Highland Retribution

by Keira Montclair

  As his dance became more fluid, he decided he needed to practice his war whoop. He moved away from the gates because he didn’t wish to wake the guards asleep at the gates. The clearing called to him, so he raced over there and whipped his sword out before he growled and ran toward a tree with his sword over his head.

  He searched for a fallen log and finally found one where he could swing his sword over his hand and connect with the soft wood. It hadn’t been very long when he found another log and then another. He’d be the best ever by the time he finished practicing.

  When his arms tired out, he stopped for a moment and searched around to see where he was, only to find a small problem. He had no idea. Staring up at the moon, he sheathed his sword and began to count the number of stars he could see. His mama had taught him to count to fifty.

  When he couldn’t find any more, he tipped his head back as far as he could and giggled because he got dizzy. He tried it again but thought he saw something. Spinning around with his sword drawn, his fear turned to delight when he saw a brown pony standing in front of him. Once he sheathed his sword, the animal nudged his hand with his cold nose. Steenie laughed and moved over to wrap his arms around his neck with a giggle.

  “What’s your name, pony?”

  The beast snorted at him, tipping his head up and shaking it, his white mane bouncing.

  “You want me to give you a name?” He thought for a moment, chewing on his lip. “Hmmm. I like the name Padraig. ‘Tis it! I’ll call you Paddy the Pony.”

  The pony rubbed against him, so he decided to climb up and see where he would take him. Since his sire was sleeping, he was quite sure he could ride for a wee bit without getting caught. Then he’d return to the keep right away.

  Paddy was a new friend, something he needed. He’d always wished for a friend.

  “Paddy, you can be my friend forever. Do you like me? I like you. I don’t have any friends. Corc told me someday I would. He knew you’d come to me, did he not?” He patted his neck as he situated himself on Paddy’s back, surprised he came with his saddle already on, ready to go.

  He grabbed the reins and aimed him back toward the direction he thought the keep was in, but Paddy headed in the opposite direction, trotting at a pretty good pace until they were deep in the forest.

  He tried his best to stop him and turn him around, but the wee animal had a mind of his own. “Paddy, you’re going the wrong way. Papa will thrash me again if I don’t go back. Turn around, Paddy.” He pulled on the reins again, but the wee beast ignored him, continuing on his own route.

  “Paddy, you cannot be my friend if you make me get a thrashing. Bad pony,” he said, doing his best to scold the small horse, but Paddy’s only response was to shake his head and snort on occasion.

  Since he couldn’t change their direction, Steenie decided he’d practice his skills to make his sire proud. He’d be so proud of him that he’d surely forget to thrash him. He sheathed and unsheathed his sword over and over again until he got really good at it. When he thought he couldn’t do it any better, he stopped the pony and turned around, only he had no idea where he was. This time he knew he was far away from his castle.

  Frowning, he glanced up at the nearly full moon, glad it gave enough light to see his surroundings.

  He’d kill anyone who threatened him, just like a grown-up warrior would do.

  All of a sudden, he had a thought. He’d gotten this far without anyone seeing him, and if Papa caught him this far away from the keep, he’d get another thrashing for sure. He glanced around, saying a quick prayer that he wouldn’t see his sire or his uncle nearby, but all was quiet in the meadow.

  He made his mind up to do what his da often told him. He was about to act like a man.

  He was going to find the Grants and save his mother. “Paddy,” he said with authority, “take me to Clan Grant. We must find the man with the arms like tree trunks to help Mama.”

  ***

  Braden left his cousins once he noticed Marta slip through the doorway of the great hall. Uncle Alex had informed him of the new tales that were being whispered about him and Ronan, but he had to know if Marta believed them, or if she thought their quick morning chat had caused the problem. He had to uncover exactly what others were thinking.

  Marta jumped when he touched her elbow from the side. “Good eve to you, Marta. How do you fare?” He couldn’t let go of the fact that Ronan had thought Marta was involved with someone else, but she had distinctly denied it. Somehow, he felt he owed it to his friend to uncover the truth.

  He also wished to allay his own fears about the rumors. The event between the two of them the week before could not have affected Ronan that strongly. He was sure of it, but he hoped Marta would confirm it for him. Had Ronan been upset about their tussle, he would have told her.

  She smiled, a nervous smile, but at least she was able to smile. “I am well, Braden. Time is healing my heart.”

  “I am glad to hear it. I know you’ve sworn that there had been no one else, but I’m still bothered by all the events that led up to that day. I need to ask you a question if you do not mind.”

  “What is it?”

  “Did you see Ronan at all the day before he died? I know we discussed this before, but have you thought of anything new?”

  “Aye, I saw him, but only for a short time. He stopped at my home to chat, but ‘twas after the lists, so he needed to clean up. But I already told you this.”

  “Would you mind answering again? I’m still bothered by what happened. I’m trying to make sense of it. Did he mention aught about any arguments?”

  “Nay, why? Oh, I think I understand. You heard the talk about your argument with Ronan the week before in the lists, that you upset him too much, which may have been part of the reason for his…well…you know of what I speak.” She stared at the ground, a rosy color blossoming across her cheeks, but then she lifted her chin. “Nay, he did not mention you. I’ve heard the other whispers, too, and I feel compelled to say again that I was not interested in any other lad. I spoke to no one except in passing. I saw you that morn and one other. ‘Twas naught more than polite chatting on both occasions.”

  Braden sighed with relief. He hadn’t truly believed he’d upset Ronan, but he was glad to hear Marta validate his thoughts. “Would you like to sit and chat a bit?”

  “Nay. My thanks for your consideration, Braden, but I think it best if I’m not associated with you for a while. I hope you understand.” She gave him a strained smile and walked away.

  He wasn’t quite sure whether he should be offended or not. But now another question niggled at him.

  If Ronan hadn’t taken his own life because Marta was interested in another man, what had forced him to take such a drastic measure?

  ***

  Cairstine was jarred awake by a noise farther down the passageway, a haunting noise…almost like a crying bairn. Nay, more than one bairn—there were many.

  She closed her eyes again because she knew it had to be a dream. There were no bairns in the keep. There used to be, many years ago when it was the Muir keep, but no more. There were very few lasses here, only Hilda and Cairstine and those who lived in the kitchens.

  Only she did not fall back to sleep and the sobs persisted. She sat up on her pallet, tipping her head as if that could make the sounds clearer.

  Standing, she moved over to the door and put her ear to the window, listening carefully for the soft cries to begin again. She was about ready to give up when she heard them. No mistaking it. They were the distant cries of bairns who could be anywhere from five to twelve summers old. The haunting sounds echoed down the eerie passageway, evidence of unhappiness that was greater than her own somewhere in the dark cellars.

  She had no idea what to do, except she could do nothing, could she? She was in a locked chamber. Lying down on her pallet again, she allowed herself to fall into a fitful sleep, full of eerie dreams.

  The next time she awakened, she heard the jingling of the
keys outside the door. Could it be Steenie and Hilda? Moments later, it banged open and Greer barged in, a look of uncontrolled fury on his face that made her cringe back toward the cold wall.

  “Where’s Steenie?” His voice had that threatening tone she dreaded.

  Her mind raced to the worst possible conclusion. Was he hurt? Missing? “I don’t know. I’ve not seen him since yester morn. He’s not in his bed?”

  “He’s not been seen since he climbed into his pallet last eve. Did he tell you he was running away?”

  “Nay, Greer. I swear. He wants me out of here, but he said naught about leaving. Did you check with Corc? Mayhap he went to visit him. Or mayhap he’s stuck in a chamber down the passageway. I heard bairns crying in the middle of the night.”

  In the quietest voice she’d ever heard from the bastart, he asked, “You heard what?”

  “Bairns crying. We must go investigate. Mayhap Steenie came searching for me in his sleep and got lost. The sound might have echoed down here.”

  “You’ll never mention that again.” He grabbed ahold of her arm and tugged her close.

  “Mention what? Steenie missing? Please, Greer, you’re hurting me.”

  “Do you hear me? You heard naught last night, and you’ll never repeat what you just said. Whatever you heard, ‘twas not Steenie.” A small tic in his eye started, something she recognized as a sign of a temper.

  Still, she couldn’t stop herself. “We have to go investigate! I’ll go with you. If it wasn’t Steenie, there may still be other bairns down here. I’m sure it wasn’t a dream.”

  “Did you not hear me? I said you’re not to speak of it again, nor will we consider such a ridiculous claim.” He flung her across the chamber. She tried to catch her fall but tripped over the pallet and stumbled onto the ankle that had already been weakened.

  She couldn’t stop her head from slamming against the stone wall. The last thing she saw before she crumpled to the ground was Greer reaching for her, but he was too late.

  Cairstine saw stars before the rest of the world went black.

  Chapter Ten

  Steenie rode his pony through the valley, wondering if he was headed in the right direction. As soon as the sun came up, he’d thought they were heading north, and he’d heard the Grant leader say they lived south of his family’s castle. But he didn’t really know for sure because he was confused. “Paddy, I hope you know how to get to Grant land. If not, we could be in big trouble.”

  Paddy was two-toned with brown fur and speckles of white that matched his mane. He was quite handsome, but Steenie could tell he was tiring. The sun was nearly up so they’d traveled farther than he thought. He brought him over to a stream, and he drank loudly and heavily.

  “Paddy, I’m sorry if you’re working too hard, but you must get me far enough away so my sire won’t find me.” His hands went to protect his bottom. “You know how he likes to thrash me, and I cannot ride when he does. ‘Tis barely tolerable now, but I must do this for my mama.” He dismounted, washed his hands, and took a drink before moving back to Paddy. Before he climbed on Paddy’s back, he stopped in front of him and said, “I’m getting hungry, too. How much longer to Grant land?” He stared into the animal’s eyes, but he couldn’t tell anything at all from him. “I wish you could talk to me and be a real friend.”

  The horse knickered and nudged him, startling him into a fit of giggles. “I love you, Paddy.” He petted his mane and mounted, leading him away from the stream.

  They hadn’t traveled far when he heard a group of horses headed his way. He located a group of trees and did his best to hide, going deeper into the dense forest than he would have normally dared. He dismounted so he could go farther still, whispering to Paddy, “You must be quiet for a wee bit. I’ll come back for you. Please don’t leave me.” Then he hurried until he found his own large tree trunk to hide behind while Paddy grazed.

  “Hold!” he heard a voice bellow. The approaching horses came to a stop. He’d guessed there were less than a dozen beasts, but that meant a dozen men. Tears flowed down his cheeks because he knew if it was his sire, he was in for a beating for certes.

  The other possibilities weren’t much better. It could be a group of reivers or his uncle Blair or maybe even the king’s men! They’d bring him home for certain and then he’d take a beating and still not have finished his mission.

  And what would happen to his new friend?

  He tried to stop his tears by pinching his eyes closed, but it did not work. His nose was running, but if he sniffled they’d hear him for sure. The rustle of leaves and the crack of twigs told him they were not far. It sounded like two men had taken up the search.

  They came closer.

  And closer.

  And he nearly pished himself as they approached the other side of the tree he hid behind. He was too scared to look around the trunk.

  A moment later, a young voice called to him. “You can come out. We won’t hurt you.” It sounded like a lad, so he hesitantly peeked out from behind the tree. A man in a Grant plaid stared at him and a big lad, wearing the same plaid, nodded. “We’ll not hurt you. What’s your name?”

  “Steenie,” he said, fearful of what would happen next. Would they take him prisoner, tie him up like his sire often did with strangers? Would they beat him? He tried not to cry at his thoughts, but it was hard. He whispered, “Who are you?”

  “I’m Kenzie. This is my sire.”

  The tall man said, “My name is Loki Grant, and we’re here to help you, lad. Do not fear us.”

  ***

  Braden and Roddy broke their fast with their fathers, plus Alex and Connor, before dawn the next morn, ahead of the usual group. Uncle Alex had requested they all meet early to make plans.

  Braden waited as patiently as possible, glancing at Roddy to see if he would say anything to help the situation along.

  Uncle Alex was the first to speak. “I’d like to send about fifty guards to the Lamont property on the morrow. You three will lead the group, so choose your warriors.”

  “With what intent?” Connor asked.

  Braden couldn’t restrain his natural impulse. “Kill the bastards.”

  Uncle Alex quirked his brow at Braden, who quickly closed his mouth. His uncle said, “Braden, you know we cannot go in and slaughter them without good reason unless you’d enjoy seeing my head on a pike.”

  “Why not? They slaughtered the Muirs, an entire clan innocent.”

  “‘Tis as I’ve said. We need a witness and we have none. Suppose we kill both brothers and then discover that only one of them was involved with murdering the Muirs. They’ve caused no trouble that I’m aware of since then. What charges have we?”

  “But they must have done it! Muir’s daughter will testify.”

  “Until the daughter informs you of their guilt directly, you’re to do nothing unless you are defending yourselves. I would also like for you to go to the nearest cottages to the west of them, see if you can uncover aught else about them. Mayhap some of their neighbors have heard or seen bairns. Before we blindly start killing men, I need more proof. Not to mention, we need them alive to answer questions about their potential involvement in the Channel of Dubh.”

  Braden’s sire said, “If they are not involved in the Channel of Dubh, then one would wonder where they get their coin. That land is not fertile, and according to Roddy, there were no fields to be seen. What do they eat?”

  Roddy said, “I’m sure they’ve reived a few cattle, mayhap sheep as well.”

  Connor said, “Mayhap they sell whisky.”

  Connor’s sire pursed his lips. “I could mayhap consider the whisky if Muir had made his own liquid gold. Without a helping hand, they wouldn’t be able produce much in a few years. They must be reiving, or they’d have naught to eat except what they killed. But thievery is undependable and will not feed a group alone. After what Braden told us about the threat Greer made to sell the lad over the water, mayhap they’ve become involved in someth
ing more. I sent the missive to the Ramsays. If Will and Maggie arrive shortly, I’ll send them along. I want their opinion on this as you know they are in the king’s favor.”

  “If I can find Cairstine and she tells us the Lamonts are both guilty, do we have your permission to attack?” Braden pressed.

  The Grant brothers exchanged long looks. Braden’s sire was the one who finally answered him. “That would depend on the number of guards they have. They’ll know you’re in the area, so you’ll not take them by surprise. You would need over a hundred warriors to be safe. Should we send more, Alex?”

  “Nay. Fifty should be plenty, but if you need more and have the grounds to attack, send a messenger and I’ll release as many warriors as you need. If we send any more upfront, they’ll feel threatened and attack first. Any other questions?”

  “When do we leave?” Roddy asked.

  “At dawn on the morrow,” Uncle Alex said. “Give you time to choose the right warriors.”

  The others left, but Braden held back. “My apologizes, Uncle Alex, for interrupting you with my opinion. I am too impulsive.” He gave his uncle a sheepish grin because that was all he had to offer. He’d lost his temper just a wee bit. Now that he’d begun to pay attention to his actions, he’d noticed he allowed his temper freer rein than he’d realized.

  “You’re forgiven, lad. At least you recognized it. You were able to control yourself better than you have in the past.” He patted Braden on the shoulder and headed out of the hall. “Your thinking’s getting sharper, more strategic. The sign of a true warrior is when a man can lead on solid judgement as opposed to heeding his impulses. You’ll continue to learn. We all have ways we can improve.”