” Valent told the men. “We can strike at the ones just outside the village.”

  “Aye,” Tiobald agreed. “What think ye, Sidigh?” he asked the other man, the blacksmith.

  Sidigh studied Ariana’s face. “Lady Ariana, we cannot wait for them to attack first. That they’ve waited thus far is a good thing. It gives us a time to plan. I don’t understand why they have not attacked the village, other than they expect us to yield without a fight, perhaps.”

  “Then do so.” Ariana leaned forward, her eyes shiny with tears. “If you fight, too many could die. They are a ruthless people.”

  “Not any more than the McLeods,” Valent couldn’t help but add. “We killed unarmed men. Just for hunting.”

  No one spoke for a few moments. Finally Tiobald looked to Valent. “We meet at nightfall. Tonight would be the best time to attack. We’ll follow your plan. It is our best chance. From the restlessness of the McKenzie men, they will strike soon.”

  Chapter Nine

  Death had become an unwelcomed, familiar entity to Ariana. Her father not long passed, her husband dead within months of their marriage, and now her older brother. If the McKenzie killed Beathan, she wasn’t sure how she’d withstand it.

  Ariana clung to the hope that her mother and other brother, Ceardac, had managed to escape the day before, during the attack. They’d boarded a small
boat with hopes of making it to the Isle of Skye. When Ariana and Lily were cut off from making the boat, they had been forced to leave without them. In her heart, she maintained the hope they made it and would return soon.

  Valent continued talking to the men. They’d moved away from her to stand by the hearth. No doubt, not to further upset her. She found it strange, but she understood the motivation behind the McKenzie’s attack now and did not blame them for retaliating. It was true; Beathan should never have ordered his men to kill those poor hunters. How had her brother not considered the repercussions of his actions? Now, they all paid for his stupid mistake.

  As far as her oldest brother, Donall, he was not the strong leader he should have been. Too arrogant and brash. He had been eager to take the lairdship although he wasn’t prepared for the responsibility. Yet no matter his faults, it was hard to fathom never seeing him again. No matter his faults, he was too young to die.

  She brushed at an errant tear and looked to the pale Lily who had yet to say much more than necessary. Her ever-faithful maid wore Ariana’s clothing, as they’d planned for the young woman to pretend to be of higher breeding if they’d been successful in escaping and separated. Thankfully, they’d had the foresight to sew Ariana’s jewels inside their clothes. At least that was something the McKenzies did not acquire.

  Valent shifted from one foot to the other and she couldn’t help the pang of want. Needing to be with him, against him. In the shelter of his arms, finding some sort of solace. No matter what anyone thought of her, he would spend the night in her bed. The last thing she cared about was social standing. More than anything, she needed his comfort and touch.

  As if sensing her regard, he looked to her, his somber gray gaze sending a clear message. He wanted the same from her.