Branded by a Warrior

by Andrea Thorne

  “Do not fail Elisabeth, I cannae live in a world without you. Slay the giant my love, and let us bring vengeance upon these maggots once and for all.”

  Kincaid beckoned, “Enough Broderick, send forth your wife so my giant can cut her down in one slice, my men could use some entertainment for a change.”

  “I love you Broderick Ian MacMillan, I will nae fail you.” Winking, she turned to face Kincaid and Ivan, now standing in the middle of the camp.

  Behind her, she heard his last words to her before she walked forth to conquer the giant, “Remember who you are my love. You are the goddamn fucking Warrior Queen of Scotland, no mercy Elisabeth!”

  Smirking, she faced Ivan as she slowly focused on him; unbuckling her sable she let it fall upon the snowy ground. Pulling her shortsword and her famous broadsword from her belt she saw Kincaid sitting in his throne beside the dead body of Siobhan, smiling with anticipation.

  Shutting out the others, Elisabeth walked forth with determination on her mind and vengeance in her heart, the man before her had taken her beloved brother from her, for that, he must die. Gripping her swords firmly in her hand, she prepared her mind for the battle ahead of her.

  Large, with the strength of ten men, Ivan was a notorious warrior among the Highlands; he was a giant brute, all muscle and power. He towered over her by four heads, at least. Keeping her distance from him, she circled as he brandished his weapon and taunted her as if she were a mere child.

  “Come on me wee one, I will make this fast so ye dinnae suffer like Duncan did.” He sneered as he bounded towards her.

  Stepping easily out of the way of his blade and body, she hardly moved as she landed a blow across his rib as he passed her with one graceful slash of her shortsword. Turning to face him as he howled, she cocked her head and grinned as he touched his gash. Red blood dripped from his fingertips as he snapped his full attention back to her.

  Around her she could hear the crowds murmurings, shutting out their voices she readied herself for his next assault, he was now angry and embarrassed, his next pass would be violent and calculated.

  As suspected, he twirled his blade in his hand and spat at her feet as he circled once again, watching him intently she knew what was coming, hearing his battle cry she stood her ground as the giant rushed towards her, blow after blow her sword matched his, the force of his swings pushed her back time and time again. He was the strongest man she had ever fought in her life. Purely on defense she countered his powerful blows one at a time, seeing her chance, she once again delivered a blow, across his sword arm.

  In one swift movement he reacted and knocked her short sword out of her hand as he landed a blow to her hand. A scream slipped past her lips as her leather glove was sliced through down to her hand; he had finally drawn blood from her.

  Spinning around he didn’t take time to set up another attack, he pounced forward and swung a barrage of wild slices through the air as he ran at her, she could feel him taking control of the fight, her sword arm stung with each attack. She had never taken such an onslaught from a warrior such as this. He was a damn leviathan. Behind her she heard Kincaid laugh with delight. Ivan’s constant battering was making her weaker than she wanted to admit.

  Regaining her footing after a vicious rebuttal by Ivan, she watched him grin as he dropped his second sword and tossed his broadsword in the air and twirled it, pointing it directly at her.

  She had yet to hear the call she was waiting for, for the first time tonight she became worried she might not be able to last. Readying herself once again, she focused on the warrior as their swords clashed in the dark night, the sound of metal echoed off the mountain range. Ivan moved fast for such a large man, she had underestimated his speed, in horror, she watched as he spun around and swung with his broadsword with both hands, she simply could not match his strength. Her broadsword was ripped from her hands as he swung with his entire force, sending it flying far away.

  Weaponless save a few hidden daggers in her skirt and boots, she circled as Ivan laughed, he turned to face the crowd, hearing them roar with support.

  While Kincaid and Ivan cheered, she quickly signaled Isobel who was directly behind her, hoping to God the lass was watching, and steady.

  Broderick watched his wife take blow after blow from the Douglas warrior, it ripped him apart to watch the vicious assault upon his pregnant wife, now without any sword, she stood defenseless against the giant. Straining against his ropes, he looked down at Isobel, “Isobel, cut me loose child, now!”

  Without looking at him, she shook her head and pulled her Aunt’s bow over her shoulder and pulled an arrow from the quiver, “Not now Uncle, Aunt Elisabeth needs me.” Isobel whispered as she notched the arrow, focusing on Elisabeth and the giant.

  Beside him, he heard his brother, “Broderick, shh, listen and watch,” nodding to Isobel who was aiming directly at Elisabeth.

  No one was paying attention to them, or Isobel, all eyes were focused on the giant as he celebrated disarming the Warrior Queen.

  Watching Elisabeth intently, he heard the call drift through the woods, the signal he knew she was waiting for; all she had to do was signal his men.

  As Ivan turned around to taunt her, he sauntered forward. Elisabeth’s back was turned when he saw her signal Isobel behind her back. Broderick watched in slow motion as his niece responded to Elisabeth’s signal with the call of the hawk. The wee lass pulled back the string of Elisabeth’s bow and shot the arrow directly at his wife’s back just as Ivan descended upon her.

  Isobel’s aim was true; in one smooth movement Elisabeth snatched the speeding arrow from the air just as Ivan raised his sword above her head. Taking all of her strength she used the arrow and shoved it directly into his chin towards his brain, dropping the giant to his knees in one swift movement. His weapons fell from his hands as he choked.

  Shoving the arrow deep into the giant’s skull, she looked down and saw the shortsword she had given to Broderick on their wedding day tucked into Ivan’s holster, pulling it free from Ivan’s belt, “This doesn’t belong to you.” In one swift movement, she severed his head clean off his broad shoulders, spinning back around to look at her husband; she was covered in blood and sweat.

  Broderick had never been so scared in his life, the Douglas warriors and Kincaid stood motionless for a moment before Kincaid screamed, “Kill all of them!”

  Watching Elisabeth move like lightning, she gave the signal to unleash hell to the warriors hidden in the woods. She picked up her fallen swords as she ran directly to him, a sea of arrows blocked out the night sky as she ran towards him. Sliding in next to him, she quickly took the dirk from Isobel, cutting them loose as the Douglas warriors fell victim to MacMillan archers. In the cold distance, the hail of the MacMillan battle cry sounded, hundreds of warriors stormed out of the frozen forest shadows and waged war on the Douglas warriors.

  Lost in the middle, Kendrix quickly grabbed the short sword from Conn’s back and put Isobel directly between the two great wolfhounds.

  Broderick did the same, except he pulled his wife against him quickly and claimed her soft mouth in a passionate kiss as war raged around them; time had stopped when their lips touched, “You damn near killed me making me watch that Elisabeth, Jesu.”

  “Your sword my love,” bestowing him with his shortsword she beheaded Ivan with, the sword she made for him for their wedding day.

  He squeezed her one last time before stretching his sore arms, being tied to the large post had taken its toll on his muscles. Standing together, Kendrix, Broderick and Elisabeth surrounded Isobel and the hounds as they watched MacMillan warriors easily combat their enemies.

  From across the camp, he caught eyes with Kincaid who was arming himself and walking towards them. Broderick quickly looked down at his wife and kissed her forehead as he took her broadsword from her right hand, leaving her with only her deadly shortsword, “I love you Elisabeth Rosslyn, watch my back love, I have someone to kill.” He growled as he
turned and walked towards the Douglas Laird who was now waiting for him where Ivan’s body lay. Around them the battle ensued, swords clashed into the night as the MacMillan warriors stampeded into camp and waged war upon the outnumbered Douglas men.

  Elisabeth watched Broderick twirl her broadsword, followed by his shortsword. Rolling his neck he made his way towards Kincaid, slashing down Douglas warriors along his way.

  Reaching down, she took her bow and quiver from Isobel, all while keeping an eye on her intimidating husband. Tucking Isobel between Conn and Isla, Kendrix protected their back against attack. Eyeing the battlefield she scanned the chaos until she saw her husband once again.

  Standing in the center of the storm she began to systematically exterminate Douglas warriors with her bow, pulling back arrow after arrow she showed no mercy as she struck down warrior after warrior, in her sights she kept an eye on Broderick she would not hesitate to put an arrow into Kincaid if need be.

  Across the battlefield, Broderick reached Kincaid. The one eyed laird sneered as he gripped his hilt. Shutting out the war that surrounded him, Broderick focused on his goal- to rip this man’s heart out for the pain he caused his beloved Elisabeth. For her he would kill this man. This man had murdered innocent babes, women and children all over Scotland. He was a heartless tyrant; one Broderick could not wait to kill.

  Pointing his sword at Kincaid, Broderick grinned as he saw the red-haired Laird take in the scene around him, “Time to die Kincaid.”

  “Ye think I fear you Broderick? I dinnae fear ye or your bloody bitch wife? I dinnae fear death, it is my home!” Kincaid bellowed in arrogance, gripping his swords with his arms outstretched.

  “Then to hell you shall return!”

  Across the field Elisabeth watched Broderick and Kincaid, locked in an epic battle of swords. Both equally matched in height and weight, it was obvious who the better swordsman was. Broderick exerted little energy as Kincaid wildly slashed his blades towards Broderick. Like he was swatting flies Broderick easily blocked each of Kincaid’s lunges as if he was practicing with a child. Laying blow after blow on Kincaid, Broderick was easily handling the arrogant bastard.

  Behind her Kendrix easily kept Douglas warriors away from his daughter as Elisabeth picked off warriors with her skilled shooting, bodies lay bleeding into the white snow as the moon shone upon them under the shadowy mountain.

  Beside her she heard Conn growl, turning a moment too late, Elisabeth screamed in agony as a arrow pierced her on her right side, directly into her rib, effectively dropping her to her knees.

  Hearing her scream pierce the night sky, Broderick turned around to see Elisabeth fall on her knees, a long arrow protruding out of her side. Locking eyes with her across the battlefield he watched her pull the arrow out and scream his name, behind him he felt Kincaid move.

  In one smooth motion Kincaid took advantage of Broderick’s lack of concentration and brought his broadsword down upon Broderick, slashing him across his chest, dropping him to his knees. Looking up at Kincaid, Broderick saw the scarred, bleeding laird smile as he squeezed the hilt of his blade.

  “Now, you die Broderick. Your widow will make a lovely bride.”

  Still kneeling upon the frozen ground Broderick felt the blood ooze freely from his large wound as he readied his blade, both injured and breathless he focused his energy on the large warrior who stood above him, looking up he clutched his chest as Kincaid laughed.

  “Stand up Broderick, at least die like a man!” Kincaid taunted as he staggered, barely remaining on his feet, the one-eyed laird was close to falling down himself.

  Using his shortsword to stand up, Broderick slowly stood up and clutched his blades just as an arrow grazed past his face from directly behind him, sinking deep into Kincaid’s good eye.

  Moving like lighting, Broderick jerked his shortsword up into Kincaid’s still beating heart, “Back to Hell Kincaid” he spat, jerking the sword back out and kicking the still standing laird down with one swift movement. He watched as the life went out in the sadistic bastard’s eyes. Assured that he as dead, he turned around to see Elisabeth standing, her bow notched with another arrow ready to fire if need be.

  Raising his bloodied weapons, he and his men sounded their battle cry. The battle was over, Kincaid was dead and the rest of his army surrendered easily after he had fallen. Lowering his weapons his eyes swept over his brother and Isobel ensuring himself they were okay, shifting his gaze over to his wife he saw her stumble as she started to walk towards him.

  Sheathing his weapons he ran across the field to her, catching her in his arms as her knees hit the ground; the right side of her gown was saturated with her blood.

  Cradling her in his arms he kissed her forehead as he heard Kendrix ordering the army and calling for Elisabeth’s warhorse.

  “Broderick, your chest!” She cried seeing his wound up close.

  “I’ll be alright lass, we need to get you home!” He retorted as he walked towards the black stallion she rode here.

  “Put me down Broderick, I can ride, I’m just lightheaded from the blood loss. Your injury is most severe!” She argued, trying to get the injured man to let her go.

  “We ride together Elisabeth, I will never let you go again,” He barked, swinging up onto her horse with her in his arms effortlessly.

  Behind them Kendrix gave orders to Ajax for the army, as he tossed Isobel upon a horse, and followed her into the saddle. They would ride home while the army followed behind after things were finished.

  Nodding to Elisabeth and Broderick, Kendrix spurred his horse and galloped out of the burning camp with his daughter in his arms, the wolfhounds followed close behind, still protecting the smallest member per Elisabeth’s orders. Following Kendrix out of the camp Broderick rode with one arm protectively wrapped around her waist, holding her tightly against him as they stormed through the forest towards his castle.

  Broderick’s mind raced, he had yet to mention the babe within her womb and neither had Elisabeth. Did the arrow hit it? Would she bleed out? He had seen many men fall to small arrow wounds, and she was losing a substantial amount of blood. Holding her in his arms he felt his own chest throbbing, growing warm with blood as the injury continued to bleed. Because of his well-laid tartan, Elisabeth had yet to see the gravity of his injury, he guessed that it rivaled her own she sustained when her family was murdered. He was losing a considerable amount of blood, he knew that, yet he didn’t want to alarm the woman in his arms. He simply wanted to hold her close to him; he had missed her so much. He had come close to losing her tonight, yet they had won the day and Kincaid was dead. Together they rode back to the castle, trailing close behind Kendrix and Isobel, the torches of the castle illuminated the tall stonewalls as they approached hours later.

  Riding home Elisabeth searched her heart, how was she going to tell her husband she was with child, after that battle? Would he hate her? Would he scorn her for her reckless behavior?

  “We are almost home my love, this time I won’t screw up welcoming you home Lis, you don’t know how desperately I yearn to fall asleep next to you again. Jesu, I missed that, I missed you so much. I cannae believe that I am married to the King of England’s cousin and the rightful heir to his crown. You really are destined to be a queen Lis, there would be no one finer to ascend the title than you, you have royalty running through your veins.” He mused as he leaned forward and whispered into her ear.

  “I care not for the crown Broderick, only for my husband and his legacy. My cousin will produce an heir and I will be absolved of my duty to the crown. I want nothing more than to live our lives in peace and solitude of your lands until my dying day. Scotland suits me… I am her queen. England has no appeal to me.” More truthful words had never been spoken from her lips. She had never cared nor wanted to be in line for the throne, it had only haunted her since she was a babe.

  “Good, because your husband cares only for you, and greatly dislikes England and sharing you” he replied, kissin
g the side of her temple as he squeezed her gently as they crossed the drawbridge, “Welcome home my love.”

  “Home” she hummed, smiling as they arrived safely into the protection of the bailey. As Kendrix and Broderick rode their horses over the drawbridge the resounding cheering of the remaining warriors who were left to guard the castle echoed off the tall walls of Castle MacMillan. Everyone was celebrating the return of Laird MacMillan and his family.

  Sliding off the saddle as soon as they stopped, she looked up to see Broderick’s chest stained red with blood. “To your study, now!” She pointed, demanding his attention immediately. Uncaring of the men who looked on, her eyes wide with horror as she looked upon her husband’s chest as he dismounted.

  “Aye wife.” He easily agreed, smiling a fierce wife. Tossing the reins to a stable hand, he saw that Kendrix easily gave orders for the guards, and returning warriors as he carried a sleeping Isobel in his arms. Reaching down, he clasped Elisabeth’s hand and started for the castle, a very welcoming view. At the stairs, Rhona stood in tears as she watched them walk towards her. The old hen cared for him like a mother for years, he too cared deeply for his old nursemaid. Rhona shed tears of joy as she watched them all return.

  Beside him, he heard his wife hail to Rhona.

  “We are alive Rhona, never fear, but I do need you to send up hot water and supplies immediately to Broderick’s study.”

  “Happy to see ya dears, never doubted ye for a moment Elisabeth, not for one moment” she called, turning back into the castle, throwing the doors wide in search of her mistress’s supplies.

  Looking down at his petite wife, he marveled at her composure. She was wounded and just underwent fulfilling her vow to revenge her family. Kincaid was dead and they had all arrived home alive and safe, most women would be shriveling under immense pressure and the emotions tonight caused. His wife however, was helping him walk into his castle, and still acting like she was a queen. She was amazing. Her strength and tenacity was inspiring, few lairds and kings had such courage and wits about them, let alone a three and twenty woman who was with child.