by Fiona Faris
Andrew only nodded as he believed the trip to the village had been a waste of time with so many warriors shunning the prospect to accompany him. The five recruits, as inexperienced as they seemed, joined Andrew and the youths who wished to tag along for the harrowing journey of a lifetime.
“A’ right men, let us proceed. Yer training will commence tomorrow. We hae a full night’s ride ahead o’ us,” Andrew told them.
They saddled their horses and rode off into the blazing orange sunset with the distant meadows disappearing in the fading sunlight. A full moon lit the path for Andrew as he led his warriors to the new village that they would call home until they carried forth their mission.
The group arrived at the village at high noon where a cheerful Freya awaited them. She approached Andrew with open arms, but Andrew spurned her greeting. An enflamed Freya confronted him about his intolerable attitude.
“Whit is amiss, Andrew?” she asked as she grabbed his arm to force him to face her.
“I am in nae mood tae talk. My trip was a disaster,” he snapped.
“How sae? Ye brought back several men with ye. How is that a disaster?”
“Look at ‘em! A’ I could muster was a bunch o’ boys who hae ne’er even sniffed a battlefield. They haen’t got a clue whit they signed up fer. They will a’ face a violent end tae be sure!”
Freya slapped Andrew across the cheek, and the outline of her palm was imprinted on his face.
“Whit was that fer, woman?” he demanded.
“Daen’t say that aboot this group o’ brave men who left their homes tae come fight by yer side. They may be inexperienced, but that simply means ye must train them with more passion an’ intensity than ye would with a more seasoned fighter,” Freya explained.
“Aye, I know that. I daen’t hae the time or patience fer that right now. I hae tae act sooner rather than later. I did no’ anticipate havin’ sae few men.”
“They are a’ ye have fer now sae get on with it.”
“Very well, their training will commence efter I slumber fer a while. We rode under the full moon. Could ye tell them a’ they can rest ‘til sunset? That is when I will be ready fer them.”
“Aye, ye’re the chief!” Freya chuckled as he stared at her with a blank expression.
Andrew rose from a deep sleep as the sun waned over the horizon. Freya woke his soldiers, and they readied themselves for Andrew’s tutelage.
“Yer boys look quite eager tae begin,” Freya joked with Andrew as he wiped the sleep from his eyes.
“Aye, they are eager. How quickly will they absorb the sword skills required tae no’ get decapitated in battle? That’s the question.”
Andrew marched towards his soldiers lined up in a single file row outside the cottage which he’d slept in.
“A’ right, lads. I want tae first thank ye fer yer service tae a crucial mission. I wish I had convinced the rest o’ yer village the importance o’ whit we are doin’, but they proved tae be dunderheids.”
“When are we goin’ tae start usin’ the broadsword?” one of the men asked.
Andrew peered up at the sky as if asking for divine intervention.
“Nae one is touchin’ a sword ‘til I know ye a’ won’t kill each ither in trainin’. If ye daen’t know whit ye’re doin’, ye will slice each ither right in two,” he replied.
“I thought ye were goin’ tae teach us the art o’ the sword?” the skilled lad asked.
“Aye, in time ye will learn. I must see the capabilities o’ yer wee friens ‘ere.”
Andrew paired them all together and equipped each with a wooden sword, a one-foot plank of wood to mimic a dirk, and a longer bit of timber in the shape of a spear. The looks on their faces screamed disgust over the feeble, non-lethal weapons they had been given to duel with.
Freya ceased her activities with her mother to gaze at Andrew as he instructed his soldiers the proper techniques to utilize in combat. Her desire for him could not be disguised, and others around her were well aware she longed for him.
Sorcha observed Freya’s pubescent-like admiration of Andrew and sat beside her to watch Andrew’s leadership abilities on display.
They stared at the soldiers training for several minutes before Sorcha broke the silence with a question that had been on her mind since first meeting Andrew.
“Freya, I know ye hae romantic feelings aboot this Highlander but are ye sure ye can trust him?”
Freya, shocked by the question, scrutinized her friend for her uncertainties of Andrew’s intentions.
“O’ course I trust him! He rescued me from a life o’ torment an’ despair. If it wasn’t fer his bravery, I might be pregnant with that monster’s baby. Ye should hae seen Andrew beat doon the door tae my prison. It was the most courageous display I hae ever witnessed,” Freya explained.
“I hae nae doubt it was an honorable display, but ye dae realize he was part o’ the attack on oor castle? Oor village was destroyed. Daes that no’ bother ye?”
“I already told ye that he explained his conflictions an’ regrets fer bein’ there. He wants tae make things right.”
“How dae ye know he is no’ just manipulatin’ ye tae take power fer himsel’? He may jist turn against us once he is chief o’ his clan. My uncle enlightened me on how brutal he was in battle when they attacked. It sounded horrific!”
“I dae no’ believe he would dae that. My valiant warrior would no’ betray me in that manner,” Freya emphasized.
“I only want ye tae keep yer guard up, dear Freya. I am afraid ye will be devastated if Andrew’s intentions are no’ what ye expect.”
“I trust he is sincere. He wants whit is best fer no’ only me, but fer both oor clans,” Freya insisted, then Sorcha walked away.
Even though Freya understood Sorcha’s doubts, she had never before now questioned Andrew’s motives. Her imagination ran wild with terrors of Andrew betraying her and imposing the same tyrannical rule over her clan which she had already suffered. She attempted with all her might to suppress these thoughts, but they remained in the back of her mind.
She contemplated asking Andrew about his final purpose, just to see how he would respond, as she surveyed his instruction of the newfound recruits.
Chapter Fourteen
A village near Arncroach, Scotland
Freya awoke one morning to an eerie dark cloud stretched across the sky, but the dense cloud was unlike a natural cloud from the atmosphere. It lifted from the surface to signify something was set ablaze. Freya dashed across the meadow as fast as her feet would carry her to investigate the source of the smoke.
A horrific scene awaited her as cottages and barns burned, and day began to turn to night as the volume of smoke intensified throughout the sky. Her jaw dropped at the scene, and she rushed to the fiery structures to search for survivors.
When she approached one of the cottages, an unidentified figure sprinted out in a frenzied panic. The person’s clothes had caught fire, and they dropped to the ground in a desperate attempt to smother the flames. Freya searched for a blanket to drape over the person, but nothing came into sight. Her surroundings were smothered in the growing flames, including the nearby forest. The forest was her only escape route from the village, and she became petrified of being trapped if the fire spread any further.
“Is onybody oot there? Please call fer help. We hae tae escape,” she pleaded as she coughed uncontrollably due to the smoke filling her lungs.
Every cottage she entered contained nothing but furniture burned to a crisp and corpses that were charred to the point of being unrecognizable.
Freya’s breathing became erratic as the smoke began to fill her lungs. She dropped onto the floor of the smoldering cottage to dodge the blanket of smoke, but the heat from the fire made the cottage’s floor scorching hot. Her attempts to crawl out of the cottage were futile as the flesh on her palms and fingertips began to blister in seconds.
She took drastic measures to escape what would certainly be a fi
ery death. She faintly identified the only opening of the cottage, and she ran towards it to dive out of the blazing inferno. Her coughing was uncontrollable, and the soot turned her blonde hair a shade of gray. She lay on her back and glanced back towards the cottage which had now collapsed to the ground.
Freya surveyed the smoldering village, and only one cottage remained standing. The surviving cottage in the midst of this firestorm was the one which her mother resided. She trudged to the cottage, unable to get a handle on her wheezing.
“Mither! Can ye hear me? Please oh please come oot!” she shouted.
She prayed her mother was still alive or already out of the scorching home. She peered into the cottage’s opening, and she looked inside to view the horror. A motionless body lay on the ground beside the door with an arm reached out in an apparent attempt to escape the flames from the front. Freya collapsed outside beside the cottage and burst into tears as she was all but certain her mother had died inside the blaze.
“Dear heavens, whit has caused this catastrophe?” she cried hysterically.
The walls of her mother’s cottage began to shake, and the house started to crumble in on itself.
“No!” Freya shrieked, but there was nothing she could do.
The village was utterly destroyed, and the fire raged on with no sign of slowing down. Freya made a beeline to her only possible chance of escape: the woodlands. A portion of the forest had already been destroyed due to the flames’ powerful grip to weaken the trees at their base.
The sky glowed with a sharp orange tint through the dense layer of smoke and Freya could hardly see a few feet in front of her. She covered her nose and mouth to block the smoke from obstructing her breathing.
She trudged through the forest with the heat of the flames emanating from all sides. Determined not to succumb to the flames or the smoke, Freya marched through what was left of the woodlands. The end of the forest seemed to elude her as she continued to trudge through the soot-covered brush.
Suddenly, there were no trees within proximity, and the flames settled. Freya heard a diabolical laugh and spotted a shadowy figure ahead of her in the fields. Her vision was blurred, and her breathing was heavy, but she was determined to reach this laughing individual.
She collapsed to her knees when the figure turned to face her, and it was revealed to be Andrew. He spotted her and continued to laugh at the fiery destruction on the other side of the forest.
“Andrew, whit has happened tae the village?” she asked.
“Yer clan is completely destroyed. The Erskine clan is nae more,” he said and laughed again.
“Whit hae ye done? I trusted ye, Andrew! How could ye dae this tae me?”
He continued to taunt and ridicule her. Freya released an ear-splitting scream which could be heard from the heavens…
Freya sat up straight in bed, drenched in a cold sweat. She surveyed her surroundings and breathed a sigh of relief. She was inside her cottage.
“It was only a nightmare. Thank heavens,” she whispered as her breathing slowed to its normal pace.
She looked beside her and Andrew was sound asleep not moving a muscle. The vision of his insane laughter haunted her, and she could not release it from her mind. What did the nightmare signify? Was it a premonition of things to come or was she going mad?
Unable to fall back asleep, Freya walked outside into the darkness wearing nothing but her undergarments. The brisk, autumn air made the sweat stick to her limbs and torso. She yearned for a dip in the river, but she would certainly catch a chill. The outlines of her heavy breaths were visible in the frosty air.
Freya raced back inside, incapable of bearing the cold any further. She crawled back under the wool sheets and forced her eyes shut in a hopeless effort to fall back asleep. She positioned herself towards Andrew in the cot, but the vision of him laughing surrounded by flames still flooded her mind.
Sleep escaped Freya for the remainder of the night.
“Good mornin’. How was yer sleep, bonnie?” Andrew asked with a cheerful smile on his face.
Freya offered no reply, and she stood up from the cot in silence. Andrew sensed her unease.
“Is everythin’ a’ right, Freya?”
“It’s nothin’, Andrew. Jist go tend tae yer men. I would rather be alone right now,” she stated as she dressed for her morning chores.
“I need a break from those lads. They are drivin’ me mad. I swear they’ll make a vein pop straight oot o’ my heid. Besides, I would rather my eyes were fixated on yer fine figure.”
Andrew rose from the cot in his undergarments and stepped behind Freya as she attempted to dress. He placed his muscular arms around her. He guided his hands down her arms and held her hands to feel her touch.
“I hae been runnin’ ragged tryin’ tae toughen up these lads an’ I hae ignored ye. Fer that, I apologize, my stoater.” He smirked.
“Please, dae no’ call me that. That is what the filthy animal called me.” Freya pulled her arms down to release Andrew’s grip.
“My dear Freya, whit is botherin’ ye? Is it somethin’ I hae done? Will ye please tell me?” Andrew pleaded.
She placed her arisaid on her lap and sighed, exhausted from her restless night.
“Aye, there is somethin’ botherin’ me. Sit doon; I want tae talk with ye.”
A look of concern was painted across Andrew’s face, and he leaned in closely to listen to her.
“Tell me exactly whit ye’re doin’ ‘ere at this village an’ whit yer plans are,” she said with a stern expression.
“Whit are ye insinuatin’, Freya? Ye know my purpose o’ bein’ ‘ere. I am goin’ tae slaughter Donald when the time is right. Ye know this.”
“Ye’re no’ jist usin’ me an’ the village tae claim power fer yoursel’?”
Andrew couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. He paced around the cottage and punched the kitchen table, leaving a crack in the wood.
“How dare ye ask me a question like that? Whit kind o’ man dae ye think I am? A liar? A murderer?”
“I am only—”
“And efter I risked my hide tae rescue ye from that prison. Ye would hae still been in chains if no’ fer me or worse, raped an’ impregnated by that fat bastard,” Andrew reiterated in a fury.
“I only want tae look oot fer my clan. Whit is left o’ it at least.”
“That’s whit I am helpin’ ye with, Freya. I am goin’ tae ensure yer clan an’ my clan survives this ordeal. Dae ye no’ see that?”
Freya sat on the cot in silence, afraid to look Andrew in the eyes. He grasped her by the wrist and pulled her to her feet so she would look him in the eye.
“Why do ye think sae ill o’ me? Answer me!” he shouted.
“Andrew, let go o’ me. That hurts!” She grimaced.
An incensed Andrew released his grip on her wrists, and she fell backward onto the pillow on the cot. His scowl intimidated her, and she was petrified to say another word to him. Annoyed at trying to understand her reasoning, Andrew proceeded to gather his clothes and belongings for another exhausting day of training.
He stepped towards the door and Freya leaped to stop him, fearful of allowing him to leave still fuming from their conversation. She pressed the door closed with both hands as Andrew clasped the handle to go outside.
“Wait, Andrew! I only asked ye a’ that because Sorcha was questionin’ me an’ she placed these horrible thoughts in my mind. They jist would no’ go awa’. Then I had this terrifyin’ nightmare. Falling back asleep was impossible,” she explained as she trembled in nervousness.
“Whit the hell did Sorcha tell ye? Ye know ye can trust me. Why would I risk everythin’ for ye?” he said as he leaned up against the door with his arms crossed.
“It is no’ important. I am past it. I obviously worry a lot.” She laughed.
“Jist tell me whit the lass said. I will talk some sense intae her.”
“Nae, let it go, Andrew. I dae no’ want ye an’ her tae quarrel
. There is enough bad blood with her uncle alone.”
“Oh, that is taken care o’, dear Freya. We are friens now an’ he’s trainin’ with the group.” Andrew laughed.
Freya’s perplexed expression revealed her cluelessness to the situation.
“Ye said ye had a nightmare last night?” he asked while he ran his fingers through her hair. “Are ye a’ right?”
She dropped her head to his chest as the images from her nightmare appeared in her thoughts once more. He kissed her gently on the top of the head to comfort her as he sensed the emotional strain the nightmare caused her.
