by Barbara Bard
“We live in a time of peace, Finlay,” Gavina said. “Our alliance with Lord Torstein—”
“Is fragile at best. We live day tae day. Ye ken that.”
Gavina placed a hand on Finlay’s shoulder. “Finlay,” she said, “I ken that ye are worried about the clan’s safety. It is only natural. But rest assured I will perform me duties diligently when the time arises.”
Finlay hung his head and shook it. “Gavina,” he said. “I worry about ye. Truly.”
He then turned and returned to the Bairdsmen and went about instructing them about the best methods to utilize the bow and arrow. Gavina watched him as he went about leading the warriors, chagrined at the fact that a man she had come to call a brother was so disappointed in her methods. But she knew in her heart that no other warrior could best her. She was confident—but perhaps more than she should have been.
Chapter 2
Lord Torstein looked outside the window of his chambers down at the courtyard where over fifty knights set about training. He sighed. He had lost count of how many days had passed since he formed his secret alliance with the Bairds.
He knew that it had been a number of years since the king assigned Sir Jessup, his most lethal and revered of knights, to join alongside him in the Highlands to dispatch of the Baird clan after the brutal warfare that had occurred at the hands of the now deceased Lord Henry.
As the days past and no progress was made in discovering their whereabouts—a very much intentional move by Lord Torstein—he knew that the time was drawing near that Sir Jessup would become wise to his ruse and discover the secret pact he had struggled for years now to maintain. But Lord Torstein had a plan in place now, a method to try and maintain that peace—and it came in the form of the man currently standing outside the door to his chambers.
A knock sounded at his door. “Come in,” Lord Torstein said, not bothering to turn around.
The door opened, and a raven-haired man in his mid-20s entered. His armor was shined to a slick polish, resting on top of a blue tunic. His facial features were sharp and handsome, and he sported an optimistic look that Lord Torstein had seen in himself so many years ago.
“You called on me, my lord?” the man said.
Lord Torstein turned and smiled. “Christian,” he said. “Please. Come in.”
Christian closed the door and stood at attention. “How can I be of assistance, Lord Torstein?”
“Ever dutiful you are, Christian. I fear that you perform your duties to a degree that is much more than I deserved.”
Christian shook his head. “I serve you, my lord. You and the crown.”
Lord Torstein motioned to a wooden chair near. “Please. Sit.”
Christian sat; his eyes wide with anticipation. Lord Torstein couldn’t help but smile at the young man’s tenacity.
Lord Torstein then gestured to a flagon of wine on the table. “Would you care for a drink?”
Christian shook his head. “I do not partake, my lord. I feel it dulls the senses.”
“Give it time, my good man. I said the same thing at your age.” He folded his hands in front of him. “In fact, there is much about you that I see in myself.”
“What do you mean, my lord?”
“You are very much as I was at your age—hopeful, optimistic, striving to do the right thing.”
“I try my best, my lord.”
“And you do it well…” Lord Torstein drew a breath. “Tell me—what is your opinion of this campaign that Sir Jessup and I have embarked on for several years now?”
Christian shrugged and worried that this was a test. “I have only been here several months, my lord. I am merely following orders.”
Lord Torstein waved his hand like he was brushing the issue aside. “That is not what I meant. I speak to your personal convictions. I inquire as to your honest opinion of this campaign to rid these lands of the Highlanders.”
Christian shifted his weight, a tad bit nervous that his reply would elicit a dire response. “As I said, I follow the orders of the crown. Though…”
Lord Torstein flexed his brow—Continue.
“I worry,” Christian continued, “that…destroying the Highlanders as Sir Jessup has commanded we do is a bit…savage.”
A nod from Lord Torstein. “I believe the same,” he said. “I have never agreed with the king’s orders to wipe out the natives of this land.”
“It just does not seem right to me. If the king wishes to rule the land, I have no quarrel. But I do not relish the idea of wiping out a civilization in order to accomplish that. I do not think that is a proper method to establish a lasting peace. Violence merely breeds more violence.”
Lord Torstein took a beat. “I want to tell you something, and your response to what I will reveal will determine everything that follows. Do you understand?”
Christian swallowed his fears. “I understand…”
Lord Torstein faced the window once more and looked down into the courtyard. “You know of the clan we seek, yes?”
A nod. “The Baird clan, my lord.”
“And we have struggled for quite some time to find their location, yes?”
“Yes, my lord.”
Lord Torstein turned around. “What if I told you that we have not been able to locate them because I have made it my intention that their location remains a secret?”
The color drained from Christian’s chiseled and handsome face. “I…I do not understand.”
Lord Torstein lowered his voice. “Many years ago,” he said, “I formed a pact with the Baird clan to offer them protection from the crown so they could live in peace. I, like you, grew troubled at the king’s methods of dealing with the Highlanders, so I set about creating a secret truce to help the Highlanders establish a village that they could dwell in. Peacefully.
“However, I fear that Sir Jessup grows suspicious of this, and I feel the time has come to send word to the Bairds in order to stay a step ahead of whatever Sir Jessup’s intentions may be.”
Christian was silent for a long moment as he digested the information. “This information is tantamount to treason, my lord.”
Lord Torstein nodded. “Indeed it is. Which is why I am curious as to your response in the matter, to everything that I have told you.”
“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous at what my answer will elicit.”
“I have no doubt.” Lord Torstein approached Christian and got down on one knee.
“But I would not have told you this if I didn’t think I trusted you. I know you, Christian. I’ve seen how you are around the others. You’re not like them. You’re kind. Caring. You possess an empathy that most of our fellow countrymen lack, and that is why I am telling you all of this.”
Christian hung his head. He knew he wasn’t like the other knights. He was kind. He was caring. He had stopped so many men from needlessly killing other Highlanders that he had earned a reputation as being unreliable, a knight serving in the back of the lines who fetched more food and water than he did yield his sword, though he was a skillful swordsman.
“I do not relish war, my lord,” he said, his gaze meeting Torstein’s. “I strive for peace. I only take up arms against those who wish to do me harm.”
“And you do not believe,” Lord Torstein said, “that the Highlanders wish this upon you?”
Christian shook his head. “Not as Sir Jessup would lead me to believe, my lord.”
“Then what say you to the prospect of meeting with the Bairds to inform them that Sir Jessup intends to mount his offense within the coming days?”
Christian took a pause. “It is quite a responsibility, my lord. I do not know if I am the man qualified for the task.”
“But you are. You see things as I do. We seem to be the only men here who strive for peace, and the time has come to help preserve the peace I have established with the Bairds. As I said—time is running short.”
“How so, my lord?” Christian asked as Lord Torstein moved back to the
window.
Lord Torstein sighed. “Sir Jessup, as I stated before, has grown weary with my lack of progress in finding the Baird clan. Again, this has been a deliberate move on my end. But by misdirection with this campaign has caused him to turn a curious eye in my direction. That coupled with pressures from the king have led Sir Jessup to set about an assault through the Highlands.”
He closed his eyes in terror. “One in which he plans on burning and ravaging every Highlander village until he finds the Bairds and disposes of them for good.”
Christian felt as if the air had been snatched out of his lungs. “A ghastly proposition that is, my lord.”
“Which is why we must find and warn the Bairds before it happens. They need to know that the time has come for them to make a stand. The time has come for them to once again defend their peace.” He turned to Christian.
“I need you to go to them. I will give you their location in the Highlands. It is two days ride from here. Your presence will not be missed because of how you have been shunned by Sir Jessup. Between that and your loyalty and strive for peace, I believe that this makes you the most suitable candidate for the job. Only if you agree to the task, of course.”
It took a long moment for Christian to answer. The weight of the responsibility weighed heavy on his heart. He did want to do good. He did want to bring a lasting peace to this land, and the proposition that Lord Torstein had presented to him felt like the first step that led in that direction.
He stood, nodding to Lord Torstein before replying: “I will do it. I will undertake this task.”
Lord Torstein smiled a rested a palm on the young knight’s shoulder. “I knew you were the one to do this, Christian. You will be a great asset in the coming days.”
He gestured to a table with a map. “I will show you the location of where the Bairds reside. You will leave tonight at nightfall.”
He produced a piece of rolled up parchment and placed it in Christian’s hands.
“This is the message you will give them. Be sure to tell them upon your arrival that you are a representative of Lord Torstein.” He produced a blue flower and placed it in Christian’s tunic. “This is my sign. This will tell them that you are not a threat when they see you.”
Christian drew an anticipatory breath. “I will not let you down, my lord.”
Lord Torstein smiled. “I know, my dear boy…I know.”
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Highlander’s Revenge -A Preview
Chapter 1
Alastar pinched himself to convince himself that he was not dreaming. Being isolated in captivity had played with his mind, but now that the fresh air was on his body again and he could breathe in the scents of the outside world, he was feeling more like his old self and was thankful that he had managed to keep hold of a shred of his sanity.
Alastar stretched his legs as he looked around at the natural world, a sight he had not seen in years. He relished being free and wished that he could have thanked Declan and Catherine more fully. He was sure that the two of them would have a good life together, if they made it back to the Highlands safely. They were well-suited, and Declan seemed to have a good future ahead of him. In some ways, Declan reminded Alastar of his own father, a devout and dutiful man who carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, a weight that was Alastar's to carry now.
When Declan had been placed into the prison with him, Alastar pitied the young man. He seemed afraid and unsure of himself. Alastar didn't think he would last long, but the young man had proven resourceful and managed to escape, returning to the Highlands to send word of Lord Flynn's planned attack.
There was much that Alastar didn't understand, such as how a man like Declan and Lord Flynn's daughter had met and developed such a bond that she was willing to set them free and flee with him to the Highlands, but he was glad that the magic happened because he was finally able to stretch his legs and be a part of the world again.
The plan for their escape had been daring. He and Declan had been ushered out quickly. There had been no time to get his revenge on Lord Flynn. Declan and Catherine had gone back to the Highlands as soon as possible.
He hoped that he would see Declan again, to thank him properly. Alastar had been tempted to return to the Highlands, to see the land of his birth, but there was much business Alastar had yet to do in England.
Firstly, he had to make sure nobody followed Declan and Catherine. He wanted to make sure they got away safely. A wagon in the night may have raised some suspicion, and if anyone gave pursuit they would soon catch up with the fleeing pair. Declan had tried to make Alastar go with him, but Alastar knew what he needed to do.
His body ached, and he straightened his back, avoiding the stoop he had developed over the years in prison. He was still a young man, although he was not sure how many years had passed exactly. The days and nights blended into one while stuck in the dungeon. It was a wonder he hadn’t lost his mind, but as he was now free he felt the strength slowly return to his limbs.
The years had not been kind to Alastar, but he had nurtured a growing resentment and festering need for revenge for the entirety of his captivity. He hadn't been completely honest with Declan when the young lad had asked him how he had survived all this time. Alastar's mind was a dark place, filled with thoughts of vengeance against the man who had sentenced him to a lifetime of imprisonment, and against the man who had killed his father.
That last day of freedom lived long in his mind. He and his father had been defending a small village near the Lowlands.. They had a simple way of life. Being farmers they did not possess the skills needed to defend themselves, so the Blue Thistle would defend them.
The English had come loud and brash, claiming that the land was their own and the Highlanders should move. Of course, the Highlanders did not want to do that. This was their home, and they felt that nobody had a right to ask them to leave, certainly not the English. But the English were hungry, greedy. They wanted more, and they wanted to drive the Highlanders away.
It would have been a slaughter had it happened, but Alastar and his father prevented it. The fight was long and hard, for the English did not give up easily. Alastar and his father had not been used to defeat, but it had to come to every man at some point in his life, and that day was dark for the both of them.
They managed to fight back most of the English, but the price they extracted was a heavy one. The Blue Thistle had been killed. The men, led by Athelred Flynn, never usually took prisoners, but he had made an exception in Alastar’s case Alastar had been forced to watch as his father had been killed and the farm was burned, razed to the ground. He could still hear the screams of the victims in his mind, pleading for salvation, only finding it in death.
Alastar had thought that his life was going to be forfeit as well, but Athelred Flynn had bitter plans for him. The Blue Thistle had plagued him in the war, so it gave him great satisfaction to know that the man was finally dead, and that he now held his son as prisoner. For his greatest revenge, he said that he was going to ensure that nobody remembered Alastar, that he would do nothing of note in his life, and spend the days that remained in the dungeon, and it would be as though he didn't exist at all.
Over the years, he had proven himself to be true to his word. Alastar had to suffer humiliation at the hands of the guards. He kept himself fit with exercise, but the food with which he had to nourish himself was meager and bland, so his body was gaunt, and weaker than before.
But all through that dark period of his life he never gave up hope that one day he would be released and walk the world again. When he did, he would get his revenge on Athelred Flynn, and avenge the death of his father, the farmers, and anyone else who had died by the order of Flynn. The evil of him ran like a deep river through this land and it was Alastar’s duty to end it.
Alastar prowled the woods and waited, lurking in the trees. He stood poised on a branch, ready to jump, and indeed, before too long a wagon rushed
along the road, a patrol sent to search for Athelred's missing daughter. Alastar smiled. He knew Athelred would send someone, although it didn't seem as though he was part of the search party himself.
As soon as the wagon was underneath him, Alastar jumped down and landed in the middle. There were five men, but two of them were knocked out by his elbows before they could react, for they were all shocked by his presence. The other two that were sitting in the back of the wagon jumped up with surprise, and only just managed to keep their balance.
One was swifter than Alastar assumed and drew his sword, thrusting it forward. Alastar only just managed to dodge, the blade coming too close to his skin. It had been a long time since he had tested himself in combat and he was sluggish, but today was not his day to die. He had too much to do.