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

by Fiona Faris

  “Daen’t be daffy, woman. The lass clearly needs help,” the man snapped and took off Freya’s gag.

  “Why should we trust ye?” the woman quickly asked before Freya spoke. “Ye might be a witch cast upon this land tae fog oor minds an’ cloud oor judgment.”

  “I dae no’ practice ony witchcraft, I swear. I was tied tae this tree by an awful man. He is goin’ tae kill my love if I dae no’ escape,” Freya explained with desperation.

  “Maybe she is truthful. Whit if this lad she speaks o’ is killed because o’ us?” the man asked his wife.

  The woman encircled the tree. She was deep in contemplation of whether or not to believe Freya’s pleas for help. She disappeared from Freya’s sight, and Freya quivered in fear of what to expect from the woman.

  Freya clenched her teeth as she expected the worst, but then the rope fell away from her person. The woman had freed her.

  “Whit are ye standin’ there fer? Help the wee lass tae her feet!” the woman shrieked at the elderly man.

  His arms shook when he reached out to lift Freya to her feet. His hunched back inched over further to grasp Freya underneath her armpits.

  “It is a’ right, bonnie! Take it easy an’ try tae regain yer strength,” he said as Freya unleashed a dry cough.

  She massaged her throat, and the wobbling of her knees subsided as she regained her strength and the blood began to flow evenly throughout her body.

  “This means ye are lettin’ me go? I dae no’ want ye both tae think I am a witch oor will be responsible fer some sort of spell cast upon ye from the forest spirits. I dae no’ practice such nonsense nor dae I believe in it,” Freya told them.

  The elderly couple gazed at one another with soft, warm smiles, and the woman turned towards Freya. “We think ye hae suffered enough, dear. We will handle ony wrath from the spirit o’ this magnificent forest. Ye said ye hae an important person tae save.”

  Freya beamed and thanked them from the bottom of her heart. Then, she darted in the direction of the village.

  Chapter Thirty

  A surge of energy rushed through Freya’s veins as she felt a new sense of purpose overtake her. She desperately wanted her premonitions to be false, but she had an uncanny knack for her hunches being correct. It was a blessing and a curse, but that was beside the point. Andrew and his forces were who knows how far along on their path to Blair Castle.

  The rain ceased, and the sheep grazed in the fields as Freya proceeded to the village. She spotted Sorcha carrying two pails. Freya raced to her friend’s side to inform her about everything that had happened.

  “Freya, dear heavens, whit is the matter with ye? Why dae ye look sae disheveled?” Sorcha asked.

  Freya bent over to catch her breath. “How lang ago did Andrew an’ his army leave? ‘tis a matter o’ life an’ death.”

  “Not tae lang ago,” Sorcha replied.

  “I hae tae save Andrew afore either o’ those two brutes get their filthy hands on him!”

  “What dae ye mean ‘they’?”

  “Rory! He is plannin’ on murderin’ Andrew at the battle sae Andrew an’ Donald both lay slain. That way he becomes chief o’ the clan,” Freya enlightened Sorcha.

  “That bastard! An’ we let him live amang us in the village. I wish I could strangle him this instant.”

  “My thoughts exactly, dear Sorcha. That is why I must find a way tae warn Andrew.” Freya surveyed the village to craft a plan.

  A noise at the far end of the village could be heard, and Freya stared in its direction. She focused on it more, and a brilliant strategy came to mind. She recognized the faint whinnying of her favorite colt in the stable. She trudged toward the stable and was elated to discover that the colt was one of the two horses left behind.

  “I had a feelin’ ye would be left ‘ere, handsome. Ye hae no’ quite grown intae the size o’ a stallion, but I know ye hae the strength tae ride into the Highlands and back,” Freya stated as she ran her fingers through its coarse mane. “We hae tae save Andrew. He is in imminent danger. Dae ye understand?”.

  The colt neighed with what Freya perceived as excitement. It raised his hooves in the air, shook its tail with force, and created an uproar Freya was not used to witnessing.

  Sorcha followed Freya into the stable and chuckled.

  “Are ye sure he has even run with a rider on his back? What if he bucks ye aff, Freya? Ye could break yer neck,” Sorcha said.

  “I dae no’ care, Sorcha! I already informed ye o’ the situation an’ I cannae afford tae waste a single second more. I hae tae move fast if I want tae catch up with the battalion. They will surely rest a night since it is a two-day journey tae reach Blair Castle. I will hae tae ride during the night tae catch ‘em.”

  “Freya, ye cannae go alone. It’s tae dangerous. Jist let me fetch yer mither tae discuss it more.”

  However, the moment Sorcha turned her back, Freya mounted the colt.

  “Tell my mither I love her very much, but I dae no’ hae time tae say goodbye,” Freya shouted before she rode into the woodlands after the battalion.

  Freya whispered into her colt’s ears to motivate him to keep his frantic pace. She determined that the only feasible time to stop on her journey would be to allow her horse a chance to eat and refuel on energy.

  They trekked out of the woodlands, and the view of the valley was in the distance. The dark clouds had yet to disperse from the sky, and Freya interpreted it as a warning of dire events to come.

  Freya’s colt kicked up muddy water from the earlier rain and drops of mud spattered across her arisaid. She refused to allow the colt to slow his pace, but it did not appear to desire to stop anyway.

  They came across a path with a pair of hills at the end, and Freya knew them all too well. The path they currently trekked led to the remains of Kellie Castle and the surrounding villages of the Erskine clan. Freya refused to show any emotion and maintained a neutral expression as they crept closer to the ruins of the castle.

  Her colt stopped in the middle of his tracks when they arrived at the hill which would take them directly adjacent to the castle. Freya turned in the direction of the ruins of Kellie Castle which were no longer smoldering since the fire had ceased burning long ago. The remainder of the roof had caved in, and only the first floor of the castle survived the fire when it was ransacked. She briefly imagined the castle restored to its former glory, and she prayed it would be a reality her and Andrew could experience together. Andrew might have possessed intentions to rebuild the castle out of guilt, but Freya desired to see much more out of the castle’s rise from the dead.

  Freya went along the path from the castle which led to her village, and the tower of bodies Donald once stacked to intimidate onlookers was now a pile of bones. The flesh had decomposed to become one with the earth. She was relieved she did not have to witness the gruesomeness of it again.

  Nevertheless, the images of the run-down castle that once stood proudly above the horizon were torture inside Freya’s mind. She could not stay here or at her childhood village at the base of the hill without becoming emotional. A tear trickled down her cheek, and she commanded her horse to gallop onward so she could not bear witness to these painful memories that still haunted her.

  Freya allowed her colt to get a much-deserved drink of water from the river that traversed alongside the hills that ascended into the Highlands. Flashbacks raced through her mind of her capture by the Murray brutes while she was beside this very river. She possessed the ability to relive that horrific night inside her mind over and over again. Not only could she remember images of the kidnapping in her memory, but her senses seemed to remember occurrences from that night.

  She could still smell the foul body odor of her captors, she could hear the flow of the river as she was carried away in the middle of the night, and she could taste the cloth of the gag shoved into her mouth. The flashbacks were a cruel reminder of the suffering she had been put through at the hands of the Murrays. It was still
impossible for her to wrap her mind around how a noble warrior like Andrew could be from the same clan.

  The colt, which showed no signs of tiredness, neighed and bumped Freya in the waist with its snout. Freya’s emotionless stare turned into a bright smile, and she massaged it behind its ears since she knew it comforted the horse.

  Their break time had come to an end, and Freya mounted the colt to begin their journey towards the Highland boundary and onwards to Blair Castle. Freya had no doubt that the battalion had already entered the valley due to horse tracks in the soil.

  Freya rode on for hours as the remaining sunlight faded behind gray clouds cast over the region. She surveyed the rocky hillsides and the flat, grassy sections in the center of the valley, but there was no encampment to be found.

  Suddenly, the colt’s legs buckled and its back dipped sharply, nearly flinging Freya forward over its head. A few moments later the same motion occurred and Freya draped her arms around the colt’s neck to prevent herself from plunging face first into the grass.

  “Whit is wrang with ye?” Freya asked as she climbed down.

  The colt lowered its hind legs to the ground and fell to its side. At first, Freya thought it was injured, but could see no wound, so knew it was just exhaustion.

  “Fine, go ahead an’ rest a while. We will camp ‘ere briefly, but we cannae fer tae lang. We hae tae make up ground intae the night,” Freya said.

  Freya snuggled beside the horse, and as the sun faded, she started to shiver from the cooling air. However, she managed to doze off, and when she awoke again, she felt much better for it.

  The clouds had drifted away, and the moon was full. Freya hurried to get the colt back on its feet. She caressed its head and neck and fed it clumps of nearby grass and hay she had tied to a sack on the saddle.

  “Are ye ready? I need ye tae take us up tae the Highlands tonight. Can ye dae that fer me?” Freya asked the colt, and it neighed.

  Freya looked into the distance. She squinted in all four directions when she realized something horrific… she could not see the path to Blair Castle.

  Follow the river… but where is it? she asked herself.

  She struggled to make sense of any direction since she was blinded to all landmarks around her. Time was of the essence to leave immediately if she was going to reach Andrew and his soldiers before the battle.

  Freya felt a nudge on her backside and turned around to find the colt trying to yank her away. Trusting her instincts, she mounted the horse again, and it instantly galloped off.

  “Easy boy! Easy now!” she shouted.

  Her efforts to control it were futile as they continued to race through the open valley underneath the full moon. She closed her eyes and uttered a prayer that the colt would lead her to her love’s strong, masculine arms.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  The Highland Boundary, Central Scotland, the following day

  The morning sun rose over the horizon. A red glow was cast through small patches of clouds in the sky, and the red tint overlooked the mountains of the Highlands. Andrew stared at the radiant color of the sky.

  “This shall be a day o’ much blood. I wish it weren’t sae, but that is the price we must pay,” Andrew said to Rory who stood beside him.

  “Aye. This shall be a historic day fer oor clan,” Rory responded, with a sharp grin behind Andrew’s back.

  “Let us gather the men an’ complete oor mission tae Blair Castle. The more sunlight we hae, the better odds fer victory.”

  “How right ye are, my frien’.”

  Andrew and his army had slept the night at the Highland boundary. Andrew craved to attack with as much surprise as possible to avoid more casualties. His primary goal was to eliminate Donald and as few Murrays as possible.

  “If ye hae ony last prayers, lads, then I suggest ye say them now. Once we arrive at Blair Castle, the battle will be upon us,” Andrew announced.

  The warriors gathered their weapons and prepared for the final stage of their journey. The tint in the sky had transformed into a bloodshot red, and it troubled many of the warriors who believed in its troublesome origins.

  “We are fightin’ underneath these clouds? This cannae be a good omen,” one of the warriors said.

  “Take nae notice o’ the clouds!” another soldier told him. “We create oor own fate, an’ this day, we fight fer oor freedom.”

  A chorus of “Aye,” rippled through the men.

  Andrew prepared to begin his march forward through the Highland boundary, onto Blair Castle, when something stopped his pace.

  There was a large, gray stone on top of a hill along the boundary, and standing on the stone was Donald, with his broadsword in his right hand and his dirk in his left. His hair blew in the swift breeze which picked up intensity.

  Donald stared directly at Andrew with a terrifying grin.

  “Andrew o’ clan Murray,” Donald shouted, his voice clearly carrying through the air. “Ye hae made a foolish mistake an’ ye shall pay fer the crimes ye are aboot tae commit in yer own blood. The blood o’ a’ yer men shall be spilled fer their treachery tae their chief. Whit hae ye got tae say fer yersel’? Ye ran aff with my hoor an’ then I hear o’ this plan tae murder me an’ become chief. Ye fool an’ traitor indeed!”

  Andrew was stunned when Donald proclaimed he was aware of his scheme to overthrow him and become chief of the clan. He had trained his army a great distance away from the Highlands. How could he have possibly found out about this plan? Did one of the Murrays betray him like Freya had warned? Andrew skimmed through the various possibilities in his mind, but it was pointless. Donald was here and knew everything.

  “Ye are the traitor, Donald! I cannae stand by an’ witness yer bloody hands get away with murder time an’ time again. I vowed tae vanquish ye sae nae ither clan oor village suffers from a monster such as yersel’ ever again,” Andrew shouted back.

  Once Andrew recollected his composure, he laughed at Donald’s remarks. Donald had not been the chief of clan Murray for long, but this was the first time Andrew had spoken to him in such a way since he had become chief. He was never once in his life scared of Donald. He possessed the confidence to defeat Donald in a one-on-one duel, and he knew that is what it would take to relinquish his rule over the clan.

  Andrew and Donald’s duel was inevitable, and Andrew knew it as much as he wished it did not have to come down to such drastic measures.

  From behind Donald, the Murrays made their grand entrance over the hill which marked the beginning of the Highlands. Andrew shook his head in disappointment that so many of the Murray clan members were still disillusioned by Donald.

  “They only obey yer orders due tae yer use o’ fear, Donald! Withoot yer brute strength tae intimidate ‘em, ye hae nothin’!”

  “Yet ye are the one who fights his own clan. Whit a shame. I pity ye, Andrew,” Donald replied.

  “Please, my fellow Murrays, understand that this animal will stop at nothin’ tae rape, torture, an’ kill every clan in this region besides oors. It is simply no’ right fer us tae slaughter these ither clans an’ take their lasses simply because we lost oors. Look around ye! Yer brothers hae joined me in this fight. I urge ye tae dae the same,” Andrew shouted to his former clansmen.

  Andrew and Donald jostled back and forth in attempts to persuade opposing fighters to join their legion, but not one fighter switched their allegiance.

  The battle was about to begin.

  * * *

  In the midst of the valley, Freya’s colt continued to trot parallel to the river as the storm clouds diverged upon them. She had fallen asleep atop her colt for hours and was thus oblivious to the fact that he had trekked all the way to the Highland boundary.

  She awoke and rubbed the dust from her eyes.

  “Where are we?” Freya asked the colt and panned her surroundings.

  To her relief, the area seemed familiar. The winding river… She praised the heavens! She had found the path to Blair Castle. However,
there was no sign of Andrew or his army. She grunted and whipped the reigns of her colt to command him to sprint down the valley.

  Freya kept her eyes peeled for any sign of Andrew. After twenty minutes of furious riding, the colt slowed to catch its breath and Freya sobbed, thinking she would be too late.

  In between her sobs, she overheard faint voices straight ahead and veered her colt towards the edge of the valley. She squinted ahead at the cliff and observed a large assortment of men separated into two groups. Freya gasped when she spotted Donald on top of the cliff straight ahead.

  At the peak of the hill above where Freya stood, an intense staredown occurred between Andrew and Donald. The tension between the two highly regarded Murray fighters reached tipping point. Warriors from both armies watched their leaders in anticipation of their next move.