by B. J. Scott
“You could be heard shouting halfway across the camp, little brother. I’m certain Dungal caught wind of all you had to say, and he is five or six miles away.”
“What of de Valance? Are they together or did they part ways after the battle?” Bryce lowered his voice, but his ire remained on edge.
James joined the group. “Dungal fled south. He is likely headed back to Galloway to regroup. Aymer retreated in the direction of Bothwell Castle.” He pointed to the east. “My father and I visited that stronghold several times when I was a lad. The donjon is well fortified, so retaliation will be difficult if he remains behind the walls. I agree with Alasdair and Robert. We need time to map our strategy.”
“Robert!” John Kennedy shouted as he sprinted toward them. “A messenger arrived with a missive from the MacDougall.”
“Bring him to me at once, and I’ll listen to what he has to say.”
“He said his message is for Bryce,” John informed them.
“The only news I want to hear is that Dungal is dead and buried.” Bryce spat on the ground.
“Bring the envoy here at once.” Robert issued his orders before addressing Bryce. “You must speak to the man. It is imperative we ascertain what Dungal is up to.”
“No good if you ask me,” Alasdair interjected and clasped his brother’s shoulder.
John returned a few minutes later with one of the MacDougall clansmen. “Bow and show your respect.” He shoved the man forward, causing him to stumble, then fall to his knees. “Deliver the message to King Robert and make it fast.”
A sneer tugged at the man’s lips. “I see no king before me. However, I do see a scoundrel and a murderer. But that matters not. My orders are to speak to Bryce Fraser and no one else. If he’ll not meet with me, I can return to my clan. He’ll only have himself to blame for the consequences.” The messenger stood and brushed the dirt from his trews.
“I’m Fraser.” Bryce stepped forward.
“Dungal bid me speak to you and no one else. He sent you a wee gift and a note, but I’ll not give it to you unless you agree to meet with me in private.” He patted his sporran, a cynical grin tugging at his lips. “If you dinna want it.”
Alasdair tackled the man and tugged the pouch from around his waist. He opened it and pulled out the scrap of plaid.
Bryce grabbed the item from Alasdair’s hand. The moment the fabric touched his skin, his throat tightened and he struggled to catch his breath. He cursed as he unfolded the tattered corners then closed his fist around what was inside.
“You look like a banshee crossed your path.” Alasdair peered over his brother’s shoulder. “What did he send?”
Bryce opened his hand and picked up the leather thong, broken where it would normally hang around a person’s neck. He let the star dangle, the emerald facets catching the sunlight.
“You’ve seen this before?” Alasdair asked.
Bryce nodded. “This belongs to Fallon, a gift from her mother. She gave it to me when we were at her uncle’s croft and bid me wear if for protection. I asked Maeve to give the pendant back to her when I left her in Turnberry.”
Alasdair grabbed the note, broke the seal, and read the contents before handing it back to Bryce.
“What does the missive say?” Robert asked.
Alasdair hesitated and dragged his hand across his chin before he spoke. “Dungal holds Fallon captive and threatens to kill her if we dare follow. He also states he will consider an exchange. Bryce’s life for hers.”
Bryce crumpled the note in his hand. “Bastards!” He lunged forward, his fingers encircling the messenger’s throat with a vise-like grip.
The man’s eyes bulged from their sockets and his face turned blue. Gasping for air and clawing frantically at Bryce’s hands, the messenger launched a fruitless attempt to break away.
“Stop. You’re killing him.” John tried to pry Bryce’s hands free, but he tightened his grip. “At least let us question him first.”
“One less MacDougall is fine with me. I’ve had my fill of the lot of them.” Bryce forced the man’s back against a nearby tree and continued his chokehold until Alasdair intervened.
“Go easy, brother. Your issue is with Dungal, not the messenger. Release him. His death will serve no purpose.” Alasdair lifted Bryce’s fingers from the man’s neck.
Bryce backed away as the man slid to the ground, clutching his throat. “You tell Dungal I will come for her. When I do, I’ll show him no mercy.” He turned abruptly and stomped toward his horse. “Never mind. I’ll tell him myself.”
“I’ll not grant you leave,” Robert shouted after him.
“Try and stop me.”
“I’m your king. You’ve sworn your fealty to me, and I order you to stand fast. Try to run off and you’ll be arrested and hanged for treason.”
“Do as you wish, but I’ll not allow Fallon to spend one minute with that spineless blackguard than is necessary.” He fisted his hands in the horse’s mane and prepared to mount.
Alasdair caught Bryce from behind, lifted him off the ground, and trapped his arms at his side. “You’re upset and understandably so, but stop and think before you react. This is not the way to save Fallon. If anything, you’ll get her killed. Do as Robert says and stand down.”
“You read Dungal’s note. If I offer to swap my life for hers, he’ll release Fallon.” Bryce struggled to free himself, but to no avail. He had never been a match for his brother’s size and brute strength. “Let me go, you big ox. Fallon needs me. She is in danger, and I’m to blame. I willna let her down, I canna let her down. Why did I leave her in Turnberry?”
“Second guessing yourself will do no good. You canna predict the future, anymore than you can change the past. You must think this through.” Alasdair softened his voice, but his restraining embrace held firm. “Surrendering yourself over to Dungal won’t guarantee Fallon’s release. He canna be trusted.”
“I have to try.” Bryce stopped fighting and slumped into his brother’s arms. “Why does the Almighty see fit to put decent people in harm’s way? Fallon is an unselfish, gentle, giving woman, yet he allows a vile bastard like Dungal to breathe the same air and to take her captive. I shudder to think what has befallen her while in his clutches.” Memories of his past flooded his mind.
Alasdair released his hold on Bryce and stepped away. “I dinna believe the Lord deliberately puts good people in danger.”
“Doesn’t He?” Bryce whipped around with renewed anger. “He allows the English to raid our villages, to commit murder, and to violate our women. Or did what happened to our mother and our youngest brother slip your mind? Mam was with child and Evan had only seen eight summers when they were butchered by the English swine. Where was the Almighty’s mercy and wisdom then?”
Bryce paused long enough to draw in a gulp of air. “Mayhap the events at Berwick on Tweed escaped your memory as well. Our father and oldest brother cut down before our eyes, along with nearly eight thousand other innocents put to sword on that dreadful day. What about Ashlen?” His voice wavered when he said her name.
Alasdair’s jaw clenched. “I will never forget the events of those days. The memories are forever etched in my mind. We will find a way to rescue Fallon, but not until we have devised a sound plan of recourse. Can you at least give me that?”
“I’ll award you a few minutes, but no more. Fallon’s life might depend on our speed.” He glared over Alasdair’s shoulder at Robert. “I intend to go after her, regardless of the consequences. Her welfare may be of little concern to you and her death willna influence the outcome of the war, but she is important to me. I’ll not sit idly by and allow that blackguard to harm the woman who might someday be the mother of my bairns.” He let the words slip out before he could hold his tongue.
Alasdair’s jaw dropped open. “Are my ears deceiving me, or did you just say you wanted Fallon to bear your babes? Sounds like a man in love to me. Now I’m sure you’ve lost your mind.”
Bryce d
idn’t answer. Instead, he dragged his hand across the back of his neck, and turned away. In his anger, he’d allowed his true feelings for Fallon to rise to the surface, and God willing, he’d have the chance to make amends for being such a fool. But he had to find her before it was too late. He stiffened his posture and glared at his brother.
“We are wasting precious time. I am going after Fallon with or without your help. The Lord had best protect anyone who attempts to stop me,” Bryce challenged.
“I’ve got your back, brother, if any man tries,” Alasdair announced.
“I’ll stand by you as well.” John stepped forward.
“And I.” James pulled his sword from its sheath and waved the weapon in the air.
“I’m not an unreasonable man or the heartless bastard you think I am. Threats of imprisonment and execution dinna deter you, so there is no choice but to concede. However—” Robert raised his hand. “I intend to engage the English three days hence and there are preparations to make. I canna spare all of my best warriors.”
“I will go alone if need be.” Bryce balled his fists at his side and began to pace. “Too many lives have already been forfeited and I’ll not permit Fallon’s death to be added to the list.”
Robert ran his hand over his chin before he responded. “Select ten men to accompany you. Alasdair may go, but I need John and James to remain behind. God willing, you’ll eliminate some of the blackguard’s men along the way. Take any longer than two days, and we’ll be gone by the time you get back.”
Bryce gave a curt nod. “Our endeavor will be fruitful, and Fallon will be with us when we return. If there is justice to be had, I’ll present Dungal’s head to you on a pike.”
“Be off with you, and may the Almighty guide your path.” Robert turned and strode away.
“I’ll ask for volunteers and bid them join you immediately.” James trotted off to gather the men.
“While he is doing that, I’ll arrange for supplies.” John followed in James’ footsteps.
Bryce moved to his horse, but rather than mounting, he rested his forehead on the animal’s neck. “Do you think this a fool’s errand? I dinna even know if she is still alive.”
“What does your gut tell you, brother?” Alasdair placed his hand on Bryce’s back.
“She’s alive. I canna explain how I know, I just do. But I am also certain if we dinna find her soon, it will be too late.” Bryce swung his leg over the horse’s back and pulled himself into the saddle. “I’ll ride ahead and you can join me when the others arrive.” He pressed his heel to the horse’s flank, but Alasdair grabbed the reins and held the beast steady.
“Either you wait for the men and supplies, Bryce, or you dinna go at all. If I have to tie you to yonder tree, I will. Ever since the lass came back into your life, you’ve been distracted. You are not usually so careless. It goes to show that women are more trouble than they are worth. We depart together. A few minutes canna make that much difference.”
“I hope you’re right, brother. I hope you’re right.”
The journey was short, their horses swift. As they neared the last reported location of the MacDougall’s camp, Bryce slowed his horse, and ordered the men to keep their voices low, their conversation to a minimum.
Uneasiness tugged at Bryce’s stomach. The fact they had traveled this far without a challenge was both odd and unsettling.
“The Bruce’s informant gave us directions, but we have yet to come across a camp or anyone guarding the path. Something is amiss.” Unable to stand the uncertainty, Bryce kicked his horse into a gallop, leaving his brother and the other warriors behind in a cloud of dust.
Alasdair’s curse carried on the breeze, but Bryce refused to slow his pace, or to turn around. With reckless disregard for his own safety, he sped along the trail, coming to an abrupt halt when he entered what he assumed had been Dungal’s encampment.
He slid from the saddle and stood in the middle of the deserted clearing. A spattering of hot embers glowed in the fire pit, but the exact time of their departure was difficult to determine.
The echo of thundering hooves approaching fast caused Bryce to draw his sword and spin around in the direction of the noise. Was it Alasdair, or was this a trap? Prepared to fight, he widened his stance, then inhaled a fortifying breath.
Bryce narrowed his eyes, his gaze fixed, his reflexes keen. Relief washed over him and he sheathed his blade when Alasdair and their companions entered the clearing.
“Have you totally lost all of your God-given senses?” Alasdair shouted. “You could have been riding into an ambush. Hell, Bryce, I could be scraping what was left of you off the ground had Dungal been lying in wait.”
“They’re gone.” Bryce threw his hands up in frustration and stomped toward his brother.
Alasdair jumped from the saddle. “How long ago did they leave? This could be a ruse. The blackguards might be waiting in the bushes, prepared to strike at any moment.” He glanced over his shoulder and scanned the periphery of the clearing.
“The cook-fire is still smoldering, but has burned down to ash. My guess is they broke camp several hours ago. Likely while we were dallying. I should have gone with my gut and left immediately.”
“You canna be certain.” Alasdair scratched his head. “I was positive they’d still be here. They had wounded who needed tending and rest. Most would assume this spot was located far enough from the battleground to be secure.”
“Dungal is not like most men.” Bryce motioned for everyone to dismount. “Search the area. We need to determine when they left and in which direction.”
The men scoured the surrounding area, while Alasdair and Bryce approached what appeared to be a row of freshly dug graves.
Bryce lowered his head and crossed his chest. “It appears many of the wounded dinna live long enough to make the journey.” A knot formed in his stomach. Was Fallon buried in one of these mounds of unhallowed ground?
As if he knew Bryce’s thoughts, Alasdair spoke. “You must believe Fallon is alive. If what the messenger told James during the interrogation is true, Dungal forbid his men to touch her. He plans to hold her hostage until you come for her.”
“He also said Dungal intended to claim her as his prize following the battle.” Nausea churned in Bryce’s belly and his pulse pounded in his ears. He had to find Fallon before Dungal had a chance to make good on his threats, if he hadn’t already. He’d experienced these feelings of fear and uncertainty before and they mounted with each passing minute.
Bryce turned when one of the men approached. “Did you find anything?”
“Aye. Horse tracks lead out of camp in all directions, but the majority of them depart from the south end of the clearing. We also noted the imprint of cart wheels in the mud.”
Bryce and Alasdair accompanied the man to the southern edge of the clearing.
Alasdair squatted and examined the tracks. “They are heading toward Galloway as we suspected. Mayhap they’ve gone to Dunstaffnage Castle in Argyll. It has been a MacDougall stronghold for many years. Their action is a logical choice given their losses and casualties.”
“It also stands to reason that Dungal would try to return to his own land and kin.” Bryce climbed onto his horse’s back and shouted to his companions. “Mount up and head south. If we make haste, we can overtake the bastards before nightfall.”
Chapter 17
“My brother remains unconscious. You claim to be a healer. Do something.” Dungal paced beside the pallet.
“I warned you he was too weak to travel, but you insisted on moving the camp. With the constant jarring of the cart over bumpy roads, I’m stunned his wound dinna open and start to bleed again.” Fallon lifted the linen dressing to examine the injury. “Fortunately, there is no festering, but I’d not be moving him again. At least until he is stronger.”
“I’m certain you would like it if we stayed here and waited for Bryce Fraser to find us. Fortunately, I make the decisions for my men, not you. Keith has
always been as strong as an ox. If he dies, I’ll know who to blame.” Dungal stared at the ground and rubbed his temples.
“He’s your brother and concern is natural, but I have done all I can for him. His fate is in the hands of the Almighty.”
“The arrow was meant for me,” Dungal blurted out. “The damned fool stepped in the way, taking it in my stead.” His voice cracked with raw emotion he’d manage to hide until now.
“You owe your brother your life.” Fallon was taken aback by his momentary show of compassion, but refused to believe the sentiment would last.
“I am beholden to no one,” Dungal snapped.
Keith wheezed and coughed, rolling his head from side-to-side.
“A fever is brewing.” Fallon dipped a rag in cool water then placed it on Keith’s brow. “I noticed the men were setting up your tent. I take that to mean we are spending the night in this spot.” She didn’t wait for him to answer. “Mayhap we could move Keith inside for the night. Keeping him warm and dry will be beneficial to his recovery. I’ll also need some herbs. Will you allow me to gather them?”
“After your attempt to escape, you canna possibly think I would let you out of my sight to go pick wild flowers.”
“How I acquire them is not important, as long as I get what is necessary to make my tonic. Your brother lost a lot of blood and must drink to replenish. An herbal tea will also ease the pain and aid in healing.” She pointed to the thick ropes around her ankles. “You keep me tied to a tree when I am not tending the wounded. The rest of the time, you have me hobbled like a horse.”
“You were bound when I left you in my brother’s care, but that dinna stop you from escaping. Besides, what guarantee do I have that you won’t poison him?”
She shrugged. “I suppose that is a chance you must take. You ordered me to care for him.”
Dungal glanced at his brother then at her. “Tell me what you need. I will send one of my men to gather the items.”
