Abduction 0f A Highland Rose (Tales 0f Blair Castle Book 1)

by Fiona Faris

  “It was awful, Andrew! I dreamed the village was burned doon. I saw my mither’s burnt corpse, an’ ye were responsible fer a’ o’ it.”

  “No wonder ye asked me a’ those preposterous questions. That would hae scared the daylights oot o’ me too,” Andrew said, shocked to hear about the details of her night terror.

  Freya’s arms were covered in goose bumps from being in her undergarments. Andrew massaged her arms and wrapped her in his coat to warm her body. He walked towards the cot to grab her arisaid when a flying object raced through the opening beside the kitchen. Andrew and Freya collapsed to the ground where they stood, startled by what turned out to be a large stone flung into their cottage.

  “Get oot ‘ere, Andrew!” a voice shouted from outside.

  Andrew and Freya stared at each other. One by one, more stones were pelted inside the cottage.

  “Come ootside an’ face me, Andrew. I hae a score tae settle with ye!”

  “Whit is this lad ragin’ aboot?” Andrew questioned.

  “Go ootside an’ find oot. It’s ye he wants,” Freya instructed as Andrew skidded on his belly to the front door.

  Andrew clutched his broadsword which leaned against the wall beside the door and slowly turned the door handle. He pushed his weight up with his sword as leverage and ran outside of the cottage to confront their attacker.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Andrew cast the door ajar and sprinted outside to avoid being pelted with a plethora of stones.

  “Show yerself ye coward an’ face me like a man,” he shouted as he ran across the pastures.

  “Stop an’ face me, Andrew,” the voice instructed him.

  Andrew veered toward the direction of the voice and was rather annoyed to discover the culprit behind this cowardly attack. The voice belonged to the skilled lad Andrew had taken under his wing in preparation for their attack.

  “Have ye doonright lost yer mind. Why are ye showerin’ my cottage with stones?” Andrew questioned him.

  “Ye lied tae me, Andrew! Ye said we would be learnin’ tae use the sword an’ sae much more. Weeks hae flown by an’ I hae tasted nothin’ but these wood weapons. Where are the real swords at? I demand ye tae teach me!” he commanded.

  Andrew burst out with laughter. The lad glared at him and chucked another stone at Andrew in retaliation. This stone posed no threat to Andrew as he deflected it away with the use of his broadsword.

  “Ye want tae learn swordsmanship sae bad? Come here then. I will show ye up close, ye impatient lout.”

  Andrew marched towards the lad to grab an extra sword from his stash he stored in hiding from his soldiers in training.

  He trekked out of the barn with one broadsword in each hand to see the youth standing only a few steps away from him, a stone in his hand.

  “First o’ a’, drop the stone right now! If ye want tae fight with steel weapons, then that is what we will dae,” Andrew said while he organized their fighting equipment.

  He shoved the handle of the sword against the lad’s chest.

  “Whit are ye doin’? This is no’ whit I had in mind. Please, no’ like this,” he begged Andrew.

  Andrew’s sword lunged toward the lad, and he nearly pierced his abdomen before his thrust was deflected away. He was vicious in his attack and did not let up in his onslaught of the impatient lad. The strength of Andrew’s blows knocked the lad’s sword clean out of his grip.

  “Ye must fight with more resilience than this afore ye are ready tae face a Murray. They will rip ye apart at this sign o’ weakness,” Andrew declared.

  Their duel turned into a chase as the lad could not take Andrew’s power and ferocity any further. Andrew chased him through the fields, around the barns, and through the maze of the woods adjacent to the village.

  “Ye cannae run forever, ye wee loon. Ye must come oot an’ face me like a man at some point,” Andrew jeered.

  The lad grew furious at Andrew’s mocking of him, and he twisted around to face his wrath. He anticipated Andrew’s next move, and he maneuvered to his right as the attack originated from his left. He dodged the stab of Andrew’s sword, and he lunged forward to pierce his adversary.

  His thrust proved to be too slow, and he exposed his neck and torso for an easy counterattack. The experienced fighter dove in for the kill shot and plunged his sword toward his young opponent’s neck. Inches from the lad’s neck, Andrew ceased his attack and shoved him onto the ground. He steadied his broadsword alongside the chin of his opponent and signaled his victory in their duel.

  “Ye are no’ ready fer the fight. Ye still hae much tae learn,” Andrew stated as he shook his head in disappointment. “Return yer sword tae the barn an’ report for trainin’.”

  Humbled by his defeat to the more experienced swordsmen, the lad conceded to Andrew’s demands and moped to the barn like a scorned pup.

  Andrew gathered his troops along the edge of the forest and gave a lengthy speech to summarize the improvement of their skills or lack thereof. The lad brave enough to duel him refused to remove his eyes from the ground, still embarrassed from his defeat earlier in the morning.

  After he preached to the group for nearly half an hour, Andrew paired up his soldiers to sharpen their close quarter combat skills. He studied their defense movements and their counterattacks to utilize against their enemies.

  His antipathy grew, and he seethed at every misplaced thrust, weak counterattack, and sluggish maneuver. He scanned the fighters with his hands crossed, too infuriated to teach the proper skills. He had preached the same methods nonstop for weeks now, but many of them displayed the same mistakes time and time again. He witnessed three consecutive swords crash to the earth, and that was the final straw.

  “Right, enough. I hae had it with this amateur display. Trainin’ is o’er. Ye are a’ dismissed fer taeday,” he said with a grumble and marched back toward his cottage.

  The soldiers all stood around speechless to the abandonment of their instructor.

  Andrew slammed shut the door to his cottage and frightened Freya half to death. He searched for his travel sack and prepared himself supplies for another journey.

  “Where on earth are ye goin’? Why are ye not oot there trainin’?” Freya questioned.

  “The ineptitude o’ those dunderheids is enough tae make me want tae rip my own heid aff. If I take these soldiers tae battle against my clan, they will be torn tae shreds. I would be guidin’ them tae their own deaths. It would be less painful tae walk them up tae the peak of Beinn Nibheis an’ let them leap aff the cliff.”

  “Nae need tae exaggerate. It cannae be that bad,” Freya responded.

  “If ye dae no’ believe me, then ye go train their arses,” Andrew reiterated as he walked to the door.

  “Where dae ye think ye are goin’? Get back oot there an’ be a leader. Ye are the one who said ye wanted tae be chief o’ the clan,” Freya said in a useless effort to persuade him to stay.

  “With these ladies? I daen’t think so. I am aff tae find better warriors than the scraps the last village offered me. I dae no’ care if I hae tae travel tae the coast an’ back.”

  Andrew packed extra clothing and food for his heat of the moment decision to embark on another harrowing journey through the valleys of the lowlands. Freya insisted he stay, but her words ran through one ear and straight out the other. His stubbornness was on full display as he lost patience with his current group of fighters.

  He saddled his horse and ventured through the woodlands to reach the fields which stretched further than the sunlight could touch.

  Freya trudged back inside the cottage and pounded the kitchen table in anger at Andrew’s petulance. She had a strange intuition that their time to ready a battalion was nearing a close. She hypothesized it was simply a matter of due time before Donald would lead the Murray clan back to the lowlands and wreak havoc on the region again. If Andrew’s soldiers were not prepared to face the Murray fighters, it would surely be the end of their days on Earth. Fre
ya was unsure how long to expect Andrew to be gone. He was such a reckless character sometimes that Freya never knew what outcome to expect.

  Andrew’s horse galloped into the sunset as the purple tint returned to highlight the sky. He pushed his trusted horse to transport them as far as possible by the time nightfall engulfed the region.

  By nightfall, he remained livid from the day’s events and sleeping was an impossible task. He remained awake the duration of the night as thoughts of Freya and taking control of his clan filled his mind.

  Andrew blazed past the village which denied him higher quality fighters and gave them the youngest and least skilled of their bunch. He purposely chose not to glance at the village as his horse carried him forward further into the vast array of fields.

  He explored regions of the lowlands he thought he would never get to experience in his life. The assortment of meadows and valleys that stretched underneath the horizon was just as breathtaking as the mountains in his home in the Highlands. A smile grew on his face when he spotted a castle and numerous surrounding villages nestled beside a giant loch. The water was a shade of deep blue which reminded him of Freya’s piercing blue eyes.

  Andrew postponed his venture into the next villages until the following morning to gain an adequate night’s sleep. He said his prayers to reel in a wondrous group of highly skilled fighters if it was the last thing he accomplished on this Earth.

  He went straight to the castle which overlooked the loch to make a valiant plea to their chief, but he refused to budge on the issue at hand.

  “I refuse tae involve my clan with ony conflict where oor people are no’ in direct danger. That is precisely whit yer little charade will cause. We will be dragged tae yer brawl an’ will be forced tae choose sides an’ therefore an enemy o’ oor clan will be born. Our clan has been independent fer decades an’ it will remain that way,” the chief explained to him.

  Andrew turned his attention to the three villages adjacent to the loch to see if they had any able-bodied men who possessed the wits and skills necessary to take on a Murray.

  Andrew would be turned away at all three villages as they were clueless about the conflict.

  “Whit is troublesome aboot formin’ an alliance? Dae they no’ understand that once I defeat this wicked ruler, both clans will share an alliance? There are nae sides tae choose from,” he said to himself, in an effort to make sense of their resounding answers of ‘no’ to his pleas of assistance.

  Andrew guided his horse alongside a river, and they trotted downstream hoping to find further villages beside the fresh body of water. His hope paid off after a few hours of riding as a village whose houses were aligned in the shape of a crescent moon through the blanket of fog that filled the air.

  Andrew’s unexpected arrival frightened the inhabitants of the village, and they scurried inside their homes when he approached. He pounded on every door of the village, but it looked as if they were collectively determined to shun him.

  “Please, ye hae tae help me! We are a’ in danger o’ an imminent invasion by a dangerous Highland clan,” he informed the village elders.

  His pleas were rejected again, and he left the village.

  The frustration heightened for Andrew as two additional villages denied his requests to provide fighters to assist in his battle. At that point, Andrew’s spirits waned, and all hope that any village would offer him an assortment of warriors to fight alongside him vanished.

  He directed his horse to begin the lengthy journey back home since he’d failed at his task to recruit soldiers he believed were better equipped to handle hand-to-hand combat. He deliberated on the options he had before him as he ventured back to the Erskine village.

  He certainly did not want to drag his current group of fighters into the battle with him as it meant almost certain defeat. He held onto slight hope that Rory would come through for him and have convinced a significant number of Murrays to follow in his footsteps to salvage the clan’s name. If that did not happen, Andrew contemplated a final option of ditching his plan entirely. That would be the final choice to be removed from the table if fate led Andrew to make that decision. He yearned with a desire to overthrow Donald by any means necessary, but he did not have it in his heart to lead his present assortment of fighters to a guaranteed death.

  Andrew considered all the possibilities as his next move, both desirable and unfavorable, as his horse meandered across the open field in the direction of his temporary home.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Blair Castle

  Back at Blair Castle, Rory waited for the opportune moment to lead away the defectors of Donald’s reign over the Murray clan. He’d secretly gathered eight Murrays whose sentiment against Donald was similar to that of Andrew’s. Rory initiated their plan of escape after he met with Donald, who remained ambitious in his quest to make Andrew pay the ultimate price for taking his prized prisoner.

  Rory entered Donald’s quarters and presented a group who would be bestowed an important mission for the chief.

  “Chief, I hae assembled a search team tae track doon the whereaboots o’ Andrew,” Rory announced to him.

  “Excellent. I thank ye fer takin’ action,” Donald replied. “When I get my hands on that coward, he will wish he had ne’er been born intae this clan.”

  “We will take tae all regions tae hunt him doon an’ bring him tae ye in order fer him tae meet his demise with the edge o’ yer broadsword.”

  “Aye! The sooner ye depart, the better!”

  Rory collected all the members of his “search party”, and they journeyed towards the Highland border in a daring mission to locate Andrew, wherever he might be.

  “Where dae ye think is the best place tae look fer him?” one of the clansmen asked Rory. “He is yer closest frien’, is he no’?”

  Rory considered all the possibilities of where Andrew might have ventured.

  “Andrew is a passionate an’ considerate lad, sae I know he would hae wanted tae take the stoater tae where she felt most comfortable… tae the lowlands, her hame. Ye an’ I both know her village was destroyed, sae they must be somewhere in the surroundin’ area from the demolished castle,” Rory explained.

  The collection of Murray warriors rode for countless hours through the valley along the river. A mist filled the air around them, which made their vision slightly tarnished as they peered into the distance. They had all been down this path before – on that bloody day they decimated the Erskine clan. Everyone in the group remained silenced and focused on the task at hand to locate Andrew and coordinate their next move.

  * * *

  After a day’s journey with little rest, the exhausted warriors surveyed the village they’d ransacked weeks ago.

  “It is completely deserted. Are ye sure Andrew would hae taken her in this direction?” another warrior questioned Rory.

  “I am sure o’ it. I know him an’ I how he would treat a stoater,” Rory stated as he surveyed the village.

  Rory searched the entire surroundings for any minor trace to prove that Andrew had brought the rescued prisoner here. He explored inside cottages and panned through the grassy meadow to see if any items of interest were left behind, and for any witnesses who might have seen the pair.

  With his canny tracker’s eye, he identified strands of hair from a horse’s mane. Rory recalled Andrew had taken his black stallion when he freed Freya. He knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that the hairs were from the same stallion. Therefore, Andrew had passed through this way.

  “Follow me up the hill towards the castle. He was ‘ere; I am sure o’ it,” he announced to the group.

  The others looked at each other, their expressions hesitant.

  “How the hell daes he know Andrew passed through ‘ere? Is he a wizard?” one of them whispered.

  They all chuckled.

  Rory analyzed the scorched remnants of Kellie Castle with the same manner he did the village. He searched inside and outside of the castle. The rest of the fi
ghters did nothing but watch.

  “What should we dae? I feel useless standin’ ‘ere?” one voice said behind Rory.

  “Daen’t ye worry. Rory is a shrewd lout,” another joked in response.

  Rory ignored the chatter and attempted to spot more horse hair – since that was his previous clue. A different sign presented itself when he observed a disturbance in the grassy meadow, which led towards the woodlands beyond the castle. He finally spotted indentions on the ground, highlighting a clear path through the forest. It was obvious that a large animal with horse-shaped hooves was responsible for the imprints.

  “Sae that is where ye went, didn’t ye, frien’,” Rory said to himself. “This way, men! Through the forest!”